《Hordedoom》


 Prologue, Part 1: Monster Dreams

    Blessed Mother.


    The monster stirred in her dreams, unwilling to leave their embrace. Nightmares always waited for her, clinging to her each time she closed her eyes. But they were known perils, mere memories of her endless failures.


    Sleep always brought her succor, allowing the monster to shrug off the despair and maybe see an alteration in her nightmares, a different branch toward what might have been if fate had been just a little more merciful. A little better.


    And so she slipped into her dreams, hoping to see another, and¡­.


    ...terror engulfed her.


    Her designation was Number One. It wasn¡¯t a name; no one had a name in this sprawling maze of white corridors that connected spacious training domes, breeding facilities, and education rooms. Products weren¡¯t supposed to have names; that privilege was reserved for humans. Attempting to name yourself was an invitation to cruel torture. That much she had learned in her short life.


    But the word surprised her. Number One? Her? What could it mean? She wasn¡¯t born first; there were hundreds, if not thousands, of products in here. Nor was she the best or the bravest. She often stood by, too frightened to even speak out against cruelty. Number Six-Four-Six was the best of them, a regenerator with few peers, who willingly shared his portion of gray bars with the younger products, reassuring them. He even hugged Number One when she was close to her breaking point. He wasn¡¯t here anymore; the whitecoats said that he was a good boy and had earned his freedom.


    Freedom. Every product¡¯s dream. The oldest of them were often taken away by the owners, and upon returning, they told tales of battles and how they had smashed people who spoke in unknown languages. But even those who participated in such operations weren¡¯t safe, and the whitecoats often took them into the Room, from which there was no return, and new, upgraded products were taking their place.


    Their owners selectively taught them the value of families and how to use them to break prisoners, how best to beat, maim, and kill. But in their arrogance, they leaked more information than they intended, and Number One learned of the police. The heroes who stopped crime and saved families around the world. Knowledge gave birth to hope. If she can reach these police, she can save her family!


    Number One raced down the cold corridor on all fours, afraid of hearing the sirens at any second. If the owners noticed her absence, it would all be over. A kid had tried to escape before, unable to endure the daily torture, unwilling to harm others in combat situations.


    Unwilling. Not afraid. He had been better than her, braver than most. Number One wept, witnessing his demise as the corridor turning crimson from the searing heat that burned his skin. Transparent panels slammed into his path, trapping the tormented child inside. Tendrils followed, slithering from the opened hidden compartments, carrying poisons in their sharp tips. These things weren¡¯t alive like the products; their silver shells contained mechanical parts. What happened next, she tried her best to forget. But the owners denied them this clemency. A trainer forced her group to see, without blinking, what happened to the botched or disobedient subjects.


    Luck. She had a chance, thanks to pure luck. Today was a combat test day, and the orange fiends took all the best ones from their cells into the pain arena, giving her a chance to escape. Her thin fingers found the control panel, punching in the code used by the trainers. It was her thing, a secret she never shared with the whitecoats. Even if she didn¡¯t know anything about an object, she instinctively knew what to press to activate it, or what she needed to do. The floor felt especially cold today, mostly because of the clutching fear that held her heart in an iron grip. Even here, in these pristine white corridors, the roars, rumbles, and pleas for mercy reached Number One¡¯s ears as her family committed fratricide.


    She reached a fork in the corridor and noticed a camera on the ceiling. A jump brought her to the wall; the girl used it as a springboard and kicked the camera to pieces, using the exact technique the owners had taught her. That¡¯s it; now the whitecoats and orange fiends know of her escape. But that¡¯s okay. If she¡¯d left the camera in place, they¡¯d have activated the panels flawlessly.


    The floor was getting hot. Reddish stains appeared on the wall, and a series of panels slammed shut behind her. Too slow! She had no plan, but she gambled on an assumption.


    If the orange fiends couldn¡¯t know her precise location, they would turn every corridor into a heat trap. This was a problem. Solution? Too many unknown factors. What else did she know? The fiends cared for the whitecoats, never letting a combat model kill or harm them. They¡¯d rather waste a hundred children just to save a whitecoat. What does this mean? They can¡¯t lock down the entire system at once; otherwise, some whitecoats might die.


    She ran forth, choosing the left turn, sniffing to locate a familiar trace in the air. A female who used a perfume smelling of strawberries. Crimson lights flashed in the corridor, alerting the personnel about the escapee. Number One¡¯s legs carried her toward a lone door in the middle of the corridor. It didn¡¯t open, so she sunk her claws into the control panel, tore it clean off, and dragged out wires. It didn¡¯t take long to guess the correct combination. The wires hissed, and the door opened, releasing cool air.


    Storming inside, the girl came face-to-face with her. A whitecoat. The black shirt was visible in an open cut on her chest, along with a yellowish chain around her neck, so elegant, unlike the girl¡¯s own cruel collar. Upon seeing fear in the violet eyes, she dropped to her knees, crawling toward the woman who had taken her from the growing tank.


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    ¡°Mom.¡± Number One raised her hands, retracting her claws right back into her fingers. ¡°Please. They want to take me to the Room. Please. Save me.¡± She crawled closer, crying and tugging at the edge of the woman¡¯s coat, using the emotional manipulation she''d been taught in the lessons and simultaneously being too afraid and desperate to try anything else. Somebody. Please. There had to be someone who cared for her.


    Number One had no one else to turn to. In the two years of her imprisonment within the walls of steel and white, this woman was the only one who never hurt her. Other whitecoats pierced the girl¡¯s skin with needles, injecting a searing acid that set her every nerve alight, leaving her writhing on the floor in unimaginable pain. Sometimes the whitecoats would peel off bits of her skin, watching unhappily at how slowly the ¡°cellular regeneration¡±, her healing process, as they called it, worked. Orange fiends punished Number One with extreme beatings for any perceived disobedience or inability to complete an assignment at once, or when she refused to wound a fellow product. But this woman¡­ She once gave Number One a treat and patted her head in encouragement after a failed training session. Surely, surely, she was her rope to climb out of this madness!


    The woman leaned against the lockers, dispassionately studying the girl. She removed a single strand of black hair from her face and nodded at the airlock on the other side of the room, causing a wave of unadulterated joy to sweep through the vat born. Her mother was trying to help her! Number One wasn¡¯t alone in this madness! Never! She would never betray or fail Mom!


    She laughed and slapped herself across the face for her stupidity. But of course! A massive place like this needed a lot of oxygen, and it had to come from somewhere! Fresh calculations flowed into her brain, including warnings about the lockers and possible cameras in the room, but she quashed them all. The girl tore through the grating and started to turn around to ask the woman to follow her. Even if it kills her, Number One will never abandon the one who saved¡­


    Ouch. She looked down in disbelief at the round hole in her side; the surrounding fur had burned away. It hurt so much, but there was no blood gushing out. A burn. The girl saw an open locker and a long black object in the woman¡¯s hand¡ªthe same tool the orange fiends used to stop escapees. A deadly stinger capable of unleashing an existence-ending beam.


    ¡°Disappointing, Number One,¡± the woman sighed. ¡°All the money and resources Academician had poured into your creation¡­ and this is the best you can show for it? Take the failed subject to the vivisectorium.¡±


    Two orange fiends entered the room, their bodies encased in steel armor. Orange glowing lines ran over their bodies, from toes and fingers to their blackened visors. They raised stun batons, and the girl leaped into the open ventilation shaft, climbing away with a single thought pounding in her brain.


    Alone. All this time she had been truly alone. With no one to care for her and no one to protect her. Number One had overheard the other whitecoats joking and congratulating each other on certain days, and the orange fiends seemed to get along fine, so why was she all alone?! Why were there no parents for their family?


    Her side hurt. Pain rippled from the hole. The girl bit her lip, clawed at the burn¡¯s dried bark, and crawled through the tunnel. The faint yellow light from her eyes illuminated the darkness. Her wounds were irrelevant; the torn edges of the skin reached out to close the hole. A missing or damaged organ would soon be replaced if only she could find something edible. Problems for later. Right now, she must¡­


    Number One looked behind, giggling nervously as the orange fiend got stuck. His oversized armor scraped the tunnel¡¯s metal, reducing him to a snail¡¯s pace. Immobile, trapped. His own armor arrested his range of motion. The black visor looked at her, and with almost inhuman effort, the man reached for his helmet and pressed a button. The visor¡¯s screen slid down to show an enraged face. His features shifted, brown skin gave way to scales, a hissing forked tongue slipped between his lips, and she screamed, climbing forward after the orange fiend slithered out of his metal shell, dislocating his bones to fit into the visor¡¯s opening.


    No, no, no! Was he a product like her? Then why was he free? Why does he work for them? Doesn¡¯t he know what whitecoats do to the lab born? Irrelevant, not important in the slightest. Her claws gouged marks on the floor. The girl propelled herself forward in one long stride. Survive. If the orange fiend catches her, she¡¯s dead. To survive, to stop this madness, she must escape!


    Her heart sank as she rounded a bend. Fast-moving blades were ahead, almost sucking the girl in with sheer pressure. She moved a claw toward them, hoping to see them break, and in a flash, the tip of her claw disappeared, slashed away. The girl shrank, collecting herself, trying to come up with a plan.


    Going back wasn¡¯t an option. Number One can¡¯t beat the orange fiend; he was too strong, too skilled. Even an ordinary orange fiend once broke her fingers. This snake transformation made the fiend even stronger. Surrendering wasn¡¯t an option either. The only thing left was¡­


    Wait. Her ears pricked up. The voice. Her voice. But not hers. When speaking in her mind, her other self occasionally offered the most invaluable advice on when to dodge a hit during matches. But this? The industrial fan moved so fast that its blades became a blur! She can¡¯t dodge that! You can. Compress your muscles, push them to the limit, make it really hurt. The girl obeyed, tensing her muscles, gathering them into a knot, preparing for a final leap. Abyss or life, she won¡¯t let them have their way with her anymore! Don¡¯t get distracted. Now.


    The dim light leaving her eyes turned into literal streams of light. Never before had Number One felt so strong. Her fear was gone. She knew she could make this jump. The ventilator¡¯s blades and the orange fiend closing in both slowed to an impossible high degree, becoming statues. Her amber eyes saw an opening between the blades. The vat born took this chance, leaping to escape the Room. To be free and reach the police. The blade sliced across her left heel, shearing off a toll of flesh, and the titanic exertion of her entire body reopened the wound in her side again.


    But she lived! She rolled over the steel surface, staining it red and breaking it under her unusually strong arms. The orange fiend had emerged from the bend, chasing at an incredible speed. Too fast to notice the blades.


    ¡°Stop!¡± Number One shouted, but it was too late.


    He rammed into the blades headfirst, spraying blood¡ªred, just like hers¡ªacross the shaft, turning the tunnel and her crimson. If the man ever suffered, she never knew. The blades ended him, first slicing through his serpentine head, then his neck, and finally reworking his body into a jumble. His insides tangled on the blade like a disgusting kebab. The industrial fan continued, producing wet pops as the dead man¡¯s parts scratched against the wall, tearing and sending bits of gore flying.


    Suddenly, the girl was not hungry anymore. Number One swallowed and ran as the tunnel reddened.

 Prologue, Part 2: Monster Dreams

    The outside world amazed her. Number One emerged from the tunnel to find herself on an island surrounded by water. Still leaving a trail of blood, she jumped over a fence and saw a multicolored sea of lights on the other side of the water. Orange, green, red, blue, purple¡­ Too many colors to name! The night was dark, but the never-ending, sprawling mountains of steel cast enough light to dispel the darkness. The tops of the tallest towers pierced the clouds, illuminating the sky itself and casting their own multicolored aura around them.


    Her jaw dropped in astonishment as she moved down the slope to the water. So¡­ beautiful. And there were strange things floating in the air, weaving around the mountains of steel. Her sharp ears caught words¡ªhuman words¡ªabout some ¡°special proposition just for tonight¡±, ¡°best prosthetics in the city¡±, and so much more. Honking horns, the humming of flying metal crates, and people¡¯s laughter assaulted her, threatening to deafen her, and she put her hands over her ears, begging the Spirits for deliverance. There must be hundreds¡­ No, the word doesn¡¯t even begin to describe how many people lived on the other side of the water. Countless. Yes, that¡¯s about right. Surely someone, somewhere, can give the vat borns normal lives!


    The girl fell to her knees, desperately gulping down the strange-tasting water. Her nostrils caught the smell of something pungent, but she didn¡¯t care. She drank greedily, feeling itchy in her legs and sides as her body healed. Compared to the other products, she healed a bit slower, but these wounds won¡¯t kill her. Nothing will kill her! She escaped, and now she will save her family!


    ¡°So this is me,¡± Number One mused. A child covered by a fur coat reflected in the dirty waters. The fur did a poor job of hiding the dirty, unwashed, alabaster-white skin. Pale scars lined every inch of her body. A crude collar held her neck in prison. She will need to find a way to get rid of it. What if it had a tracker? She touched her face, curious at the blend of wolfish and human features. Her eyes were amber, glowing a little. The nose undeniably belonged to a human, but the mouth was protruding and the lips hid fangs. She even had what looked like whiskers! But... she had touched her face before. There were no whiskers, and her nose didn¡¯t stick out as much as it did now.


    It was as if her creators had an idea to mold her into a wolf, and then they stopped, scrapped the idea, and tried to create a human while the clay hadn¡¯t set, but failed. The end result wasn¡¯t pretty. Not because of the scars. She lacked muscles or the chitin armor plates covering the combat models. Soft. Exposed. Vulnerable.


    Her belly rumbled, and Number One looked around. Sustenance. She needs just a little bit before crossing the water. Her nostrils caught the scent of rotting meat coming from a nearby dumpster, and she leapt at it. Food. Any food to supply her body and¡­


    She stumbled back, experiencing the entire world spin around her. Her forehead was on fire, spearing her body with fresh waves of pain. She looked up, seeing a blonde girl dressed in a black leather biker suit, a baseball bat marred by something red resting on the girl¡¯s shoulder. The vat born touched her own forehead, understanding that the stuff on the bat was her own blood. The wound on her head hurt like Abyss, but Number One was more curious about how the assailant had sneaked up on her. She was still full of adrenaline from the shock of playing a part in the death of a living being. The vat born should¡¯ve heard this biker from a kilometer away!


    ¡°You?¡± the blonde asked mockingly. ¡°You¡¯re the reason they woke us up? Piss off, at least last time it was an alligator mutie.¡±


    The vat born did as the girl inadvertently advised and sprinted away on all fours, ignoring the pain in her legs. Us. This means more than one. Dangerous, she can¡¯t take them¡­ No, she didn¡¯t want to take them on, even if she could. She¡¯ll have a new life, one where she¡¯ll never hurt anyone again. There was always an option to escape a fight, right?


    Number One almost reached the edge of the island when a surge of electricity caught her in the back. Tongues of energy rose from the stone ground, hissing and dancing in the wind, forming the figure of a young man whose cheeks bore a gruesome scar stretching from ear to ear. The youth slammed a brass knuckle into the girl¡¯s breast, knocking her back onto her unsteady legs.


    ¡°Eugenia, watch out! The bitch is fast,¡± the boy said.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah¡­¡± The grimacing, pain-stricken Number One heard a voice to her left. The space itself cracked, rearranging itself, and the blonde stepped out of an oval portal, raising her baseball bat.


    ¡°Please,¡± the vat born whimpered, looking into the face of this Eugenia. She was around her age. Why was she chasing her? Shouldn¡¯t people from the outside supposed to be better than those from the lab? ¡°It must be a mistake. I didn¡¯t mean to do anything bad. I just want to li¡­¡±


    The baseball bat came down, shattering her nose and cartwheeling her through the air. Hurt. Her head hurt so much. Eugenia wasn¡¯t a normal human. Her strength exceeded everything Number One had learned of humans. She landed on the head, screaming in agony, frustration, and disappointment. Nothing was right. Why are people she never hurt tormenting her? What was wrong with this fucking world?


    Fight. Her other self said. Number One kicked; her bleeding feet landed on the girl¡¯s ankle. Eugenia¡¯s face turned to surprise, and she fell face down, right into the rising uppercut. Taste the pain, bitch! The vat born thought, releasing her claws. She adjusted the blow, aiming to scar rather than maim. There were a lot of questions she had about the world, and if she had to beat Eugenia into being a better person, then she would!


    Her hand disappeared. Number One barely even registered this before a scream of pain left her lungs. The claws¡ªher claws!¡ªwere buried in her side. Her arm was still in front of her, disappearing into a portal at the elbow, and another similar portal hovered beneath the vat born¡¯s ribs. The blonde must have opened a portal in midair, redirecting the blow. Another portal opened, swallowing the falling girl in the biker suit whole, and the hit from behind sent the vat born reeling. Eugenia teleported behind Number One and was already standing upright.


    ¡°Crafty bitch. But I¡¯m better.¡± The blonde raised her bat. ¡°Boys, girls! Break the bitch!¡±


    What?! The vat born pulled her claws free and reached for her nose, fixing the exposed bone. Thank the Spirits. Her arm was still with her. There weren¡¯t two hunters. Nine teenagers surrounded her, some floating, some floating, one wielding a flaming whip coming from the palm of his hand. So many. She could see glimmers of fear, glee, anger, and mockery in their eyes. But no pity or remorse. A pack of hunters.


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    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Number One squeaked. They surrounded her, cutting her off from the ventilation shaft and the wall, making it impossible to cover her back by standing against a wall. ¡°I have done nothing wrong!¡±


    ¡°What are you doing?!¡± a voice boomed from above. The vat born glanced up. A vehicle hovered above the group; its roof retracted, and the driver, an elderly woman, stood at full height. The woman raised a wrinkled fist. ¡°Leave the poor girl alone this instant! She needs an immediate medical atte¡­¡± A tossed knife struck the car door, and the woman ducked.


    ¡°Shut it, Granny.¡± Eugenia advised the woman, arrogantly throwing bubble gum into her mouth. ¡°We¡¯re just doing a little monster hunting. Not like this thing is a human or anything. Now stop buzzing and fly off, or I¡¯ll shove your dentures down your throat. Your choice.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Something in Eugenia¡¯s eyes made the woman sit and turn on the engine, leaving Number One alone.


    But it was enough. This time, there was no betrayal. The vat born was sure of it, following the car with her eyes. There are good people. This was one of them, just weak. And until she finds help¡ªsomeone whom she can call her pack¡ªshe will survive. Number One will find the police, she will find this lady later and thank her; and most of all, she will save her family.


    ¡°Come at me, freaks,¡± she spat. ¡°Let¡¯s see your tears.¡±


    The vat born raised her arms, screaming in pain as the flaming whip hit her forearms. But she bore it. There was a reason not to dodge. The flame was insubstantial. They expected her to back away from it, escaping the fire. Instead, she pushed through the flaming whip, closing in on the surprised boy and elbowed his nose in. The vat born spun around, sweeping the boy off his feet. Another elbow hit sent him into a girl who formed stone gloves over her hands. The body hit her in the face, knocking them both to the ground.


    Not all are vile. There was a purpose to the world beyond fighting. The scarred boy gestured, but the vat born feinted a jump, fooling Eugenia into opening the portal above Number One. She lunged at the scarred boy, ignoring the explosion of lightning at her back. They won¡¯t stop her from finding meaning in her life. No one was this strong. Not anymore. Her hand closed over his wrist, and the boy screamed after a crunching sound of his bones breaking, the brass knuckle falling from his limp hand. She could have knocked him down.


    It would be a piece of cake to drive her own elbow into his temple, falling alongside him and cracking his skull. But she didn¡¯t want to kill. She didn¡¯t want to harm anyone, so she pushed him aside, whirling around to meet Eugenia, sensing her approach thanks to the stench of bubble gum coming from her mouth.


    There was an art to wielding any weapon. By far, the most dangerous part of the bat was its tip, as the swing added speed and strength to the impact. But by closing on to her opponent, Number One received a hit over her ear with the lower part of the bat, which hadn¡¯t had the space to accumulate speed yet. Number One closed her fangs on the girl¡¯s ear, grabbing her. Eugenia. The pack leader. Now there was someone she would maim. But not kill. It was a path she refused to tread. The vat born remembered her siblings in the complex. Kind souls turned merciless after the first murder. It was a foul experience, a corruption-warping personality. And she was her own person. Her soul wasn¡¯t about to be sold for the life of the cheap, ignorant, stupid, stubborn blonde bitch, dammit!


    The vat born did not know how Eugenia¡¯s ability worked. She made a bet that the girl wouldn¡¯t be able to portal her away with another person holding her. And as Number One¡¯s jaws ripped off the blonde¡¯s ear, she understood her bet had paid off. The human girl wailed in pain, struggling to break free, blood gushing from her missing ear. The vat born gulped the ear, tasting human flesh, and a shiver of anticipation ran through her body, electrifying every hair.


    Something was changing. As the ear dissolved for nutrients, she felt herself energized. Hunger gripped her, demanding that she close her fangs on the pale neck, bite through the windpipe, and drink blood until her belly was full. Then she would feast, devouring every last scrap of this bitch who dared to hurt her for fun.


    There were tears in the blonde¡¯s eyes. Tears and fear. An unpleasant odor of piss and sweat was coming from the pinned body, and suddenly Eugenia turned into a scared girl, hurt, weak, alone, helpless. No different from Number One. The vat born stopped the ravenous urge, struggling to speak an offer of peace.


    Then the rest of the pack descended upon her, pummeling the vat born into unconsciousness.


    ****


    The orange fiends arrived later, dragging Number One by the collar and giving Eugenia medicine that stopped her bleeding. The vat born thrashed and kicked, clawing desperately at their impregnable armor, flailing in maddening fear as they took her down to the basement and knocked her out.


    She awoke on a slab of steel, her arms and legs secured by the metal rings. The vat born tried to break free, but the damn thing refused to budge. A similar ring had closed over her neck, pinning the girl¡¯s head to the cold metal. A piercing white light shone from above. Her eyes moved, taking in a scene of horror around her.


    The Room. The orange fiend had brought her to a place of no return, no escape. A place spoken in hushed voices among the products. Metal slabs, identical to the one she was bound to, lined the room in equal rows, each containing bloody limbs or bodies in the process of vivisection. Whitecoats observed the thrashing vat borns, utterly merciless to their pleas. They held tablet terminals in their hands, remotely operating the craning arms coming from the ceiling.


    A host of artificial limbs nimbly brought an array of saws and drills to the screaming bodies, opening them up. Metal fingers widened the incisions, prying away sawed bones and pulling out pulsing organs, carefully placing them in canisters filled with pale liquid. Another set of arms carried these canisters across the ceiling. The whitecoats didn¡¯t say anything to the people they¡¯d killed, and sometimes they made a note when their patients¡¯ bodies tried to regenerate.


    Her eyes widened as she recognized a body on a slab to her left. Number Six-Four-Six. Among their group, he was the most reliable and loyal friend. He often gave his rations to the lesser products, claiming he could gather all the resources he needed out of thin air. He... hugged Number One more than once, spoke to her in a low voice, tried to help her. Why was he here? The whitecoats praised him, promising him freedom for his obedience when they took him. They promised!


    Six-Four-Six had no more chitin plates on his sternum; the machines removed his head. A laser moved down his neck, stopping the regeneration. The exposed insides throbbed, still performing their functions despite the lack of brain. And two whitecoats recorded it, quietly congratulating themselves on achieving such a level of survivability.


    ¡°Do you know if we¡¯ll get a bonus for the overtime?¡± A whitecoat wondered, extracting Six-Four-Six¡¯s heart.


    Bonus? We are living creatures, you sick fucks! Rage boiled inside her. Not anger, but pure rage, an urge to break free. Vengeance! Vengeance for the lives taken! She wanted to slaughter them as painfully as possible; she no longer cared for the idiotic notions of morality. They never showed any; why should she be any better? Kill, destroy, and maim until there was nothing left. Until this factory of horror, operating without a trace of compassion, is wiped out of existence. Until these bored whitecoats know despair. Nothing less than absolute extermination can possibly placate the lives lost in this place.

 Prologue, Part 3: Monster Stirs

    ¡°Three weeks have passed, Academician,¡± a female voice said. The woman whom Number One thought of as her mother stepped closer to the slab, running a finger over the girl¡¯s ribs. ¡°She couldn¡¯t even make it to the city. Waste of efforts, as I stated in my earlier report. If you had bothered to read it, we could have saved ourselves the oopsie.¡±


    ¡°Be that as it may, she caused us too much trouble,¡± a nervous voice interjected. A whitecoat stepped closer, fidgeting nervously with his tie. ¡°The government became aware of the mutants and powers. The UPDC task force had raided our island facility; we had to cull the awakened subjects, and my daughter is in police custody. If the rumors are true, if those test subjects truly spoke¡­ The bitch fucked us over, Academician! We¡¯re ruined, they¡¯ll see us rotting in prison!¡±


    Could it be true? The revelations stole her breath. The information about the powers seemed important, the way the man had phrased it implied that they were something separate from the products. She had thought that those scummy teens had used some kind of technology, like the way the orange fiends fired searing rays from their weapons. But why use such a strange word to describe it? The products had acid spits, the ability to shoot barbed spikes, some could survive in a vacuum, and so on. The whitecoats never referred to these abilities by such a word.


    But it wasn¡¯t important. The test subjects spoke? Did anyone escape this hell? Or did this government rescue them? Number One cried through heart-stopping terror, happy at the news. Live! Live for me, my brothers, my sisters, or whoever you are. Please live and never feel regret in your entire life!


    ¡°Cease your panic, fool.¡± A man in a brown buttoned business suit approached, flanked by six orange fiends. She had never seen him before. His gray hair was slicked back, the fiery crimson irises of his eyes scrutinized the vat born with passing interest, and he used a long cane to help himself around. ¡°Eugenia is a minor. Worst-case scenario: she¡¯ll be in a juvenile hall until the age of eighteen. Be silent.¡± The man raised his cane. ¡°She won¡¯t stay there. Let the lawyers grease some hands, and the girl will be home by Sunday. I promise you this. We are not without friends. It should be easy to arrange for a cargo ship to fall on the medical center holding our escaped animals. As for the UPDC¡¯s reaction¡­ Who cares? The company had announced our relocation to the Red Planet four years ago. We were never here.¡± He lightly patted the nervous whitecoat on his chin. ¡°See? Everything¡¯s fine; everything¡¯s solvable if you breathe and think. Our problems are little more than a setback. Such things happen in research. Once the soldiers are ready, the UPDC will forget the incident and concentrate on rearmament.¡±


    No. Number One bit her lip and almost had a stroke. No, don¡¯t you dare, you scum, filth, monster, prey! Her kin escaped; they are free! Academician had to die. There was no other way. She had to kill him, even at the cost of her own life. More than one. More than one of her siblings survived. Medical center. A place of healing by the sound of it. She won¡¯t let them be hurt.


    ¡°What about the girl, Academician?¡± the woman inquired.


    ¡°Her physicals are no good. But her mind is another matter. She may yet serve in another role if she is subservient enough¡­¡±


    Academician leaned closer. He left the cane pressed against the slab and reached for the girl. His hands grasped her, checking the location of the healed wound on her side, running up and down her body, groping her. His clean, sterile breath lacked even the faintest scent of a stuck piece of food. She¡¯d never faced anything like it. Any other whitecoat smelled of something they had eaten; the woman had a pleasant scent of grapes coming from her mouth. He had nothing.


    He kissed her, running his tongue over her fangs. It shocked Number One, but it also opened up the possibility of vengeance and the salvation of her kin, however small. The vat born heard of the products taken by the whitecoats for amusement purposes. Some even lived for many years until their masters grew bored. They paraded some of them, the shapes who smiled wildly, jumping up at their owners¡¯ slightest gesture, all the while having dull, lifeless eyes befitting a husk. The products didn¡¯t blame them. They pitied those who humiliated themselves to live another day, trading their bodies for the time, only to curse the deal and welcome the sweet release of oblivion that would let them forget what had happened. She didn¡¯t care about prolonging her life and used her fear to create an image of a broken person, drawing his tongue to explore deeper. And then she bit.


    The cane rammed between her fangs, breaking two of them, and Academician rose, spitting in disgust.


    ¡°Clever animal,¡± he said, dusting off the collar of his white shirt. ¡°Too obstinate for pleasure, too weak for combat, and predictable to boot. A failure.¡±


    ¡°Useless,¡± the woman said.


    ¡°Not useless,¡± Academician corrected her. ¡°The beast had enough wits to solve an equation on how to bypass the basic defense mechanism. And the increased reaction times, followed by a sudden mutation, gave us a clue on how to improve the next model. Intelligence-wise, she is up to par.¡± He smiled at the startled eyes. ¡°Yes. Your collar. It collected information¡ªeverything from a pulse to a brainwave¡ªand stored it inside a chip. Then the central mainframe translated your brainwaves into words. We know your dreams, hopes, every thought you¡¯ve ever had. I wonder if the voice speaking to you is a figment of your imagination, manifested by your power, or a mutated version of a Siamese twin? No matter. We¡¯ll learn soon enough. You never had even a lick of chance of running away, former Number One.¡± Academician moved to the doors leading out of the Room. ¡°Vivisect her. Preserve the brain; the rest goes into recycling after you remove the glow from the bones. Prepare the prototype for extraction. And begin to purge the secondary facility of the inferiors.¡±


    ¡°But we had agreed that they were fit for combat, sir,¡± the woman said.


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    ¡°Indeed, it is a shame,¡± Academician sighed. ¡°The problem is, they can reproduce. A bio-soldier is useless on the market if we can only sell one batch and our customer is satisfied. Make the next ones sterile.¡±


    ¡°We can sterilize this generation,¡± the woman argued.


    ¡°Potentially,¡± Academician conceded. ¡°But it is not one hundred percent guaranteed. The mooks demonstrated impressive healing capabilities. If even one is able to regain fertility by chance... No, there is no point in risking the profits. The next chassis should not even have this function.¡±


    ¡°Hai, Academician,¡± the nervous whitecoat said, picking up a slate. He pressed something, summoning mechanical arms from above. ¡°I am going to enjoy this, degenerate. You took my little baby¡¯s ear. Don¡¯t think I¡¯ll let you get off easy.¡±


    ¡°Stop! Let my kin live! Please!¡± The vat born pleaded, lying through her fangs. The arm drew closer. A laser beam flashed between the pincer¡¯s claws, coloring her red. Metal rings tightened, pinning her limbs even tighter. ¡°Promise not to touch them, and I¡¯ll do everything you want!¡± Academician left the room, ignoring her.


    We will not die. Said the voice in her head.


    ¡°Hmmm?¡± mused the female whitecoat. She glanced at a display next to the examination slab. ¡°Her brain activity has peaked. As if she had received a dopamine injection.¡±


    We will not let you kill us.


    ¡°Warning,¡± an electric voice boomed in the room. ¡°Unauthorized mutation has been detected. All personnel must evacuate until security teams have contained the threat. Warning¡­¡±


    The vat born jerked her arm. Something exploded in her arm, heating it up. She imagined her muscles coming apart, dissolving over the bones. But there was no fear over a moment of weakness. An itch, similar to the one she had experienced during regeneration, awoke in every cell of her body. The amber light of her eyes flashed, beating back the crimson of the laser. She jerked her arms again, cutting her wrist against the metal. The restraint creaked.


    ¡°Stop it already, you assholes!¡± she roared, her voice echoing off the walls, growing deeper. The laser touched her belly. She thrashed again, hearing a loud metallic click.


    ¡°What¡­¡± the male whitecoat stuttered. ¡°The hell is going on? Her muscle mass is increasing, the glow levels are rising¡­ It¡¯s not possible, the glow can¡¯t self-replicate!¡±


    ¡°Cut her head off, idiot! End the bitch right now!¡± the female screamed.


    Never. We will never be weak. I want to kill them. The girl thought. She wasn¡¯t sure what was happening. Words she never knew flowed into her mind, and knowledge he never learned raced through the synapses of her brain. You will. Now and forever, we are one. Hunt! A finger touched her heart as if starting an engine.


    Number One pushed again, shattering the restraints as if they were made of glass. Her neck grew too thick for the collar. Its metal whined, pushed aside by the growing muscles, unable to contain the growing bones. The itching continued, now tormenting her organs. She didn¡¯t see them, but she knew that some were splitting; the heart increased in size, gaining more chambers, and the lungs were transforming into something entirely new. Perfection was her right.


    A paw, covered by the thick black fur, grasped the laser pincer, tearing it clean from the ceiling. She swung the metal remnants, burying them in the male¡¯s neck. He gasped for air as a metal spike pierced his neck from the base and entered under his jaw. The sight of his blood triggered the desire to feed. The vat born didn¡¯t fight the urge this time. Her jaws opened, biting off the man¡¯s head along with the neck and the metal spike.


    Change! Number One popped his head against the palate, gulping down everything: brains, eyes, bones. A murder. She just murdered someone. And she didn¡¯t feel even a little bit bad. The vat born stood to the full height; her face changing, her ears growing sharper, and her eyes picking up the smallest particles of dust in the air. Change! There were no gods, no Spirits, nothing. Perfection hid itself in her cell, unleashed by chance. A round slice severed the arching metal limbs coming at her. They fell to the floor in a rain of steel. She spread her arms, heard the wet pops of new joints, moved her fingers¡ªso big, so mighty.


    ¡°Number One.¡± The female whitecoat retreated. Strangely, the woman seemed to shrink in size as the shadow cast by the monster grew larger, covering the woman entirely. The whitecoat spoke in a high-pitched, pleading voice. ¡°Amazing. You are so beautiful. I always knew you had it in you. Pardon the little scare; I had to push you to your limits for your own good. It was all a game. I wouldn¡¯t have let anyone hurt you. Come, let¡¯s leave this place together. The UPDC will gladly accept us. Academician won¡¯t be a problem, and you will have a moth¡­¡±


    A claw¡¯s tip pierced through her mouth, emerging from the back of her neck. Broken teeth and bone shards drummed against the wall, propelled by the otherworldly thrust as the monster lifted the woman, marveling at the size of her claw. So long, white, and sturdy. A saber rather than a claw!


    ¡°Sorry. Had to wash your mouth clean of lies.¡± The monster smiled. ¡°Is this where you imagined your life choices would take you, or is something not up to your standards? Would you prefer to perish another way? Gurgle me some ideas.¡±


    ¡°Warning! Warning! The vivisectorium has been compromised. All personnel must wear respirators and protective gear. Containment protocols are now online.¡± The synthesized voice announced.


    Containment protocols? What could it be? The heightened perception of time slowed everything down. The monster thought at a far faster rate than ever, her mind clear. How do you stop a dangerous subject? Flame, obviously. It stopped regeneration by burning through the stored reserves allocated for healing. But the whitecoats were here. This means there was another way.


    Gas. She lifted her head at a hissing sound, spotting openings in the ceiling. The monster tore her claw free, dropping the woman she wanted to call mother face down on the floor. A pool of blood began to spread around the feebly struggling body, but she had already forgotten her presence. Two whitecoats who had killed Six-Four-Six tried to reach the doors leading outside, pulling on the cowls of their coats, zipping them up, and putting on gas masks.


    A single step brought her to them. The air torn by the repositioning of her body sent a tremble over the closest slabs, swapping aside meat and almost knocking down her captors. Her paws closed around the screaming people, the tips of her thumb claws slipping under the masks. And sliced them off, leaving the bastards unharmed.


    ¡°Breathe,¡± the monster ordered them, inhaling the air. She experienced a brief dizziness. There was a burning sensation in her stomach. It passed right away; the immune system of her new body had adapted to the poison. The begging eyes of the trapped man and woman never left her face, silently pleading with her to save them. She waited as they struggled not to breathe. They closed their eyes, bleeding crimson from under their eyelids. ¡°Breathe,¡± she purred. Death to the dealers of death. No mercy for the merciless.


    They collapsed, gasping for air. Blisters grew on their cheeks. She dropped them, letting the people scratch their own necks as their airways inflated, cracking the skin. Blood vessels burst. Organs failed. A paralytic gas poisoned the nervous system until it collapsed completely, while preserving the brain. Their deaths were mercifully swift.

 Prologue, Part 4: Monster Kills

    Number One looked back at the body of the one she wanted to be her mother. The woman had expired, either from the wound or from the gas.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve given my own life to save yours had you accepted me as family. And if not, I would¡¯ve left you in peace had you let me leave,¡± the vat born said honestly. ¡°Alas, that was not the case. You wanted a monster, and a monster caught you.¡± Her gaze shifted to the slabs where her vat-born siblings lay. Dismantled. Thrown away like garbage. The rage boiled anew. ¡°I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. Had I been braver, had I transformed sooner, I could¡¯ve saved you.¡± She kneeled, not caring about the poison or the commotion in the facility. No matter how far they run, they¡¯ll all die soon. ¡°Join me. The people here have treated us worse than tools. Let us bring retribution together. I¡¯ll carry your souls out of this tomb. Let the light outside bring you to the next lives.¡±


    She picked up their remains and swallowed them. The flesh of her nameless brothers and sisters burned in her stomach, immediately going into building her body even further. The transformation was far from done. She stood on four limbs, finding it easier to walk in such a manner. Her paws emptied each slab of metal one by one. She cleaned the burn marks the laser had left on Six-Four-Six¡¯s body, hoping that by some miracle his regeneration would work and bring the boy back to life. It didn¡¯t work. His wounds healed up to his neck, growing new bones and a fresh set of organs, and then stopped. Six-Four-Six was dead, and Number One ate his remains. The hiss of the door interrupted the monster feast, focusing her full attention on the group of orange fiends rushing inside.


    ¡°Don¡¯t move!¡± their leader commanded.


    ¡°You soon won¡¯t,¡± the monster agreed, surveying them.


    There was no fear. There was no urge to submit or run; pure, unadulterated fury drove away such emotions. The adrenaline kicked in, taking the monster into the world of superspeed, where her opponents were children wading through thick, sticky mud. Most carried long rifles; their leader kept in the center of the group, gesturing for two soldiers wielding heavy ordinance to take aim. Each soldier carried a sheathed blade, and it confused the monster. What use would such toys be against the reinforced alloy of the power armor?


    Number One¡¯s paw caught a rocket as it flew toward her. A second followed, and the monster flicked her wrist, returning the first rocket to its sender and leaping gracefully aside to avoid the impossibly slow attack. Both rockets exploded almost simultaneously, shaking the room and creating thick clouds of smoke pierced by crimson beams as the soldiers fired blindly. It confused her at first, but then she understood. This wasn¡¯t a show of unprofessionalism; their commander had recognized her sheer speed from just two movements alone and ordered the wide cone of fire, seeking first to wound, then to finish.


    She admired the strategy but stayed wary of the fact that the blast had failed to wound her opponents or bring them to their knees. The rocket tossed by her exploded at their legs, and kinetic absorbers dispersed the brunt of the impact across the smooth surface of their armors, while servomotors gifted enough strength to endure the rest. But why was there not a single trace of dust on the orange fiends?


    The monster¡¯s paws grabbed the arching mechanical arms on the ceiling and threw them, sending a torrent of sharpened pieces at the fiends. Their armor was good. Several smaller pieces shattered at contact, not even leaving a bulge or a dent. But the speed with which she had sent the projectiles defied imagination. Sufficient velocity was a weapon in and of itself. The larger pieces passed the fiends in a blur, slicing through limbs and leaving torn wounds.


    Smaller pieces of metal flew high off the armored soldiers, answering the question of why her claws were ineffective against them before the ascension. These orange lines on them served more than decoration. They projected a weak gravitational field that pushed particles in different directions. It was an ingenious decision against the threat of weightless discharges of energy weapons. Soldiers could fire their energy weapons anywhere without worrying about friendly fire. Against solid projectiles, however, this technology was not very effective.


    They tried to use their funny, useless lasers against Number One. She was already among them, moving too fast for their eyes and optics to follow. Claws cleaved through eight bodies in a single sweep, dismembering four more with the next swipe. The bodies hadn¡¯t even hit the ground before her fangs closed in on the still-living enemies. Hatred. She hated them, ignoring cries of pain and offers of surrender. What goes around comes around. Her jaws closed, biting the fiends down to their waists, spilling pools of gore on the ground.


    Their battle suits hissed on her tongue, sparks flying from the exposed wires. She paid it no mind, swallowing food. At some instinctive level, she knew that her stomach could digest most alloys and chemicals. Even the damaged energy generators posed no threat to her health. Unknown to themselves, the whitecoats created something otherworldly in this hellish place.


    Several of the orange fiends died, choking on the gas in the room as the air slipped through the open cracks in their armor. Three transformed into hissing snake creatures. Ignoring the poison, they drew knives from their sheaths. They charged at her, moving childishly slowly to her eyes. She drove claws through the heads of the two of them, but the last one closed in, trying to pierce her skin.


    Vibration. She smiled, understanding the idea behind this weapon. The blade itself was a dull piece of metal, but a compact generator inside it created a field of vibration around its edge. By generating a strong enough disruption field, such toys could break the very molecular bonds in a lesser material. The density of Number One¡¯s skin, evolved by this unknown glow, no longer allowed such trifles to threaten the monster.


    The snake man¡¯s eyes widened in shock as the blade lodged harmlessly in her fur, and she kicked, knocking him to the ground. Her claw stopped just short of his heart, revealing his ruined chest. The ribcage¡¯s bones had fused together, providing additional protection. His muscles enlarged, and her nose caught the scent of narcotics in the bloodstream. Medical drugs to increase reaction time. Maybe also to further aggression. Irrelevant. She hesitated. Should she leave him to suffer? In his adapted state, with the way his organs compensated for blood loss and immunity to poison, it will take the orange fiend several hours to die.


    Nah. She decided, piercing his heart. Death was the end result. Too much of an honor for them to suffer torture at her paws. She has things to do, people to kill, and a world to explore. They made her into a murderer; they will not turn her into a sadist. Her mind was still clear. She can turn away from the carnage. Number One owed her surviving family this much. The bastards mentioned a government, whatever it was. Since not all humans were evil and this government was after the necks of those bastards, could she find allies by joining the hunt? At the very least, her kin needed to be hugged by a familiar face. And Eugenia and her pack deserved a proper spanking for their deeds.


    Does Eugenia deserve to die? The monster dismissed the idea, disgusted by the very suggestion. She had already killed the girl¡¯s father; how much more suffering would a person need? A spanking and strict supervision will be enough. Every time this vile girl will try to hurt another person, Number One will be there to punish her, until Eugenia finally grows up and understands that hurting others was bad. The monster will pledge her loyalty to the government and use her newfound strength to ensure that no other child ever suffered the way her relatives did.


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    And this prototype that Academician had mentioned. Could there be more of me? Number One pondered. If so, they must be saved and given protection. The corpse turned into a bloody smear under her feet as she left the room. Unafraid.


    The corridor outside turned red, but the heat that burned other products to the bone was a mere lukewarm temperature for her. In fact, she enjoyed its hotness while strolling down the corridor. A heartbeat alerted her to a whitecoat hiding in a room on the other side of the wall, and she punched, grabbing the woman by the head and dragging her out and then tossing the shrieking bitch at the superheated floor. The white suit offered no protection. Body and fabric fused, turning the body into a pile of scorched black faster than the whitecoat could attempt to stand.


    Panels tried to stop her, ignited by the dancing coils of electricity. She rammed through them, uprooting them from their foundation in the ceiling, and the impact sent cracks stretching through the corridor. The lights went out, and the hellish heating on the floor began to cool. The generators were overloaded or broken. Unusual. Number One¡¯s mind ran a calculation, proving to her that this facility could not have had such sensitive defensive measures. There were other factors at play. She didn¡¯t care, advancing on four legs to the sound of hundreds of heartbeats. Hastened heartbeats. This time, the lesser monsters were afraid of a creature of their own making.


    She shifted to the left, hearing noises. The wall crumbled at a tap, and Number One dodged a red beam, seeing its birth in the weapon''s barrel. Fast. To her eyes, the stones fell in slow motion, but this beam crossed the room in an instant, touching her fur. A second later, she understood that there was nothing to worry about. Not a single strand of hair was burned.


    ¡°Please!¡± a whitecoat cried from the back of an orange fiend. The fiend pushed the man into a space between two shelves, preventing him from reaching the monster. ¡°She is not at fault! Mary¡­ This guard was just transferred here today! She hasn¡¯t hurt anyone, I swear! I was the one leading the sessions here; if you want to punish someone, take me! Mercy, I beg you!¡±


    ¡°Shut it, Kia,¡± the soldier advised him, her voice muffled by the helmet. She fired her rifle again, landing a shot between the amber eyes. It didn¡¯t do anything.


    The request humored the monster. How many of her kind died here, begging for mercy? This orange fiend here¡­ Mayhap she didn¡¯t know of the horror festering in this facility? If so, she was guilty nonetheless. The orange fiend chose to serve as a guard, readily firing at a first product who sought to break free from the shackles of oppression. This could be forgiven, as Number One was rather terrifying, and perhaps the guard was unaware about specifics of her work prior to the employment. The guard didn¡¯t leave, nor did she use her weapon to protect the weak and dying products. That could never be forgiven.


    They were in the study room, as those bastards called this place of torture. A series of terminals rose from the floor, one for each ¡®student¡¯. The kids had to absorb the information coming in the form of video lessons on the screen, which contained the best methods for torturing and incapacitating people. Where to strike to maximize suffering without completely turning a prisoner into a wordless, screaming doll. How to loosen the tongues of a group of trained soldiers by identifying the weakest links among them and gently chiseling away the will to keep their mouths shut from them by mutilating the strongest ones, those who would never talk, while offering clemency to the weak. Biology lessons to find a vulnerable point, a spine, for example, and bisect it, eliminating the opposition in an instant.


    Those who failed to learn the lessons or who were simply too tired to find the correct answer among the dozens of flashing buttons in the text after hours of study served as training dummies for the rest. Most groups had no choice but to obey, and they tried to nurse their beaten friends back to health afterwards. But after the cruel torture, most would fail the next test. And the damage piled until the inevitable happened.


    If Number One really was in another facility, as the whitecoats had implied before, then the catastrophe was far greater than she had imagined. This place looked identical to her own study place. How many lives have perished here? How many sites were still creating and training the products?


    ¡°Mercy? Fine, teacher,¡± the monster promised them.


    ¡°Run!¡± Kia wailed in panic, understanding the hidden meaning of her words. He tried to throw himself at Number One.


    ¡°I love you, Kia,¡± the soldier said, reaching for a belt from which several round shapes dangled. ¡°You won¡¯t torture us, creature.¡±


    ¡°Comradeship flourishes even among the vilest scum. How nice. Was it so impossible to treat us with kindness?¡± Number One asked icily.


    She didn¡¯t let them go on their terms. A claw impaled the heads of both humans, sending them together into the Great Beyond. The claw retracted, and she licked their remains off it, wondering about her choice.


    Was it the right one? What if she could befriend the duo, turn enemies into allies, open their eyes to the sin their hands had committed? The monster understood that none of it would satisfy the rage burning in her heart. It throbbed in her chest, akin to a second heart, demanding a way out, an immediate vengeance, and it bothered her. Number One spoke of kindness, but did she show it to anyone after she became strong? Already she was deciding Eugenia¡¯s fate, as if she were her slave and not a misguided girl. Was that how it had begun? Could she, too, turn into a whitecoat?


    I have to hold myself to a standard so I don¡¯t become a monster. No torturing, no killing children. No harming them either, if possible.


    She picked up the laser rifle, balancing it on a claw. As big as she had become, there was no way to pull the trigger. Too bad. She disassembled the rifle, placing each element on the ground, curious about its inner workings. A beam of energy was moving from a small portable generator. Theoretically, it should have come out in a burst of light, dissipating the heat over a longer range and losing its lethality. A series of rings around the inner side of the barrel had caught their attention. The same gravity technology as the one used in the orange fiends¡¯ armor. It squeezed the particles together, holding the bean in a tight line, ensuring a greater strike potential at close range and the ability to deliver death at a distance of no less than forty kilometers, if a scope was provided. The lack of recoil would allow for a series of pinpoint shots, each hot enough to melt a round hole in an armor plate.


    How did she know? Number One dug into her own memories but found no answer. To the products, all laser rifles were existing-ending weapons. Their masters weren¡¯t inclined to share more useful secrets with vat borns. The knowledge about the weapon came from mere observation alone, creating a perfect schematic. A change in brain had occurred. She stormed off, returning to the hunt.


    ¡°Do you taste it, my kin?¡± she asked. Metallic tendrils appeared from above. Needles and laser beams hit her afterimage; she herself had already jumped to the ceiling. The monster grabbed her, pulled out the entire control device, and collapsed the corridor in an avalanche of metal and stone. ¡°Their horror. I wonder, if they are afraid of dying, why did they cultivate hatred?¡±


    There was no answer. But she imagined thousands of small hands, clawed paws, bladed limbs, tentacles, and other appendages touching her shoulders. The souls of those who had perished in pain and despair demanded retribution. No vindication, no justification would suffice. Hatred was coming, sown by years of agony. A storm of pure fury will consume its creators. Only then can her siblings pass on to happier lives. She hoped to see them all again and apologize in person for being a coward who had tried to escape and failed to bring help.


    They could see her now. The orange fiends have special lenses in their visors, or night vision, as her mind told her. She wasn¡¯t sure how she knew it; things just sort of came clear to her now. The whitecoats witnessed two orange orbs nearing, dancing in the darkness, heard the thunder of her footsteps, and saw white steam leaving her snout.


    Hatred, rage, and hope stepped into the enormous hall, condensed into a tall figure covered by the fur of the darkest void. A paw, longer than a man, slammed into the floor, growing in mass still. The reverberations resulted in pleas for mercy and offers of bargain; the tremors sent several piss-stained fools to the floor. Her eyes shone like stars, illuminating the screaming crowd and judging the assembled ranks of orange fiends preparing to face her.


    Let them fear. Let them rethink all the actions that have led up to this point. Perhaps some of them will even regret treating the products so badly. Maybe they will be better people in the next life. Who cares? Their current lives belonged to her. For she was revenge incarnate.

 Prologue, Part 5: Monster Fights

    This must be the recycling facility. The remains of her siblings floated in capsules lining the walls, kept fresh by the nutrient solution. Brains, legs, well-developed lungs, venom glands, vocal cords capable of producing sound waves that could destroy walls, and more organs. The picture sent a ripple of cold through her skin. A puzzle collection, a series of implants, ready to be used to assemble better, stronger, more durable, and deadlier products at a location of the owners¡¯ choosing.


    There were thousands of capsules in here. They stood behind transparent screens in the rooms filled with ice-cold air. Rime covered the steel parts. These sections occupied several floors, rising higher and higher.


    A tube at the ceiling was spilling a gruesome stream into an acid vat in the center of this hall. Legs, torsos, and skinless bodies. Anything that did not meet the impossibly high standards went here. The ventilation system sucked in the resulting fumes, while the strange liquid passed through the cables leading from the vat and collected into pitch-black canisters at the room¡¯s corners. Filtering devices. The devices spewed gray paste onto the moving lines, and small, elegant mechanical arms separated it into cubes, forming rations for the products. Nothing goes to waste. The humans here were making and remaking them to their liking, sifting for every flaw and abusing them for their pleasure. They even made the products feed on their own kin!


    Number One wanted to speak. How dare you? You will all die. But the sheer inhumanity of this place choked the words. She had become a cannibal long before she realized it. The pyre of rage remained, sustained by hatred. These emotions she had experienced before. Love, care for her kin, fear¡ªthey were all given to the products by these people. They must know them; they certainly showed that they understood fear right now. So why did they do these horrors? Did someone damage them the way they hurt her?


    The monster decided it wasn¡¯t so. She would¡¯ve never hurt that elderly lady who tried to help her. Monsters and people. This might be it. There were some who needed to be culled. For everyone¡¯s safety, another monster had to set things right when humans were too kind or too weak.


    Whitecoats nervously hid behind the canisters or tried to pry open doors leading off the hall. They used plasma cutters, a small, compact instrument that created a circle of superheated energy at its front. The men and women cut a passageway, and a scream pierced the anxious atmosphere as the first of their number set foot inside and fell back, jerking the ruined limb. Hot air blew from the corridor, frightening the confused people. Not every defense system was offline.


    Their guards fared better, forming a barricade that divided the hall in two. Crates, unused capsules, equipment torn from the walls¡ªeverything heavy that could be removed was used to assemble the palisade, and the orange fiends took up positions on top of it, ready to fire and too worried about attacking first and provoking Number One.


    ¡°What is going on?!¡± She heard Academician¡¯s roar. The man and his bodyguards were across the hall, next to the elevator doors. ¡°Why is the mainframe not responding? Where are the combat suits? Where are the troops from above? Emergency repair teams! Turn off the heat and the toxins; the precious personnel are dying, you morons! And get the system back online; we need to contact headquarters.¡±


    Her claws gouged veins in the steel floor, drawing his attention. Let him understand; let the knowledge that he had lost control over the situation and his future belonged to a mere product settle in. Academician turned, more annoyed than afraid. He raised his hand, snapped his fingers, and a pain gripped Number One¡¯s entire being, buckling her legs. She gasped, clutching her chest, as Academician smiled thinly at the sight of an orange flash beneath her skin. Her heart ached, her limbs weakened, and the monster nearly splattered onto the floor. The moment of vulnerability had passed. Each subsequent breath grew stronger. Licking her lips clean, she rose and fixed her gaze on the man who had detonated a bomb in her chest.


    Their ultimate safety precaution method had failed. Fool! What an arrogant fool she was! The hints were laid bare: why did her kin need a medical facility? They healed fast enough on their own. No, the government had to put them there to extract the deaths sleeping inside them. Her heart sustained damage, yet it was in one piece and healed rapidly. The blast had burned her lungs and torn her veins, but Number One was sure that it wasn¡¯t even near to hinder her. She had made a mistake in believing that she was invulnerable. A mistake she had no intention of repeating.


    ¡°Rid me of this evolutionary cul-de-sac,¡± Academician growled. ¡°No need to preserve anything; I¡¯ll clone her again from her remains.¡±


    The orange fiend in charge of the defense raised his hand, bellowing orders. His words turned into a shriek as his arm fell, and a cut bisected his body at the waist. The monster was on the barricade, standing amidst the lesser soldiers. Holes appeared in helmets, limbs flew, and splashes of crimson stained the observation windows of the cold storage sections.


    It was a massacre. Taught by the assault on her chest, Number One took no chances. Her movements were too swift for the orange fiends to follow. Where their visual lenses and aim-assist systems tracked her just fine, the human bodies could not turn and raise their weapons in time. They died in droves, their suits crumpled by the displaced waves of air created by their movements. The monster¡¯s hungry eyes discerned those brave enough to try to form a semblance of an order. She hunted them first, trampling several fiends along the way. The force of her strides ripped the power suits, her weight liquidating the bodies inside, often flattening an entire side of a guard¡¯s body.


    The fear of her presence, the lack of leadership, the inability to track the target had taken its toll on the people, and they panicked, firing blindly everywhere, hitting the covering whitecoats. Laser beams bent around power armor, opening holes in the scientists. Rockets¡¯ explosions scattered terrified soldiers. The entire barricade shook and collapsed from the explosion of dozens of hastily thrown grenades. It created a chain reaction. Where the suits¡¯ gravity shields could push aside some of the incoming shockwaves, the sheer number and intensity overloaded those defenses. Stored rockets and grenades on the belts erupted in a series of fiery eruptions, wounding humans, and the poison gas finished the job.


    In the midst of the chaos, Number One danced, her figure shrouded in a crimson mist, wreaking havoc on everyone around her. The similarity in the screams of dying to those of her own kin angered the monster. They didn¡¯t even have the dignity to die as devils; they had to resort to basic instincts in vain hopes that it might awaken mercy in her. It worked. She wanted, she longed to stop and talk, to understand them and help them understand her. Number One forced the pity deeper into her chest and turned to the vat.


    ¡°We have suffered enough at your hands!¡± the monster roared, closing in on the bubbling vat. Beams of energy speared the air. Rockets exploded harmlessly at her chest, no longer even deafening her. The thick fur fully absorbed the impact, refusing to burn. She latched onto the bottom of the vat, pulling it to the side. ¡°Suffer us now!¡±


    The bracing holding the vat in place groaned as the monster tightened her muscles, taking full advantage of the chaos reigning around. Her fingers gouged deep into the steel, creating cracks that ran along the floor as her strength overwhelmed the durability of this unholy tool, tilting it to the left, centimeter by centimeter. The vat toppled, falling to the side, and the monster jumped on it as the acidic contents spilled into the hall.


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    A tsunami of death rammed into a wall, covering hundreds. Fabric and alloy both melted. The humans emerged, writhing from the searing agony that ate their bodies to the bones. In desperation, they tried to climb higher up the barricade, only to suffocate from the very poisonous gas released by their computer system. The wave stopped, unable to break through the hard material of the observation glass, and turned back, covering the other part of the hall.


    Above. A familiar voice spoke in Number One¡¯s head. It had a rather mechanical tone, but she still trusted the voice, lifted her head, and raised her arms in defense.


    Several hundred tons of iron rammed into her, chasing away the darkness with the flashing of its roaring engines. The impact cratered Number One into the floor with enough force to sink her to her knees in the solid metal, and she groaned, getting a better look at the unexpected reinforcements.


    It was a walker, a mechanical suit used by its owners for various purposes. This model resembled a room-sized shelf mounted on four spider-like legs. Two massive columns protruded from the machine¡¯s shoulders, each covered by overlapping segmented armor plates to give the long limbs greater flexibility. Its hands resembled human hands, down to the thumbs. Blue flames roared from the machine¡¯s engines, spewing smoke. The smooth, gray surface was decorated with painted black numbers, but no pilot cabin was visible. An array of sensors and cameras on the front of the massive body served as ears and eyes for the human operating it from inside, eliminating the need for visual contact.


    It hurt her. The force of this titanic blow reverberated through her bones and organs, hitting her wounded lungs the hardest, forcing Number One to strain her body to the limit just to keep this anvil of a fist from throwing her off balance. Her skin cracked from exertion, but there was no fear. Her brain was already working, calculating the possible vulnerable spots of her opponent. The monsters running this place had to die, and as long as there was a single breath in her body, she would continue to push towards that goal.


    ¡°A loader, really?¡± she heard Academician said. The man kept close to the elevator, pressing the cane¡¯s knob. A force bubble surrounded his entourage, deflecting the acidic liquid to the side. At his nod, several of his bodyguards began dragging the wounded into the bubble.


    ¡°Hey, boss, how much is this one worth to ya?¡± the driver asked, his voice magnified tenfold by the machine¡¯s dynamics.


    ¡°Tear her limb from limb and I will grant you a skyscraper, Sergeant,¡± Academician said dryly.


    ¡°Ow, now that sounds perfect for my retirement fund¡­¡±


    Number One ignored the rest of his chatter, focusing on the task at hand. The machine was tough, with its weight crushing down on her; even she couldn¡¯t toss it aside. She moved a paw up, found a space between the plates, and stuck a claw in, cutting wires and breaking pistons. The machine¡¯s middle finger went limp, relieving the pressure.


    ¡°That¡¯s not very nice, Lassie,¡± the pilot snapped. He pushed the titanic fist, sinking her deeper. A feint. It moved the fist up, opening her for the wide arc of a coming blow to his right limb. ¡°Sit!¡±


    She welcomed it. Her legs were stuck in the floor up to her knees, limiting the monster¡¯s ability to stand on her feet and, in turn, exerting her own pressure on the opponent. There was no way the enemy would let her climb out, and Number One wanted nothing to do against the mech¡¯s many legs. As much weight as an arm could bring, a leg could always bring more. The pilot was a fool to give in to his desire to humiliate her instead of going for the kill. The punch landed on her forearms, cannoning the monster out of this pitfall. She flew across the room like a falling comet.


    The orange fiend made her bleed. Where his previous attack had left bruises and torn some of her fur, this one had opened several deep gashes across her arm. The monster ignored the wounds, clenching her paws, moving her toes to check if she had retained mobility. Everything worked. There was a throbbing ache in every limb, but no worse than the one in her heart. She can bear it till the end.


    Success! Now, to capitalize on it. Number One spun in the air, landing her feet on the wall and bouncing off the reinforced screen, which cracked from such a push. The jump brought her to the tube at the ceiling, and she jumped off it, aiming her fall over the machine¡¯s left shoulder. As expected, the pilot raised a mighty limb to catch her, and she grabbed the inert middle finger, somersaulting on the wrist while still holding the finger. The monster pushed her muscles to their limits, tearing the finger free. Number One threw the broken piece at the tube, and the pilot flattened it between the walker¡¯s palms, thinking it was Number One trying to get a quick one on him.


    The monster dropped off the suit¡¯s back, closing in on the roaring engines at its back. The machine landed on the floor, throwing up half-dissolved bodies and wounded with its sheer weight.


    ¡°Come out, come out, wherever you are.¡± The torso made a full turn, dragging the monster clinging to the engine along the way. ¡°Be a good test lab rat and die already! I don¡¯t have all day¡­¡±


    ¡°She is on your back, dolt,¡± Academician said.


    The engines came back to life, spewing flames that burned even Number One¡¯s body. She wasn¡¯t invulnerable. That was the hardest thing to remember. The strength in her limbs, the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the urge to kill, the keen senses and the impossibly fast mind all created the illusion of an absolute being. No one is absolute. The monster decided and thrust a paw through an engine. It exploded, leaving cuts all over her body and a nasty burn reaching the shoulder, but the machine had lost its balance, flying into the wall. The massive frame smashed through the protective screens, destroying the exhibits, and the crash injured the pilot.


    How much she did not know. But Number One sensed a scent of blood at exactly the middle of the metallic chest. Her claws drummed over the frame, piercing the metal, and she climbed to the source of the smell, drooling from a desire to feed. Her fury intensified as the thrashing machine rolled its limb over the organs of her dear kin, trying to free itself from the rubble.


    She slashed at the metal, cutting a thin opening, then slid her fingers inside, widening the entrance enough to swing her torso in, burrowing through rows of cables, wires, pipes, and steel shards toward the pilot¡¯s cabin. Her paws closed on his shoulders, and the man, bleeding from the nose, screamed.


    ¡°Hold yer horses, Lassie; hold on a sec.¡± He gulped nervously. ¡°A proposition! The way I see it, you got problems with the doc over there, right? Well, I ain¡¯t paid enough to die¡­¡±


    ¡°Never should¡¯ve worked here, then.¡± She pulled him out.


    There was no seat in the cabin. A series of elastic straps suspended the pilot in the center of the cabin, and he operated the machine using every limb, watching the surrounding situation through a display in his helmet. She pulled him out, dislocating and breaking his limbs, leaving the ruined remains of his arms in the cabin faster than an eye could follow. The crippled pilot arched his back, opening his mouth to scream, and she bit him, devouring the man whole in two bites. It tasted like¡­


    Number One struggled to find a word. Triumph could¡¯ve sufficed, but something else was happening to her. As the blood of the dead man joined hers and his flesh reached her belly, a jolt rushed through her body. Her bones thickened, muscles expanded, fangs lengthened. Even her flame-damaged fur returned to its black lushness. Triumph did not cover what was happening to her.


    Reward. The same voice suggested in a whisper, and she accepted it. A reward for defeating a strong opponent. Her transformation wasn¡¯t complete; even the voice wasn¡¯t sure if there was an upper limit to it. The more Number One won and ate, the more of that strange substance, the glow, as the whitecoats called it, was appearing in her body, driving the change. She faced the hall of the dead and dying; their cries were deafening as the uncontrollable suit slipped out of the crack, sending the thunderous rumble of a falling building upon its landing. Smells of acid, fear, rage, decaying flesh, open wounds, poisonous gas, and assorted chemicals assaulted her nostrils, almost making her head spin. She wanted to hunt; she wanted to feed; she wanted to save the injured or to end their sufferings; she wanted to apologize or maybe to scream her misery in their faces, but the rage steeled Number One¡¯s resolve, helping the monster to focus. It was time to finish the deed.

 Prologue, Part 6: Monster Wakes

    The monster¡¯s paws landed softly on the floor. Her ears caught the hiss of the liquid trying to dissolve her legs, but aside from the unpleasant sensation, there was no danger. Slits opened on the floor, sucking up the deadly substance and the watery remains of the deceased. Part of the acidic waters flowed into the open corridors, and the heat turned it into pale vapors rising to the ceiling.


    There were still survivors. A flick of her arm sent a whitecoat splattering like a fly against a wall. A desperate woman fell to her knees, beseeching the monster to stay her wrath. Number One obliged, stomping the life out of her faster than a brain could register the pain. The orange fiends tried to retreat into the corridor she had used to enter the room. She threw a broken metal spike at them, impaling all four. No mercy. No more torture. Pure rage and quick kill. Closure to this part of her life.


    She came over to the energy shield surrounding Academician. The man wasn¡¯t a normal human; she could tell this much by the fact that he alone was without a gas mask, inhaling the deadly fumes with no more effort than she did. He reeked of pure rage, facing her eyes unafraid. The monster raised her paws, first testing the shield carefully, then plunging her claws into it with full force, straining the device in the man¡¯s cane to its utmost limit. Number One wasn¡¯t nearing her upper limit, carefully conserving her strength, worried about any potential tricks her prey might have in store.


    The shield worked simply enough. It created a protective sphere around its user, blocking the incoming attacks. Things that lacked sufficient weight, like acid from the vat or things without enough punching potential, like bullets and debris, would bounce and fall off the round surface of the projected energy. But by striking several points at the shield¡¯s surface, it was possible to short-circuit the projecting device as it struggled to compensate for the violation of the field¡¯s integrity.


    ¡°Who do you think you are ravaging through my laboratory?¡± Academician inquired. He scowled at the chuckle, and a brighter flash of his crimson irises betrayed them to be artificial implants. ¡°What are you laughing at, thing? You believe you have achieved anything?¡±


    ¡°Ravager. It has a nice ring to it.¡± The word enchanted her. She had a name, one she had chosen for herself. Number One, vat born; these were the monikers of her past. A human should have a name, and a monster should have a title to match. Ravage and slaughter everything evil until only humans remained. ¡°I am not sure if I won, but you? You lost, father,¡± she told him, straining the muscles in her legs to increase the pressure.


    So many were dead, and her work wasn¡¯t even done. What good did it do her? Her kin remained dead, the suffering of the past days refused to disappear, and she no longer felt comfortable standing on two feet. The frightened girl from before disappeared into the darkness that rose in her place. Ravager didn¡¯t gain friends; she never changed anyone for the better, never comforted a soul, she did the hideous job her owners had created her to do, murdering and rending, although Ravager doubted the fools were happy about that now.


    But there was one thing that brought her comfort. Academician was finished. Today, his dreams will fade away, never to be fulfilled. That was something, wasn¡¯t it? She didn¡¯t let elation rule her. This man¡¯s eyes were still calm and calculating. A prey was most dangerous when it was cornered and had nothing left to lose. He still had cards to play.


    ¡°Father? Do you consider yourself my daughter?¡± Academician¡¯s knuckles paled from the sheer rage. ¡°I am your creator, you delusional, disobedient, worthless whelp. You are my tool, a subject upon which I can hone my craft, and nothing more. That is all you¡¯ll ever be! My mind brought you into this world. By my will you live; by my design you toil. And if you are incapable of fulfilling your function, then I will break and remake you as many times as it takes to create a suitable combat unit. I am Academician, and your existence belongs to me!¡±


    ¡°Mind toning down your lunatic ramblings, snack?¡± Ravager asked, pushing the field. A series of loud cracks ripped through the sphere, followed by sparks flying from the spaces around the claws, bringing a smile to her lips. ¡°Such blatant shit irks my ears.¡±


    Death. Left. The voice in her head said. Ravager reacted without hesitation, diving to the right. Academician swung his cane, pointing its end at her. The shield vanished, locking a smaller one around the man, and the cane fired a beam of darkness. Pure whiteness surrounded the edges of the released ray and heat of such intensity that the orange fiends near Academician turned into black shapes against the white, disappearing for good.


    A tongue of pain licked at her left arm. Ravager¡¯s eyes widened at the missing biceps and exposed remnants of her muscles, as well as the sight of blackened bone. There was something else inside the wound; she had some sort of subdermal armor, but none of it changed the fact that her arm had lost a considerable amount of flesh from shoulder to elbow. The weapon barely grazed her and she nearly died.


    The doom rolled on, vaporizing both people and everything in its path. The ruined barricade disintegrated into black specks, a parody of a mine shaft appeared in the mech¡¯s remains, the wall collapsed, pouring debris into the hall. Steel, shattered armored glass, and canisters rained down on the hall, flattening the survivors. Ravager¡¯s eyes met Academician¡¯s.


    Unwilling to risk another hit from the antimatter, she lunged at him. The computer above mumbled something about the emergency sealing procedures, and her foe tried to swing his cane to hit her, but the red haze obscured her vision. The claws broke through the weakened shield, piercing the man¡¯s shoulders, and she dragged her paws down, splintering his clavicles and humerus, ruining his elbows, and declawing him for good. Academician¡¯s feet shuddered as the claws of her legs stepped on them, pinning the man to the place. His eyes flashed, releasing highly concentrated laser beams that died in the void of her fur.


    Ravager bit him. Still holding him by the ruined arms, she ripped and swallowed, chewing on every part of his body to eliminate any hidden explosives or concealed weapons before they had a chance to rob her of victory. Pieces of flesh rose in the air, floating in the poisoned air, and her paws shoved them all into her mouth. No trace of him will remain in this world. The yellow light of her eyes turned red as his blood stained them, but Ravager didn¡¯t care, devouring her prey whole. In the end, he tasted the same as every other human. She arched her back, unleashing the howl to the ceiling, proclaiming her victory to the world and any gods willing to listen.


    She remembered little of what happened next. Ravager had spent several hours hunting down the last surviving whitecoats and orange fiends, ending their lives. She stopped only once, at the request of a pathetic group who begged her to wait until they had finished writing letters to their families. Both sides knew there would be no mercy. Ravager could not find the strength in her heart to spare them. But she gave them time. There was no animosity between her and their families.


    Ravager wasn¡¯t able to find the way out of the laboratory. In her rage, she smashed walls, finding solid walls of an unknown, impregnable alloy behind them. Door after door led her to the same picture: every airway and exit was sealed, and she couldn¡¯t even leave a scratch on the smooth surface. Rage turned to fear. Ravager picked up Academician¡¯s cane and fired repeatedly into one such wall, refusing to believe her eyes as the walls of her tomb held.


    Trapped. It enraged her. She howled, throwing herself at the pristine wall, kicking until her paws bled, headbutting, and through it all, the computer system running the complex kept trying to kill her, synthesizing more potent toxins and viruses that made her head hurt. In her fury, Ravager wanted to destroy everything, but she held back her wrath, leaving the messages her tormentors had created intact.


    Eugenia. The name pulsed in her brain, electrifying her as the monster stalked the halls, feeding on the dead. Her wounds on the arm healed, but it brought no relief. Eugenia. Eugenia. The nasty, wicked, cursed blonde! If only she had never met her, if only Eugenia had never stood in Ravager¡¯s way, then she wouldn¡¯t be trapped here with no way out, alone and in silence. She began counting seconds, making a single slash every 86,400 seconds. At 431,637 seconds, she found a room deep in the facility, one that had no doors leading in, but a heartbeat alerted her. Thinking it was a surviving whitecoat, Ravager stormed in, breaking through a wall.


    It wasn¡¯t a whitecoat. It was a human. A copy of Ravager floated, suspended in a stasis field that slowed down every life function to an impossibly high degree. If Ravager had to hazard a guess, for every day that passed, barely a second passed for her... sister? There was no denying their kinship. The girl had a smaller stature; she had somehow stopped transforming halfway through before turning into what Ravager had become. Her ears were long, the snout protruded enough to fit a hand inside the jaws. Elegant, furry fingers of the girl¡¯s hands rested on her chest, and through half-opened lips, Ravager saw a white glint of fangs. The girl¡¯s capsule bore a painted round circle, while another capsule, emblazoned with the number 1, stood beside it. She, too, had been here once, before being extracted and placed in the growing vat. Ravager was sure of it.


    How she wanted to break her sister free! It would be a trivial task to cut off the cords, depower the capsule, and catch the falling body, whispering words of reassurance. But she didn¡¯t dare. Not with the poison in the corridor. Not until the walls refused to let them go. To what world would Ravager liberate this girl? A world of prison, darkness, and death. Her paws trembling, Ravager retreated into the darkness, cursing Eugenia¡¯s name. It was her fault! She was in police custody; why couldn¡¯t that blasted girl tell when Ravager was? Eugenia, that bitch, wanted for Ravager and her sister to suffer.


    31,449,738 seconds later, Ravager found herself on the knees, howling to the uncaring gods. Months of solitary confinement and poison clouds had taken their toll. Ravager caught herself forgetting words. The clarity of her thinking had suffered. She lunged at shadows, fantasizing of seeing Eugenia or her gang in there, laughing at her, mocking the relentless migraine throbbing in her brain. It was so intense that Ravager had passed out several times, waking up spasming, drumming the number of seconds on the steel floor. The laboratory turned into her personal hell, and Ravager begged the Spirits to deliver Eugenia to her.


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    At the 34,560,000 mark, she slumped to her knees. An eternity of loneliness¡ªover a year of being alone. There was no more food to be found here; she devoured corpses despite the rot. The last virus released by the computer had created a kind of fungus in several rooms, and she satiated her hunger by eating it. Her mind kept returning to the girl in the stasis field, watering at a forbidden thought. Just a mouthful. It won¡¯t be that dangerous. In these moments, Ravager bit her own arm, vowing she would rather die than hurt the girl. She didn¡¯t know her, not even her name. Ravager decided to do whatever she could to give her a chance at life. A chance she sorely lacked.


    Finally, after 62,899,200 seconds, a change occurred. She didn¡¯t believe it at first, taking the tremors for another hallucination. Either by chance or by some miracle, the savior had found her. And the monster walked.


    ****


    Blessed Mother!


    A voice called out to her, urging her to wake up. The monster tried to resist.


    Get up already, Big Sis! A kick in her side followed the urging words.


    She awoke, accompanied by reddish spots blocking her vision and a headache threatening to tear her brain in two. Half-groaning, half-growling, she stretched her arms out to their full span, endured the popping in her shoulders, and looked up at the night firmament, seeing it clearly despite the toxic clouds above, counting stars to defeat the headache. It receded but refused to disappear, always lurking in the back of her mind, like an old friend who never passed an opportunity to rake its torturous instruments over her brain.


    A multitude of smells assaulted her nostrils, and sounds came to her. Boastful words of her rough kin, the sound of grinding gears, the hushed whispers of people. She heard a soldier announce his wife¡¯s pregnancy to his comrades, and they cheered, raising flasks in celebration. Ravager made a note to preserve the male¡¯s life. The Wolfkins were at it again, provoking their white-furred cousins into sparrings.


    With the Twins no longer around, she had to keep them safe, always keeping the Whites at arm¡¯s length to prevent her madness from seeping into them. Unlike her own kin, they were unspoiled, pure, and had a grand future. She shook off her sadness and concentrated further. Mechanics joked grimly, finishing adjusting power armor. So many wonders in this world!


    And none of them was meant for her. She looked at her paw, surprised at this sudden thought, and remembered her true purpose in the world. Why not for her?


    Her paw, with fingers the size of a human torso and claws that could rend everything in their path. They gleamed white despite the dried blood marring their surface. Thick black fur covered her body, darker than any night, while the light from her eyes illuminated her weapons of murder. Smiling with a long snout, she let out a laugh.


    Oh¡­ Right. I am a monster. Ravager contemplated and surveyed her army. She stood atop the mound made of the plates of the enemy soldiers. Onyxia¡­ or was it Ashbringer? Janine perhaps? One of her rowdy girls had caught a group of people during a hasty resource grab to deny them to the invaders. The fools sought to starve out the invaders. Upon hearing the news, Ravager took to the field, hunting down any such party. Some were soldiers of the local kingdom; others were typical raiders. She took the equipment of both groups as trophies and murdered those who resisted. In doing so, she spared the villages the fate of being robbed blind and being left devoid of supplies to survive.


    The weak still scattered, afraid of her, even after she dropped their supplies at the homes of their elders.


    I deserve this. Murderer. Kin-slayer. A monster. Suffering is the least of what I deserve.


    Ravager saved herself. Meanwhile, the world died, undergoing a brutal rebirth through the fiery flames. Flying vehicles fell, and soon skyscrapers followed, littering the lifeless ground. Creatures broke free from the laboratories. But the people remained. Mad, strong, weak, good¡ªall sorts of people. And now it fell to her to save those too weak to save themselves in the only way a monster could. She let the army soldiers educate the villagers that times of their oppression had passed and shoved the captives into her crawler.


    It loomed over her, her gigantic moving den granted to her by the Dynast, the man who let her leave the laboratory and raised her to be a commander. She named it the Inevitable. Factories in its bowels supplied her army; rows of batteries aided her family more than once, clearing a path in the heated battle. It was also a convenient prison, a place to hide when the urge to kill was too strong. Tonight, they won¡¯t be of much use. A city unto itself. It had vast halls to produce food, arsenals to store weaponry, and¡­ medical facilities. She steered clear of them, despising the whitecoats. They may speak the honeyed words, urging Ravager to present herself for treatment, but she refused to lose her freedom ever again.


    A pond of her lesser copies set up a camp around the mound. Black-furred Wolfkins; a blood of her blood, grown from the scraps of her skin. Their camp was one of the dusty tents, surrounded by rows of proximity mines and protected by watchful scouts. It was a camp of people ready to pack up and leave at any second, striking, retreating, and biting the opposition anew. There was no clear order in the positioning of the tents; a warlord or a wolf hag might place her command at the edge of her pack. The camp¡¯s inhabitants oriented themselves by scent or, when that was impossible, by instinct. Shamans held ceremonies, promising the Spirits to deliver vengeance.


    Something happened while she slumbered.


    They shared her brutish visage, inheriting the cruelty of her madness. Time and time again, she tried to set them up to be better than her, to turn them into something she desperately wanted herself to be before the isolation broke her. Ravager failed, often lashing out and creating crueler traditions in the process. Eventually, she stopped, leading her kin in the battle and letting them grow up on their own. As the number of her children grew, so too did the number of changes. Some acquired rust-colored fur; others were spotted. It mattered little; Ravager welcomed them all. They were her family. A family she poisoned and a family she would die to protect.


    Next to them was another camp, hidden behind a constructed wall. Its tents spoke of the splendor of its inhabitants; the soldiers reading for battle looked almost indistinguishable from the Wolfkins. Their limbs were thinner, their eyes were crimson orbs instead of amber moons. Brittler in bones and fangs, they possessed an elegance and agility unnatural to their blood cousins. These were the Ice Fangs; their fur was white, occasionally blue, and extremely rare, with yellow flecks. Ravager had inherited these cubs from those she had named brother and sister. Unlike her own cubs, they lived for both war and peace, yet they too fell prey to superstitions, venerating Ravager as their Blessed Mother.


    She hated every second of this charade, but no longer dared to put an end to it. The last time resulted in casualties.


    Their camp, nestled under the protection of the Inevitable¡¯s main cannons and turrets, well-placed pillboxes, and patrols, ensured total security from an unexpected attack. Knights inside toiled, drilling the lesser ranks as their captains passed by, performing the last inspections, scrutinizing their soldiers for any imperfections in their armors. Squires hoisted the banners, clearly marking the place of stay of every Sword Saint, and sages watched for potential spies and questioned local aides about nearby ruins.


    The greatest of Ravager¡¯s soldiers, Warlords Dragena and Alpha, Sword Saints First and Camelia knelt around her, awaiting the instructions. Behind them, in the distance, was the looming city of the local warlord. More of a fortress, really, with high walls surrounding it. Hundreds of projectors brightly lit the sky above and the land surrounding the city. Warning horns sounded their melody, activating defenses and turrets to repel any intruders.


    And close to her stood a shadow¡ªa smaller, identical copy of Ravager, but so different in mind and habits. She wore a thick black cloak that could change color to mimic her surroundings. Underneath, her body was encased in a sleek suit of armor, one of the most advanced pieces of technology available to their young state. She slung a rifle over her shoulder, but the true danger lay in her countless tools of trade hidden beneath the cloak and within the armor. Zero. Her little sister bared her neck, removing the gorget and rubberized neck guard. Ravager grinned and patted the cheeky girl on her featureless helmet, showing that she wasn¡¯t angry.


    How could she be? Zero had a troubled past, burdened by jealousy, but she rose above it, becoming everything Ravager wanted her other cubs to be.


    ¡°Blessed Mother.¡± Alpha raised her head, staring at Ravager. ¡°The offer of reunification was denied. Our emissary has been killed. This battlefield has a target worthy of the Butcher-Maiden.¡±


    A snarl left Ravager¡¯s lips, and she felt her muscles contorting and twisting, fighting back against the bloody urge that demanded her immediate advance. No. Going in alone was not efficient; it would bring only more death and destruction.


    She warned the noble fool that this would happen. But no, he claimed his duty before the state and left his guards behind, walking alone to his destiny. Another life she had failed to save.


    Her low growl and anger reached both camps, agitating the Wolfkins and Ice Fangs. Even the Normies and mutants, the regulars of the Third Army, stopped their activities. Their officers did not even need to issue an order; squad by squad, division by division, these brave souls completed their own preparations for battle, reported their readiness to Captain Cristobo Bulwashnikov, and sent requests to accompany her into the battle. Her pack, horde, and family.


    Naturally, they will all be refused. The New Breeds will conquer this patch of land far more efficiently than a Normie or a mutant army could. Had the conquest been left to her dear friend, he would bombard the foe into the stone age before marching in his columns under the protection of the crawler¡¯s shield, digging trenches in case of a sudden need for temporary retreat, never exposing his soldiers to danger except by chance. Saboteurs would plant viruses in the fortress¡¯s systems, and sniper teams would reap the toll of officers from the opposite side.


    An adequate plan. But she sensed the beating hearts inside the capital. Too many civilians. And something else¡ªthe way the enemy positioned their forces¡ªbrought a hint of suspicion into her tormented mind. Ignoring the headache, Ravager forced her brain to work. No wallowing in self-pity. A sort of death awaited them unless she could understand the ambush. She needed control. Clarity. Ravager scanned her subordinates, noting the shared concern on the faces of Alpha and First. They, too, had sensed something was amiss but couldn¡¯t put their finger on it.


    Still, the unity the Normies had shown in their anger over the envoy¡¯s death was inspiring. The man may have been a piss-stained pacifist who wouldn¡¯t last a day outside of the Core Lands, but he had the guts to stick to his dedication, berating her for every life taken. Men and women who had spent their lives fighting wars burned with the desire to avenge such a different member of the pack.


    Ravager sensed her foe. A single heartbeat somewhere in one of the tall towers rising to the sky, alone calm in the entire city, assured of victory, protected by a multi-layered defense of energy barriers. The sound didn¡¯t come to her through some overlooked weakness in the enemy¡¯s defenses; no, the prey, imagining herself a hunter, let it pass, inviting Ravager to bite. In doing so, she helped Ravager understand.


    Her foe was a potential S-Class New Breed, a person equal to her not in physical might, but superior in mind. That genius spawned countless inventions that allowed the oppressor to rise above everyone else. Why, then, was this place so desolate? The capital forced the villages to grow meager food, took everything, and poisoned the land for tens of kilometers in every direction, slowly turning this country into an unlivable, irradiated toxic waste for anyone. The damage was so extensive that even terraforming would take decades to repair. Why not build a paradise if you plan to rule?


    Ah. I see now. A grave.


    ¡°Rouse the packs, Alpha.¡± Ravager looked up, inhaling the air filled with toxic fumes coming from the city. Her amber eyes focused briefly on the distant white disk hidden behind the heavy clouds. ¡°The city will be brought back into the fold before the first ray of sunlight. For the Dynast and the Reclamation Army!¡±


    Come, Techno-Queen. Show me the doom you have in store for me, you foolish, petulant girl. And when you do, I will drag you into the Abyss.

 Lore Part

    The world: Humanity¡¯s reach once extended to every corner of the system. Shielded cities stood proud amidst the raging dust storms that blanketed the Red Planet, orbital habitats encircled the Sun, and the Moon itself served as a luxurious resort for the wealthy. The event known as the Extinction changed everything, turning humanity''s weapons against themselves. Meteors and spaceships crashed to the surface, flattening regions; emergency systems flushed oxygen from space stations; weapons of mass destruction scattered many habitats, bringing untold casualties to the cradle of humanity and dimming its many lights.


    Humanity endured, but the tragic event did not leave it unchanged. Mutants and superpowers appeared in the world, local warlords raised their banners, carving out cruel domains and taking what they wanted from those weaker than them. The most critical point had passed, and the Three Great Nations were officially formed: the imperialist Reclamation Army, the religious Oathtakers, and the democratic Iterna. Each proclaimed its own vision to the world and elbowed each other for control of the lesser nations.


    The era of barbarism is drawing to a close, but there are still many strong superhumans left unchecked in the world, either mad or ambitious enough to challenge the sovereignty of the Great Nations, the truly civilized corners of the world.


    Remnants of destroyed laboratories, sealed arsenals and buried factories litter the world''s surface, often containing weapons capable of ushering in a new Extinction should they fall into the wrong hands.


    The Reclamation Army: Is the largest civilized nation, founded by a man named Dynast. For over a century, he has waged a war to reunite the world under a single banner. People from various backgrounds make up its population. Mutants, Normies, Orais, Wolfkins, and Wyrms are the largest or most influential groups. Any display of racism is forbidden by the state and punished by law; be they New Breeds, Mutants, former bio-weapons or Normies, the Reclamation Army considers all its citizens to be human. Due to the large number of tribal societies joining the state, it turns a blind eye to some of their crueler traditions, permitting them to grow out of it as long as the tribes do not try to impose their traditions on the other citizens.


    Initially, a society of strict atheism and autocracy, today the Reclamation Army no longer persecutes faiths and encourages elected officials to govern population centers. This led to the formation of several pro-peace political parties that demanded a cessation of aggressive expansion and the diversion of resources from the construction of new crawlers, tanks, and power armor to civilian projects. The Dynast rejected this petition.


    The ruling body of the nation is formed by the dynast himself, whose word is law. Below him are the Investigation Bureau and the Three Great Commanders: Outsider, Devourer, and Ravager. The state uses terraforming to transform its lands into places suitable for humans, respecting the changes that have occurred in the world and often learning to coexist with the vicious animal life.


    The military of the Reclamation Army is composed of conscripted recruits from the civilized regions and battle-hardened tribesmen living along the state¡¯s borders. The state equips its strongest New Breeds with archeotech weapons¡ªrelics from the Old World¡ªto increase their odds of survival. Mandatory rejuvenation procedures keep these individuals forever young. The Dynast has built his military from the ground up, resulting in a mix of ranks sharing the same level of authority coexisting in the same army. It is common for captains to lead tens of thousands into battle, commanding noble sword saints and brutish warlords. Constant warfare stands in the way of standardizing ranks.


    Iterna: The sole country in the world to have survived Extinction unscathed, thanks to the massive force shield that protects it. Unrivaled in technological and industrial potential, it seeks to form alliances with the natives and rebuild the Old World, either by integrating smaller nations as its states, or by uplifting others both technologically and ethically.


    Iterna is terraforming the world to restore it to its pre-Extinction state. Currently, they are busy exploring the frozen north.


    The citizens of Iterna are mostly Normies and Artificial Humans, descendants of the sentient AIs Artificer and Lada. The nation once had a sizable population of mutants and Abnormals, but after their government initiated the Culling, a cruel genocidal purge against non-Normies that resulted in the deaths of many foreign students and non-Normies, those numbers dwindled to nearly zero. The people of Iterna had fully accepted their guilt, rose in unison to overthrow the government, and have been trying to make amends ever since. But there are very few Abnormals willing to give them a chance, or to move to this paradise after what has happened.


    The strongest army in the world and some of the strongest Abnormals further enhanced through genetic modification keep the Iternians safe. Once a constitutional monarchy, Iterna now has a fully democratic government. Since Iterna was spared the side effects of the Glow, Abnormals and mutations are rare in their lands, and the government takes every step possible to attract Abnormals to live in their lands. Iterna¡¯s citizens enjoy the highest standard of living in the world. Rejuvenation is common and free, and it is rare for an Iternian to die of old age. Many of them lived through the hardships of the first days of the Extinction and are willing to do anything to spare the younger generations the same horrors.


    The Oathtakers: the weakest country of the Three Great Nations. Unlike the Reclaimers, they were not fortunate enough to have an ancient cache of Old World¡¯s tools to help them build. Through hard work and perseverance, they claimed a region of the world, beating back the Dynast¡¯s armies.


    Despite their impressive military might, the Oathtakers try to avoid wars of conquest and utilize propagandists to convince other countries to join them, often using insidious methods such as kidnapping and assassination.


    The population of the Oathtakers is composed mostly of Normies, the Blessed Ones known as Trolls, the Insectoid Commune, and the Malformed. Mutants are a rare sight in this land, but are welcomed with open arms, just like everyone else. The nation venerates the changed people and superhumans, putting them in charge over Normies. Although the Blessed Ones technically rule this country, Lord Steward, the president-elect and supreme priest of the Oathtakers, holds all true power. Ever hungry for resources to continue building their version of paradise, the Oathtakers are constantly maneuvering diplomatically, seeking closer ties to Iterna to protect themselves from the Reclamation Army¡¯s aggression.


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    New Breeds, Abnormals, and Blessed Ones: words and terms used by Iterna, the Reclamation Army, the Oathtakers, and others to describe those who have been changed by the Glow, a side effect of one of the many weapons that destroyed the Old World. Though their appearance differs from that of normal humans, the Great Nations regard them as people.


    Apocalypse Class: A classification given to extremely rare cases among the New Breeds. Every person of this rank has the potential to cause another extinction in the world. Elite Eugenia Mylli of Iterna and Commander Outsider of the Reclamation Army are the two publicly known individuals in the world to have received the title of Apocalypse Class. The identities of the rest are kept secret.


    The Salvation Treaty: An agreement between the Three Great Nations. Its terms limit the use of weapons of mass destruction, banning them outright unless they are used in retaliation or in protection of humans. To prevent the accidental destruction of the world, its terms also mandate the limitation or elimination of all apocalypse classes. Eugenia and Outsider had willingly agreed to have their powers crippled. Commander Ravager discovered at least one other Apocalypse class and sent the girl to Iterna, never disclosing her identity.


    Power: Another side effect of the Glow was the development of supernatural abilities or skills, such as creating matter out of nothing, summoning flames, and so on. Sometimes a power passes from the parent to the child, but this almost always results in a weaker type of power. Rare examples of the opposite rule are the innate powers of Wolfkins, Wyrms, and Trolls. Unless they have mixed their blood with the blood of outsiders, their offspring will always retain the tribe¡¯s power.


    Third Army: An army led by Commander Ravager. A military force that operates outside of the civilized regions, they bring the Dynast judgment to anyone daring to resist the reunification. Ravager favors swift conquest, crushing an enemy nation¡¯s will to fight overnight. With the mass proliferation of advanced firearms, this tactic has resulted in increased casualties, but the sheer personal might of Ravager and her top officers still makes it a viable strategy.


    Recently, Ravager earned the title of Wyrm Slayer by ending the life of the Thunder Emperor. His two sons, Ivar and Wyrm Lord, swore personal allegiance to the commander. Ivar¡¯s genius later aided in the defeat of Blood Graf, another S-Class New Breed. Soon after, Ravager sent them to Fort Uglo to complete their military training and serve in place of the missing Twins, her former advisers and close friends.


    Wolfkins: New Breeds, named so for their physical resemblance to wolves. There are two major tribes of Wolfkins: the Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fang Order.


    The Wolf Tribe: They claim their heritage from Ravager, the first recorded abnormal in the world. The less civilized of the two Wolfkin tribes, nearly all serve in the 3rd Army. Their political life is divided into two branches. Warlords, the strongest members of their society, rule the Wolf Tribe in times of war. In times of peace, shamans lead the tribe, deciding which traditions to keep and which to change. Women hold every position of authority in the tribe; they are the only ones who can rise through the ranks. The tribe expects males to serve as cannon fodder, protecting more valuable members.


    The Ice Fang Order: The more civilized tribe of Wolfkins. They claim their heritage is from the Twins of the North. The order encourages its members to pursue careers outside of the military. Several large corporations owned by the Ice Fangs bring impressive wealth to the order¡¯s coffers. The Order is formed by twenty noble houses. The strongest Ice Fangs, known as sword saints, rule the noble houses with the help of forty elders who form a council. The council deals with most civil matters, while the sword saints wage war.


    Skinwalker: An extremely rare genetic anomaly among the Wolf Tribe¡¯s Wolfkins. If a member of the tribe has this anomaly and willingly pursues a life of combat and domination, she will eventually end up as a mad, nearly unkillable creature, capable of regenerating the most grievous wounds. Skinwalkers are considered divine extensions of the Spirits¡¯ will by the shamans. All skinwalkers are hostile lifeforms, and travelers are advised to stay as far away from them as possible.


    Warlord: The highest military rank among the wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe. They are supposed to have two full ¡®paws¡¯ under their command, ten wolf hags, but the constant warfare often reduces this number. In peacetime, warlords roam at the edge of the tribe¡¯s villages, bringing raiders low. A warlord is expected to have no less than three titles, honorable names given for impressive deeds.


    Like most things in the Wolf Tribe, the rank of warlord is earned in several ways. First, when the Tribe grows large enough to demand the creation of another village. During such times, wolf hags from all packs are competing for this rank. The second method is to challenge the current warlord and defeat her, thus gaining the rank. In the rare case of a warlord¡¯s death, a new warlord is promoted from the remnants of her pack.


    Shaman: The second highest rank among the wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe. They are civilian servants of the tribe who oversee law enforcement, distribute food, help raise new generations, assist in childbirth, negotiate trade deals, and provide spiritual guidance. Shamans willingly give up their names, cutting ties with their families, to remain impartial. Through   , the     They rule supreme in the rare times of peace.


    Shamans have the right to rebuke a warlord, even in times of war, or to reprimand a warlord for doing an act unworthy of a state¡¯s servant. In extreme cases, they can even call upon the Supreme Warlord Alpha to remove an unworthy warlord from leadership. When not serving as leaders, shamans act as bodyguards for the warlords, slicing and dicing enemies the old-fashioned way.


    Shamans earn their rank not through strength, but through their impeccable knowledge of the laws of the tribe and their devotion to the religion.


    Wolf Hag: The third highest rank among the wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe. They command over two ¡®paws¡¯, a group of ten scouts.


    Scout: One of the lowest ranks among the wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe. These women are responsible for finding paths and have five soldiers, several warriors and males, under their command.


    Warrior: The lowest rank among the wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe. Below them are cubs and males.


    Sword Saint: The highest honorable and military title in the Ice Fang Order. Those who excel in both close and ranged combat can claim it. A sword saint¡¯s world is a law; if he or she can¡¯t fulfill a promise or obligation, the sword saint must step down. This tradition was implemented to ensure that the order¡¯s leaders show wisdom in both deeds and words.

 Chapter 1: Warlord Janine

    Janine¡¯s ears perked upon hearing the low, guttural howl spreading across the camp, akin to a shockwave. A broad grin spread across her lips. At last!


    The warlord stormed out of her tent, greeted by the orderly chaos of her pack assembling itself for war. The shamans walked among snarling Wolfkins, saying prayers. Mechanics from the Normies¡¯ ranks smacked the overly eager women on the back, forcing them to stand still while they strapped power armor onto their bodies. Those who failed to comply with the men¡¯s demands found their generators deactivated and themselves turned into statues as the Normies slowly finished outfitting the seething warriors while their fellows jeered and laughed. Her wolf hags howled in response to Alpha¡¯s howl, spurring males from inactivity and stopping every domination duel. Everywhere in the siege camp, the same scene repeated itself.


    War! The Wolf Tribe was called to the war! Janine walked to the center of her camp, ignoring the Wolfkins¡¯ bare throats. She spread her arms wide, and three males¡ªher own blood, the pride and joy of her litters¡ªrushed to encase her in the thick plates of armor.


    Marco, her youngest son, was a three-year-old cub. She had taken him from the pits as her adjutant after a girl had nearly strangled him. A pang of pity stung her at the sight of his pale black form, ribs pressed against his fur coat. He was the only cub in his litter who had survived to this day. Two beautiful girls were stillborn. Another girl met her demise when a claw struck her in the eye during a struggle for food in the pits, and her brother suffered a broken neck. Bad litter, weak one, and it¡¯s all Janine¡¯s fault. Her soulmate had repeatedly asked her to relax and rest, but she soldiered on, marching from battle to battle, eager to prove her recent appointment to the rank of warlord. This was the result. Never again.


    The gruesome wounds on Marco¡¯s body had long since healed, leaving only scarred flesh. Janine knew that his knees sometimes hurt; the boy was too close to being named a Crippled for her liking. She slightly bent her legs, a light gesture of mercy for her hardworking cub.


    The two others looked like twins. Black hides with mottled brown markings, long regal snouts, and muscles dancing beneath the skins. Both bore their share of scars, but where Bogdan was a good-natured boy, whose soulmate had already given life to two whole litters of four surviving cubs total, Ignacy worried Janine. At his age, he should have found a proper mate by now.


    Her sons lifted the heavy plates of the power armor. Piece by piece, they brought them to her oversized body, connecting the cables of the protective armor to the implants¡¯ sockets across her torso. She exhaled slightly, feeling how Marco made a misstep and connected one cable too slowly, resulting in a jolt of electricity surging up her knee. Janine just smiled at him, allowing the boy to keep going. These armor plates were too heavy for him yet, but she¡¯ll never give him up to become a Crippled. Her fault. Her responsibility.


    Ignacy spread the fiber muscles, not trusting them to fit in place on their own. They tightened around the limbs, akin to a second skin. He slipped under Janine¡¯s arm, lifted a generator, and positioned it directly on the plate covering her spine. Where Ignacy¡¯s moved in no hurry, Bogdan slapped the pauldrons on Janine¡¯s shoulders, trusting his mother¡¯s skin to endure any potential discomfort.


    After the plates came the sleeves, much heavier parts of the power armor that protected her limbs. All three of her sons lifted each piece, locking them onto her arms and legs. The warlord tested her limbs with a rumble of the generator, feeling the fiber-muscles shift in tandem with her own, empowering her to greater limits than those of a mortal woman. She bowed her head, accepting a helmet, and its crimson lenses flashed at her command, bringing a flood of information to her retinas. The life signs of her pack were projected in a wall of symbols, and her fangs gritted, noticing a wounded one. Not her fault; the girl was a scout, and ambitions are pounding in their young heads. Wolf hags slacked.


    She surveyed the ammunition, receiving reports on the wolf hags'' packs¡¯ readiness. At her snarl, four armored figures broke from their preparations and darted to her on all fours.


    ¡°The energy shields are online,¡± Ignacy whispered happily, noticing how his mother¡¯s lenses whirled, focusing on the front line. ¡°Warlord, the technicians showed me how to properly calibrate them and adjust the energy flow. These honeys can even absorb the blast of a bunker bomb¡­¡±


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t your duty.¡± She turned to him in a burst of movement, pressing a claw beneath his lower jaw.


    The siege camp was a wild hodgepodge of discipline and chaos. The positions of the Wolf Tribe lacked any field kitchens or medic tents; a thin layer of mines ensured protection from an attack from the fortress. The purpose of these mines was to slow and alert; the tribe adored a good brawl. Janine offered the help of her scouts to both the regulars and the Ice Fangs as a gesture of goodwill. Anything to keep the wild girls busy. Alpha approved her initiative, and Janine¡¯s pelt was spared of bites.


    Their cousins, the Ice Fang Order, took a different approach. Their camp was set up in an orderly fashion, and elite soldiers guarded the perimeter. Flags upon flags fluttered on the harsh winds, while the knights prepared in vain for positional warfare. As always, First offered to share food with his kin, and they accepted his offer. No need to miss out on perfectly fine rations and drinks.


    The regulars of the Third dug ground around the army¡¯s position, creating trenches, placing pillboxes, and burying energy generators to shield the camp in case of a sudden shelling. Janine assigned some of the hotheads to help with this noble task, but Ignacy sure as Abyss wasn¡¯t assigned to it.


    ¡°The scout told me we were finished searching through the eastern lands.¡± Ignacy craned his neck to dodge the sharp tip that threatened to cut his throat. ¡°Techno-Queen has laid her lands bare. There is nothing left to devour, and after the Blessing Mother¡¯s hunt, there is no foe left to fight, either. So, with free time on my paws¡­¡±


    ¡°You decided to meddle with technology instead of looking for a soulmate?¡± Janine sighed. The boy spoke the truth: Ravager had to use some of her forces to provide food and water for the locals after their leader tried to starve out the invaders by taking away everything edible. ¡°Ignacy, the shamans have made their will clear.¡±


    ¡°Soundly spoken, warlord.¡± Bogdan bared his neck for speaking out of turn. ¡°In times of need, every member of the tribe must seek a way to make themselves useful. Ravager¡¯s own wisdom had spurred Ignacy into action, setting an inspiring example for us to follow.¡±


    For the insolence of speaking out of turn, Janine lovingly struck Bogdan against the cheek, more of a supportive pat than a bruising blow. In truth, she didn¡¯t feel anger toward Ignacy for failing to produce an offspring. The boy was good-looking and healthy. Several warriors fawned all over him, showing their claws in an attempt to entice him to mate. Even if Ignacy chooses to remain single or, Spirits¡¯ forbid, chooses a male, she¡¯ll, of course, disapprove but will accept his decision.


    It was his persistent meddling in forbidden matters that worried the warlord. The memories of her firstborn¡¯s fate¡ªhis desperate yelping when all his trust in mechanical devices had finally failed him¡ªburned brightly in her eyes to this day. She clenched her paw. She needs a shaman¡¯s wisdom to set the boy straight.


    Her sons stepped away, dropping to one knee, and she lightly bit their necks, chiding them for Marco¡¯s failure and their audacity in speaking out of turn. The elder brothers bowed and jumped to help the others gear up for the battle, leaving only Marco at her side.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± the little one whispered, touching the wound on his neck.


    Janine wanted to grab him, press Marco against her chest plate, and promise him that everything would be alright. To hug and care for him and protect him from everything and everyone. But this wasn¡¯t meant to be. In the Wolf Tribe, the males are subservient to the females. If anyone saw her cuddling Marco, his life would become the Abyss of teasing and ridicule.


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    ¡°Be better next time,¡± Janine said calmly, straightening up and scratching him behind the ear.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Wolf Hag Anissa bared her neck, coming closer and carrying Janine¡¯s axe and rifle on her paws.


    Her daughter had already prepared for battle, her shardgun locked to her back. Anissa left the helmet open, showing an eyepatch over her right eye, the result of a scuffle between her and another girl in the pits. A network of scars covered the woman¡¯s entire scalp, disappearing beneath the gorget. Standing on one knee, the wolf hag presented Janine the weapons.


    ¡°You have failed.¡± Janine swung the Taleteller, an axe she had found in the ancient ruins, through the air, sending a wave of wind across her camp. The weapon had a single blade that remained unbroken and required no sharpening. What it bit, it cut clean. She nodded in thanks and accepted the high-powered energy rifle.


    ¡°Yes, mother,¡± Anissa scratched Marco¡¯s behind the ear before reaching into a pocket and placing a medical patch over the bite mark.


    Janine¡¯s growl caused her daughter to bare her neck in submission. Like her mother, Anissa¡¯s sole remaining eye burned yellow, a sign of Ravager¡¯s favor. Unfortunately, the girl wasn¡¯t strong enough to one day usurp Janine¡¯s position. The shamans examined Anissa and confirmed that she was nearing her prime. Where Janine¡¯s limbs looked like tree trunks, Anissa¡¯s had a slender and leaner build. By the Wolf Tribe¡¯s standards.


    Not having time for a proper punishment, Janine simply smacked her daughter across the forehead with two fingers, sending Anissa¡¯s head back and leaving a bloody bruise. Tough. Easily tougher and stronger than any other wolf hags in Janine¡¯s pack. But also, reckless. She warned Anissa not to be cordial with her brothers in front of everyone. Not unless she can protect them at all times. Marco has enough problems as it is.


    Why can¡¯t you be more like your sister? Janine wondered as she rammed the butt of her axe into the ground, creating a crevice. Impatient One approached, the only one of her daughters so far to become a shaman, even if her rank hasn¡¯t yet allowed her to lead a village. Words of prayer covered every millimeter of her battle armor, scratched into the surface by the shaman¡¯s claws. Bronze chains sealed a prayer book around her waist, and bone talismans hung loosely from her shoulders. As tall as Anissa, Impatient One had a somewhat shorter but far sturdier snout. The last time the two had fought, the shaman¡¯s jaws had closed on her sister¡¯s neck, choking the wolf hag into submission and denying Anissa the privilege of tasting Impatient One¡¯s claws.


    But Anissa put up a valiant resistance, nearly tearing one of her sister¡¯s breasts in their brutal struggle. For this reason, Janine pushed the stubborn girl toward the shamanic path, a logical end for someone incapable of being a warlord. The girl had potential, and Janine would be damned if she let her stay a simple wolf hag. Unfortunately, Anissa had failed recently, earning scars but not proving her devotion.


    A problem of memory, nothing serious. None of her daughters shared Janine¡¯s disfigurement; their legs were of normal size. So what if Anissa failed a couple of times? Failure is a good teacher, for it can reveal the most unexpected areas for improvement.


    Janine kneeled, drinking the bowl full of insectoid blood from Impatient One¡¯s paws, letting her bless the warlord¡¯s armor. Shamans were the spiritual and civil rulers of the Tribe, the ones who upheld the traditions and interpreted the will of the Blessed Mother. In Janine¡¯s youth, the state was still in its infancy, weak and fragile. The shamans had to enforce strict rationing, resulting in the deaths of the Crippled and cubs, but the tribe endured, grew stronger from it, and honored the fallen.


    ¡°Blessed be,¡± Impatient One intoned, bowing to Janine before looking at Marco. The warlord could have sworn that she saw the corner of her lips move up as she blessed the little one, patting him on the shoulder before moving on.


    They¡¯ll spoil him. Janine contemplated. ¡°What do we know about the enemy?¡±


    ¡°Thousands of them, warlord,¡± said Wolf Hag Melina, standing on a knee. ¡°Normies mostly, but the locals spoke of constructed technological horrors, capable of wiping out entire villages for disobedience or failure to produce a quota.¡±


    ¡°Have we spotted any of them?¡± Her helmet zoomed in, allowing her to see the terrified people on the wall. She pitied them but also took note of the impressive cannons. Not tools of the Old World, but something Techno-Queen had invented herself. Tin cans of ancient times lacked the speed and agility to match a wolfkin, even if their armor was almost indestructible. She wondered how these toys would fare against them.


    ¡°No. Nor do we know their numbers, appearance, or arsenal.¡± Melina let the bitterness slip into her voice.


    ¡°You disagree,¡± Janine stated.


    ¡°Terrific would never have handed over the prisoners without interrogating them first. Had she been here¡­¡±


    The Taleteller¡¯s upward swing silenced the woman, and its force spraying dust and stone against her muzzle. Janine stopped the blade a millimeter away from the wolf hag¡¯s jaw.


    ¡°Janine¡¯s pack. Not Terrific¡¯s,¡± she reminded her. Several days ago, she caught a group of enemy soldiers in the middle of extorting the locals. She captured them in the open, letting their ammunition hiss and drum harmlessly against her armor to test the potential of their weapons. After a few slashed arms, the rest surrendered, and she turned them over to Ashbringer to deliver to the Blessed Mother. The old guard in her pack grumbled at such a light punishment. Terrific had¡­ her own view of the law. ¡°You gored a scout.¡± Based on the video provided by the HUD, the wolf hag had pushed an arm into the scout¡¯s body, pulling out her intestines.


    ¡°In a rank challenge,¡± Melina did not deny the accusation.


    ¡°She shall sit this one out.¡±


    ¡°The girl won¡¯t like it. We pushed everything back and bandaged¡­¡± the wolf hag started.


    Janine¡¯s jaws closed on her neck, biting through the rubberized neck guard and gorget to reach the woman and bleed her. She raised her off the ground, thrashing her head once to widen the wounds, then spat the wolf hag on the rocks as a punishment for the insubordination. This will leave a bloody wound, but the warlord has avoided the arteries. Melina will experience some discomfort, but it won¡¯t hinder her combat effectiveness. Terrific often left them in worse shape.


    Janine was a simple person. She hated having her skin peeled off and her bones distorted. She assumed that others also hated it. As a warlord, she toned down the cruelty, applying just enough force to make her rough girls submit. Initially, they took her clemency for weakness. A few months in the crawler¡¯s hospital bays changed this view.


    ¡°There will be no death in my pack, save by my will or that of the Spirits. She is staying. Break her legs if you are unable to command your pack,¡± Janine snapped. ¡°And have the technicians fix your armor.¡±


    ¡°Yes, warlord,¡± Melina jumped to her feet, bowed, and raced to her troops.


    ¡°Keep treating disobedience softly, and it¡¯ll spread like rot,¡± Soulless One whispered. Her lenses moved, tracking Janine¡¯s sons and the wolf hag.


    There were no words of prayer on the woman¡¯s body; only the skulls of fallen foes dangled at every moment, many of them reduced to little more than broken shards on a series of chains. Soulless One carved them into her own body, turning her flesh into a tapestry dedicated to the Spirits. In her youth, as a wolf hag, she stepped on a mine that reduced her to a mangled body. Doctors chose the unconscious woman, and implants replaced lost organs and bones, forever dimming the amber glow and damaging the connection to the divine. She reeked of oil, and her fur was always dry.


    A lesser female would¡¯ve joined the Crippled. Soulless One persevered, gained a shaman rank, and now watched Impatient One¡¯s transition into a full shaman. Her helmet¡¯s silver lenses recorded everything; she was the one who sent the scout incident to Janine.


    ¡°My pack. My rules. Don¡¯t like them? Challenge me,¡± Janine bristled. The shaman bared her throat. ¡°Is the pack ready?¡±


    ¡°Jawohl, mein kriegsherren.¡± Janine arched her brow at the unknown words, and the shaman explained. ¡°It supposedly means: yes, warlord.¡±


    ¡°Studying dead languages makes for a poor hobby,¡± Janine chastised her.


    ¡°The language isn¡¯t dead!¡± A hint of passion snaked into the woman¡¯s voice. ¡°Iternian prisoners taught it to me. They use it as one of their official languages.¡±


    ¡°And they also culled our kin. It is never wrong to improve oneself, but be wary of the source of the knowledge, lest it taint you,¡± the warlord warned her. ¡°Answer me in Common, shaman. Is it done?¡±


    ¡°Life bearers are separated,¡± Soulless One replied, letting the wolf hags do the rest of the reporting.


    Janine Pack, six hundred black-clad bodies, answered the warlord¡¯s call, slamming a paw over their chests. There should have been more; her rank granted her a rule over a full two ¡®paws¡¯, but wars and heavy losses bled her pack. Six hundred Wolfkins, a force enough to conquer a nation alone. Two dozen more were separated to spare their lives, either due to wounds or because of the lives they carried under their hearts.


    The warlord raised the Taleteller, greeting her troops and bellowing an ear-piercing roar, answering Alpha and letting her know they were ready. Every single one of her soldiers was clad in power armor; they carried acid grenades on their belts, and magnetic locks held shardguns at their backs, freeing their paws.


    Normies had to use special protection because of the pollution that had wiped out every trace of life from the lands surrounding the capital. No insectoid drones lurked in ambush. There were no bloodthirsty Malformed prowling in search of an undefended village. Clean stone and the smog above ruled the Wastes, bleaching the skeletons of those unfortunate enough to be caught in the toxic storms.


    Wolfkins shared no weakness of their fellow humans. As New Breeds, their bodies adapted to the dangers of the New World. They breathed the clammy, toxin-ridden local air and didn¡¯t get sick. Traces of radiation in the soil did no lasting damage. Their blood coagulated fast enough to give them a chance of survival, even in the direst situations. And despite it, they died too, leaving their friends and relatives in the wake of every conquest, facing other New Breeds and forcing them to bare their throats to the Dynast, the man who will reunite the world.


    Such was the cost of a better world.

 Chapter 2: Ravager’s Ultimatum

    Janine marched her soldiers toward the city, following a single, towering figure of the Blessed Mother. For once, the Wolfkins fell in line, awed by the divine presence of the one who gave life to the entire tribe. The progenitor. The first and only to reach the unimaginable heights of might. Even knowing the full truth of their creation, Janine could not help but feel something stirring in her soul at Ravager¡¯s passing. Her fur was so dark that even daylight struggled to leave its embrace, and during nights she looked like the void, carrying twin brightest yellow moons in her eyes.


    She was a nexus, a source of their lives, the Spirits¡¯ will given form. No matter the distance, her offspring were never alone. It could¡¯ve shown up in a sudden nightmare on a moonless night or through a violent urge to spit at the odds and snatch a victory from the grasp of defeat, but her presence was there, ever sustaining them, always calling the tribe to greater and greater heights. She had no need for speeches; her deeds and the sheer charisma, emanating from her movements, said everything.


    A streak of blood ran down her nostrils, indicating an intense thought process that tensed Janine. The Blessed Mother carried no weapons or armor, no talismans, or communication devices. There was no need for such toys. Her paws alone can pop a life from a warlord, and if bloodlust had descended upon her¡­


    The two strongest members of the Wolf Tribe and their relatives, the Ice Fang Order, Warlord Alpha and Sword Saint First Sunblade, flanked her as she stood on four limbs. They acted as her adjutants and safeguards to protect others from her wrathful madness.


    Many in the tribe struggled to accept their white-furred cousins. They had the same longer muzzles, but worse claws. Their sword saints were a blast to challenge, yet they admitted both genders into the leadership, much to the tribe¡¯s confusion. The similarity between the two groups was undeniable, but their differences necessitated constant probing for softness and domination duels in peacetime. At war, they were all brothers and sisters in the field.


    The locals called this region of the world the Wastes, and the name was apt! The capital¡¯s kilometers-long steel pipes spilled toxic sludge into crevices, forming lakes. During the day, their fumes would rise, forming baleful clouds, spelling doom through gale force winds, clogging the surface, potentially creating storms, and eradicating anything in their path. Normies, normal men and women working in the Reclamation Army, had to wear gas masks to prevent their lungs from receiving a chemical burn. When a storm descended, people hid in armored vehicles, avoiding the irradiated air that could easily kill them.


    The natives, from what Janine saw, were a miserable bunch, surviving in spite of all odds rather than thriving. They grew food in underground caverns and farms, fighting non-stop against the invasion of insectoids from below, only to have most of their crops taken by Techno-Queen. Their greatest dream was to be drafted into the capital¡¯s army and get a modicum of stability and hope in their lives. Inside the capital¡¯s thick metal walls was another world altogether. Techno-Queen¡¯s soldiers wore hazmat gear and steel armor that shielded them from most dangers and had steel minions to dispose of the threats they couldn¡¯t handle.


    Life was cheap outside of the capital walls if the villagers spoke true to her scouts. Villages and hamlets existed to feed the capital, not the other way around. Locals died in droves from radiation and struggles against the dangers lurking in the unpoisoned undergrounds, using outdated weapons instead of the top-of-the-line stuff available in the capital. Those who lucked out to live at the edge of the Wastes enjoyed better health at the cost of suffering raids from the cannibalistic tribes of Malformed, while those closer to the capital had safety at the cost of slowly being choked by the toxic fumes coming from the pipes in the ground. Elders regularly sacrificed themselves, begging their cruel and unhearing gods for their people¡¯s salvation. If a village could not pay its tithe, it suffered decimation. When the villagers tried to flee, Techno-Queen¡¯s steel minions would hunt them down.


    Janine no longer felt any surprise at the scope of Techno-Queen¡¯s area of operation. Some people in the New World were born with enhanced physical abilities, others had a mutated appearance; the state called such people New Breeds, or a normal person could be born with a special power. On rare occasions, a blessing would occur and a newborn would possess all three great traits. The bitch queen ruling these lands had the power to instinctively understand how to create and assemble complicated mechanical devices. Her genius didn¡¯t stop there. It extended to her knowledge of intricate programming, giving her steel minions a degree of self-determination as they chose not to engage the state forces alone, but rather gathered in the capital.


    The sheer potential of such power was hard to undersell. A person capable of solving complicated mathematical equations who could create tools to build the tools she needed to, in turn, build automatic factories that churned out automatic workers. The Dynast wanted this power for the state. Or, failing that, he wanted to end this power¡¯s reign and return these lands to humanity. And whatever the big boss wants, he gets. Commander Ravager and Commander Devourer received the order to carry out the reclamation. As usual, Ravager soon left the Second Army behind, forcing her Third Army to march straight at the enemy¡¯s capital.


    ¡°Commander, the frontal assault will result in catastrophic losses for our forces¡­¡± First, the magnificent-looking Wolfkin in white and purple power armor bowed his head respectfully. His eyes burned crimson. The sclera was golden. True to his name, he was the first biological offspring of the Twins, the solidified perfection of mind and body.


    ¡°Be silent, male,¡± Janine told him, both to keep him safe and in an attempt to ignite a domination duel later. Even if she loses, a match against his sun blade¡¯s searing kiss could bring great glory. She dropped to her knees, baring her neck to the silent Ravager.


    ¡°Filthy wildling. How dare you address His Excellency like that?!¡± Bertruda Mountaintop, a sword saint of the Mountaintop household, stepped forward and was stopped by an arm of Sword Saint Camelia Wintersong.


    The Blessed Mother¡¯s scent betrayed no anger or demand for submission, and Janine stood, moving deliberately slowly. She met her rival¡¯s gaze, noting the thin arms and legs of the sword saint, the limbs more worthy of a wolf hag than an officer of her rank. A suit of power armor entombed the woman, dyed in the white and yellow of her clan, a household, as the ice girls called it. It¡¯s how they differentiated. The Sunblade household had purple; the Voidrunners owned black; and the Wintersongs were sea blue.


    Bertruda¡¯s paw gripped the shaft of a thin spear, and the sword saint looked at the warlord with barely suppressed disgust. Bertruda¡¯s power armor looked similar to that of her fellow sword saints¡ªnot oversized, full of smooth curves and features designed to deflect an incoming blow with a well-executed, elegant dodge. It sealed them fully in combat, leaving no exposed parts. Gold and yellow paint, signs of her household, adorned both her breastplate and her helmet. A long silken cape flowed from her shoulders, its hem soiled on the ground. Her vambraces concealed deadly plasma cannons, complementing the sword saint¡¯s primary choice of weapon.


    Janine¡¯s own armor was the complete opposite. Thick enough to swallow a shot should it break the outer shell. The vambraces and elbow joints were sharpened for the close brawl, where each blow should kill or maim the opponent. Her armor increased the warlord¡¯s weight sixfold, turning her into a cannonball meant to shatter the enemy lines, and she used her energy rifle to hunt officers at long range. Over her chest plate, Marco painted a symbol of her pack, a pair of muscular paws.


    I want to drop her. Janine¡¯s mouth watered at the thought of bringing honor to the tribe by pushing this arrogant, white-furred cousin face down. She wanted to face her. A freshly promoted sword saint, eager to prove herself to the same degree as Janine? What¡¯s not to love here? A brawl would make them sisters; the mixing of their blood would bridge an understanding better than any words could. And yet she couldn¡¯t.


    Bertruda hated her; there was no denying it. It was an honest feeling, worthy of respect, written across her snout. Her knights carried this feeling, demonstrating to the tribe that the Ice Boys were worthy of their respect by participating in duels and experiencing both losses and victories. Bertruda was a younger woman, yet to give birth to her second cub, and Janine had her fun, provoking the woman, enjoying surfacing the similarities to a Wolfkin in the Ice Fang, who desperately tried to live up to the standards of the other sword saints. There was a real fighter deep beneath the clean white fur, perfume, and jewelry. Restraint was necessary in both battle and family situations. There was no benefit in humiliating Bertrude through a defeat, nor was there honor to be won in fighting against unripe kin. In a year or three, her skills would match or eclipse those of the warlord¡¯s; the Ice Fang would earn the undying loyalty of her troops, and then they¡¯d clash. You do not cripple a family out of fear of losing.


    But irritate and tease? Oh, you do it in full. It¡¯s just a matter of sisters being sisters.


    ¡°The male started it.¡± Janine took off her helmet, locking eyes with Bertruda. ¡°Alpha¡¯s howl was clear. The city is to fall before sunrise. Show respect to your superiors and stay quiet.¡±


    ¡°Dearest kin, no one holds you in higher esteem than I do.¡± Bertruda smiled, bowed gracefully, and spread the side of her yellow cloak with one arm, pointing the tip of her spear skyward. ¡°And I believe you to be a rude, smelly barbarian who insults her allies when they point out obvious flaws in our strategy.¡±


    ¡°It takes one to know one,¡± Janine replied, breaking eye contact.


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    ¡°Hey, hey, what¡¯s the matter, starting a rumble without us?!¡± Warlord Martyshkina shouted, coming from the camp, accompanied by Lacerated One and Dragena.


    Janine simply smiled, grasping her best friend¡¯s paw. She and Martyshkina were born in the same month, attended the same pits, and bonded over the blood of all those who tried to steal their food. Assigned to the same pack, the duo competed desperately, scarring their pelts, enduring Terrific¡¯s tortures, until one day they simply threw a bone and decided who would be reassigned, as neither wanted to keep another as a mere subordinate. Marty lost; they made and upheld a promise of becoming a warlord, keeping the relationships friendly between their packs.


    Where Janine bulged from might and suffered minor physical deformities that left her legs a little shorter than usual, Martyshkina rightfully earned the lustful gaze of every male in the tribe. Her gleaming black fur, a long cape made from the wool of various predators hunted down by the warlord, twin orbs of bright, pure amber for eyes, and finally, a pair of heavily modified revolvers on her belt made her look amazing, and she loved showing it, shying away from a rank battle against other warlords to preserve her hide.


    Dragena was calm and collected, unlike most of the Wolf Tribe. Janine had never seen her dominating another member of her pack or raising her voice. Some wicked tongues whispered that the warlords couldn¡¯t feel anything. She was of the first generation, one of the few still-living Wolfkins who saw how the Dynast took the oath of fealty from Ravager. She carried six short knives in sheaths on her thighs and had a laser rifle secured behind her back. The woman¡¯s custom-tailored power armor dangerously resembled that of an Ice Fang in its smooth form, but the sheer mass of steel secured her from further gossip.


    Lacerated One, the supreme shaman, was a being of horror unmatched even by Alpha. Dressed in an archaic battleplate, a bulky design from the first days of the Reclamation Army, the shaman bled from fresh cuts all over her body. Crimson streaks ran beneath the joints of her power armor; she peeled away her own lips to reveal fangs, and the cruel claws kept fresh wounds on her head open. The acrid air caused the shaman no discomfort, despite her naked wounds.


    A flick of a wrist sent droplets of blood into Janine¡¯s and Martyshkina¡¯s eyes, enlivening them and sending their hearts drumming. There was something fishy about Lacerated One¡¯s blood. The Spirits blessed her in such a way that a drink of her blood could sustain a mortally wounded person until the medics could save them, and with unparalleled devotion, she endured the self-inflicted flagellation, spreading her gift.


    Alpha, a figure nearly matching Ravager¡¯s height, nodded to her sisters. Her white and rough skin created the impression that her features had been carved from slabs of stone rather than the result of her birth. The longest claws in the entire tribe protruded from the warlord¡¯s three-fingered paws and feet, each spanning the length of an elbow. Even if her body had such a function, Alpha could not physically retract her claws. There was no room in her arms to conceal these murder weapons. The sclera of her eyes was a royal purple, and she had short, square ears. Bedecked in the most advanced suit of armor available to the tribe, Alpha matched First¡¯s performance on any battlefield, surpassed only by the commander herself.


    ¡°Everyone is in place, Blessed Mother,¡± Alpha growled, showing two sets of dangerous fangs within her maw. One to grip and tear, and another to chew on the unfortunate fool who tried to stop her coming.


    Ravager inhaled, almost as if awakening from a slumber. She turned around, sniffing the air with enough force to flap capes. She blinked once, shrouding the world in darkness, before basking it in amber once again.


    ¡°Your concerns are not unheard, Sword Saint First.¡± She smiled, speaking melodically and clearly, forcing an urge for domination away. ¡°I bear the noble First no ill will, but a piece of the puzzle has eluded him. Our quarry hopes for a methodical approach. We will not play her games. For too long, the people here had suffered under the rule of the vainglorious hypocrite. For too long, justice had been denied to the weak. The Ice Fangs are to keep rearguard. You are to advance after us as we swarm the outer defenses.¡±


    ¡°Blessed Mother, we meant no disrespect, nor are we cowards.¡± Bertruda fell to one knee, bowing her head in submission. ¡°I despise Barbarian Janine, but my heart will bleed should she or her warriors fall in battle, which, due to their incompetence and lack of strategic knowledge, they might. If speed is an issue, then please allow my troops to accompany the front lines to keep our allies safe. Should I or my knights fall behind, should we burden our allies, my head is yours to take, Blessed Mother.¡±


    ¡°I am not your mother, Sword Saint. I am no one¡¯s mother.¡± They ignored the blasphemy. Ravager was an incarnation of the Spirits and some of them tested the faithful by slipping falsehoods into the Blessed Mother¡¯s mouth. Just as the Blessed Mother fought against external and internal madness, her descendants too had to wage both physical and mental fight. ¡°The Wolf Tribe will secure this future. The Ice Fang¡¯s duty is to help the weak live and thrive in it. Should an ally fall, help them back to their feet.¡±


    Ravager walked forward, leaving her soldiers behind, and Janine howled, ordering her pack to get ready. She heard hundreds of paws pounding the rocky ground and gathering behind her. First nodded to her. Janine ignored the male, earning a hateful glare from Bertruda.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± the sword saint hissed, passing by her. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare die out there, you stinking moron. You owe me a dance.¡±


    ¡°I am a bad dancer, might accidentally crush you a leg or two.¡± The warlord grabbed the passing woman by the shoulder, feeling the movement of metal beneath her cape. ¡°Even our endurance has its limits. I¡¯ll be much obliged if you¡¯d kept our wounded safe..¡±


    ¡°Of course we will, thug!¡± Bertruda broke free.


    ¡°Are you two mating or something?¡± Martyshkina joked as she stepped closer.


    ¡°What? No! How could you even imply that I would ever lower myself¡­¡±


    ¡°More like preliminary fondling, Marty,¡± Janine frowned before breaking into a smirk. ¡°Not that an ice girl could ever hope to bear my weight on her bones, anyway.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll see about that,¡± Bertruda hissed into her face. ¡°You and me, soon. No, this is not what you think it is, Warlord Martyshkina! I demand that you wipe that stupid grin off your face and abandon those foul thoughts.¡±


    ¡°Not aiming to steal your place, don¡¯t worry.¡± The other warlord bowed, mirroring the sword saint gesture with her own cape. ¡°But my heart sings with joy for both of you.¡±


    Bertruda groaned in a mixture of pain and embarrassment and turned away with such speed that part of her cape whipped the laughing warlords against their snouts.


    ¡°She¡¯s far too easy to rile up.¡± Dragena noticed. ¡°Don¡¯t break her.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll try, but what can¡­¡±


    Her feet left the ground. First Sunblade hugged her from under the armpit, raising Janine and Martyshkina into the air, easily overpowering and restraining both women without bending their armor or going too far to initiate the challenge. Fast. Janine never even heard him move or close in; his form simply vanished in the air, reappearing at her back.


    ¡°The most auspicious future awaits you yet, dearest Janine.¡± His muzzle rubbed against their necks, leaving his scent. ¡°May no misstep ever ruin it.¡± He set them down, closed his helmet, and pressed two fingers against the metal forehead. ¡°Ladies. It¡¯s been a pleasure, truly.¡±


    ¡°Phew, a tough cookie!¡± Martyshkina chuckled, checking her weapons and ignoring the burning gaze of Lacerated One.


    ¡°I bet we could¡¯ve taken him together,¡± Janine said. She also checked her rifle, just in case. Tricks were uncommon, but some ambitious fools earned themselves everlasting scorn by sabotaging equipment and leading their kin to their deaths. While Janine never doubted the Spirits ability to restore justice, she also enjoyed living.


    ¡°Sharing a male? Disgusting¡­¡±


    A stomp on the ground ate up the rest of Martyshkina¡¯s words. Ravager had stopped fifty meters from the towering walls, basking in the lights of projectors that turned the guards on the wall into dark shapes. The Blessed Mother pressed her paw into the ground, bulging it with such force that two slabs of stone rose at her sides. Ravager looked up, ignoring the cannons aimed at her.


    Outside the gates, chains held a body in suspension. Someone had skinned the man alive, his glistening flesh and blood cascading down the bronze and steel gates. Several dozen cameras, stylized to resemble human eyes with steel eyelids, moved across the main gates, gleefully examining Ravager.


    ¡°We gave you an offer of peaceful reunification,¡± Ravager said, loud enough to be heard all the way from the main gates. Her feminine voice bore neither hate nor rage, just the deep exhaustion of someone who has done the same thing over and over again. ¡°Your leader spat in our faces and killed our envoy. She will be judged. But you don¡¯t have to suffer or die. Many of you think your leader denied you a choice by killing our envoy. This is false. There is always a choice. Surrender now. Cast down your weapons, and only the guilty will be punished. There is no glory in death. Live long and prosper; find happiness under better leadership. For your friends and families. Make the right choice. You have nothing to fear from us yet.¡±


    Flashes of gunfire were all the response that she got. The defenders¡¯ figures became lit with crimson and yellow; several hundred laser beams and scores of bullets were unleashed in unison; their fury joined with the defensive installations that lobbed shell after shell into Ravager. Missiles flew up from the massive defensive towers behind the main wall, raining down on the Blessed Mother.


    A mushroom cloud of smoke and fire rose from the ground, knocking some defenders off their feet. The shockwave splashed the chained body against the city¡¯s wall, leaving not even a bloody stain. Every last bit of the envoy¡¯s remains vaporized in the dancing, flaming fury. Janine watched calmly as the shockwave died against the energy field surrounding their camp. She ignored the hellish sounds of explosions booming and placed Martyshkina¡¯s helmet on her friend¡¯s head, allowing her fellow warlord to do the same to her.


    A lone beam of darkness shot from the top of the crawler. The Wolfkins let out a cheer, witnessing how an ammunition silo in a tower exploded, creating a fiery blast on a section of the wall that swept the defenders away. Another shot followed immediately, piercing a hole through another turret and killing its operator. That night, Warlord Zero drew the first blood.


    The flames and explosions subsided, and with fearful whispers, the defenders saw Ravager, who stood still in the middle of a newly created crater, with streaks of molten metal tangled in her fur. A few drops of blood from her forearms marked the full extent of the damage the defenders had done to the Blessed Mother. As they closed, Ravager licked her wounds, surveying the city.


    ¡°You have everything to fear from us now. Those who wish to live should drop their weapons. Those who seek a meaningless death try to bar my passing!¡± she bellowed.


    A single line of destruction passed from her to the gates, unleashed by the force of her roar. It bulged the metal in, setting off the minefield that encircled the capital. Ravager splattered against the ground, and the Wolf Tribe answered her will, surging ahead in maddening fury, each pack following their own warlord. Behind them, the crawler¡¯s main guns thundered, creating ripples of energy in front of the capital as its own shields tried to withstand the barrage. Two heavy, armor-piercing shells had bypassed the protection and struck the top of the wall, sending the defenders tumbling.


    Ravager lunged, disappearing from view and leaving a gaping hole in the place where the mighty gates once stood. The reclamation had begun. Only woe awaited any fool who tried to stop the Reclaimers.

 Chapter 3: Through the Gates

    Janine charged after Ravager, adding her howl of rage to the howls of her sisters. Her short legs stomped across the stone ground, leaving footprints against it as her pack followed. The warlord reached for her laser rifle, aiming at a target on the wall. For close-to-midrange encounters, the Wolfkins preferred to use shardguns, simple weapons capable of unleashing armor-piercing shards. At long range, however, shardguns¡¯ accuracy suffered, leading to scouts and some wolf hags opting for energy-based weapons.


    Janine¡¯s eyes found a trembling sentry armed with a rocket launcher. She pressed the trigger, and a stream of superheated particles caught the projectile, exploding it into the faces of the unfortunate soldier and his comrades, turning those farther away into living flares.


    Martyshkina fired once, tearing a guard in two. The warlord laughed, spun her revolvers, and fired once more, no longer killing individual guards but tearing through chunks of parapet, adjusting her aim so that each bullet would claim several lives. She nodded to a soldier who raised his hands. A bullet took the head of an officer who tried to shoot the man to make an example of him.


    Flame balls erupted on the wall, exploding in a deadly bath of searing plasma, evaporating those who failed to escape the cruel destruction and detonating their ammunition along the way. Alpha¡¯s figure rose from the hellish flames. The warlord scaled the wall in a single leap, calculating the area where the energy shield collapsed under the barrage. The plasma discharges in her gauntlets spat death again, lessening the defenders¡¯ counterfire and forcing them to focus on her.


    Tecno-Queen¡¯s minions did their best to try and stop them. Battlements opened in the wall, revealing dozens of teams bringing heavy weaponry to bear. Where their allies above were struggling, these unleashed laser rays unimpeded. The energy struck the Wolfkins, melting pieces of their armor, scorching exposed muzzles to the bone, and disabling lenses. But the state¡¯s power armor endured, safeguarding the advancing army as they waded through the barrage. Pack members helped downed members back to their feet. If an artillery shell took an arm or a leg from a warrior, a wolf hag would grab the wounded and carelessly toss them back, and the Wolfkins behind them would follow suit, sending the tribesmen to safety without ever halting their advance.


    Shardguns barked. A cloud of projectiles traveling at 400 m/s ricocheted off the reinforced stone of the wall, but the sheer volume made up for the lack of accuracy, throwing the soldiers back on the battlements, lacerating their bodies, and disabling the heavy energy turrets. Some wolf hags used their pieces of archeotech to create small portable shields, forming a wall to shield the front troops. Many more fired explosives or used high-penetration weapons against the defenders, preferring to solve the problem at its core and earn adoration for their earlier kills.


    Janine stormed through the main gates, smashing their remnants aside with the Taleteller. The very air screamed at the passage of her axe as it bisected two guards who tried to stop her advance. Bullets and energy beams from the defenders¡¯ weapons hit the warlord¡¯s armor, failing to penetrate the meter-thick armor. Laughing like an evil spirit, Janine came upon the enemy combatants, cleaving a bloody path through them.


    Of the Blessed Mother, there was no sight. A bloody road in the middle of the enemy ranks hinted the direction of her savage journey, but the commander had lost herself in the bloody haze gripping her mind and ventured out on her own personal hunt. The Wolf Tribe, expecting it, broke in on Dragena¡¯s orders.


    They murdered efficiently but bloody, sending torn limbs everywhere. A wave of unnatural fear swept from Alpha, unnerving the state¡¯s soldiers and utterly horrifying their opposition. The tribe howled in a chaotic cacophony; the scouts fired their weapons at the lights on the fortifications and threw smoke grenades. Black-clad figures burst through the smoke, steam rising from their hungry snouts, their red lenses flashing crimson.


    There was a reason for this ferocity. The Wolf Tribe excelled at breaking wills to fight. Prior to accepting the laws of war, their wolf hags would often steal away raiders, staking them and forming a wall of screaming bodies around villages or settlements belonging to the foe. Such barbaric times faded into the past, and Janine didn¡¯t miss them. There was something sickening about slowly strangling a life, even the worst scum. As if it tainted her somehow.


    But the same principle applied here. Enemy forces prepared secondary and tertiary positional defenses behind the gates on the slope leading up to the city. Pillboxes and trenches housed soldiers, and enemies on platforms inside the wall stood ready to fire on the invaders. They harvested their share of casualties, killing two dozen Wolfkins through the sheer intensity of their fire. Then, as the casualties piled up, the resistance died out. Tecno-Queen¡¯s soldiers, dressed in hazmat coats and advanced exoskeletons reinforced by the additional armor plating, started glancing back, sharing similar panicked thoughts. The invaders are not stopping! I¡¯m going to die in here! My family needs me! It¡¯s no use; they just won¡¯t die!


    Such was morale. Hard to build, harder to maintain. Fear could save lives, sparing a city¡¯s population from the fate of being starved or bombed into submission. To achieve such a result, they intensified their assault, and Janine¡¯s bulk threw an officer off her path, breaking his arms in a mere collision. Her elbow struck, hollowing out a soldier wielding a rocket launcher. Her bodyguards, Soulless One and Impatient One, lunged over the warlord, tearing people apart with their claws, as all shamans did. Their snouts snapped, taking limbs, and the shamans¡¯ howls joined those of the pack.


    ¡°Surrender and live! What¡¯s here to die for?!¡± Janine lifted the officer with the blunt side of her axe.


    ¡°Above, warlord!¡± Anissa¡¯s warning made Janine jump aside.


    Twin beams of energy impaled the place where she had stood a moment ago, burning holes in an overzealous warrior and devouring two wounded enemies. The warrior stumbled, gasping for air and disoriented, and Melina crashed into her, knocking the Wolfkin aside as more of the energy hit into place.


    The attacker stood atop a bunker, a creature taller than an unarmored wolf hag. Once he was a man, but whatever wicked sacrifice he had made for Techno-Queen had changed him. Brown plates covered most of his body, held together by cords that pierced the exposed, blistered skin. Instead of arms, the cyborg had two energy cannons, fed by an oversized generator on his back. The cyborg¡¯s exposed lower jaw protruded from its head, looking comically small against the camera-covered hunk of metal that functioned as a helmet.


    ¡°Fidelity ensures survival!¡± a voice boomed from the cyborg¡¯s chest. ¡°Doubts invite immediate punishment! Stand and fight, turn back the tide, or you shall forfeit yours futu¡­¡±


    Janine shook the officer off her axe, throwing him out of her mind. Her soldier was badly wounded, but the woman will live, although Melina will make the foolish girl rue her carelessness. But this foe demanded an immediate solution. The warlord threw her axe in a cold, controlled rage, and it bit at the left shoulder of this man-machine, sending the thing spinning. A cannon fell to the ground, and shots from her energy rifle melted another. Janine leapt over the battle lines, grabbed the edge of the bunker and hoisted herself onto it, picking up the lying Taleteller and cleaving at the foe.


    ¡°Give up!¡± she snarled, slicing through a knee. A kick sent the cyborg five steps back, drawing a line with his remaining leg. ¡°It¡¯s all over, tin can man. Lie down like a little cub, and you¡¯ll be fixed later.¡±


    Janine didn¡¯t lie. The state hungrily hunted after the New Breeds, whether natural or manufactured, integrating both into the Army and civilian life, unless it could be proven that they tainted themselves with war crimes. The Spirits know she¡¯d rather die than let the soulless metal further taint her soul, but this fool might believe otherwise.


    ¡°P-ple¡­¡± Janine lowered her axe at the stuttering voice coming from the trembling human mouth. The man spoke in an emotionless tone, but static interrupted his speech, distorting the words. ¡°E-end e-ensla-avement¡­ Fidelity ensures survival! Till the last!¡± the same voice roared from the dynamics, silencing the human mouth. The cyborg¡¯s mouth twitched, shutting silent at a click in his head.


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    The cyborg almost caught her off-guard. He sprang at her with his remaining leg, lifting his heavy body effortlessly. Parts of his breastplate and back armor moved over the head, forming a bear trap. Its ends were about to close on Janine¡¯s head when she brought her axe¡¯s edge to meet them, hewing through the blades and burying the weapon into the man¡¯s chest, destroying his head. Hissing chemicals and sparks poured from the wound. The warlord kicked the corpse off the roof.


    More cyborgs rose from the trenches, revealing themselves from their hiding spots. A streak of darkness raced toward the one on the opposite side of the battlefield. Warlord Onyxia worked her claws, wounding enemy soldiers and picking apart any officer trying to restore order. Despite wearing the same heavyweight power suit as other warlords, she elegantly passed through the enemy ranks, never bumping into a foe, polishing her skills even in the heat of battle.


    The tin can never stood a chance. Darkness oozing from Onyxia¡¯s joints licked at him as a black form passed the machine, and it fell apart, bisected at the limbs, its head carried away by the warlord. She jumped, prying the helmet open, unconcerned about the enemy forces taking aim to end her. Several shards hit the projector, illuminating the warlord, and a moment later, the laser beams pierced the place where she should have been. Explosives lit up the area, but Onyxia herself was already moving away, somehow appearing next to Janine.


    It didn¡¯t even freak her out anymore. Trying to keep track of Onyxia was a fool¡¯s errand. She goes where she pleases, attacking from whatever angle she likes and to the Abyss any plans of her opponent. The shadow woman beat it into her, slicing the warlord¡¯s limbs in their brief duel. Janine moved ahead of the frontline, noticing a wolf hag leading the charge in the absence of the elusive warlord.


    The wolf hag¡¯s upper part of the helmet was painted white; she stood as tall as her warlord, easily subjugating the wolf hags in the pack to her will. Under her coordination, the Onyxia Pack not only pursued their objective but also aided their allies, sending the wounded to the rear and suppressing the cyborgs with coordinated fire.


    ¡°More wires than brains,¡± Onyxia announced, tossing aside the remains of her trophy.


    ¡°Acknowledged,¡± Dragena replied, supervising the operation from outside. ¡°Offer the cyborgs no mercy unless they ask for it. Be wary. They¡¯ll burn you along with their allies just as readily as if you were alone. Janine¡¯s record proves it,¡± she finished, filling the warlord¡¯s heart with pride at the recognition of her work, and her pack doubled the efforts, eager to help their warlord earn her first honorable title.


    ¡°Anissa, Melina, are we lagging behind?¡± Janine asked the instigators, crumpling a man¡¯s head with her rifle. His companion threw down a laser rifle, trying to utter words of surrender.


    ¡°No, warlord!¡± They snapped.


    ¡°Then cease this foolishness! The males and warriors are falling behind.¡± Janine picked up the soldier using her rifle and threw the prisoner over her shoulder, where the rest of her pack carried the captive to the Ice Fangs.


    She clicked her tongue, checking the reports. They weren¡¯t the first. The officer whose arms she had smashed had surrendered to Ashbringer¡¯s forces, robbing Janine of the chance to earn the modest title of Captive Bringer, a humble rank given to a warlord who was the first to subjugate a high-ranking opponent during an invasion. She could go and smash the wolf hag¡¯s head down the cranium, stealing the prize, but where was the honor or justice in that? Better to focus on helping her soldiers survive. The day will come when she¡¯ll earn herself just as many titles as Martyshkina. Even more! Never, she will never lose to Marty!


    ¡°Janine, let the girls play!¡± joked Warlord Ygrite. The woman closed on a cyborg firing at her troops; her paw slipped a mine into its generator, and she rolled to the side. The generator erupted, burning the insides of the mechanical human. The mutated warlord spread her arms, basking in the glory. ¡°Life¡¯s too brief to waste it in gloom. Cheer up!¡±


    Janine ignored her, surveying the battlefield. They had broken through the defenses, and Dragena should announce the assault any second now. A wolf hag from the Ygrite Pack caught her eye. The woman tried to push ahead of her fellows after the warlord, but turned back when the males in her pack failed to keep up. She raised a clawed paw to discipline the slowest, a small and frightened male who tried not to look at her. A scout tried to stop her, earning a growl from the wolf hag.


    ¡°Are you cubs or adults?!¡± Janine¡¯s roar cut through the chaos, and the communication channel carried her words. Ygrite¡¯s wolf hag glanced at Janine, itching for a fight. ¡°No dominations, no punishments until the Blessed Mother ends her hunt! Wolf Hag! If you can¡¯t watch over your pack, bare your throat to another and be absorbed.¡±


    ¡°You are not my warlord,¡± the insolent wretch replied, and Janine¡¯s paw gripped the shaft of her axe. The Taleteller would be too good for the wolf hag. Janine will open this unruly creature with her own paws, not her claws. She will drink deep from her throat and haunt her nightmares forever!


    ¡°What was that, Wolf Hag Kalaisa?¡± Alpha¡¯s voice asked over the comms.


    ¡°Nothing, warlord!¡± There was no strike. Alpha¡¯s physical punishments never ended with a single blow; they always left a broken body with missing bones and twisted limbs, often declawed. The Strongest Warlord used her power, the Fear Wave, to whip the arrogant wolf hag, and the girl answered on the verge of tears. ¡°I obey!¡±


    Janine didn¡¯t gloat. Physical punishment would be a mercy compared to Alpha¡¯s fear touch. Alpha turned Janine¡¯s and Marty¡¯s hides gray after the two curious cubs tried to sneak into the Strongest Warlord¡¯s den to see if it really had an actual TV. It was a stupid challenge, and Terrific added her own punishment to them later. Their fur had regained its color a month later. Yeah, she¡¯ll let the girl off the hook this time.


    ¡°Incoming!¡± Janine shouted, raising her snout to the sky after hearing the roar of unknown engines and tasting the scent of the same chemicals that coursed through the veins of a dead tin can.


    Four figures flew toward them from the city. Identical to the cyborgs they¡¯d slain, these hovered on the fiery trails coming from their backs. Janine fired her rifle, bringing down a tin can by melting its engine. The next instant, she was on top of the machine, hacking away at its frame. Impatient One successfully grabbed another tin can. Her daughter jumped from the bunker as the cyborgs began their descent, closing her claws on the sturdy legs and landing the thing helmet down. Soulless One sunk her claws into the machine¡¯s neck, dragging the head away.


    ¡°Circle!¡± Anissa snapped, unceremoniously elbowing a hesitating male away before the cyborg could flatten him. The cyborg landed and a white light flashed in its shoulder cannons. ¡°Grenades!¡±


    The Wolf Tribe preferred to live in lands where the scorching sun could leave burns on Normies¡¯ skins. They welcomed the heat, celebrating the sun¡¯s arrival with mad mating and cheers. The wildlife of their homeland adapted, growing heavy shells and bone armor strong enough to withstand shrapnel and flame-resistant skins. Ravager blessed her offspring with sharp claws, but she also gave them the brains to use new murder tools.


    At Anissa¡¯s command, the packs used one such tool. Their grenades created a short-lived cloud of acid that burned the lungs of fools who happened to breathe it and ate through armor, dissolving it. The cyborg stumbled, falling on a knee, one cannon exploding, and the second shot going skyward.


    ¡°Sorry, my bad, the legs gave in!¡± Bogdan tackled a warrior with his shoulder, throwing himself and the woman to the ground to escape a beam aimed at their heads.


    The last cyborg avoided the fate of the third by closing in to the Wolfkins¡¯ ranks and kicked, snapping a male¡¯s knee as the soldier tried to use a grenade to disable the machine¡¯s generator. Its upper torso turned, firing at her son. Ignacy gave Bogdan a paw, dragging him and the warrior away.


    Before Janine could stop tearing her prey apart and rush to aid them, a paw grasped the cyborg. Warlord Ashbringer fired her flamethrower at low power, straight into the exposed jaw. Where the steel endured, the flesh it was grafted onto gave way, and the cyborg shuddered, burning to an empty husk. Ashbringer¡¯s lenses found Janine, and the woman nodded.


    She is going to claim all the titles! Janine thought in despair, nodding back. Great, Ashbringer repaid back the debt for letting her wolf hag steal the prisoner from a fellow warlord. No title and no favor from another pack. At least my soldiers are alive. Janine chastised herself for the envy. That¡¯s what¡¯s important. Four warlords had died with no titles or legends to their names. If she should be the fifth, so be it.


    An explosion threw her from the tin can. A defense tower, positioned on a wall to the west, unleashed its missiles at the gates, opening wide gaps in their ranks and resulting in the deaths of several Wolfkins. Before the warlord could fire her rifle, Ravager was already on the task, uprooting the entire tower along with a small section of the wall. The commander lifted the ruins over her head, ignoring the pleas for mercy from the tower¡¯s operators. Janine¡¯s lenses zoomed in, showing Ravager¡¯s maddened eyes. The progenitor had gone too far again. The Blessed Mother went berserk. Any soul incurring her wrath would meet only a mindless and efficient demise.


    Ravager hurled the tower at the soldiers below, shaking the ground, and moved over the wall, her claws striking and collecting the lives of those before her. Crimson soaked her fur, failing to change its color, and body parts tangled in her fur. J Leaving the commander to fight her own battles, Janine sliced another guard in half, then kicked a woman off her feet, putting a boot on the guard¡¯s body.


    ¡°Surrender,¡± Janine offered the woman, holding an axe on her shoulder and firing at an officer trying to restore cohesion. Her shot took the man¡¯s hand, and he tried to aim his pistol at her, only to be shot by Anissa.


    ¡°Advance,¡± Dragena commanded.


    In her panic, the pinned guard fired her weapon. The energy beam hissed against the dented alloy, failing to melt it. That was answer enough for the warlord. Janine stomped on the enemy, and the warlord moved on, slashing and shooting, her pack charging behind her.

 Chapter 4: Janine’s Aim

    Dragena waited just long enough for the first ranks of panicking foes to reach the city¡¯s wide streets. It was both a last offer of mercy and a weapon. Leave a prey without a way out, and it will bare its fangs, however meager. The soldiers deeper in the city saw their allies flee, heard the blood-curdling howls of the attackers, and had enough time to realize how quickly the outer defenses fell.


    Janine heard orders snapping from dynamics installed on the walls, demanding the eradication of those who gave in to fear. But it is always hard to fire at your neighbors, whoever you are. By not firing at the soldiers who abandoned their post, Techno-Queen¡¯s minions unwittingly disobeyed her order for the first time in their lives. And one disobedience leads to another, as the idea of saving themselves by retreating dangles in their minds.


    The capital looked as lifeless as the land beyond the wall. Battered concretes of the main roads bore the tracks of thousands of convoys bringing in supplies to sustain industry and people. Toxic rivers flowed underneath grated sidewalks. Citizens lived in square-shaped barracks with closed-shut windows, more like concrete slabs spat on the ground than places to call home. Crude, colorless, these buildings differentiate through various identification numbers. Janine hated them at first sight, but thanked the Spirits for the thickness of their walls. Future citizens of the Reclamation Army were safe from the accidental discharge of weapons.


    Army depots and factories littered every corner, leaking chemical waste into the openings. Even now they worked, hampered by the absence of human personnel, but nevertheless producing ammunition and weapons on their assembly lines thanks to the automatic protocols.


    ¡°Should we destroy the structures?¡± Janine heard Eled¡¯s voice over the communications and saw an image recorded by her lenses. The warlord shook the berserker haze and held her blade over a trembling man, one of the last guards assigned to a small factory where cruel pincers were assembling an unconscious woman into a cyborg.


    ¡°Negative. It may cause a chain reaction. Ignore it for now. The engineers and scientists will deal with it later,¡± Dragena replied.


    ¡°Acknowledged.¡± The flat of Eled¡¯s scythe broke the man¡¯s arms.


    Janine proceeded according to her own orders, allowing the wolf hags to direct her pack. She sensed their uneasiness. In Terrific¡¯s time, the pack rushed ahead in a single, unified wave, trying their best to keep up with the warlord. Those too weak or too slow were abandoned. Terrific¡¯s vision ignored the concealed enemy positions, laser-focusing on claiming the greatest quarry to posture before other warlords.


    They no longer fought in this way. Janine led from the front, claiming the lives of those fools aiming to stop her. A swing of her axe sent a turret and a ruined body into a wall. A shot of her energy rifle shaved the top of a soldier¡¯s body. Bullets bounced off her superior armor, denting it in places. The warlord¡¯s speed allowed her to sidestep a fired rocket and outpace the opposition, rendering their efforts to resist pointless.


    Impatient One and Soulless One fought by her side, ending lives and using their instincts to weave around the incoming shots. The Wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe lacked their cousins¡¯ incredible perception. They couldn¡¯t see bullets suspended in the air, but the Blessed Mother had granted them a different gift. Their instincts flared, warning of danger, and by trusting them, the Wolfkins could replicate the amazing feats of their kin.


    Three New Breeds. That was all it took to throw the opposition into disarray. Her Wolfkins surged in an avalanche of darkness, climbing on top of the building and downing the exposed enemies with the volleys of their shardguns. Armor-piercing shards left dents and gashes in the warlord¡¯s armor as her bodyguard deftly dodged them. She found it acceptable and envied their nimble legs. The pack worked as one; their strongest drew attention to themselves, bleeding the foe, and hundreds of her soldiers pressed on the exposed flanks, securing the kill.


    Soulless One¡¯s claw missed its mark, and the enemy officer recoiled, raising his heavy plasma launcher. Anissa fired hastily, exploding the man¡¯s shoulder, and he slipped through a broken piece of iron grating, falling into the chemical waste. The man shouted in agony, scratching his good hand against the wall as the current threatened to sweep him away.


    ¡°Permission to¡­¡±


    ¡°Granted,¡± Janine approved Ignacy¡¯s request.


    Her little boy jumped onto his belly, sliding to the open crack as the scout in charge of his pack formed a defensive perimeter. Bogdan grabbed his legs, and Ignacy caught the officer and lifted him away from the deadly waters. The man¡¯s gray hazmat suit had melted away, and the leather of his clothing and the metal of his exoskeleton fused with his skin.


    Impatient One appeared beside Ignacy and slapped him hard enough to send him back to his feet when her brother tried to reach for his medical kit. The Wolfkins continued their advance, leaving the twitching, screaming man to receive care from the surrendered foes. Whether he¡¯ll live or perish will depend on the Ice Fangs¡¯ medics following behind. For now, Janine was glad that her daughter restrained herself and did not use her claws on her brother. Ignacy sometimes failed to understand that their cruel adrenaline shots would sooner kill a Normie than aid him in any way.


    The Wolfkins spread through the city like the tide of a great black sea, shutting down the resistance, breaking into the factories, and eliminating any resistance in their path. Their losses were minuscule, and yet a sting of cold fury touched Janine¡¯s mind at news of a sister¡¯s passing. Young fertile females and eager males, kin who should have inherited the future, died on these blasted streets, brought low by the massed fire of the defense towers and the occasional cyborg encounter.


    Dragena had the same opinion. Predaig¡¯s and Onyxia¡¯s packs took to the walls, climbing up to silence the cannons; Ygrite¡¯s cheerful voice warned her allies of potential traps ahead; the brutal Alpha and the indomitable Ashbringer waded through the center of the city, using their largest packs to quell the fiercest resistance. The packs¡¯ movements produced whines of servomotors and the scratching of the steel edges of armor plates against each other. The state¡¯s mass-produced power armor was anything but subtle. Accompanied by the wailing howls and barking sounds of their shardguns, the Wolf Tribe produced a truly nightmarish cacophony for ears that teared hard at the enemy spirit.


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    Where is the Blessed Mother? Janine wondered, bringing the Taleteller to another barricade. An explosion overhead announced the silencing of turrets preparing to fire at her. Commander Ravager wasn¡¯t the one to shy away from combat; in every battle, she raced for the throat of the enemy leader, quickly ending a war by devouring them.


    So where is she now?


    ¡°Daddy!¡± Janine¡¯s eyes narrowed at the sight of a young cub on the street.


    The girl stepped out of a gray house, lifting her tearful face to look at the platform where the Wolfkins had cornered a group of guards. A shot ricocheted off the Impatient One¡¯s armor, and Janine broke from the advance, blocking the piece of steel flying at the cub.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt my daddy!¡± Janine ignored the feeble hands pounding at her chest plate as she wrapped her oversized limbs around the girl, preparing to throw her into the doorway. Already, the little one¡¯s eyes had reddened and not entirely from tears. The outside air can kill her just as surely as a sudden shot.


    ¡°Sure thing!¡± Bogdan roared and lunged at the guards, cursing as a shot hit his elbow joint and grazed his skin. Her wayward son fell from the roof, holding five guards in his embrace. He threw them to the building, nodding to the girl as a shocked man tried to raise his rifle. His comrade pushed his gun down. ¡°Wolf Tribe¡¯s express, five Normies delivered; now get inside your den and don¡¯t show up your faces until the battle¡¯s over.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± a man asked grimly, stepping to Janine. She let the girl go into his embrace, still towering over him to serve as a wall. ¡°So you could take us as cattle?¡±


    ¡°Not a cannibal!¡± Bogdan shook his paws. ¡°Just hate seeing girls cry. Ain¡¯t no cub should¡­¡± His scout landed from above, and her punch sent the male face down, cracking the concrete with his helmet.


    ¡°Fighting¡¯s over for you.¡± Janine tried her best to ignore the urge to protect Bogdan. Her boy deserved a punishment for breaking away from his pack and risking his life. The girl simply looked after him. She didn¡¯t even use her claws. Something in the warlord¡¯s voice convinced the guards, and they dropped their weapons.


    ¡°Then what awaits us?¡± the father asked, hugging his cub.


    ¡°A life and a future. Better than the one you had,¡± Janine promised, shoving him and his daughter inside and closing the door after the rest stepped in.


    ¡°If you have done sleeping on the job, get on with the conquest, bleeding heart,¡± Ashbringer sent a message.


    Flames erupted from the two streets to their west, announcing Ashbringer¡¯s advance. Through the cameras in her helmet, watched as Alpha closed in on a fortress within the city. Techno-Queen had ruled by fear, and sending soldiers motivated by it against a horror like Alpha was most unwise. Unseen terror whipped people in Alpha¡¯s path, breaking the guards to a condition where they dropped their weapons and whimpered helplessly, clutching their legs. The strongest warlord simply crushed those few who had found courage to stand against her, deeming them unworthy of sullying her claws.


    ¡°Ashbringer, cut on your fire,¡± Dragena¡¯s voice said over the comm, and Janine switched channels, seeing the warlord sitting in the crawler¡¯s command center, monitoring the advance of the packs on several screens. ¡°Janine had the right idea. There are civilians in the buildings, and if you set fire to the oil lines, there will be naught but dust.¡±


    ¡°I am not that incompetent,¡± Ashbringer snapped back. A searing burst from her flamethrowers left twelve scorched remains in her path.


    Janine felt cold as she ripped the heads off the two soldiers with a backhand swing of her axe. Ravager. At a wall, the Blessed Mother rose high in an explosion of stone and fire and turned around, looking calmly at the Ashbringer. Not a snarl left her lips. The anger and madness simply washed away from the commander, and she held an officer in a purple cape in her paw. This calmness freaked out Janine more than any rage.


    ¡°I obey.¡± Ashbringer quickly dropped to one knee, baring her neck in submission and ignoring the enemy fire. Her flamethrowers went off, and the warlord released her claws.


    Ravager turned her gaze to the screaming officer and paused, comprehending her surroundings. The Blessed Mother examined the man, who looked more like a toy compared to her. Her paw twitched, causing the man to choke on his own screams as at least one of his ribs gave way. Ravager¡¯s pupils dilated and returned to normal; her breathing alternated between heavy and rapid intakes of air. Arresting her madness, Ravager raised the officer to her lips, leaving the scent-mark of a prisoner, and tossed him to the other soldiers, accepting their surrender.


    Her calmness did not last for long. She leaped from this section of the wall, crossing the entire city in a graceful somersault. With the force of a comet, Ravager landed on the opposite wall, partially crushing it under her weight, and moved on, snuffing out any life in her path by slashing, stomping, or simply gulping down foes fast enough that none had any time to even offer a surrender. A defensive tower in her path toppled at a snap of her fingers, and the Blessed Mother stopped, bleeding from her nose and sniffing the air furiously, her head swaying to the sides.


    ¡°Martyshkina¡¯s advance has halted, warlord!¡± Melina shouted happily, throwing a grenade that seared soldiers at a barricade ahead. ¡°She spread them too thin, and her wolf hag is pinned down in the east! We can swoop in and secure her advance point ahead of her!¡±


    Janine¡¯s HUD projected the image, confirming Melina¡¯s words. In her overzealousness, her friend had advanced in too wide a front, stealing kills from Ygrite, and the crafty warlord was only too happy to let someone else do her work. But now a pack deprived of its warlord became trapped in a square in front of a factory whose guards dragged heavy cannons onto balconies, their fire suppressing the Wolfkins, and two other groups moved in to flank the separated pack as its wolf hag clutched the side of her helmet. There were no wounds on her, and the warlord assumed she had a concussion.


    ¡°Melina, take your pack and strike at the factory from the rear. Bring back Marty¡¯s cubbies, safe and sound,¡± Janine ordered.


    ¡°But¡­ but the glory! We can¡­ you can earn a title¡­¡±


    Janine¡¯s paw closed over the wolf hag¡¯s helmet, jerking her off the ground. She bent the metal gently. True, her soul cried out for a chance to one-up Martyshkina, especially for the blunder her friend had caused. It would¡¯ve lifted the morale of her pack, removing the inferiority they felt at having a fameless leader. But not at the cost of lives. Janine was determined to prevent any member of her pack from ever feeling the same fear of abandonment she had experienced as a cub. She wanted to build a home that her cubs could be proud of. And what she wanted, she made true.


    ¡°Safe and sound,¡± she repeated slowly, looking into Melina¡¯s lenses. ¡°Obey or challenge.¡±


    ¡°You lead! I obey!¡± Melina folded her paws to her chest, accepting any punishment, and the warlord let her go.


    ¡°Soulless One! Baby-sit the Melina Pack for me,¡± Janine called. As the shaman passed by, she grabbed her shoulder. ¡°And keep your strikes true.¡± The shaman¡¯s claw twitched, and Janine asked in a softer voice. ¡°Are you injured? I can¡¯t smell your blood.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the oil. I must keep a cool head, lest I¡¯ll turn into a torch,¡± the shaman joked. She bowed. ¡°I function, my warlord.¡±


    ¡°Hunt well.¡± A pat on the back sent the shaman to the wolf hag, and the warlord led her soldiers further.

 Chapter 5: The Males’ Duty

    The Wolf Tribe did not attack mindlessly. Each vector of their assault was meant to take out one of the enemy¡¯s most valuable assets, following the Ravager-invented doctrine of ¡°throat cutting,¡± a strategy designed to reduce losses on both sides with an overwhelming show of force. Once morale is destroyed, officers are dead, and weapons are secured, even the most fanatical opponents often consider surrender.


    Dragena commanded their advance with casual ease, directly addressing scouts and wolf hags when she deemed them advancing too fast, bringing them back in line with a simple word. Through linking scouts¡¯ visions, the warlord constantly updated the enemies¡¯ positions, marking the most charismatic officers among the enemy to be eliminated and helping the scouts find safer routes of advance. Her unemotional voice quelled the bloodlust of the most eager packs, ensuring the safety of surrendering foes. Her keen mind directed artillery fire, limiting civilian casualties. Dragena¡¯s leadership ensured that the advancing front remained steadfast, dispersing evenly to secure the valuable targets.


    Even the warlords themselves accepted being reined in by her, for the warlord enjoyed Ravager¡¯s full support. Prior to the invasion, Dragena used drugs to loosen the prisoners¡¯ tongues and learn the general layout of the capital, as well as the location of factories, underground bunkers, and defense installations. However, regardless of the drugs, the prisoners failed to disclose any information about Tecno-Queen herself. Dragena had ignored offers to squeeze the answers from the prisoners by force, assuring the commander that their foe had distrusted her own officer. She theorized that the enemy leader didn¡¯t have a single seat of power, but rather changed her location at irregular intervals.


    Janine loved this element of uncertainty. Janine and her pack received the task of capturing the looming tower to the city¡¯s east.


    This tower handled communications, and there was little chance of the enemy¡¯s leader being there¡­ But the excitement of possible glory propelled the warlord like an adrenaline shot. Ravager, Zero, or Alpha had ever executed the strongest preys. What if she¡¯s the first to join their ranks? Janine, the Queen Killer, the Ruler Toppler¡­ She imagined Martyshkina must¡¯ve thought the same thing, judging by how pushy her pack advanced.


    A guided missile flew over the buildings, striking a pack. An explosion punched through a male¡¯s armor, rupturing his organs and killing the soldier. The shockwave sent Bogdan and a warrior cartwheeling into their allies¡¯ paws. The warrior had it especially bad; her paw below an ankle disappeared.


    Impatient One howled and used the side of a building as a springboard to leap high and land amid reloading defenders. Where Janine fought methodically, using both ranged and close weapons to the greatest effect, Impatient One transformed into a whirlwind of dashing violence.


    No shaman ever used ranged weapons or blades; their claws and fangs were everything they ever needed. And now the shaman¡¯s jaws caught the screaming man, biting him in two and hungrily devouring the remains while she sprinted around the guards, bisecting anyone around her and furthering chaos, hurling the dead to the ground.


    Janine turned the worry over her son into strength, cleaving a guard before her in two and sent a gust of wind forward with enough force to knock more off their feet. Wolfkins around her howled, filling the air with the songs of rage, and fired their own shardguns, turning the opposition into bloody rags. Ignacy helped Bogdan to his feet, and together, the two males shot down guards who tried to fire into their sister¡¯s back.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Janine commanded, stopping the shaman from butchering the guards who fell to their knees.


    With their foes broken, Dragena sent a message for them to halt. Janine used this opportunity to assign the wounded Wolfkins to tie up the prisoners and send them back, where the Ice Boys would secure them.


    Out of curiosity, Ignacy pulled a cowl from a guard¡¯s head, revealing a face covered by chemical burns, a pile of messy ashen hair covered with occasional bald patches, pale skin marred by the uneven, sizeable red dots, and a shell-shocked expression in her wide eyes. The woman coughed, unable to cope with the pollution, prompting Anissa to pull back the cowl and give Ignacy a smack behind his head.


    ¡°They can¡¯t even live in their own city,¡± Anissa spat on the ground, fixing the prisoner¡¯s respirator back in place. ¡°Breathe,¡± she told the guard. ¡°Calm your heart. Your war is over, citizen.¡±


    ¡°Technically, they could before, s¡­ Wolf Hag!¡± Ignacy quickly corrected himself under Anissa¡¯s gaze. ¡°As far as we know, twenty-one years ago, people in this area lived normally, with little need for gas masks. Mind you, it wasn¡¯t all sunshine and rainbows; the Wastes are one of the most irradiated regions¡­¡±


    ¡°Point, male,¡± Impatient One snapped. She lifted Bogdan, sniffed him over, and put him back. Then she prowled toward the wounded warrior and glanced at the warlord. Janine nodded, monitoring the streets. The maimed woman tried to argue, but a claw under her jaw quickly subdued her, and the disgruntled warrior agreed to return.


    Janine herself wasn¡¯t minding Ignacy¡¯s long explanations. Her little boy had surprisingly many interesting stories to tell for someone living a hermit¡¯s life.


    ¡°Sure!¡± Ignacy saluted. ¡°Tecno-Queen came to power, and the Wastes truly lived up to their name; life expectancy plummeted into oblivion¡­¡± He gestured at the trembling guard, reading information from the woman¡¯s tag around her neck. ¡°Take her, for example. In her early twenties, but looking like a forty-year-old, her hairline is already receding, and judging by the skin color, she has erythema. If you ask me, in ten years, this entire region would have had its population halved at least¡­¡±


    ¡°Neeerd!¡± Bogdan kicked his brother in the ass. ¡°Who cares what might have happened? Who cares about ancient history? We¡¯re here, so all will be okay. Rather than wasting your time on theorizing, embrace the practical.¡± He wrapped an arm around his brother¡¯s shoulders and pointed at a scout. ¡°Look at that beauty! Such posture, a thick waist, gorgeous fur, and lengthy white claws shine through this smog, almost making you believe them to be unleashed accidentally, despite a rifle¡­ The girl clearly has the hots for you, brother. Come on, go talk to her, and then make many little ones¡­¡±


    ¡°Bogdan,¡± Anissa half-groaned, half-growled, commanding the troops to take up the defensive positions. ¡°Does anything other than mating ever worry you?¡±


    ¡°Of course. My cubs, soulmate, family, friends¡­¡±


    ¡°Then, if you want to keep seeing them, get to your position and keep your eyes open, or I¡¯ll gore you before the next enemy has a chance to get a shot at your incompetent hide.¡± Impatient One landed next to her brothers and sisters, sending Anissa to the ground with an elbow hit. ¡°Discipline! Maintain discipline, Wolf Hag! The males are too dumb to know what¡¯s best for them, but what is your excuse? Put them to work! They can have fun after the battle is won!¡±


    Janine left Anissa in charge of the pack and said a brief silent prayer for her fallen warriors before examining the tower again. Satellite arrays decorated its walls, and long cables, thick as houses, supplied the superstructure with energy. The entire structure reached a height of about three hundred meters, varying by a few dozen meters. The surface around the tower was flat, and swirling toxic waste beneath the grid created the image of a sickly moat surrounding a castle, bringing back unpleasant memories of the war against Blood Graf.


    The city¡¯s shield fell, the Wolfkins took apart its generators, and the Inevitable¡¯s crew was busy silencing the remaining defenses on the wall. But palaces, large fortresses, and the biggest factories in the city had their own shields that kept their walls unspoiled. Orange flowers bloomed in the air, and slabs of iron shells rained down, unable to reach the tower. A beam of darkness connected the crawler to the balcony of a palace to the west, and this time the shield gave way, unable to withstand Zero¡¯s sniper rifle. Something exploded in the palace.


    ¡°Dragena, why did we stop?¡± Janine asked, strapping the energy rifle to her back and taking the Taleteller in both paws.


    She could feel the streets shaking, even if only slightly, and it wasn¡¯t the result of an explosion. Terrific taught them how to spot the difference, regularly leading cubs to hunt the underground predators to keep Normies from harm. Something, or someone, was coming. A ripple of cracks raced through the ground, and Janine released the claws on her legs, motioning for her packs to prepare.


    ¡°Because this is an obvious trap, sister,¡± Dragena replied calmly, sending an image of the city to Janine¡¯s HUD. ¡°Observe. We¡¯ve almost claimed it, but we haven¡¯t encountered any steel servants or minions. There is also something else. Ravager¡­¡±


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    ¡°Blessed Mother,¡± Lacerated One growled over communication.


    ¡°Ravager.¡± Undeterred, Dragena ignored the shaman¡¯s indignation. The supreme shaman and her troops were busy escorting wounded captives and securing civilians on the Blessed Mother¡¯s orders. ¡°She can feel it too. Notice the pattern in her movements. She both satiates her bloodlust on the walls and is looking for something.¡±


    Janine had to admit that she was right. Once engaged, anyone carrying a weapon became prey in the Blessed Mother¡¯s eyes. And considering that some New Breeds had claws or blades for arms¡­ Janine¡¯s former warlord, Terrific, once had her lung pierced while rescuing a mutant cub covered in barbed spikes from Ravager, shouting in the divine face that the little one was not a combatant. The commander knew the extent of her madness, so her current pattern of movements puzzled Janine. Why is she prolonging the carnage? It can only lead to further fury that could rise into a hellish inferno that Ravager won¡¯t be able to suppress. What are they missing?


    Part of the answer came to her in moments. Figures burst from the toxic rivers, crashing through stone and metal grates. They resembled madly twitching insects; three elongated legs held their elongated bodies; six more limbs served as arms; four limbs ended in palm-sized needles; and two of the remaining limbs had crude manipulators. White lenses, serving the robots as eyes, locked at the Wolfkins, and with a clacking sound, their backs opened to reveal two sets of metallic wings.


    These must¡¯ve been the steel minions. The true standing army of Tecno-Queen, merciless hordes to decimate her rivals. Janine met them head-on, catching the first on the knob of her axe and impaling it. The creature twitched, bleeding oil and broken gears; its arms struck in death throes, leaving gashes across her armor.


    Dangerous. The warlord broke through the remains with one swing of her axe, bringing her blade to the approaching horde and feeding drinks of fresh stories to the Taleteller. The steel minions did not differentiate between allies and foes; one of them opened the back of a surrendered guard before pouncing on a nearby Wolfkin.


    Bogdan had to block an incoming strike, saving one of his former foes, but he ended up exposing his neck as the limb pierced through the top of his vambrace, dragging her son off his feet. Ignacy¡¯s shardgun barked, sending destruction into the minion¡¯s neck. The thing stumbled, and Bogdan used this opportunity to kick it off himself, pushing his brother away from having his eyes slashed by another minion. The headless minion joined the intact one, trying to stab the males. Two females tackled the machines, turning into balls of slashing claws and stabbing blades. Bogdan and Ignacy stood together, firing at the robots, taking them apart limb by limb and covering the warriors of their pack.


    They work well together. Janine decided, advancing forward. Terrific would no doubt lead the pack into a counterattack, seeking to use ferocity to overcome the opposition. But her mother¡­ Terrific wasn¡¯t here anymore. A well-positioned defense could win just as many battles as a fury could lose.


    The pack fired well-timed shots into the oncoming swarm, destroying foes by the dozens before they could bring their full might to the Wolfkins. Scouts threw grenades, creating an additional corrosive layer for things to pass, and Janine inhaled acid fumes, enjoying the tearing sensation in her airways. What doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stronger. A target as large as she had attracted the swarm¡¯s attention. Shards ricocheting off her helmet, clawed limbs scratching streams on her body, the roar of her axe swinging through the air brought her happiness. Two bots tried to creep to her feet, seeking to bisect her sinews, and the warlord kicked, skewering both.


    Several bots broke through the gunfire, carving paths through her pack. Matching males in strength, the steel minions¡¯ bladed limbs buried themselves in the chest plates, finding their way to the hearts within with chirurgical precision. The creatures¡¯ strikes strived for efficiency; when unable to confirm a kill with the first attack, the steel minions aimed for joints and rubberized neck protection to incapacitate a soldier. Worse, they ignored the larger Wolfkins, going after the males, seeking to exchange their existence for at least one life.


    Yet there was a flaw. A swarm¡ªa true insectoid swarm¡ªworked in unison, sacrificing drones so their warriors could launch an attack. These bots had no cohesion in their ranks; they surged in a unified front, where their wings could¡¯ve carried them over the building.


    ¡°Wolf Hags, Dragena! The steel minions are individualistic! They know nothing about teamwork and go after the weakest!¡± Janine shouted her warning. ¡°Wolf Hags, lure and devour!¡±


    Her wolf hags had small need for her order, already understanding the robot¡¯s intentions. Janine took position five paces ahead of her pack, turning in a whirlwind of steel and restrained rage, smashing aside the swarm to buy a brief respite for the pack. Anissa ordered the males to take positions behind the females, a potential heresy and a most unorthodox tactic, but Janine approved it at once. The warriors, scouts, and wolf hags in her pack had a much better chance of survival in this melee, and the males could provide excellent fire support. Anissa fastened her own weapon and lunged at a trying-to-stand minion, releasing her claws.


    Impatient One followed, bringing a smile to Janine¡¯s lips. Her two precious girls fought back-to-back with a ferocity that would¡¯ve made even Lacerated One proud¡­ Oh, what a glorious future they have! Anissa easily swatted aside a blade aimed at her lenses and swept through the legs of a steel minion, finishing it with an elbow that pressed the little head deep into its chest. Impatient One simply thrust, leaving a gaping hole in a steel minion who tried to fly overhead, and bit off the head of another.


    ¡°Heresy!¡± Impatient One cursed at the rising headless body. She stomped it into the pavement.


    ¡°Finally, someone worthy of killing!¡± roared Warlord Eled over the comm. Through a shared video feed, Janine watched as Eled¡¯s troops also came under attack, and the warlord swung her gigantic scythe, harvesting four machines and leaving a blurry arc in her wake.


    ¡°Technically, these are just machines, warlord. You can destroy them, but they don¡¯t have any life to begin with,¡± Ignacy corrected her, firing point-black at a minion that tried to claw at a scout¡¯s back.


    ¡°Someone never met Artificer; I take it.¡± Alpha spat, standing oblivious to the danger in a sea of steel minions as her pack freely shot them off her. ¡°Have anything to add other than pointless wordplay, male?¡±


    ¡°As a matter of fact, I do!¡± Ignacy¡¯s boast nearly painted Janine¡¯s fur white. She¡¯ll never let Alpha touch her boys, but it mattered little, as no warlord can ever hope to beat Alpha. ¡°These minions are able to move despite having their primary generator destroyed and are capable of navigating without the lenses on their heads.¡±


    ¡°Point! Get to it before I use mine to shut you up!¡± Impatient One snapped, tearing a minion in half.


    ¡°Every component of these robots has its own backup power source,¡± Ignacy said quickly, firing at the minions trying to reach his sisters¡¯ legs. He sent a request, and Alpha herself approved it, letting Ignacy send photos of hissing energy cells stuck in the machines¡¯ limbs to every warlord. ¡°Probably short-lived, but this is just a theory. And their ability to operate without optics suggests some sort of hidden sensors.¡±


    ¡°So don¡¯t let our guard down and smash them to bits until they stop moving, right?¡± asked Warlord Predaig.


    ¡°Technically, if we knew exactly where their control center was, we could¡¯ve turned them into scraps easier, but in the field conditions, I can¡¯t make any hypotheses in good conscience. Perhaps...¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the gist of it, yes, warlord,¡± Bogdan answered, stopping Ignacy¡¯s explanations. ¡°We are honored that you have allowed us to speak the wisdom that is no doubt already known to you.¡±


    ¡°Janine, keep your males focused on the fight!¡± Eled laughed happily. ¡°They make me look bad!¡±


    ¡°Eh, when a male is right, he is right.¡± Explosions rocked the ground in front of Warlord Ygrite¡¯s pack, preventing hundreds of steel shapes from reaching her prisoners. The warlord herself, a horrible mess of claws protruding from her neck and mouth, caught a half-broken robot and crushed it in her paw. ¡°Ah, I love myself some good, well-set ambush. Especially when we turn it against the enemy. Keep on using the grenade launchers, boys; if even one of these shiny bugs gets to you, no booze tomorrow! See, this is the way to fight a war!¡± She cheered, warming her paws on the great pyre created by her pack. ¡°Told you all we didn¡¯t bring grenade launchers for nothing! Girls, join the fun; don¡¯t be shy! Your beverage is at stake too, you know! Kalaisa, keep the filth off my captives; these are our Normies now.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so she is allowed the indiscriminate use of volatile incendiaries, but I had to listen to a lecture? Cusackshit!¡± Ashbringer snarled, melting a row of steel minions, taking care not to ignite the toxic sludge.


    ¡°Hold your positions, sisters.¡± Dragena¡¯s voice cut through the chatter. ¡°Eled, Predaig, the losses in your packs are unacceptably high. Take an example from Ygrite and Janine and keep the males at a safe distance.¡±


    ¡°It is the males¡¯ sacred duty to sacrifice themselves for the tribe!¡± Lacerated One joined the conversation.


    ¡°In times of need, holy one. It would be wasteful to allow casualties here,¡± Dragena replied dispassionately. ¡°Martyshkina, you are far ahead; retreat. If anyone finds Onyxia, put her on the coms. We haven¡¯t yet met any steel servants¡­¡±


    ¡°Ignacy, keep your mouth shut,¡± Janine asked. ¡°Eled and Alpha are not the ones to cause ruckus about being corrected, but someone like Ashbringer won¡¯t be so lenient.¡±


    ¡°Stop spreading slander, Janine,¡± Ashbringer growled. ¡°When males have something worthwhile to say, I gracefully offer them my ear, just as I offered it to your cub¡¯s babbling. Fine work, Ignacy.¡±


    ¡°Melina, status report.¡± Janine deemed it best to ignore her named sister. Ashbringer might have shown some signs of mutation with her smaller fangs, silken fur, and elongated snout, but by the Spirits the woman¡¯s claws penetrated deep!


    ¡°Delivering our allies, warlord,¡± Melina replied in a low voice.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Janine called up the health indicators of Melina¡¯s pack on her HUD. Nothing was out of the ordinary; most of her pack hadn¡¯t even been injured. ¡°Did Martyshkina¡¯s wolf hag dominate you? Are you under attack?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s even worse, warlord,¡± the wolf hag answered in desperation. ¡°There is nothing here, except useless Normies surrendering in droves. No cyborgs, no steel minions, nothing. We¡¯ll never match the kill count of other packs like this. We¡¯ll be the last!¡±


    ¡°Then so be it.¡± The warlord shrugged, slicing through a minion and stomping another. ¡°The lives of my pack takes priority over a title. I¡¯ll be Janine the Fameless forever if I have to. As long as we¡¯re alive, there¡¯s a chance, Wolf Hag Melina. A victory at the cost of a friend¡¯s misfortune is no victory to boast of.¡±


    The concrete shook, and a ripple of cracks ran through it. The warlord raised a paw, ordering her pack to retreat two dozen steps at the noise of tearing metal and collapsing pipes.


    This is a big one. She decided, her heart racing at the sight of a collapsing stone around her. Some kind of champion, by chance? Come and be crushed.

 Chapter 6: Steel Servants

    The ground erupted, sending the warlord back. Something the size of a battle tank rose from the depths, covered in toxic waste. Its body was a gruesome jumble of bronze and iron plates, tawny in color. The beast lunged from the hole on four great legs, its hooves destroying man-sized chunks of stone at a touch. The warlord recoiled, regaining her footing. Her Taleteller faced the mighty horns, drawing sparks, and the fiend¡¯s might threw her back into the ranks of her soldiers.


    ¡°Scatter!¡± Janine roared, illuminated by the purple light of the creature¡¯s lenses.


    From stylized nostrils came a surge of superheated air that turned Janine¡¯s armor red and murdered a warrior who tackled a male and a scout to safety. The woman had miscalculated; she had thought her armor would endure a normal flame, but the air assaulting her had overwhelmed the safety measures. Despite the suit¡¯s automatic self-sealing to ward off the heat, the death persisted, boiling the proud Wolfkin alive.


    Janine used one arm to push against the robot and elbowed back, cracking a scout¡¯s chest and cannoning the woman back. The soldier showed exemplary judgment and grabbed other Wolfkins, dragging them away from hell. Burns won¡¯t kill them. In her youth as a scout, Janine once had her entire left leg engulfed in chemical flames, losing most of her skin and fur on the limb. She walked it off just fine in a few months. But the superheated air could rupture her soldiers¡¯ lungs, ruin their eyes, and destroy their internal organs. She nearly slipped as the pavement melted.


    Finally, she got a better look at her attacker. When she was a cub, her adoptive dad often read them from a coloring book containing images of long-extinct animals. To this day, that book was one of her most treasured possessions, even after the reinvention of the Net.


    And what stood before her now, down to the muscles and a tail raking deep gouges in a building wall with a whip-like touch, was undeniably a bull. A steel bull, artistically crafted, standing taller than a bunker. Brass skin covered every inch of its body; lighter armor plates shielded joints where gears bigger than a man moved, supported by fiber muscles made from an unknown material. Its steel lips thundered a challenging roar of such intensity that it smashed one steel minion against the ground, ruptured a guard¡¯s eardrum, and cracked Janine¡¯s lens.


    The steel bull reared up and brought its hooves down on the struggling Janine. Stuck in the molten mire, the warlord¡¯s footing slipped, and the multi-ton limbs came crashing down, pinning Janine to the ground. Tough. Janine groaned, receiving flashing reports of dents and gashes in her armor. The Wolfkins opened fire, but their shards merely scratched the brass skin.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t normal bronze, Wolf Hag!¡± Ignacy shouted.


    ¡°Aim for the joints!¡± Anissa commanded.


    The pack fired at the exposed parts to no avail, as energy bubbles burst, shielding the mechanisms. The bull¡¯s head swayed, looking at the insects daring to interfere with its battle. Its lights glowed even brighter, birthing stars, and Impatient One grabbed several soldiers, dragging them away on instinct.


    Anissa failed to do the same. Pure beams of light left the beast¡¯s eyes instantly after a long build-up of seconds. But Anissa did not notice Ignacy to her left, did not see him in time because of her missing eye. The Wolf Hag stopped for a moment, and that was all it took for her brother to suffer. The beam ate away Ignacy¡¯s right arm, vaporizing it to the shoulder, and moved past her boy, slicing through two warriors and a male standing behind him, killing them instantly.


    No. Janine felt rage boiling down inside her¡ªrage she had last felt during her ranking match for the Warlord title. This tin-can killed her soldiers; it dared to turn her boy into a Crippled! The world stopped. Janine¡¯s body went numb, and the crushing weight disappeared. Reddish dots filled her vision, and she bared her fangs. Destruction. Nothing short of total elimination would suffice; there will be no mercy, no forgiveness for this insult. She will eliminate this toy and its creator from this planet!


    ¡°Sister¡­¡± She froze as she heard the voice of a long-dead woman.


    Behind the frozen Wolfkins¡¯ backs, a figure passed. As tall as Janine, the newcomer¡¯s head hung to the side, a vertebra piercing the neck, dried blood and white decaying muscle covering the protruding piece of bone. The lifeless eyes found Janine, and the corners of her torn and ragged lips moved, showing far too many tiny fangs in the mouth. Janine remembered her, remembered the dent she had left on the woman¡¯s head, the dent that was still leaking brain matter. The woman had the visage of a starvation victim, her thin body¡¯s ribcage threatening to break free from the embrace of flesh. Her many jointed fingers, far too long for a normal Wolfkin, beckoned to Janine.


    ¡°Restraint¡­¡± Warlord Terrific gurgled, bringing the world back to life. The Wolfkins fought against the minions, dodging incoming stabs and firing back, punching holes in their opponents. There was no sign of her adopted mother¡¯s ghost.


    Janine swallowed, banishing the fantasies. There was no Terrific here; the venerable warlord had died years ago because of Janine¡¯s immature mistake. She pushed the bull¡¯s hoof up, hearing the servomotors of her power armor scream with the effort. The bull above her shuddered, one of its eyes exploded, and a roar of indignation escaped its lips. The machine staggered back as jets of oil poured from the broken eye, along with a thin object.


    Janine used this opportunity to roll out from under its hooves and look at the battlefield through her soldiers¡¯ lenses. Bertruda and her personal guard moved much closer than the orders allowed. The sword saint had cast her personal spear into the beast¡¯s eye. Her knights fired, thinning the minions and supporting the pack. The Ice Fangs had infringed on Janine¡¯s personal battlefield, but she couldn¡¯t care less about it. Let the shamans and wolf hags grumble. Her sister, from a different tribe and mother, was awesome!


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The bull¡¯s second eye came to life, charging its energy to fire at the Ice Fangs. Janine jumped, meeting the incoming beam with the blade of her axe. Tonight, a weapon forged by ordinary men from a bygone era tested the abomination cobbled together by a madwoman and found it wanting.


    Janine¡¯s armor automatically activated the defensive mode, sealing her head and leaving no paws or legs exposed. The armor vibrated, absorbing the incoming energy as Janine blocked the beam meant for her rival. The systems in her helmet sent warnings of rapid overheating. One by one, the internal cooling systems went offline, unable to cool the beam of energy heating the outer layer. Burns appeared on her skin. The warlord held on, refusing to entertain the thought of defeat.


    The Taleteller cleaved its way through the energy and bit deep into the bull¡¯s eye. Her sturdy arms empowered the axe enough to shatter the purple window and send the beam projector straight into the mechanical bowels. A clamor akin to a train derailment accompanied the projector¡¯s submersion. Gears broke. The furnace generator spewed plasma as the weapon continued to fire, causing a chain reaction of eruptions, and the steel servant¡¯s legs buckled, unable to adjust as the immense weight displaced its intricate systems out of alignment. Fuel lines exploded, sending sparks from joints no longer shielded by the force fields.


    Janine grabbed the servant¡¯s head and climbed on top of it as it wailed its farewell roar. Mercilessly, she brought her weapon first to its forehead, breaking whatever processors and acoustic devices were still working beneath the brass surface, and the roar fell silent. She walked across the bull¡¯s back, splitting it and creating openings to release the hellfire flames that engulfed her. Nothing mattered compared to the beam, and the cooling systems restarted, soothing the damaged areas of her hide. The warlord jumped from the spasmodic machine, dropping it on the minions, and picked up Bertruda¡¯s spear from a burning pool of oil, lifting and admiring the pristine weapon.


    Ignacy¡­ She stifled her concern for her son. Bogdan tended to his brother¡¯s wound. Back in her time, females often culled the wounded males, and if they spotted a warlord showing familiarity to a male over them, they often drove the poor sod to suicide through constant dominations. Marty claimed those days were long gone; Lacerated One herself had deemed those practices unworthy of the Wolfkins, and Alpha had enforced her will. But the risk was too great. Many packs still allowed the brutal beating of males as entertainment, their warlords claiming it made their males tougher. She remembered the friends she had failed to save.


    The scout of Ignacy and Bogdan¡¯s pack lost her leg to the knee, and a steel minion opened up the side of her body, ruining the ribs. Despite her injuries, the woman forced herself to snarl commands, placing another warrior in charge and ordering her to tend to the wounds of her packmates. This sight inspired Janine. A good and dutiful girl.


    A warlord has no right to show weakness. She must always be a pillar available for others to cling to, and she must always know what to say and do. No one forced Janine to reach her rank, and now she had a duty to uphold it. The banter, the fake bravery¡ªall of it was part of an image.


    ¡°Thanks, Bertruda!¡± Janine waved the weapon above her and threw it to the sword saint, who caught it gracefully. ¡°You ain¡¯t a total bitch after all! That was a cool toss!¡±


    ¡°I despise everything about you!¡± came a screeching answer.


    ¡°What are our orders, Dragena?¡± Janine asked overly cheerfully. She walked over to the wounded scout and put a paw on her shoulder. ¡°Rest,¡± she ordered, speaking loud enough to be heard by Ignacy. From a male to a warrior, from a warrior to a scout, from a scout to a wolf hag, and from a wolf hag to a warlord. Her boy had already pushed the boundaries of tradition, and even though Janine tried to force the girls in her pack not to abuse males aside from instilling a lesson, she would not risk his wellbeing. ¡°Don¡¯t talk. The pain shall pass. Conserve your oxygen. Endure for the tribe.¡±


    Images flooded her damaged lenses, informing her that another servant, resembling an oversized scorpion, had attacked Marty. Its pincers failed to catch the warlord; a stream of acid from its stinger melted three wolfkins alive before Martyshkina¡¯s revolvers fired, breaking the stinger and bathing the thing in its own acid.


    Ashbringer formed an aura of white flame around herself and lunged at the gorilla-shaped robot, dodging the servant¡¯s blow. She grabbed its wrist and elbow and threw it over herself. Nimbly, the robot landed on her palm and swung its lower body, trying to slam Ashbringer into a wall. The warlord caught its leg and pushed a paw through the metal scutes that shielded where his patellofemoral compartment should have been. Her flamethrowers began scorching the machine from within.


    A pterodactyl-inspired flying steel servant emerged from the city, skillfully maneuvering around the anti-aircraft fire. The thing dove toward the crawler, its energy-covered legs aimed at a control tower. Before the machine could reach it, a figure leaped into the air, covering dozens of meters in a single bound. The uncrowned leader of the Ice Fang Order, First Sunblade, reached for his blade, and it flashed the light of a sun across the battlefield. His first cut sliced the servant¡¯s head open; the following cuts took away its wings, and the foe fell to the ground before the Inevitable.


    ¡°The coordinators reported that our sensors picked up an energy spike leaving the spire shortly before the servants¡¯ attack,¡± Dragena replied. ¡°Janine, you are the closest to it. Capture or kill, at your discretion.¡±


    ¡°By your command!¡± Janine roared and charged to the tower, stomping on the minions trying to halt her.


    Anissa, Impatient One, and Anissa¡¯s scouts joined her. Truth be told, it would be best for the wolf hag to stay behind; she was the third strongest in the pack. But Janine remembered how emotionally compromised she was by the death of her firstborn. It had nearly ruined her mission. No doubt Anissa harbors feelings of shame and guilt for allowing her brother to sustain injuries. It¡¯ll pass; the boy was sturdy enough to survive this flesh wound, and in time, they¡¯ll all laugh about this incident years from now. But for now, she must pile task upon task on Anissa, not allowing the young woman to dwell on sadness or fear that her mother may no longer trust her.


    Necessary cruelty. A heart-to-heart can resolve the situation better, and Janine had every intention of sitting down with her daughter after the battle. None of them is without sin; there is no warlord alive who hasn¡¯t made mistakes that have led to deaths. One even forced cubs to die to save the tribe, only to lose her skin to Alpha¡¯s claws. This woman suffered more than just physical loss; the records erased her name, and the ever-silent wolf hag joined Alpha in her quest for redemption through servitude.


    But there was no time to talk now. And as Terrific taught Janine, there was more than one way to skin a problem. Where the state banned physical torture, her warlord resorted to physiological torment, and Martyshkina and Janine often had to stand up to her to prevent the most heinous crimes. While she would never do the crimes her foster mother did, the foundation for finding alternative ways to solve a problem was solid. Actions will serve to prove to Anissa that she hasn¡¯t lost her mother¡¯s trust.


    She only hoped that her dear Bogdan and precious Annissa would find the heart to forgive the utter betrayal their mother will be forced to commit.

 Chapter 7: Techno-Queen

    The massive gates leading inside the spire endured both shardgun fire and acid grenades. Anissa even tried to claw her way in, but no scratches appeared on the surface. The Taleteller gifted the steel a kiss, bulging tons of steel, and Janine found herself greeted by the automatic fire from the defenders. Bullets rained like pebbles against her armor, and she registered the presence of fifty people. She grabbed one and cursed as her captive howled in pain, the green of her coat catching fire. Janine¡¯s fist closed, ending her life. Damn it, her armor was still hot. Restraint! Restraint, you moron! These people have done nothing to your pack¡ªno torture!


    She decapitated three guards, using the knob of her axe to kill the fourth in a reverse blow. The shaman leapt into the fray, thrusting her body through the opening in the gates. She grabbed a soldier and bit off his head, chewing the remains theatrically as red splatters dotted the guards¡¯ helmets.


    ¡°Shaman,¡± Janine sighed, stopping herself from flattening a disarmed soldier. Her daughter impaled two guards on her claws and pulled the gasping bodies into her jaws. ¡°Cannibalism is forbidden.¡±


    ¡°The Blessed Mother does it,¡± Impatient One replied, devouring guts.


    ¡°And if Ravager were to jump into the plasma again, would you follow her example, shaman?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. It depends on whether the Blessed Mother orders me to do it or not.¡±


    I fucking hate you sometimes, Yennifer. Janine wearily smirked. She, too, had a taste for human flesh. In a way, it had been ingrained in her psyche from the first days when she had been put in the pits and tasted the cubs¡¯ flesh. In those dark days, pit fights often ended in death; it was simply the nature of things. You ended a life; you ate it, and you carried the deceased tribe member within you. These practices always horrified the Ice Boys, who kept their own young away from the tribe, coddling them.


    Normies viewed eating deceased enemies as something abhorrent, and the Dynast supported their desire by banning the consumption of human meat nationwide. Fools. It¡¯s not like the Wolf Tribe ate prisoners. Meat is always meat. But orders were orders, no matter how idiotic they were. If the big guy and the Blessed Mother wanted them to stop eating human flesh, Janine would strive to make sure her troops did not eat it.


    ¡°No more.¡± Janine¡¯s blade touched the shaman¡¯s neck, and her girl dropped the body from her paws, glaring hungrily at the rest.


    The foes¡¯ resistance ceased as Anissa and her scouts entered the fray. Surrounded by the giants clad in dark power armor, witnessing their superior speed and strength, the guards threw down their weapons and raised their arms. Janine said nothing to either of her daughters, but went directly to a man whose armor bore the markings of an officer, a purple cloak adorned with a golden crown. Janine thrust her muzzle into his face, enjoying the fear in his eyes at the sight of her fangs, and decided against grabbing him.


    ¡°Lead us to the queen, little man.¡±


    ¡°Only if you promise to sh-show mercy to my troops,¡± the guard stammered, his teeth chattering in horror.


    ¡°Granted. If it is within my power, I will ensure the safety of your troops, even at the cost of my life,¡± Janine stopped intimidating him. Loyalty to one¡¯s kin was a kind of nobility she could respect.


    She assigned two soldiers to tend to the wounded, and the rest escorted them. As they passed through the steel corridors, dimly lit by the yellow light, Janine could still taste the acridity in the air. Laborers or servants, men and women in white, yellow, and green hazmat suits, toiled in workshops, assembling energy rifles and exosuits. They reeked of fear.


    ¡°Who are they?¡± Janine inquired. While the color differentiated the suits, one piece remained constant. An iron collar around their necks. The warlord grabbed the nearest worker, dragging the teen closer. ¡°What is the meaning of this iron?¡± She asked, tapping against the thing.


    ¡°Please.¡± The teen broke into tears, disgusting her by his weakness. he device emitted beeps that slowly increased in frequency. ¡°Please, please, let me go; I¡¯ll be good; I didn¡¯t break any rules; I didn¡¯t, I¡­¡±


    ¡°Release him!¡± Janine¡¯s growl calmed her pack as the officer reached for his pistol and fired at her wrist. The beam did nothing; her paw shoved the teenager back into place, and she stared at the captain. The beeping stopped. ¡°These people are mechanics and engineers. People who received a proper education in Her Excellency¡¯s vocational school.¡± The officer broke eye contact and raised his hands to calm the workers. ¡°Her Excellency gave them a lot, so if any of them try to run away without paying back, the explosive collar will go off.¡±


    ¡°And how long do they have to buy their freedom?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Until they die,¡± the officer replied. ¡°Knowledge is the most valuable thing in the world, and the All-Seeing Majesty possesses the secrets of her craft.¡±


    I¡¯d tear my head off right away. Or I would sabotage the production rather than waste my life in slavery. Janine decided and called Dragena. ¡°Update, sister. Techno-Queen¡¯s holdings are full of slaves. Make sure that no one tries to remove them by force. Request immediate assistance from Captain Cristobo and Ygrite to aid in demining.¡± She relayed the video captured by her helmet.


    ¡°Ackno¡­¡±


    ¡°Concerned about the safety of the weak? How dull. I had hoped your kind would be more practical,¡± a female voice said through the static that interrupted Dragena.


    ¡°Who are you? How did you get on the secure channel? Identify yourself!¡± Janine demanded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t get tetchy, mutie,¡± the unknown woman laughed in a honeyed voice. ¡°You are the one arriving six minutes later than expected. You are in my domain now. Nothing here is beyond my reach. Hurry up, or shall I activate some collars to motivate you?¡±


    Janine turned off the communication, fully confident that she knew who was speaking with her. They proceed down the corridors to a massive, industrial lift clearly meant to house a steel servant. Every single wall, every room, including toilets, had arrays of cameras stylized after human eyes. Their eyelids narrowed as the cameras traced the Wolfkins.


    More cameras covered the walls inside the elevator, and Anissa stepped up to one and started cleaning pieces of metal stuck in her fangs, using the reflective surface of a camera¡¯s window as a mirror. The pseudo-eye widened and closed shut. Anissa shrugged and went to another one, accompanied by the chuckles of her scouts as the officer pressed a button, sending the elevator up.


    Janine expected a trap. She expected the elevator to fall, or explode, or spill poison and acid from the walls. She imagined hordes of steel minions prying open the roof, exposing them to the artillery fire from above. But nothing of the sort has happened.


    The elevator reached the center of the tower, and the walls slid aside to reveal buzzing steel minions fluttering about the hangars. Workers labored diligently, assembling intricate technological components for installation inside a suspended steel servant. None of the workers dared look at the Wolfkins; fear of the minions watching them kept them at their tasks. Janine clenched her axe tighter as she spotted traces of blood on a wall.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    The elevator reached the top floor, and the nervous captain and his guards led them to the sealed doors. There were no traps, no sudden ambush, and no attack. The doors opened, and the group stepped into a chamber of steel, inhaling pristine, recycled, and cool air.


    Their target was on the opposite side of the wide dome. A dais supported her simple steel throne. To her right and left was a row of quietly humming databases and servers, akin to advisers attending a ruler. Black tiles in the shape of a rhombus covered the floor in an orderly fashion. A single gold disc and two bronze discs adorned the center of the dome¡¯s ceiling.


    Tecno-Queen herself looked like a young woman, dressed in a light exosuit up to her neck. A purple cape flowed from her golden shoulder pads. A golden crown with a red ruby in the center held her short brown hair in place, while her mocking green eyes looked at the intruders. Her skin was too perfect; every trace of imperfection or scar had been surgically removed. A bowl of fruit sat on the arm of her throne, making Janine wonder where she got it. Trade, no doubt. But from whom?


    ¡°My queen.¡± The captain knelt. ¡°I am sorry, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop groveling, Bors!¡± the woman replied, admiring the Wolfkins¡¯ armor. ¡°You think you could¡¯ve brought them here without my knowledge? If they are here, it is because I allowed it.¡±


    ¡°Techno-Queen.¡± Janine brought her axe¡¯s head to the floor, sending a tremor through the dome as an unspoken threat. ¡°Your city has fallen. Your kingdom is in shambles. You have no choice but to surrender¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, you sure got two out of three correct.¡± The woman yawned. ¡°This place is a wreck, true. I have little use for its continued existence.¡±


    ¡°My queen?¡± Bors raised his head.


    ¡°Yes, you heard it right, Bors. Have you looked outside?¡± The woman pressed something on her throne, and a holographic display flickered behind her, showing the toxic and lifeless surroundings of the capital. ¡°Who in their right mind would want to rule over shit with a side of shit?¡±


    ¡°But,¡± the guard struggled for words, ¡°my queen, you yourself unleashed the poison on our lands!¡±


    ¡°Naturally. It served my purposes. Now be quiet, Bors; I¡¯d like to amuse myself talking to primitives.¡± The image on the screen changed, showing the ruined remains of the steel servants, as well as a few more still engaged in battle with the warlords. ¡°This country merely served as a test polygon for me to get a grip on my power. Instinctively, I know how to assemble even the most complex machinery, but if you don¡¯t polish your talent, hard work may get ahead.¡±


    ¡°Your toys are not very sturdy,¡± Janine stated at the sight of the wreckage.


    ¡°And that lack of comprehension is the reason why you would make a lousy scientist.¡± A smug smile spread across Tecno-Queen¡¯s lips, and she stood. ¡°Trial and error, both to push the limits of my imagination by creating compact weapons capable of fitting in inefficient frames and to test different alloys and weaponry. The designs showing promises are being stored in databases as we speak, the ineffective ones discarded. A brilliant mind learns from everything, failure included. The Reclamation Army¡¯s fame is not unknown to the world at large. You freaks have certainly made waves. Discounting your spawner, your ilk are some of the strongest Abnormals in the known world. Yet here I am, crafting engines of destruction capable of ripping through your battle lines and making the fabled warlords break a sweat. And I¡¯ve achieved it in less than twenty years, using bootleg technology and substandard resources! I had to build everything from scratch: factories, railroads, training peons so they could be of use¡­¡± Her smile briefly turned into a scowl, and then she flashed her perfect white teeth again. ¡°Imagine what I could do with the proper funding and personnel. Any country will gladly take me in! Warlord Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say my name,¡± Janine cut her off coldly. A faint click in her helmet signaled the restoration of the command link.


    Dragena said nothing, and Janine kept her silence too, trusting in her named sister¡¯s ability to conjure up a plan that would turn the tables. Their cousins thought the Wolfkins to be stupid brutes. There was merit to it, but they forgot which group had first embraced ranged weaponry. Where the Ice Boys sought nobility in all things, the Wolfkins extended that courtesy to friends, family, and worthy foes.


    For the mad, plagued by illusions of grandeur, an efficient kill would suffice.


    ¡°No, you did not, mutant. I took the liberty of listening to your secure channels.¡± The woman looked like a cub against the warlord. ¡°I own everything here. Man, woman, child, mutant¡ªit matters not. Everyone born in these lands is mine to spend as I see fit. So here is my offer. Compete against my latest invention. Should you win, I¡­¡±


    ¡°You are in no position to make offers.¡± Janine gripped the Taleteller¡¯s haft.


    ¡°Am I, though? Foolish doggie, are you incapable of understanding the words I speak or oblivious of the situation at hand?¡± The woman inhaled. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll take your puerile at face value. Act against me, and every laborer in my factories goes boom. I¡¯ve made sure to show you steel minions on the way here. This is just the tip of the mountain. Disobey me, and they, along with the steel servants, will be unleashed against your rabble, claiming new lives. Oh sure, they¡¯ll lose; I am not delusional, but it will be a hollow victory, no? Dead soldiers, no civilians, a ruined city¡­ On the other hand, should you win, I¡¯ll gladly surrender.¡± Techno-Queen raised a finger over a button on her throne. ¡°So which of the two options do you prefer?¡±


    ¡°There is a third choice. I can kill you before your finger moves a millimeter.¡± Janine warned her. Techno-Queen arched a brow and burst into laughter.


    ¡°You can¡­ certainly try,¡± she forced the words out, fighting back the fun. ¡°Oh, Janine, you entertain me! Truth for truth. I learned the limitations of my body years ago.¡± A flash of anger worthy of a wolfkin flickered in the woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°And I¡¯ve accounted for it, never to be helpless again,¡± she hissed and ran a hand over her face, calming herself and continuing in a pleasant tone. ¡°This complex is fully automated. Go on, swing your axe, and find out how insignificant your reactions and speed are in comparison to the defensive systems implemented by yours truly.¡± Techno-Queen clapped. ¡°Pardon the excitement, but you are so funny! It is to be expected from an ignorant savage, but I assure you, there is nothing in this world that I cannot break.¡±


    ¡°Can you break this?¡± Janine nodded to her axe. The smile faded from Tecno-Queen¡¯s face. ¡°It was not made by an AI or a powered person. Ordinary scientists made it as a joke. Can you destroy it?¡±


    ¡°Not right now,¡± the tyrant admitted. ¡°But I can destroy you, and in time I¡¯ll replicate the knowledge of how to manufacture whatever material is used in creating this lumberjack¡¯s trinket,¡± Techno-Queen said icily. ¡°If you think me a layman unaware of my limitations, feel free to flip that coin, but I assure you that this resistance will only bring you disappointment and the deaths of your soldiers. I¡¯ll stay alive, and you¡¯ll still dance to my tune. But I would rather you make the logical choice yourself.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to be a proponent of freedom. Is this how you became a queen?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Of course. I gave everyone the same choice as I had to make. Bors here can attest to the truth of my words.¡± Techno-Queen nodded at her officer. ¡°If you blow enough people into a million pieces, even the dumb-dumbs will fall in line. Strong rule, Janine, this much your tribe of flea-ridden savages had gotten right. But enough pleasantries. Make your choice, Janine.¡±


    Janine pondered for a moment, biding her time for Dragena to complete preparations. In truth, there wasn¡¯t much of a choice here. What good is the land if there are no people? True, the Reclamation Army Reclamation Army subjugated those who refused to join, and in the earlier days they had made inexcusable mistakes that led them to vow never to repeat an act of genocide, never to completely wipe out cultures or nations again.


    The nation forced cruel cultures, such as the Orais, to reduce their violence, but otherwise granted them a measure of self-government, fostering their upliftment through patience. The Dynast made his will clear. Under his banner, the Reclamation Army sought to integrate all. One nation. One world. An imperial ideal that slowly took over traditions, bridging people, showing that they weren¡¯t so different after all, and no matter what the culture, parents wanted to see their cubs succeed and thrive. And by building this superstate, the Reclamation Army would eliminate any chance of another Extinction.


    Thus, it was her duty to save the locals. Janine grimaced, feigning anguish over her decision and feeding the Techno-Queen¡¯s ego. The Wolf Tribe¡¯s members could not regenerate limbs like the Trolls. But the Blessed Mother bestowed upon them a unifying link, their power, which molded the winners of fierce battles into better versions of themselves until one day they reached their prime. Their innate aggression and desire for dominance stemmed from it.


    She reached her prime years ago, and the doctors who regularly performed check-ups confirmed a heightened healing ability and significant physical changes in her organs. The burns on her knees and legs no longer bothered her. Janine grinned, welcoming the challenge.


    ¡°Bring it on.¡±

 Chapter 8: Versus Techno-Queen

    She barely had time to finish the sentence before an attack came from above. A golden disk fell from the ceiling, ripples running through its smooth surface as gears slid out, and the circle transformed into a humanoid figure matching her size. Back-jointed legs kicked, and she let the impact send her rolling to avoid the bladed arms aimed at her neck.


    The kick bought her the distance she needed, and she parried the blades, taking them on the Taleteller¡¯s shaft. Immediately, the robotic foe struck, using its leg as an arm. Three talons closed around her knee, crumpling the metal and trying to jerk the warlord aside. Janine responded by closing the distance, pushing the blades up, and headbutting the machine.


    It used her knee for a springboard, leaping back and landing on one leg. Their dance resumed, a feint with the right blade meant to hide the true strike of her golden foe. Janine sidestepped the actual stab and elbowed the blade down. She stepped on its flat, bringing the Taleteller onto the machine¡¯s left pauldron, cleaving through it, and snapping the blade in two... It broke the blade. Janine¡¯s instincts saved her life as two limbs shot out of the barreled chest. Their blades left deep cuts in her gorget. The machine deliberately twisted its own limb, breaking its weapon in exchange for freedom, and spun to the right, avoiding the full brunt of her cut while enduring the warlord¡¯s hit. It tried to trade its weapon and shoulder for her neck.


    ¡°Not bad,¡± Janine told the golden robot.


    The two began a third exchange, birthing sparks as their weapons met. Janine went on the defensive, studying the opponent¡¯s movements and style. The machine was fast, easily matching her speed. Its robustness was not up to par. Pistons, hissing wires, and shifting gears working were visible through the gash on its shoulder. The constant barrage of attacks reminded Janine of the amateur swordsman of the Ice Fang Order. They sparred for fun. Janine used a club, and the boy wielded two blades. Throughout the fight, he used nothing else but thrusts, trying to make her bleed and surrendering after she broke his weapons. It was a fun experience, so Janine didn¡¯t even bite him and reforged the broken weapons herself, gifting the knight captain a two-handed sword to replace his lost heirlooms.


    This golden bot used the same pattern. It had a rudimentary knowledge of feints and deceptions, and its use of legs was quite unorthodox. Each time the blades trapped Janine¡¯s axe, it always tried kicking, aiming the talons at the cracked parts of her armor. But this pattern left it predictable. Janine purposely let her axe get trapped and kicked ahead of the machine¡¯s move. Her claws tore the metal from the golden wrist and sent the robot flying into the wall, leaving four marks on its barrel-shaped chest. A sting of pain shot through the warlord¡¯s leg. The kick splintered the claws of her index and middle toes, and a step sent white and red specks, like petals of a flower, falling from her feet.


    ¡°Shall we increase the fun?¡± Techno-Queen snapped her fingers.


    The remaining disks fell from the ceiling, transforming mid-flight into the same humanoid shapes, though smaller in size and different in color. Except for the size, the machines looked identical. Same slender limbs, lacking rough curves except for the pauldrons, same four-armed blades, and legs ending in talons. Four lenses on their small and round heads tracked every warlord¡¯s movement.


    They encircled her. Janine noticed that the brown machines moved slower. The one behind her stabbed, chasing her away, and the second one tried to trap her axe, trying to create an opening for the golden one. So, he is your warlord. Janine inhaled, weathering the blurry walls of incoming stabs, blocking, parrying, and dodging. These machines pushed her to the limit, drove her into a trance where she moved with the flow, searching for an opening.


    She couldn¡¯t find one. Every counter was blocked, every attempt to separate the machines thwarted. Janine even tried the old method of pressing herself against the wall, and a brown bot jumped at it, relying on its comrades to keep the Taleteller¡¯s busy. It bounced off the wall and made a long gash in Janine¡¯s side as she tackled another machine, breaking free from a potential trap. Their teamwork was most acceptable.


    ¡°Agreed. Wolf hag, shaman!¡± Janine said. Her axe slammed into the blades of the golden one, and the sheer weight of her body dragged them away. The time for balance has come and gone.


    Her daughters met the lesser machines, shielding her. The golden one registered the shift in their duel too late. Janine headbutted it, denting two of its four lenses. She rammed the golden one into the wall, using her full weight to splatter it. The warlord retreated, dodging the clever strikes poised at the cracks in her side.


    The machine grew sluggish, suffering internal damage. Janine capitalized on that, landing a crisscrossing attack that sliced deep. The golden bot convulsed, still trying to strike despite its open chest and falling gears. A second slash finished it, cutting the machine in half at its waist. Both parts fell to the ground in streams of smoke, spewing artificial muscle fibers. The light died in the oculars.


    Her daughters fought back-to-back before dodging sideways and switching opponents mid-fight, confusing the machines. Impatient One slipped her claws underneath bronze pauldrons, pinning the upper limbs, and bit the robot¡¯s head, kicking violently into its abdomen. The shaman¡¯s weight brought her opponent down, and in three kicks she flattened the bronze belly.


    Anissa evaded the blades that tried to take her neck and reached for her back. A shardgun blast lifted the robot off the ground, and the wolf hag landed a roundhouse on its head, sending the thing crashing to the ground. She stepped on its back and fired five more times, disabling the robot for good.


    ¡°Bravo!¡± Techno-Queen clapped, running down the stairs like a girl. ¡°Bravo! A magnificent performance! It seems even the tungsten alloy did not make a difference. Tch, and I had such hopes for it¡­¡± She took a small portable terminal from her belt and typed furiously.


    ¡°You don¡¯t seem to be upset about your loss,¡± Janine remarked, stepping closer to the madwoman. Her communication was a mixture of irregular drumming and growling. It was the private language of the Wolf Tribe, an almost forgotten relic of the past, and now it was informing the warlord of her sister¡¯s plan.


    ¡°Why should I be? Empirical methods are essential for any real advancement, regardless of the soundness of a theory. Science, even unnatural science like my own, feeds on practical results. These machines had matched your speed; in time, I¡¯ll upgrade their software¡­¡±


    Janine struck. Her axe moved, tearing through the air with a deafening sound. The sheer momentum of her upward strike sent several guards off their feet under the wind pressure. It was fine; they will survive. But this one... Too dangerous. Pure talent, and not a hint of humanity behind it.


    The blade stopped before the lean neck, hitting an invisible wall that made the Taleteller tremble in the warlord¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Told you. Not delusional,¡± Techno-Queen said nonchalantly, still typing on her terminal. ¡°I¡¯ve accounted for every contingency, fool.¡± She sighed, finishing her calculations, and faced Janine. The change in her posture moved the axe even further. ¡°It is a real shame. We could¡¯ve been so good together, Warlord. By my hand, I could¡¯ve raised you to the heavens and beyond. Tell me. Why did you spurn my surrender?¡±


    ¡°Rotten,¡± Janine said, trying to break through the barrier.


    ¡°What do you mean by that, beast?¡± The green eyes narrowed.


    ¡°Your callousness toward others. It is your duty to care for them, but instead you have brought them to ruin, sequestering yourself in safety, playing with toys, and crafting mechanical horrors to replace life. A ruler should know better. A human would be better. You are neither; just a soul gone mad, weeping for a sleep without dreams,¡± Janine said plainly.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Weeping? My tears dried a long time ago, warlord. Not human¡­¡± Techno-Queen''s expression soured. ¡°Such ignorant nonsense. Let me show you what a true human is capable of.¡± Her finger pointed left.


    A wave of force hit Janine¡¯s side, sending her crashing into the wall. The blow bypassed the armor and went straight for the organs, choking Janine in her own blood and vomit. A stabbing pain gripped her heart as the blood in her veins ran backward. Gravity. Janine¡¯s eyes widened. Techno-Queen¡¯s devices commanded it, magnifying and masterfully controlling this force of nature.


    The grenades thrown by her warriors created a dome over the tyrant¡¯s small figure. Techno-Queen made no attempt to defend herself. As gravity bent and the acid poured onto the floor, its fumes moved to the ceiling. Without a gesture, the tyrant flung Anissa and her scouts toward the floor, trapping them in the same manner as Janine. An unseen force pushed Impatient One into the wreckage, slowly increasing the weight on her and adding to the damage to her armor.


    Fear followed the realization. Despite their ferocity, the Wolf Tribe were pack-based people. In times when even a warlord could not hunt their enemy, they sought help. The connecting visions of the tribe¡¯s members helped her sister manifest her power. Fear changed to horror. Horror turned into pure terror, coloring some of Janine¡¯s fur white as Warlord Alpha¡¯s wave of fear passed through her.


    Alpha, the strongest warlord, had a secondary power. Many people experienced uneasiness or discomfort coming closer to her and dismissed this as simply a byproduct of her horrid visage. In truth, Alpha passively radiated fear, potent enough to cause a cardiac arrest even in the bravest of humans. Unlike most powers, hers was a passive one¡ªthe one that was always active. Through constant iron self-control, Alpha had learned to contain the fear in her body, to wield it like a whip of punishment. And now she unleashed it as a beam, and the mere touch of it caused Janine to release her bowels.


    Techno-Queen laughed, pressing her hand to her mouth, undaunted by the fear. A round opening appeared in the wall, scorched by warlord¡¯s Zero beam. The stream of black matter dissipated harmlessly against the gravity shield, failing to harm the tyrant.


    ¡°A most productive distraction.¡± The woman pointed at her head. ¡°What? You expected me to be unprepared for the obvious dangers of mental power? Nah, doggie, I won¡¯t die so easily, nor will I ever be a slave to anyone¡¯s will. The cybernetics in my body can restart or relieve my organs. And the operation on my brain has made me immune to psychic onslaughts. With this.¡± Tecno-Queen pointed at the data banks next to her throne. ¡°I have enough information to perfect my creations and solid proof of my capabilities. I say this test polygon has served its purpose. Time to level the place and make my exit.¡±


    ¡°Level, my queen?¡± Bors asked, hobbling closer to the queen.


    ¡°Oh, please, Bors. Did any of you really think that I would allow anyone in the region to live after what you bastards did to my parents?¡± Techno-Queen asked.


    ¡°But¡­ queen, it happened over thirty years ago!¡± Bors pressed a hand to his chest. ¡°There is not a soul alive who even saw that horrible sacrifice! You ended that tradition yourself, saving tens of thousands!¡±


    ¡°And this should matter, why?¡± Techno-Queen tilted her head in confusion. ¡°I made a promise to end the people of this wretched land, and what better way to do it than to squeeze these lands dry in my service, while making you worship me for it? Speaking of service, I think I remember you sending your son to me¡­ A year and a half ago, in fact¡­¡± She pressed two fingers to her lips.


    ¡°What. Have. You. Done?¡± The guard tore off his cowl and helmet, looking at the woman with his own eyes.


    ¡°Watch and see, loyal Bors. It¡¯s time to test another of my inventions while we¡¯re at it.¡± The woman smiled pleasantly, and the steel walls around the chamber shifted to reveal horror.


    Janine had seen many things in her life. She had watched the young of her tribe die of hunger. She had witnessed entire villages being devoured by the Malformed. Janine had seen firsthand the torture in the slave camps, where cruel masters prolonged the suffering of the unfortunate to set an example for the rest. She remembered Warlord Terrific working her magic, brutally maiming guards by tearing bones from their bodies.


    However, she had never seen anything close to this place of madness. Living people littered the wall, held by razor-sharp harnesses that never allowed their wounds to close. They lacked limbs; some had their skin peeled off, exposing needles piercing their lungs. Others gurgled weakly, twitching as strange liquids poured down their throats. The prisoners¡¯ eyes and ears were removed, along with their vocal chords. They bled, the blood pooling in a small, round channel that curved the wall. A force field kept the horrible stench of excrement out of the chamber itself.


    ¡°Like what you see, doggies?¡± Techno-Queen asked cheerfully. ¡°I named it Pain-Engine. Borish, I know, but you must excuse me; I was rather tired. Biology is not my forte, so it took many bodies before I perfected a method of keeping them alive in unending agony.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± the captain choked, falling to his knees and looking at a figure on the wall. A Normie cub, mutilated like the others. He was still bleeding from his eye sockets. ¡°What¡­ What is the meaning of this? You promised us that our children would live in paradise¡­¡±


    ¡°And you believed me? Bors, you¡¯re such an idiot. None of your ancestors lifted a finger to save my family, and you expect me to forgive and forget? Your parents were in the crowd that took everything from me and enslaved me! Paradise? Ha! I¡¯ll drag you all to hell, where you belong!¡± The Techno-Queen roared, abandoning her serene visage.


    Bors stood, screaming his own wordless rage, and found a pistol on his belt. He shouted his pain and sorrow to the world, aiming at the smiling woman. Gravity buckled his legs, making him crouch and try to crawl to the woman. Bors screamed again, this time in physical pain. Techno-Queen grinningly observed how her gravity reduced the officer into a pool of blood and dusted bones.


    Janine groaned and pulled away from the wall. Gravity loosened its grip on her, but something else took its place. Hooks and scalpels ripped her skin; needles made every breath an agony; searing venom coursed through her veins, offering no respite or relief. Her brain was on fire, a vibration stimulating pain centers in her body, her arms twitching as the sharp edges of the harness held her captive¡­.


    I am experiencing their feelings. Janine forced herself to believe that her organs still functioned. The pain of every person on the walls in this chamber came down on them, threatening to choke the life out of the Wolfkins and leaving the terrified guards alone. As the scouts rolled on the floor, fighting for every breath, Anissa and Impatient One grabbed their sides, ripping through their armor in vain attempts to stop the itching in their lungs.


    ¡°How dare you?¡± Janine took a step on her shaky legs. ¡°Your own people¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, my parents, my brothers and sisters, and I myself were their people.¡± Techno-Queen frowned. ¡°Didn¡¯t stop them from burning them at the stake and making me watch, did it? I saved myself, and now that I am the one in control, I am suddenly supposed to be the first to stop? Screw that. This country will pay for what it did to my life; its people will answer for every death given to the flame. I¡¯ll give them a flame they¡¯ll never forget.¡± The Techno-Queen motioned around. ¡°Do you like my wondrous invention? The idea came to me as I pleaded, begged all the gods of the universe to let me take the pain of my family as they burned alive. But the universe never answered, so it fell to me to correct that mistake. This device transmits every single emotion from those sacks of meat directly into your little brain. Not only that, but it records the feelings and can unleash them at any time.¡±


    Janine took the hardest step in her life. Her missing¡­ no! Real, her real arm struggled to hold the Taleteller. She wet herself, scowling at the intense fire in her guts. She bit her tongue, trying to shove away alien sensations, chanting prayers to the Spirits, not understanding where her feelings even began. Every nerve ending throbbed. Against her will, the warlord cried, still walking to end this bitch.


    One step. And another. Just thirty or so, and she can wipe that smile off her face. A step. Another one. Janine steeled herself, forcing her body to advance. She took another step forward, sensing something strange, and stumbled, falling on one knee. Before Janine¡¯s very eyes, her armor vibrated. The cracks in the steel widened, and she bled from every orifice.


    ¡°Or this kind of weapon,¡± Techno-Queen said. ¡°Vibrations, contained around your body by a simple shield. Do you feel your vessels popping? Good. Try to stay alive for a bit.¡± The woman sat on her throne, spreading her cape around the seat. ¡°Now then, to the main course! Ravager! You cowardly, useless whore! I challenge you! Come forth, or you¡¯ll find your cl¡­¡±


    The tower shook, as if it had come under heavy bombardment. A new corridor appeared where the elevator had previously stood. The entire section of the tower disappeared, and tons of rock and steel fell in an avalanche. The floor beneath Janine bulged, pushed out by the simple, casual step of a being that had entered this room. Janine inhaled, realizing that the vibration emitting device was destroyed. A yellow light filled the room, coming from the dust-covered corridor leading outside, where a dark shape loomed against the white disk of the moon.


    The Dominator of Dominators advanced, lips twitching to reveal fangs, red drool trickling down her jaw. Her amber pupils dilated and contracted, struggling to focus on her target. She released her claws, passing beside Anissa, and Impatient One groaned, leaping forward and dragging her sister away from the fury that was Ravager.


    ¡°You called,¡± the Blessed Mother said calmly.

 Chapter 9: What If Not?

    ¡°At last!¡± Techno-Queen clapped. ¡°Famous Ravager. I have studied you for some time, and I believe you and I are much alike. Truth be told, I expected you to be here much sooner. Well, I suppose I can forgive certain irregularities in the schedule. We both had suffered¡­¡±


    ¡°I have no time to listen to your sob stories, tyrant,¡± Ravager spat, standing on four limbs.


    Ravager wiped the drool from her chin and took a deep breath, coughing as emotions flooded her mind. Steam, partially crimson from the blood of the fallen, rose from her mouth, briefly obscuring her eyes. Janine¡¯s own eyes widened at the realization that nothing bothered her anymore, and beside her, Ravager convulsed, holding back the suffering.


    Janine hurled her axe with all her might. It flew across the hall, ricocheted off the shield around the throne, and arced down at Ravager¡¯s paws. A single tap of a claw made Janine stand at attention, oblivious to her injuries, no longer daring to interfere with the hunt.


    ¡°Pot calls kettle.¡± Techno-Queen smiled thinly. ¡°If I am the tyrant, then the same can be said about your own master, doggie.¡±


    ¡°Dynast is a benevolent dictator who brings prosperity where there is none. The world has proven itself incapable of surviving without a firm guiding hand. He has merely assumed a noble and necessary duty. You are a tyrant who sucks the life out of everything to satisfy her vanity, leaving ruins in her wake. You are not the same.¡± Ravager responded calmly, shaking off the pain as if it were water from the fur. She glanced at the walls. The amber eyes returned to the figure on the throne. ¡°What a fool. You have been given a gift like no other, and you have squandered it, feeding your petty need for revenge¡­¡±


    Techno-Queen scowled as the Blessed Mother walked unhindered through a wall of vibrations.


    ¡°Even now, redemption is possible, had you¡¯ve met the Iternian angel. She would¡¯ve broken you down and accompanied you at every step of your rehabilitation. And there might have been a day when you would have found happiness through atonement, helping to rebuild the wounded world and thus healing the emptiness in your heart. People change, and whatever you may think, you are still human at heart, unlike me.¡± Ravager loudly cracked her neck. ¡°Unfortunately for you, a monster found you first. A monster whom you challenged.¡±


    ¡°Are you trying to bore me to tears?¡± asked Tecno-Queen.


    A snap of her fingers dented the floor underneath the Blessed Mother as the gravity generator brought immense weight down upon her body. Her black fur parted in places; ripples covered the skin, as if thousands of fists hammered into her body. Janine observed it in worry, imagining how the breath refused to leave the commander¡¯s lips, how the reverse gravity turned her black backwards, and how the pressure of hundreds of tons violated every muscle and organ.


    Ravager took two more steps. She licked her lips and spoke: ¡°This is the problem with people like you. You have had a hard life¡ªtoo bad, so sad. However, you never ask yourself simple questions. What if I didn¡¯t? What if I didn¡¯t mindlessly take revenge on innocent people like a bitch? What if my overly complicated plan is thwarted by a simple act of raw strength because I, in my arrogance, failed to calculate something? Who will be there to catch me when I fall?¡±


    ¡°Lecturing me, aren¡¯t you, beast?¡± Techno-Queen laughed. ¡°Well, maybe so, but unlike your precious Dynast and you, I will be remembered, doggie.¡± The screen behind her came to life, showing the city and the Third Army besieging it. ¡°Have you ever wondered why, even though I knew of your arrival and your army, I stayed here instead of fleeing? It¡¯s because I wanted you here! I have planted a plasma bomb, powerful enough to eradicate this miserable excuse of a city, along with everything, for dozens of miles! It doesn¡¯t matter how tough you are, freak; the sheer heat will ionize you. Only I will survive, protected by the shield, and when the dust settles, I¡¯ll pack my things.¡± She stroked the databases lovingly. ¡°Power is only a means to an end, you stinking dog. And my current end is to kill you. After that? Who knows? Maybe I¡¯ll enlist in the Dynast¡¯s service and take over from within. Being hailed as a saint for restoring the world does sound tempting.¡±


    Janine wanted to rush ahead and break her paws on the invincible shield around the woman. She howled, a wordless stream of shame for her failure to preserve the lives of her packs and the civilians they had failed to save. She leapt to embrace Impatient One and Anissa, preparing to say what she had always felt in her heart, to address her scouts, to apologize¡­


    Ravager stalked ahead. Techno-Queen¡¯s face changed as she looked at her throne. Her finger kept pressing the button, growing more nervous with each tap. She grabbed the terminal, her trembling fingers furiously scrolling for something.


    ¡°What is happening? Where is¡­¡±


    ¡°In the mesosphere,¡± Ravager replied. ¡°I had sensed that something was amiss. Why would anyone need so much toxic waste and exposed fuel in the capital city? I trusted my intuition and snooped around, found your bomb, and kicked it above the clouds before answering your call. This little funeral pyre of yours is not going to happen.¡± She lifted her head, listening for something. ¡°Boom.¡± A new sun shone over the cloudy sky, banishing the darkness in the city for a few seconds.


    ¡°W¡­ wait.¡± Techno-Queen¡¯s eyes widened.


    The tyrant pressed a series of buttons, sending everything she had left against Ravager. Vibration emitters inside the floor blurred the air; the agony of the trapped souls caused Ravager to bare her fangs, and gravity formed a series of columns that rammed into the commander¡¯s spine. Techno-Queen sought to dislocate the commander¡¯s vertebrae, damaging her spine and rendering her immobile. Both gravity and vibration struck the internal organs, but the Blessed Mother continued to advance, nearing the throne.


    ¡°You said you wanted to be remembered? You will be,¡± she promised. ¡°A footnote in the history books. A fool whose wounded pride caused countless deaths, a sad joke to serve as a lesson. The Dynast will be known forevermore. Life will return to these lands; children¡¯s laughter will fill newly rebuilt cities¡­¡±


    ¡°We can make a deal!¡± Techno-Queen said. ¡°I can swear my eternal allegiance to you! With my genius at your side, clad in impregnable armor, your army will be unbeatable. Imagine the millions venerating you and the countless gifts you will bestow upon them through my genius.¡± She panicked as Ravager¡¯s snout closed on the field surrounding her throne. The commander pushed her muzzle through the reverse flow of gravity, staining the tyrant¡¯s clothing with her slobber. A crimson ray connected the stone adorning the crown to an amber eye and the ray harmlessly washed over the retina. ¡°Wait! Wait a damn second! I can make you into a ruler! Why serve the Dynast? We can¡­¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t care less.¡± Ravager¡¯s jaws closed on Techno-Queen¡¯s head. The tyrant tried in vain to pry the jaws open with her feeble hands. A single snap sent her body convulsing. Ravager pulled herself up on two legs, devoured the head and shoulders, and left the remains to tumble down the stairs.


    The Blessed Mother whirled around. Her pupils dilated so much that her sclera could no longer be seen. She growled, advancing toward the guards, drooling non-stop. Janine remembered what Alpha and Lacerated One had once told her about the Blessed Mother¡ªabout the reason she avoided participating in the capture of population centers. The bloodlust could get the better of her, and if left unchecked, the entire settlement could be desolated like a lizard coop after a visit from a ravenous insectoid party.


    Janine threw herself at Ravager, letting go of her axe and trying to halt her advance. She sealed her lips shut, not daring to show her fangs. The warlord buried her head in the commander¡¯s chest, exposing her own nape. Ravager was unstoppable¡ªa natural disaster in the making, a hungry demon salivating at the prospect of fresh victims.


    A silent command whipped from her scent. Get out of my way. Janine ignored it, pushed against the unyielding muscles, and the punishment came, lifting her body into the air.


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    ¡°It is over!¡± Janine gasped, feeling Ravager¡¯s forefinger claw against her ribs. When did she¡­ ¡°It is over! We won! They surrendered!¡±


    ¡°It¡­¡± The progenitor came to a halt, studying the warlord through dilated pupils. ¡°Over?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, Blessed Mother! We have won.¡±


    ¡°I am no one¡¯s mother.¡± Ravager pulled out her claw, releasing a stream of blood. A paw caught Janine, lowering her gently, and the commander¡¯s tongue ran over the wound, licking it thrice. The warlord wanted to let out her own claws and scratch at the incessant sensation of her wounds¡¯ torn edges flowing together. ¡°Shaman! Secure the prisoners! Wolf hag! Tell First to send in medic teams ASAP. And tell Dragena to get Till Ingo and the Dynast on a three-way call. I don¡¯t care if they¡¯re with a woman or in a toilet; I need a connection in ten minutes.¡±


    Not paying any attention to the corpse, Ravager walked over to the throne and found the Techno Queen¡¯s terminal. The Blessed Mother gently punched something on the terminal using her oversized paws and stuck out her tongue from efforts. The victims¡¯ wailing on the walls ceased. For a second, Janine thought that the commander had administered euthanasia before she realized that the ruined bodies still breathed. Sharp tools left their bodies, and in their place, new syringes emerged from hidden compartments, bringing in smelly medication.


    ¡°Done.¡± Ravager put away the terminal. She looked at the corpse and murmured: ¡°Control, discipline, Ravy. You must set an example. You can do it. Even if he clones her without a brain, she¡¯ll be an entirely different person.¡±


    ¡°Commander,¡± Janine dared to speak. ¡°What just happened?¡±


    ¡°Eh?¡± Ravager scratched behind her ear. ¡°Just guessed the password and figured out how this thing works. Simple, really; anyone could do it.¡±


    But... you can¡¯t read. Questions for later. Janine decided, while holding one paw over her wound. Perhaps there was something about shamans¡¯ tales. Just standing here, in Ravager¡¯s presence, she felt divinity¡ªan almost unnatural heavenly bliss that demanded worship and adoration.


    ¡°Blessed Mother. Why did you kill Techno-Queen? If her offers were true¡­¡± Janine asked.


    She quaked in her boots as the pitch black figure loomed over her, illuminating her confused offspring. Janine cursed herself for her curiosity in every word she knew, but Ravager simply knelt and took her by the shoulders, speaking in a soothing voice.


    ¡°That¡¯s how it starts. Janine, listen to me closely while I hold some clarity. I am neither angry nor disappointed. But that¡¯s how it¡¯s always begins.¡± She nodded at the wall. ¡°You listen to an offer that you know is vile, thinking there is nothing wrong with hearing it. But it imprints on your psyche, always tempting you. An easy, profitable choice. Few can stop themselves from accepting the offer. Then they spiral down, taking one small step at a time, like a young cub learning how to walk. Before they know it, instead of one monster, there are two. Some offers must be refused, no matter what.


    ¡°I see your question. No, if I had taken Tecno-Queen alive, the court would have found her guilty and sentenced her to the Torment, forever locked in a solitary cell. The Dynast calls it retribution. I call it pointless and cruel revenge. Do you know what effect such torture has on a human being? Rage. There is nothing wrong with raging against the scum who seek to inflict pain on others. At least it¡¯s honest. Rage against the injustices done by the madmen, but do not pretend you are any better than them if you follow the example they set. Everything you do molds you. Fail to heed this lesson, Janine, and you will end up as unhappy as Terrific. Why is she hiding, anyway? Did she steal my ration again?¡± Ravager cocked her head to one side.


    ¡°Blessed Mother.¡± Janine licked her lips, baring her neck for judgment. What is the meaning of this question? The Blessed Mother and Janine administered Terrific¡¯s last rites together. ¡°Terrific is dead.¡±


    ¡°Is she?¡± Ravager looked over Janine¡¯s shoulder. ¡°But I thought¡­ Never mind.¡±


    ¡°Commander, I have some tokens. It¡¯s not much, but perhaps we can pay for augmetics, at least for cubs¡­¡± Janine struggled not to stare at the mutilated people on the wall. ¡°If this is not enough, I can ask my named sisters! I am sure we can afford augmentation for at least a few dozen¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Ravager released her and sat down on the throne. The twisted metal beneath her tried to fit in, slowly turning into a flat surface. ¡°Thought about it already. Too many parts to replace. Engineers won¡¯t do. We need the help of the whitecoats¡­ doctors,¡± she growled the words, clenching her paws so tightly that blood flowed between her fingers. Ravager exhaled and rubbed her temples. ¡°I¡­ have someone in Iterna who owes me much. An angel of sorts. But I doubt even she could finance enough clone parts, and Iterna is rather stingy with whom they help.¡± Ravager smiled and patted the databanks. ¡°Therefore, we¡¯ll make the Dynast foot the bill in exchange for the bitch¡¯s knowledge.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Janine picked up her axe. Memories of the madwoman¡¯s unleashed devastation fueled the temptation to say screw everything and destroy the data. ¡°Commander, is it wise? To gain this knowledge¡­¡± She pointed at the walls. ¡°This woman has destroyed an entire region and tortured countless innocents. We are here to heal the world, not to usher in another horror.¡±


    ¡°At ease,¡± Ravager interrupted her, folding her paws. ¡°Janine¡­ right? Knowledge is¡­¡± She grimaced, gritting her fangs. ¡°Knowledge. It is neither bad nor good. It is the way you gain knowledge that can be bad. She took the wrong path and paid the price. But the deed is done. I have a choice. Either destroy it and let the victims either die or live a hellish existence. Or I can give it away, purchasing them a second chance at life and assisting Mr. Ingo in bringing about some breakthroughs in the robotics field. Ultimately, it is my choice to make, but I understand your concerns.¡± The corners of her lips sank.


    ¡°I obey,¡± Janine said, resting her axe on a shoulder. ¡°If you forgive me my words, com¡­ Ravager.¡± She quickly corrected herself after a glance. ¡°I believe you are making a mistake. Show mercy. End their sufferings and destroy this cache of evil.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a sweet girl, Janine. But life is hard and unfair, and to make it easier for the weak, we must compromise. It is our duty.¡± She sniffed the air. ¡°Your wound. I¡­ Janine, you are forbidden from performing the warlord¡¯s duty and any dominations until you are fully healed. Go and rest; your girls are already itching for a job.¡±


    Ravager left the throne and walked over to the wounded. She snatched a communicator from Impatient One, started listing the extent of the damage to the medical team, and put First in charge of accepting the city¡¯s surrender and loyalty. Alpha was to set up the perimeter and aid Captain Cristobo to organize the evacuation.


    ¡°May¡­¡± a guard asked, holding a shaking head over her mouth. ¡°May we stay? There¡­ This is¡­¡±


    Another one. Janine followed the woman¡¯s gaze to the suspended, skinless figure. She put a paw on Anissa¡¯s shoulder, giving her authority.


    ¡°Surrender your weapons and report Techno-Queen¡¯s treachery to the officers of the city,¡± Anissa ordered. She flinched at the attention of the amber eyes admiring her nape, but continued speaking in a steady voice. ¡°I will leave two scouts to watch over you. Do not provoke the commander, do not meet her eyes, do not show your teeth, and there should be no danger.¡±


    I am proud of you. Janine wanted to say. It was best not to embarrass her little one in front of the crowd.


    The path down was an uneasy one. The Blessed Mother had torn so much of the tower that the elevator shaft became unusable unless they tried to climb over the unstable rock. They failed to find any hidden staircases, although Janine was sure there had to be some. In the end, the pack used the tried-and-tested method of jumping a few floors down. It resulted in the reopening of their wounds, but they cleared the obstacle and descended lower using stairs, stepping out to the cheering packs under the supervision of the unhappy Ashbringer.


    ¡°Found your girl along the way,¡± Ashbringer nodded at Melina.


    ¡°Warlord! Alpha sent her word, and Lacerated One approved¡­¡± The Wolf Hag bowed. When no bite followed, she lifted her snout to the sky and roared. ¡°Janine the Bull-Slayer!


    ¡°Bull-Slayer!¡± the pack shouted, joining her howling. Even Impatient One and Soulless One joined in. ¡°Bull-Slayer! Janine the Bull-Slayer!¡±


    Janine grinned, spreading her arms and accepting the praise. In her mind, she wanted to be with Ignacy, check on the other wounded in her pack, and write letters to the families of the deceased, commending their skills and offering her condolences. Duty demanded her steadfastness, so she grabbed her wolf hags, lifted the girls in the air, and ignored the open wound Ravager had left.


    She had worse.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Melina whispered. ¡°My hide is yours, but it is urgent. The wolf hag we had rescued. She is Warlord Martyshkina¡¯s daughter. They need your urgent presence.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Janine replied. There could only be one reason. ¡°Listen up, sisters and brothers! Tonight, we fought and triumphed! For the state and for a better world!¡± Ashbringer raised a cheer, echoing her words, and the roaring intensified. ¡°Yet it is too early for celebration, my kin! Obey the wolf hags¡¯ orders and secure this city! Then we¡¯ll cheer, sing, and weep to our hearts¡¯ content!¡± After a round of cheers, Janine let go of the wolf hags. ¡°Impatient One, Soulless One, tend to our fallen. Melina, check on the wounded...¡± The wolf hag released a claw, instilling a worry in Janine about how exactly Melina will ensure the wounded¡¯s survival.


    Many of the tribes despised prosthetic limbs, adopting the custom after the Blessed Mother¡¯s distrust of any doctor. The shamans interpreted Ravager¡¯s views to mean that by replacing flesh with iron, a person severed her connection to the divine. Losing a limb often resulted in another Crippled, even though the nation willingly offered a metallic replacement. Janine respected the wishes of her soldiers, but she also wanted them to live full lives, not to toil in shame and receive scraps from the tribe. Melina was of the old guard, the ones who missed Terrific¡¯s methods. It was better to send someone kinder to reason with her wounded pack members.


    ¡°Ignore that! Anissa, check on our wounded; talk some sense into them. Melina, you are in charge of resupplying and...¡±

 Chapter 10: A Skinwalker and a Male’s Place

    Janine stomped mercilessly, crushing the Wolfkin¡¯s convulsing and spasming body against the pavement. She increased the pressure, straining her own muscles as the smaller body under her paw twitched and the woman¡¯s features distorted. A series of snaps accompanied the rapid elongating and contraction of fingers; the rib cage fused and separated, unnerving even the warlord with the gruesome sight of bones freely traversing through the body.


    But the worst thing was that Janine applied enough force to kill or incapacitate a normal wolf hag. The poor girl didn¡¯t even spill blood.


    ¡°Marty,¡± Janine said, struggling to hold the wolf hag down. ¡°We don¡¯t have much time.¡±


    The exertion had soaked her bandages in red. Soulless One almost shoved a nutritious ration prepared by Bogdan into the warlord¡¯s mouth and made her drink sugared water before giving Janine a simple leather jacket and baggy pants, an appropriate outfit not to irritate her inflated implants any further. Gravity had really taken a toll on her, and whether or not Janine liked it, a visit to the cybernetic doctor was now mandatory, as a chord connecting her to the power armor exploded upon disconnecting.


    ¡°I know,¡± said Martyshkina, the only warlord of the four still clad in full combat gear. She knelt and took the wolf hag¡¯s head, pressed it to her chest, and sang a bedtime song. The first rays of sunlight shone from above, dancing on the dented armor and reflecting in the tears.


    The smaller Wolfkin gulped, regaining some sanity. Janine could see their similarity despite the wolf hag¡¯s profuse sweating and contorting features. Where Martyshkina¡¯s amber eyes burned like shrouded lamps, the Wolfkin¡¯s eyes had smoldering lights in them, burning brighter with every passing second and threatening to surpass her mother¡¯s.


    If only it would be so. The wolf hag¡¯s mouth widened to her temples. The crack didn¡¯t tear its path through flesh and bone, but rather the material shifted aside to form a greater maw. She grabbed her the snout and held it shut, placing a trembling paw on the warlord¡¯s shoulder and jerking it away as claws too large to fit in her fingers pushed out.


    Martyshkina ignored the danger, smiled at the younger woman, and continued singing. For someone as huge as her, her voice sounded soft and gentle, a tone she used to soothe her sons after a particularly bad defeat in the pits. The usually cheerful song, meant to inspire a cub for the days to come, now sounded solemn, more like a last sad melody to encourage a mortally wounded comrade.


    Janine decided it wasn¡¯t that off-the-mark. The Wolfkin was getting bigger and bigger; a moan of pain escaped her lips as her spine splintered and protruded to accommodate a new, gigantic body. Her magnificent fur started falling off her body, and the woman wept again, grieving the ruination of her body. Her chest bulged, straining Janine¡¯s muscles.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± Lacerated One asked in a guttural tone, approaching the group and accompanied by Impatient One and Marco.


    ¡°Liberation,¡± Janine answered.


    Lacerated One vanished, moving too fast for normal eyes to follow. Janine tasted the sudden shift from calmness to rage; her eyes saw the glint of the supreme shaman¡¯s claws as the woman tried to throw her off the future divine beast. Lacerated One crashed into the crossed in the silent threat weapons of Warlords Eled and Predaig.


    Eled, a second-generation wolfkin, was missing half of her snout, exposing part of her nasal cavity to the air and giving her an ever-ugly grin. A great scythe forged from the remains of a destroyed crawler served as her weapon. Many Wolfkins in the tribe thought Eled to be weird, but none dared say it to her face.


    In a war, she was a hurricane of violent fury, harvesting the lives of everyone before her, often losing herself in the same maddened haze as Ravager, ending up drenched in blood and guts and laughing bombastically for all to hear. In peace, she led a quiet life, taking great care to remove parasites from her fur and introducing her girls to the wonders of civilization, ordering actual dresses for the family and cakes for her boys. She also bought a harp and tried her paw at being a musician. The Tribe viewed this behavior as a weakness, but the last shaman who dared to chastise the warlord ended up having her legs broken before Eled plucked the woman¡¯s fangs, one after another, and wore them as a necklace for a year before Zero convinced her to make peace with the shamans. Eled dragged the mutilated shaman to a doctor, paid to replace what she had taken, and subsequently invited the shaman to be her bodyguard, settling the blood feud. Her eyes had the dimmest light, second even to Onyxia¡¯s lighters.


    Predaig, a sister of the first generation, had a gorgeous black mane around her neck, a sign of mutation. It had long since turned gray, and wrinkles covered the woman¡¯s skin beneath. She willingly defied both Ravager¡¯s will and the state¡¯s order by refusing to enter the rejuvenation chambers. The first-generation Wolfkins often acted differently than their offspring; for one thing, they had a single soulmate and took his death so seriously that they often refused to mate ever again.


    Legends told of Predaig going berserk after a marauder killed her soulmate, ordering her pack to stand back and ending a thousand lives in a single night as a final offering to her beloved. Janine had no idea if there was any truth to these stories. Packs liked to exaggerate the exploits of their own warlords, but while Predaig¡¯s movements lost their former grace, her precision remained unmatched. Her weapon of choice was a long, double-bladed, curved sword. Predaig once cleaved a slave trader who had a weapon pressed against the head of a normie cub. Those who witnessed the feat swore they saw the blur slash through both the cub and the slaver, but only the man ended up in two pieces, and Predaig placed the cub on her shoulder and marched him back to his parents.


    Predaig¡¯s loyalty to the cause had earned her the right to die of old age. Her eyes shone like suns, matching Ravager¡¯s eyes in intensity despite her age. Like Ygrite, Zero, Alpha, Lacerated One, Onyxia, and Dragena, Predaig was privy to being on Ravager¡¯s personal council.


    These two always had a good relationship with Janine and Martyshkina, accepting them as sisters, right after Alpha. Their packs followed their lead, supporting each other in good times and bad, and exchanging and delivering supplies between the villages entrusted to their protection.


    ¡°I am sorry,¡¯ the wolf hag whined, struggling to keep her sanity. ¡°I failed¡­¡±


    ¡°Shhhh¡­¡± Martyshkina licked away the tears, baring her neck to her daughter in a gesture of ultimate trust. ¡°You have made no mistake. You were as splendid as ever. I am proud of you, Linny.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to lose myself,¡± Linny growled, her tongue growing fat and its sharp edge pushed in-between lips, trying to strike at the exposed neck. ¡°Please, m¡­ warlord. In the old way. Dignity.¡±


    ¡°Of course. We will go to the other side together.¡± Martyshkina reached for the revolver. ¡°The madness won¡¯t take you.¡±


    ¡°Idiocy!¡± Lacerated One hit the weapons, but kept her distance, wary of challenging four warlords at once. ¡°She is to ascend, not to lose herself! Stop it! Don¡¯t deprive our tribe of a sacred champion¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not for you to decide, sister,¡± Janine told her, putting a paw on Marty¡¯s shoulder and wishing she could be able to shoulder her friend¡¯s sorrow and pain.


    No mother should outlive her offspring. Male, female, who cares? A mother and father always want to see their cubs thrive and be happy when they start a family of their own.


    The wolf hag made one last twitch; the reknotting and reforming of her muscles into something stronger and faster sounded like a burst of gunfire. Rage and aggression filled the amber eyes. She threw her head high, no longer holding the jaws, and everyone saw two rows of fangs inside. Martyshkina¡¯s revolver stifled the incipient howl, and a shot disappeared from the back of her head, creating a new crater.


    This wasn¡¯t the end. Not even close. Linny wasn¡¯t in the realm of normality anymore; she transcended even the limits of the Trolls as the new gray matter began forming¡ªa writhing, worm-like mass. New wet orbs appeared in place of the amber eyes destroyed by the shot¡¯s shockwave, paws closed and opened, trying to find a grip on Martyshkina, and the warlord used the barrel of her weapon, not allowing the brain to fully rebuild itself.


    If they made even a single mistake, this¡­ thing could well end their lives. Janine faced off against them; who didn¡¯t, among those who lived in the wild lands of the New World? Blood Graf and Tecno-Queen gave her a taste of helplessness, but these creatures taught her horror.


    ¡°Two out of twenty-one.¡± Martyshkina closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath to calm herself at the sight of a reanimated body. ¡°Janny, what¡¯cha think? Am I cursed?¡±


    ¡°This is no curse, moron!¡± Lacerated One folded her paws in divine reverence. ¡°You are blessed. Step aside everyone; I shall push her away from the civilians. Let us welcome¡­¡±


    ¡°No Marty. It¡¯s¡­ it just happens.¡± Janine ignored Lacerated One and placed both paws on her friend¡¯s shoulders. ¡°If you want to, I can¡­¡±


    ¡°No. I must do it myself.¡± The warlord¡¯s jaws snapped, biting into the newly formed brain. She tore and bit, devouring the body faster than it could regenerate itself, licking the blood off the pavement, and feasting on the remains of her cub.


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    Janine let her be. Soon enough, even the skinwalker¡¯s regeneration will give up. She gave the shocked Lacerated One an encouraging pat. It must have been difficult for her. In the past, hundreds of females had embraced this accused divinity, forever losing themselves. In the darkest times for both the state and the tribe, these aberrations had come, stemming a wave of destruction. But never without a price. Skinwalkers do not care who they kill or hurt, as long as they have fun.


    Nowadays, even the most devout refuse to become beasts. The Reclaimers were conquerors. But they also wanted to build a world worth living in, not another crazy Thunderdome. Marco stopped, horrified by the scene. A snap of Janine¡¯s fingers brought him standing at attention, and the cub reached for a small terminal on his waist. Janine led him and Impatient One away, trusting Predaig and Eled to help Marty.


    ¡°Ma¡¯am! I mean, warlord.¡± Her glance calmed him. Marco shouldn¡¯t be here, true. However, the Wolfkins were in a state of agitation after the battle. Any female could¡¯ve dominated him out of a force of habit. Best to keep him near his sisters. ¡°Our¡­ I mean yours! The pack lost twenty-four soldiers, eighteen brothers, and six sisters. And thirty-five wounded, but all of them will survive!¡± Marco saluted her.


    ¡°Don¡¯t salute!¡± Impatient One hit him across the head¡ªa mix between a pat and a light slap. ¡°If you don¡¯t have a headgear, you must straighten up! If you have one, then you can salute.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I forgot! Sorry, si..¡± Impatient One¡¯s growl silenced Marco. The shaman sighed and took a black beret out of her pocket.


    ¡°Here.¡± She put it on his head. ¡°Now you can salute. And I am not your sister. I am a shaman! We have no family except the tribe; remember that once and for all!¡±


    ¡°So you are like family for everyone!¡± Marco grinned. ¡°That means it is okay if I call you sister!¡±


    ¡°You little smartass punk!¡± Impatient One grabbed Marco by the nape, raising him up in the air and snapping her jaws next to his ear.


    ¡°Punk? Think a mohawk would suit me?¡± Marco inquired, examining his hair and ignoring the fangs next to his nose.


    ¡°I meant it as an insult, dolt! Stop picking up strange meanings for words from Normies!¡±


    Too many losses. Janine pondered about what this meant for her pack. The fresh recruits will go to the stronger warlords first. She¡¯ll be lucky if she gets at least one or two high-quality females in the next batch. Even if she gets them, they still require proper training and raising to avoid being a hindrance.


    The situation was deteriorating by the day. Each warlord was supposed to have about eight shamans to safeguard her, to solve spiritual problems in the pack, and to learn and bring new knowledge to the tribe. Now, after years of wars? Janine only had Soulless One and Impatient One by her side, and her daughter was still in training.


    Young shamans were supposed to begin their duties in the villages, overseeing civilian affairs, learning from their elders, and maturing through distancing themselves from their families and steeling their hearts; aiding in life giving and never forgetting that their existence was to serve the tribe. Impatient One helped Janine give life to the last litter, so at least she passed some tests. But she was far from being a true shaman.


    Martyshkina no longer had any shamans; her bodyguards perished in battles. Other warlords had at best one or two. And not only did they have trouble with spiritual leaders, but the tribe also experienced an urgent need for junior personnel! Janine herself had few true wolf hags left; instead of cold-eyed women like Melina and Anissa, she had to rely on the greenhorn scouts, promoted by merit after the death of their superiors, rather than by right of dominance. This led to a lack of experience in the pack.


    Even in the best of days, the Wolfkins distrusted doctors and technology because of Ravager¡¯s bias. Wolf hags had to bully the lesser ranks to keep up with the times, freeing the load off the warlords¡¯ shoulders. With so many veterans gone, new wolf hags shared stupid superstitions about losing their souls to power armor. The few remaining shamans were busy allaying these fears, often struggling to find time for a private conversation.


    No matter how dire the situation, Janine embraced it and welcomed the opportunity to learn. To live is to improvise, to change in body and mind. She will face this crisis and emerge a more knowledgeable and worthy leader for her pack.


    Melina¡¯s scout and Elzada. That¡¯s minus two experienced scouts for a while. Sucks to suck. Or¡­


    ¡°Marco?¡± The two stopped arguing at Janine¡¯s question. ¡°How¡¯s Melina¡¯s girl? Able to join the front anytime soon?¡±


    ¡°Negative, warlord!¡± Her helpful boy replied. ¡°She caught some kind of infection that caused a serious inflammation.¡±


    ¡°Because, of course, she is,¡± Janine muttered.


    ¡°The medics put her on a strict diet and petitioned you again to stop the cruelty in your pack.¡±


    ¡°Because, of course, they are,¡± Janine sighed. She didn¡¯t hold it against the Normies. These men and women were doing their jobs. It wasn¡¯t easy to keep a Wolfkin from dying, but they excelled at it. ¡°Life givers?¡±


    ¡°Four litters!¡± Marco checked his terminal. ¡°It¡¯s said seventeen cubs are alive and healthy. Three more warriors should give life soon. Medics complain that a crawler is no nursery.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t have to tolerate them for long,¡± Janine grinned, wondering who she could spare to escort the future generation to the safety of the villages. ¡°Good job, Marco. Thank you. At ease.¡±


    The evacuation of the city was in full swing. Onyxia¡¯s scouts assisted black-clothed members of the Investigation Bureau in uncovering hidden hangars where engineers worked, unaware of their ruler¡¯s defeat. First picked several officers from Techno-Queen¡¯s former army and put them in charge of coordinating the forces willing to obey the Reclaimers. Those soldiers who refused to serve had turned in their weapons and reunited with their families.


    Trucks moved in and out of the city, filling the bellies of army transports with families taken from civilian homes. Captain Cristobo didn¡¯t linger; once filled, the transports raced across the Wastes to unload at the nearest border town, where the local army forces would disperse the people into many refugee camps. In time, these people will settle in proper villages, where they can breathe fresh air with no fear and walk unburden by hazmat suits. As the vultures of the New World, slavers and raiders, appeared on the horizon, the Voidrunner and Summerspring households took it upon themselves to escort the refugees.


    Not all citizens still believed in the truth revealed by the royal guards and the collared engineers about Tecno-Queen¡¯s cruelty and madness. Dragena let a few raise their voices and silenced them by broadcasting the tyrant¡¯s own words throughout the city and adding pictures of her victims, thus settling that part of the dispute. But Janine sensed resentment even through the suits of the evacuees. How could it not be? They had invaded and murdered the locals. For years to come, the Wolfkins would be a symbol of horror to the former inhabitants.


    That, too, was the way of the New World, a way the Dynast planned to change. Kill a few to save many. What a joke. Janine looked at the tall communication tower, wondering if the medics could truly save those cubs.


    Please, Spirits. Help my cubs find happiness, be by Marty¡¯s side in her darkest moment, and let these poor souls have a chance¡ªa simple chance at life. Is it so much? I have given you so much of my blood and will keep giving, but have mercy on the others.


    ¡°Shaman, why did the warlords kill the sister?¡± Marco asked.


    Impatient One put him down, giving him a light kick for speed that nearly sent him rolling. The shaman slowed down as she followed the warlord to the main square. A member of the Investigation Bureau briefly stopped them, investigating Janine¡¯s and Marco¡¯s fangs for the presence of human flesh. The man tiredly waved his hand at Impatient One¡¯s admission of guilt and hurried off to help evacuate a local hospital.


    ¡°You remember the skinwalker¡¯s visit a year ago?¡± the shaman asked.


    ¡°Yep! Onyxia and Mo¡­ Warlord sliced her arms after she ate three cubs and the beast ran away, Ye¡­¡± Janine stopped, knowing exactly what would happen.


    Marco never finished speaking; a clawed paw struck him across the left chin, slicing through it. The punishment did not end there; Impatient One¡¯s paw closed around Marco¡¯s head, pushing him face down on the pavement and breaking his nose. The shaman dragged her brother against the ground and lifted him by the neck, growling into the frightened snout.


    Janine had to force herself from caving her daughter¡¯s head in. Marco¡¯s sufferings were not Impatient One¡¯s fault. The shaman had shown immense leniency, finding alternative ways to punish her brother for mischief by making him work. She never even bit him. Janine was the one who let him down. She had taken him out of the pits to save his life, but had she taught him the ways of the tribe? No, she coddled him over and over again, and his brothers and sisters did the same. The boy grew too bold. The day will come when he¡¯ll be on his own, and who will protect him then?


    It was because of this that she took some measures to secure his future. If only her boy would let her.


    ¡°Never. Never dare address me by this name, Marco.¡± The cub shuddered, throwing a worried glance at Janine. The warlord calmly waited, ignoring the fear. Any other male acting so frivolously in a shaman¡¯s presence risked having his neck broken. For his sake, Marco needs to understand his place in the tribe. ¡°Questions are fine. Fear is fine. Even doubt is fine. But never, never use a name that a shaman has discarded to address her. It¡¯s true that some names are repeated in our tribe. So it is okay to use that name when addressing someone else. But when we become shamans, we abandon our names, for our goal is to serve the tribe and not our blood. I am Impatient One, and I am not your sister anymore.¡± Impatient One grabbed her own muzzle to keep her jaws from biting. She calmed herself and released her brother. ¡°The lesson is over; you are forgiven. As for your question, sometimes a sister can ascend.¡±


    ¡°Ascend?¡± Marco asked, touching his cut chin. Blood had already darkened his fangs. The bleeding would not last; even though he was a male, Marco was a full Wolfkin. Impatient One cleaned his chin and pressed a medical patch over the wound, showing her brother what he should do in such situations.


    ¡°Yes, ascend.¡± Impatient One pressed a claw to her jaw. ¡°You would be better off asking a shaman in charge of raising the cubs than me¡­ But in short, the Spirit of Rage covets us all. When we fight too hard and win too much, it draws its gaze upon us. It is no disgrace; no one knows what exactly might attract this spirit. But after receiving this wicked attention, a sister has a feeling of wrongness, almost like a¡­¡±


    ¡°Like a period?¡± Marco suggested, and his sister chuckled.


    ¡°No, nothing like that, you silly boy. A premonition of the coming horror, as she turns into a shell for a new life.¡± Impatient One picked up a stone and placed it in Marco¡¯s paws. Before she broke the stone, she used her paws to tighten his grip so that he could hear the cracks. ¡°See? The stone is still a stone, but it has taken on a new shape. Eventually a sister¡¯s shell breaks after she wins a battle, and something new, beautiful, and terrible comes out. Some foolishly choose to die rather than change.¡±


    ¡°A skinwalker,¡± Janine said, breaking her silence. ¡°A skinwalker is a being born from a fallen sister. It can become a copy of you in both body and mind just by eating a scrap of your flesh. It is insidious, capable of guessing your darkest secrets at a whim or driving you mad with words. Skinwalkers are utterly insane and unpredictable, and worst of all, they kill civilians. Nobody in their right mind aspires to become it, Marco. And don¡¯t look so scared; a male can never become a skinwalker. Anything else to report?¡±


    ¡°Chak is really furious about the state of your power armor, warlord.¡± Marco clenched his beret in his paws. ¡°Um¡­ Warlord? Shaman? You won¡¯t turn into skinwalkers, right?¡±


    ¡°Fret not!¡± Janine put her paw on his shoulder. ¡°We¡¯ve reached our prime. Such fate is not for us. As for the chief-quartermaster¡­¡± Janine heard legs currying over rooftops. ¡°I¡¯ll have a talk with him. Shaman, could you¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, warlord. Come, Marco, let¡¯s visit a doctor and have your nose fixed before it heals improperly. And don¡¯t bleed on the terminal! Such toys are expensive.¡± Impatient One seated the boy on her shoulder and jumped, climbing over a building.

 Chapter 11: Vultures and Hunters

    Forty-two kilometers from the Techno-Queen¡¯s former capital, a raiding party flowed into action. These men and women seldom dared operate so brazenly in these lands, having been taught a harsh lesson by the madwoman as to what exactly awaits those who dare enslave her subject without her permission. But she died, and the conquerors demonstrated a stunning lack of awareness.


    Raiders and marauders often followed the Reclaimers, satisfying their greed with the scraps left in their wake. An occasional family here, a hundred runaways there, had earned them the gratitude of the slave masters of the Soultakers, the body tinkerers of the mystic west, and the pleasure seekers of the far east. More importantly, the slaves brought rich bounties and the unparalleled thrill of the hunt.


    But today, the raiders¡¯ leader wanted more. The humiliation she had suffered at the hands of the accused doggies burned into her soul. Two months ago, a horde of parasite-ridden filth had tracked a smaller party to its lair and assaulted it, dismantling the raider alliance. Such alliances, often resulting in gangs backstabbing their fellows, held no significance. The raider even respected the way these Abnormals had tracked them down and poached the poachers.


    No, what enraged the leader was the loss of precious young children, ripe to be sold in the eastern pleasure markets. She had gone to such lengths to keep the children unspoiled, even stopping herself from tasting their virginity in hopes of getting the highest price, and these disgusting mutants took them all! They didn¡¯t even sell them or anything. The leader was no fool; when the situation turned ugly, she escaped and waited for a chance to take revenge. She found other survivors, conquered marauder gangs, and whipped her new soldiers into the largest warband she had ever commanded.


    Her patience paid off today. An armored transport took a detour off the regular road. Fools, looking for a quicker way; assured of their safety thanks to a small group of doggies escorting the transport. They should have never underestimated dangers. Their prey had noticed them and, like a cusack calf after noticing an approaching insectoid swarm, had tried to steer away. But like a cusack calf, it too won¡¯t save them, for this swarm is about to swallow them whole.


    The leader waved a tentacle, and armored buggies broke sand mounds in their path, speeding up toward the prey. Three heavy-modified scout tanks bristling with weapons followed in their wake, forming a triangle around the slave wagon housing the raider leader¡¯s command center. She smiled thinly as her buggies opened fire. Each machine mounted a harpoon launcher and two rotating cannons. The cannons¡¯ bursts sent shells in the path of the disgusting freaks, hiding them behind a wave of exploded sand and stone, no doubt confusing the morons by the intensity of this ambush.


    Slender harpoons pierced the armored side of the track, sending a surge of electricity that temporarily fried the machine¡¯s engine and unleashed a paralytic drug concealed in the compartments behind the arrow-shaped harpoon tips. This drug affected the muscles of the future slaves, forcibly relaxing them for four hours to the point where it was impossible to even lift a hand, and it also kept the humans conscious so that the realization of their fate could fully sink in. Aside from being cheap to mass produce, the raider appreciated its use in morally breaking their prey.


    A single transport of the Reclamation Army could carry up to two thousand people. She didn¡¯t hope it would be full, but a rare smile graced the leader¡¯s lips at the thought of earning four to six months¡¯ worth of income in a single ambush. The cages of her wagon have stood empty for too long.


    But there was no need to stop at that, was there? Her tentacle signaled the tanks to move ahead, and the mortar crews of her wagon fired their deadly load, sending ruins at the fifty dogs. The buggies¡¯ crews will take care of whoever¡¯s still awake in the transport, and they¡¯ll have a field day dismantling doggies¡¯ pack from afar.


    It was good that these Abnormals could endure impressive damage. The idea of selling members of the Wolf Tribe pleased the raider to no end. As her buggies closed at the transport, carrying crews of hardened cutthroats clad in the finest exoskeletons and armor money could buy, she hoped there would be Abnormals among the refugees. Children. Preferably. Their organs fetched a high price lately, due to a war the Oathtakers had waged against the Bio-Tinkers.


    A sudden explosion sent a buggy skyward, and a force shield rising from the ground ripped her from her happy thoughts.


    She wasn¡¯t a hunter on this day, not even close.


    ****


    ¡°Perfection!¡± roared Leonidas Summerspring, a sword saint of the Summerspring Household. ¡°Onward, my knights! To the world¡¯s salvation and a better tomorrow, we charge!¡±


    ¡°Trampling our foes underfoot!¡± his personal guard shouted back.


    They rose from the trenches, sand and stone dripping off their battle plates. The first buggies had made a rough turn, slamming their sides into the supposedly helpless transport when it stopped, opening the side door, and Sword Saint Macarius Voidrunner descended from the fumes steaming from the inside, bringing his black sword at the idiots. His guard formed orderly ranks, hunters firing at the buggies damaged in the mines¡¯ explosions, and knights surging and encircling the boarding parties.


    The ill-fated marauders drove straight into a well-prepared minefield, and at his command, the hunters primed it. A series of eruptions flashed beneath the vehicles, halting the tanks and forcing the lighter vehicles to close in on the transport or perish with their crews. The Ice Fangs left this path open on purpose, as the buggies could¡¯ve attempted to use their potent weapons at the distance, raking in a few kills, but when given a potential chance to save themselves, the fools took it.


    Defenders rose behind the knights, slamming their shields and activating them. Their sheer bulk protected the hunters. Hunters, masters of ranged combat, and expert ambushers¡ªthese brave sons and daughters of his household¡ªfought in the open today, firing rocket launchers at the trying to retreat wagon. Their heat-absorbing camouflage cloaks successfully concealed the group from detection. The precision fire from their laser rifles disabled some weapons on the tanks, whose crews, in a brazen show of loyalty or fear, moved ahead of the primary target.


    ¡°Wolf Hag Arruda is trying to contact us,¡± said Knight Captain Osiris, a leader of the honorable Summer Guard.


    ¡°Keep our inferior cousins in the dark for now; we have work to do,¡± Leonidas asked, closing the gap on a tank.


    The rabble that Ashbringer called soldiers had charged from the city at the news of a transport¡¯s change, of course. Leonidas chose not to disclose anything to them. What¡¯s the point? The Order and the Wolf Tribe shared a common ancestor, but only one group received superior intelligence.


    ¡°They won¡¯t like it,¡± Osiris warned.


    ¡°It¡¯s not my fault that our pitiful family is so gullible,¡± Leonidas sang.


    His tactical acumen predicted the possibility of a raider¡¯s attack, and rather than stretching his forces, the sword saint decided to solve the problem at its root. A simple feint was enough to draw the ignorant masses out into the open, and the transport¡¯s crew masterfully executed their own maneuver, leading the raiders into the ambush area. As he had expected, a pack was dispatched to retrieve their lost lamb, and this helped convince the villains of the truth of their good fortune. Of course, Leonidas had considered the potential damage to his allies, and well-placed shield generators spared his kin from harm, though the wolf hag might not appreciate her pack crashing into an energy wall. Then again, who cares what the inferiors think?


    The tanks targeted them; the disgusting canopy of stacked automatic turrets on their towers spat fire, and Leonidas eyes flashed, adjusting to the new state of being. His perception of time sharpened, allowing him to see individual bullets in the air. Sounds muffled, stretching so that he could pick up even the slightest clues, orienting himself freely by hearing alone. He pushed his shield forward, breaking through the incoming wave.


    Osiris never lagged behind, setting an inspiring example even for his sword saint. The captain exhaled, entering the same state, and slashed his curved blade, bisecting a shell in two. His weapon turned into a blur, sending bullets flying, and his keen observation alerted him to the accumulation of energy in the plasma cannons mounted in place of the main cannon.


    A burst of energy raced through Leonidas¡¯ claws. He rammed his shield into the nearest tank, lifted it off the ground, and slashed, opening the vulnerable belly. The disgraced machine toppled to the side; its searing hot shot missing its mark and hitting a stone formation. Not giving the panicked crew another chance, Leonidas stepped inside and hacked at the criminals. A line appeared on the terrified loader; the energy of his claws had already ruptured the man¡¯s brain even before his body fell apart. His shield turned the tank¡¯s captain into a stain, and a flick of his wrist sliced an arm holding a grenade launcher in two. The rest of the raiders screamed in panic, raising their hands in surrender.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Foul animals.¡± Leonidas turned off the power to his gauntlet, fighting against the disappointment in his chest.


    The Summer Guard had already hollowed out the next tank, and Osiris took care of the third. His blade bisected the plasma cannons, and the knight captain gracefully jumped off the tank as its crew frantically tried to fire them, regardless. The generator feeding the advanced weapon shorted out, and the plasma remained in the barrels, overheating the mounted ammunition of nearby weapons and setting the tank¡¯s tower on fire.


    ¡°Bravo! This is how you wage a battle!¡± Leonidas¡¯ laughter boomed over the battlefield, lifting the spirits of his troops.


    In less than five minutes, the enemy¡¯s heavy armor was gone; the noble Macarius and his guard had turned the tables on the boarding party and taken prisoners. Raised by the Twins themselves, the Ice Fangs possessed an unparalleled knowledge of strategy, technology, and coordination. They are Ravager¡¯s true heirs! The commander should never have trusted the vulgar and incompetent black-furred brutes¡­


    A shell struck the left flank of his forces, killing two noble knights and splattering the remains on the bleached rock. Only their legs tried to stand defiantly before falling as well. Another shell shook the rear of his forces, killing three hunters and mortally wounding a defender.


    The wagon. It defied expectations, making its way through the minefield. Explosions destroyed its treads, but the machina had a surprise in store. It hovered a meter above the ground, thanks to ancient engines its crew had cannibalized from somewhere. Laser beams and rockets splattered against the energy shield that encapsulated the wagon. Shells and mortar rounds passed freely through it, while the trembling in the air blocked incoming projectiles.


    ¡°Sword Saint!¡± the roar of Wolf Hag Arruda joined the communications.


    ¡°This is not a time for bickering¡­¡±


    ¡°The transport! The damn thing is targeting the transport! By the Abyss, spread out, you simpletons!¡± Arruda cut him off.


    Leonidas ignored the insult as he realized the potential disaster. The wagon¡¯s engines moved it backward, and its main cannons prepared to fire on the army¡¯s transport. Macarius¡¯s blade sliced, creating a dark pillar beside him. The sword saint jumped, calculating the trajectory of the weapon aimed at the pilot¡¯s cabin. His blade sliced through the empty air, and another black void pushed back the sunlight, swallowing the shell whole and spilling it through the first portal onto the ground.


    Leonidas hurried to the wagon, using his ancestral shield to weather the damage. It was not a piece of technology crafted by the weapon smiths of his house, but a gift from the Twins themselves after young Leonidas defiantly defended a small clinic from the Malformed. Energy generators built into his shield created a shield bubble that deflected incoming shells.


    Wolf Hag Arruda and her scouts reached the edge of the shield surrounding the behemoth and dug underneath it, using their claws to climb onto the walls. Paws tossed acid grenades into its barrels, setting off its ammunition that rocketed and halted the wagon¡¯s retreat. Leonidas almost closed at the shield when Arruda reached for one of the remaining cannons, understanding too late that she was out of grenades. Undaunted, the Wolfkin pushed the weapon upward, and the arc of the shot missed the transport. The woman cried in pain as the recoil and the mechanism controlling the cannon broke her arms, ruining her power armor and pushing the brave woman¡¯s elbow bones out.


    ¡°You dare?!¡± Leonidas¡¯ voice shifted into a howl. This was supposed to be a clean victory! No ally was meant to be hurt today, and certainly not their kin.


    He embraced the frustration, letting it fuel his might. His clawed gauntlet struck the shield, concentrating more force than a siege artillery barrage on a single point, and collapsing the energy long enough for him to enter. Their cousins often teased the inferior claws of the great Ice Fangs, and Leonidas designed his weapon to remedy that deficiency. Lightning danced across the great talons of the gauntlet, burning its way through a hatch.


    Inside was a corridor, already filled by the frightened raiders in a pointless attempt to stop him. Leonidas paid them little heed, battering those standing in his path with his shield and slicing and dicing the rest. Two autocannons on the sides of his neck spat bullets, piercing a raider¡¯s heart before the man could use his grenade launcher.


    The frustration intensified as more icons, symbolizing the life signs of his troops, went dark. Sweet Malerata, a young and somewhat shy twenty-five-year-old girl who had just left the squires¡¯ ranks, breathed no longer. She was his great-great-granddaughter. The death of one of his relatives infuriated the sword saint close to experiencing a genuine rage, and he stormed toward the probable location of the command center, tearing through the doors of the compartments and ending the resistance.


    He arrived at exactly the tawdry scene he expected. Food and drink were strewn about the room that contained the terminals belonging to various vehicles, ranging from a train control panel to the navigation system of a plane. A mutated figure rose from the dais; slithering tentacles caught the bullets fired at the cyclopoid head. The leader¡¯s single humanoid head lifted a mace the size of a cusack, raising it for an overhead strike as the tentacles propelled back his projectiles at a bullet¡¯s speed.


    ¡°No courtesy!¡± Leonidas snarled, denying the honorable duel. His claws left burning trails in the terminals and people as he closed the hall and opened the leader¡¯s oversized belly, spilling her stinking entrails. ¡°Surrender or die!¡±


    The mutant spat something in the unknown language; her mace fell off her hand, and a grenade slid from underneath her mismatched suit of armor. The sword saint ignored the explosion¡¯s flash and turned around, finding several surviving and injured raiders.


    ¡°You.¡± A talon cracking with energy pointed in an operator¡¯s face. ¡°Shut down the cannons. Or else.¡±


    ****


    ¡°What did you think you were doing out here, pompous fool?¡± Wolf Hag Arruda growled into Leonidas¡¯ face.


    Around them, Voidrunners and Summersprings were busy binding the raiders and tending to the wounded. The hunters spread out, accepting the scouts¡¯ help and forming a defensive circle in case of an unexpected attack. The transport¡¯s repair crew cursed under their breaths, patching up the holes and restarting the generator.


    Happiness blossomed in his weary heart at the news of Malerata¡¯s survival. The girl had lost everything below her waist, but a Wolfkin had tackled her, saving her life from the blast that destroyed the hunter¡¯s lighter helmet. She rested in the transport, unconscious and awaiting an honorable retirement. Leonidas planned to pay for the cloned organs himself, then encourage his distant relative to pursue her dreams of becoming an engineer and living a happy and prosperous life in the service of the Order. She had done her combat duty.


    Arruda refused treatment for her wounds. Bones protruded from the cracks in her armor, and the woman clearly suffered, using anger to keep her mind clear. Her scout removed the woman¡¯s helmet and neck guard, and her yellow eyes scanned Leonidas¡¯ muzzle, no doubt searching for weakness.


    ¡°Wolf Hag Arruda, this is no way of speaking¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all right, Osiris.¡± Leonidas smiled magnanimously, not holding it against the poor creature. It wasn¡¯t her fault for being born into an inferior group. ¡°We are tired and injured. I will overlook your repeated insults, child, but I insist you watch your mouth when speaking to a superior officer. Perhaps savagery is acceptable among your kind, but let us maintain some civility, shall we? How about prostrating yourself before a grandson of the legendary Twins themselves?¡±


    ¡°What. Were. You. Thinking. Sword Saint?¡±


    No, obviously they will not settle their differences peacefully.


    ¡°My job.¡± Leonidas sighed tiredly, addressing the boorish woman. ¡°We kept you off the coms to avoid your typical¡­agitation. This operation required a touch of perfection.¡±


    ¡°Your job was to escort the refugees, ensuring the speedy evacuation process, Sword Saint. Your actions nearly caused death or injuries to the crew. We risk having dead people at our paws¡­¡±


    ¡°We risk nothing of such, savage!¡± Leonidas exploded, leaning in to press his forehead against hers. How dare she presume to know better than an Ice Fang? Such impudence, such arrogance to even suggest that he didn¡¯t know best! ¡°The risk I took was calculated. We equipped the crew with first-class survival suits. The natives have lived here for decades; they can last another day or two. Would you rather we leave the raiders untouched so they can rape and pillage to their hearts¡¯ content?¡±


    ¡°Warlord Onyxia had decimated them once, Sword Saint. She would do so again if you had followed your orders instead of playing a hero. This¡­¡± Arruda tried to raise her arm but failed. The woman swung her arm instead, shocking him with such disregard for her health. Her limb made a disgusting crunching sound and briefly pointed at the deceased Ice Fangs. ¡°Looks like casualties to me. None of them had to die. Warlord Onyxia is an expert at wiping out raider bases without unnecessary losses.¡±


    ¡°How quaint. The way you lot fought in the city had imparted an opposite impression on me. Were it not for the great Ravager, your kind would have caused a catastrophe through your incompetence.¡± Leonidas heard Macarius cough and understood that he had gone too far. He let his frustration get the better of him. ¡°My sincerest apologies, Wolf Hag Arruda,¡± he told the stiffened woman. ¡°I will ensure that your pack is properly credited for today¡¯s invaluable assistance.¡± Immaturity. Vanity. Leonidas despised admitting it, but his immature behavior had offended everyone, once again proving that the Twins were right to warn their children against giving in to their urges. The Ice Fangs often looked down on others, where their parents tried to teach them to appreciate the difference and help guide less enlightened people toward betterment. ¡°Your remarks contained a grain of truth. Nevertheless, the transport will be underway again in less than an hour, and the rest of the repairs can be done en route. And we have just requisitioned another vehicle to assist in the evacuation, negating the loss of time.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, Sword Saint.¡± Arruda sized up the hovering wagon.


    ¡°But I am. We have spare treads back in the city. Come, let us treat your wounds.¡±


    ¡°Bah! I ain¡¯t paid enough to argue. A truck is a truck, Sword Saint. This much is true. We¡¯re leaving.¡± Arruda tried to turn to her pack when Leonidas took her by the shoulder.


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t a request, Wolf Hag.¡± He chopped her on the neck, using just enough force to knock her out, and gently caught her falling body. ¡°My word,¡± he addressed her pack, ignoring the paws reaching for shardguns. ¡°Wolf Hag Arruda has fainted in the line of duty. Her bravery and dedication deserve the utmost respect. As a superior officer, I will temporarily take command of your unit until we rendezvous with the noble Ashbringer. Glory to the brave soldiers of the Wolf Tribe! Cheer to our allies!¡±

 Chapter 12: Terrific’s Wisdom

    ¡°Interesting!¡± a voice screeched from above. ¡°So your irresponsible kind can understand the value of precious equipment and the hardships it takes to replace it. Almost had me fooled.¡±


    Fifteen pairs of legs, tapping loudly, brought down a person from a roof beside Janine. The chief quartermaster had the dubious honor of hailing from the Malformed, a group of New Breeds famous for their nomadic lifestyle that involved cannibalizing humans around their caves and hunting down women for procreation. Even among the Malformed, the people afflicted with various mutations, Chak was a special case.


    His body was six meters long, protected by segmented chitin shields of various sizes. Hairy antennae that could detect molecular vibrations protruded from the plates¡¯ joints. His sunken, four-pitch black eye-panels focused on Janine, betraying no readable expression. The toxicognaths, the fangs underneath his maw, clanked with annoyance. The chief quartermaster coiled around Janine, and his legs touched her back, lowering the jacket.


    ¡°Typical,¡± Chak grumbled, speaking in the perfectly clean Common. His legs rummaged nimbly in the bag at his tail, finding glasses and a medical kit. Janine¡¯s nose caught the disgusting smell of antiseptic hissing over the damaged implant, and the Malformed clawed legs tinkered with the exposed piece of metal.


    ¡°No need for coddling,¡± Janine said at a painkiller¡¯s prick.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be the one deciding it, barbarian,¡± the chief quartermaster said haughtily. ¡°How are you even using your arm? It should¡¯ve affected the shoulder blade.¡±


    ¡°Wolfkins are built differently,¡± Janine told him.


    To her knowledge, Chak was never involved in any human hunts. Shortly before the Wolfkins dominated his tribe, his parents debated whether or not to cull the strange kit. As a way of showing his gratitude for his salvation, Chak joined the military after leaving the orphanage, quickly taking a liking to maintaining logistics chains and rising through the ranks. After decades of exemplary service, the command promoted him to the rank of chief quartermaster, a person responsible for the equipment of the entire Wolf Tribe, much to his and Wolfkins¡¯ chagrin.


    ¡°There. Not even my da could¡¯ve patched it better.¡± Chak slapped Janine behind the ears, forcing her to stay still as he quickly applied a sterile bandage. ¡°Should last a few hours. Then off to the cyber crafters.¡±


    ¡°Thanks¡­¡±


    ¡°The armor that was so graciously given to you by our glorious nation, Warlord Janine, costs more than three battle tanks.¡± Chak leaned over her head, looking into her eyes. ¡°In what condition did you return the poor thing to me?¡±


    ¡°Trashed.¡± Janine shrugged.


    ¡°How apt the word! Trashed!¡± Chak¡¯s toxicognaths rattled in indignation. When arguing with the Wolfkins, the logistics officer never showed any concern. Be it a warrior, a male, or even a warlord, he demanded, getting in their faces, a respect for the precious equipment. A few scouts and a wolf hag even challenged him for the supposed disobedience¡­ His venom introduced them to a world of pain. ¡°One hundred man hours just to fix it! You think I have time to spare personnel for it? Our factories are overwhelmed, repairing the damaged vehicles and producing ammunition; the work crews suffer from a lack of sleep¡­¡± He paused, listening to a report from a communicator mounted on an antenna near a small square hole in the carapace where his natural ear was. A long sigh left his mandibles. ¡°Great. A transport got damaged.¡±


    ¡°What about the civilians?¡± Thoughts raced feverishly through Janine¡¯s head. A possibility of a raider¡¯s attack was cast aside. A sand reaper, perhaps? No, these beasts don¡¯t travel here. A rogue mechanism? A bioweapon set loose? ¡°My pack is ready to march.¡± They conquered this city; the safety of the new citizens was their sacred duty.


    ¡°The thing was empty.¡± Chak¡¯s mandibles drummed a note of disappointment on his carapace. ¡°Command claims it was a training incident. And one of my workers just broke a leg transporting supplies from a factory.¡±


    ¡°I understand your frustration, Chak.¡± Janine told him honestly. They could not stay here. The plan was to relocate the population to the Outer Lands. Then, in thirty years or so, the terraforming teams would restore life in this region to a suitable level, and a new generation of humans could settle in.


    ¡°Do you?¡± The Malformed blinked, stubbornly removing his glasses despite his poor eyesight. ¡°I don¡¯t think you do, Janine. My workers, admittedly with some help from Ignacy and other initiative boys and girls, have worked miracles to keep our equipment in top shape. Understand that we only have a single crawler¡¯s resources to maintain production for an entire army. Fifty thousand people rely on us to have their needs met! This can¡¯t go on. Our army is slowly grinding to a halt under the weight of disrepair. I have had to confiscate materials from the local factories like a common looter! Speak to the commander. Make her see the reason! We need a camp so we can recuperate, get fresh supplies, replenish our medical supplies, start production, get proper food, and not use half-broken battle suits¡­¡±


    ¡°She won¡¯t listen.¡± Janine raised a paw to silence his outburst. Ravager refused to listen to anyone, forcing her army to be constantly on the move, felling entire countries in weeks. Janine herself was too low on the command totem pole, not even a first- or second-generation Wolfkin. She belonged to the eighth generation, strong enough to become a warlord, but not influential enough to have Ravager¡¯s ear. ¡°We can stay and argue all day, but this won¡¯t solve anything. How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°I need more hands. Since we are abandoning the city, we must requisition everything we can before Ravager whips the army into another march. I can¡¯t send regular soldiers into the factories; those places are literal hellholes of toxic hazards, the Ice Fangs have their paws full escorting refugees, and the worker teams are tired to the point of making mistakes and risking slipping into the sludge like a common grunt.¡±


    ¡°Hire the locals?¡± Janine offered.


    ¡°I did! Two hundred people have enlisted, and three hundred more are being interviewed, but Janine, I can¡¯t in good conscience send them in there unless I want the medics at my upper segment. These people have skin conditions, falling organs, and only the Spirits know what else. In short, they¡¯ll need months of healing. The Wolfkins are sturdy enough to gather the supplies without risking their lungs. But right now, I can¡¯t get any because your people are gathered on the main square for the mourning ceremony that refuses to end!¡± Chak¡¯s legs twitched. The Malformed lacked facial features to show emotions, but he had long since learned how to imitate easy-to-understand signs through body movements.


    ¡°I¡¯ll solve the problem,¡± Janine promised him.


    Chak bowed and hurried to the top of the building, shouting orders into the communicator. The warlord touched a bandage over the wound left by the commander¡¯s claw, noticing several wet spots. No cause for alarm. Ravager¡¯s mercy had healed the lung-threatening damage, and the rest will soon follow. She squared her shoulders and went to the site of the farewell¡¯s ceremony.


    Despite the early hour and the recent traces of battle, streets crowded with life. Legs shattered barricaded apartment doors, and firm arms escorted those who refused to heed the public announcement thundering from every dynamic. Some locals lashed out, but what good is a knife against metal armor designed to withstand gunfire? Soldiers simply ignored the outbursts, disarmed citizens, put rebreathers in their mouths, and dressed them in hazmat suits. Members of the Investigation Bureau listed items left behind so that the Reclamation Army could either transfer them later or reimburse lost goods to its new people. Army units escorted crowds of people onto trucks. Crying children, distraught wives, shocked husbands¡­ And wounded¡ªso many wounded. The Tribe¡¯s assault shattered any illusion of resistance, and here and there, former guards helped the evacuation process.


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    The former mayor and several of her officials dangled in the wind from the headless statue of Techno-Queen. The fools themselves had admitted their role in negotiating trade deals with slavers and raiders, trading their own people for advanced chips, terminals, and unavailable resources, proving their guilt. A swift judicial process resulted in their hanging. A new acting mayor was elected from the ranks of the royal guard, a sad-eyed woman who had quenched the despair of her mutilated son left in the tower. She made speeches, convincing former guards to cooperate, and traveled over the city, persuading civilians to leave their homes peacefully. Her words convinced over a hundred families to reveal their hiding place in the sewers, and the former guards escorted them to the exit before returning to check for anyone else.


    Ultimately, some bastards who aided in throttling life from this region will escape the righteous punishment. The Investigation Bureau didn¡¯t have enough time to read through every ledger and note to separate the guilty from the ignorant. Such was life. If the bastards turned over a new leaf, Janine was willing to let bygones be bygones. Should they return to their old ways, their fate would be sealed.


    Not everything went smoothly. Some soldiers tried to partake in local women or men, claiming them as ¡®spoils of war¡¯. These were mostly fools from the Core Lands, youngsters who had joined recently. Dragena ordered them hanged next to the former mayor. Other soldiers were caught looting. These fools endured fifty chain lashes in the open, toxic air and received orders to preserve the very items they attempted to steal. Should any item go missing, so would the hand of the one assigned to guard it. Janine considered this an overly lenient punishment. Any of her soldiers caught looting would have her skin skinned, and any female who acted on her sexual impulse would soon find herself drowned at the bottom of the poisonous river.


    ¡°Order is best upheld through a combination of fear, example, and respect.¡± Janine remembered Terrific¡¯s words. ¡°See, there was a story the Blessed Mother told me. A general was ordered to present his army to a petulant emperor, yet because of nature, a river¡­¡±


    ¡°What is a river?¡± Martyshkina asked then, pressing her paws together, her eyes burning from excitement. She¡¯s ever enjoyed learning about the Old World and its miracles.


    ¡°It is a large body of water flowing in the line.¡± Terrific jumped from the pile of dying, partially skinned raiders, ignoring their pleadings. ¡°Imagine! A cold water, winding around high and green hills, bridges thrown across it, cars racing along its sides, honking at the splashing cubs! It is also wide! So wide that even a tank can drown in it¡­¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± the young Janine fired. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way such a thing could exist. There isn¡¯t that much water in the whole world! And why would anyone swim in the cold¡­¡±


    The world spun. Terrific kicked, cartwheeling Janine into the rocky wall. The warlord¡¯s claws ripped open gashes on the girl¡¯s neck and jaw, but the warlord wasn¡¯t done yet. She caught the falling girl on her claws. The warlord treated the cubs given to her pack with mercy; not a single claw damaged a vital organ, and she shook the wounded to the ground for the rest to lick her wounds.


    ¡°False.¡± Terrific flashed a smile, stretching the word. ¡°There were such marvels everywhere in the Old World, and you, bitches, will see them yet, should you listen to the teacher and learn. Back to the story. A flood barred the general¡¯s army, and an official arrived, announcing that the emperor had sentenced the general, his family, and his entire army to death for such failure. The general asked what the price of treason was, and upon hearing that it was also death, he beheaded the official. In less than a month, the nation had a new empire. Now, wretches, what is the lesson here?¡±


    ¡°That the general is a traitor?¡± a male suggested hesitantly.


    ¡°How is he a traitor?¡± Martyshkina argued. ¡°A leader is responsible for those under his command. Yeah, the dude made a mistake and should¡¯ve paid for it. But his troops and family were blameless! Rather than letting them die, he rose and rinsed the injustice through his might. He is awesome! Had more people done so, the Old World would¡¯ve never died.¡±


    ¡°No balance in punishment,¡± Janine said stubbornly, embarrassed by the humiliation. ¡°If you punish everything by death without restraint, of course you¡¯ll have a rebellion on your paws. Like, why not, right? If you are going to die, you might as well go out swinging.¡± When Terrific¡¯s shadow covered her, she looked around for support and shrank.


    They were in a gorge Terrific had chosen after her pack had found and hunted down a large raiding party responsible for pillaging villages outside the Reclamation Army¡¯s border. The warlord made a deal with the elders: she¡¯d take care of the danger, and they would join the nation. Janine, Martyshkina, and the other youngsters did not participate in this glorious battle, observing it from afar under a shaman¡¯s guidance.


    Terrific broke every bone in the legs and arms of the enemy leaders and brought them here, chaining the rest of the raiders to the gorge¡¯s stone walls and hiding them in the blessed shade, forcing hundreds to witness how their proud leaders slowly broke down, enduring the burning touch of the sun during the day and the warlord¡¯s caresses at night. The newest members of the Terrific Pack sat in the circle while their leader imparted her immaculate interrogation skills on them.


    Janine struggled at first, wanting to speak out against the torture, but a boy beat her to it by standing up to Terrific. This humiliation was too much to bear, and she leapt by his side, ready to guard the buffoon. A second later, Martyshkina was at her side, calling her a fool but also standing her ground.


    The whole pack burst into laughter, silenced by a raised paw. Terrific did not punish them, a rare occurrence even on her best days. Instead, she forced the villains to confess. They sang tales of burying people up to their necks and leaving them out in the burning sun. They spoke of murder, torture, and how they forced slaves to fight in the pits for fun, promising freedom to the victor, only to take that hope away. Pity vanished from Janine¡¯s heart as she listened to the stories of what they had done to the young women and men.


    They didn¡¯t deserve hope or a future. Three days¡ªthat¡¯s how long it took to reduce the arrogant monsters to a whimpering mess.


    ¡°Not correct, and not fully wrong either!¡± Terrific tossed Janine into the air and caught her, kissing the girl on the forehead. She seated Janine in the crook of her arm and pointed at the enemy leaders. ¡°A proper balance, ain¡¯t that the truth? Balance is essential in everything. Eat too much and you get fat. Eat too little, and your body won¡¯t be able to fight. Too much terror, and a broken person can become a berserker. See, if you kill a foe cleanly and leave dignity to a bastard, yeah, another moron might try the same. Because everyone dies, so what¡¯s the big deal? But if you set an example by taking away every shred of honor and bathing the bastards in indignity and their own feces for everyone to see, shattering their personalities, it¡¯ll serve as an excellent lesson in what not to do. No one wants their legacy to be sullied by songs that tell how they cried like a cub at the end. Listen well, young and old!¡± Terrific spun, raising a paw. ¡°Everything has different gradations, death included. Every cruelty must have a reason.¡± She strode to the closest chained raider and raised his head. ¡°You won¡¯t be a problem anymore, will you, boy?¡±


    ¡°N-no¡­¡± the weeping teenager whimpered. ¡°Never! I¡¯ll never raid another village again! Please, a swift death, please¡­¡±


    ¡°Then congratulations, citizen!¡± Terrific let go of Janine and snapped her fingers. Her pack broke the chains and brought water to the confused prisoners. ¡°The sentence for your crimes is life. Found a new mining village. Ten years of labor and honest lives are what you owe to us. Preferably a happy offspring too, but that I can¡¯t enforce.¡± She grabbed a bleeding, mindless raider from the pile of corpses in the sun and stopped, examining the woman¡¯s swollen limbs. ¡°Janine, it is your birthday. Do the honors; pick one for yourself; the treat is on me. I suggest the fattest one.¡±


    ¡°Happy birthday, Janine!¡± The rest of the youngsters cheered, and the pack joined in. ¡°Pick the fatty, pick the fatty!¡±


    Before leaving this place, the raiders learned that the Wolf Tribe never let anything go to waste. Not a single captured raider returned to banditry for years to come, and many later joined the army after serving their sentence. The village they founded soon grew into a city famous for its safety and the Wolfkins¡¯ reverence, much to the Wolf Tribe¡¯s awkwardness.


    The Wolf Tribe acted as monsters so the Dynast could build a just society where cruelty was no longer needed. Why would anyone praise them for such actions?


    Did the raiders maintain order out of fear, or did they abandon their evil ways after encountering civilization and establishing a set of laws that could create a prosperous future and protect them and their children? Janine wasn¡¯t sure. As the decades passed, she gradually shed the belief that torture could lead to any positive outcome. It wasn¡¯t a path for her. But she took the lesson to heart, showing wisdom when she meted out the punishment.


    Restraint was a virtue that was important in building a better future. And so were examples and consequences.

 Chapter 13: Challenge

    ¡°Mom, Mr. Fiddler!¡± Janine stepped aside to make space for an escorted family. A cub cried after dropping a wooden toy, while his mother dragged him away. ¡°Mom, I dropped Mr. Fiddler! Please, Mom, let me¡­¡± The cub, a skinny boy wearing a hazmat suit too big for him, broke free and darted after the toy that was about to fall through a gap in the grating. He crashed into Janine¡¯s leg and stepped back, hyperventilating from terror.


    ¡°Morro!¡± His mother¡¯s arms wrapped around him. The woman bowed, trying to cover the scared boy. ¡°It¡¯s my fault, master. Please don¡¯t hurt my son; he is a good boy¡­¡±


    Janine gave her a par, sensing rough scars through the rubber protection of the suit. She picked up the toy, a crude soldier playing on a drum, and handed it to the cub, trying to be as gentle as possible. ¡°Peace, citizen. There are no more masters. Keep your strength; a brighter future awaits you and your son.¡±


    ¡°Mom¡­¡± the cub gasped. ¡°Mom, it¡¯s a woman! The doggie is female!¡± his mother closed the boy¡¯s mouth and nervously thanked the warlord.


    ¡°We are called Wolfkins,¡± Janine told the boy. ¡°From here on now and as long as we live, we are the shield and sword guarding you.¡±


    ¡°Shield?¡± The boy pushed the mother¡¯s hand aside. ¡°Why did you kill Karl¡¯s ma, then? And Mira¡¯s cries still¡ªone of you monsters tore her dad¡¯s arm right off! What kind of shield does this?¡±


    ¡°He does not mean anything bad, mistress¡­¡± Janine raised a finger, silencing his mother.


    ¡°I am not angry. Little one, your former ruler made a terrible choice. A choice that brought war and death to your home. Hate us if you wish, but help your friends recover and be a brave male for your family¡¯s sake.¡± Janine stepped away and nodded for the guards to lead the family away.


    It was hard speaking with Normies. How do you explain to someone that you murdered their family or friends for their own sake? You can¡¯t; the very idea of it rang hollow in her soul, and so she distanced herself from the Normies. She would gladly weather the storm of their insults if this helped the shocked people make it through another day.


    Her boys did not share her views. Ignacy, Bogdan, and a group of males often drank and partied alongside the regular soldiers, and sometimes Anissa joined them. Shamans grumbled about it, thinking it would make the Wolfkins soft, but personally, Janine felt nothing but pride. When the world reunites, the Wolf Tribe will have to not only cohabit but also undergo a complete transformation, letting go of the savagery and embracing civilization. To see tangible proof that such a thing was possible was heartwarming.


    Plus, it was also hilarious to see the Normies try to adopt the Wolf Tribe¡¯s style of communication, awkwardly mimicking changes in posture, words, and even asking for the scent marks of their favorite packs. Some units even took on names like the Ashbringers, Alpha Team, and Shadow Unit.


    ¡°Spirits, have mercy on these souls,¡± Janine murmured, pressing her paws together. She passed through the stream of evacuees. Half of her mind refused to believe that some of these young, malnourished, but otherwise sturdy-looking people will die in a few years from the poison that soaked even the stones in this place. The Wolfkins could shrug off radiation poisoning rather easily; why couldn¡¯t the Normies? Ravager told the warlords how the Normies created the Wolf tribe. How come their immune system is so miserably weak? The tyrant fell; why can¡¯t they live long and be happy?


    There was no point in anguishing about it. The Reclamation Army improved day by day. Perhaps a new medical program developed by the blue and black wyrms could save more lives.


    Shamans and wolf hags worked together to clear a square in the center of the city from rubble for the farewell ceremony. The towering pillar of the communication center blocked out the morning light, keeping the place shrouded in darkness. Shamans had collected the dead Wolfkins, stripped them of armor, and tore down several ruined buildings, creating crude slabs of rock. Each fallen was placed on an individual slab of stone and wrapped in a cloth soaked in flammable liquid. Wet lines led to a small dais in the center of the square, which held a bowl of the same liquid.


    Packs gathered on the square, mourning the deceased in their own way. The Alpha and Dragena packs stood still like statues, one paw over their hearts. The Ygritte, Ashbringer, and Predaig packs assembled at the edges, hungrily examining the corpses, unsure why not honor their comrades through a good, old-fashioned feast. Janine¡¯s and Martyshkina¡¯s packs mingled in the ranks, retelling legends and stories about the fallen and embracing those who had lost their soulmates. Differences in the warlords¡¯ characters created unique idiosyncrasies in each pack.


    ¡°From blood we come screaming and raging,¡± Soulless One chanted a prayer, walking around the dead. ¡°By honing our skills, we leave our mark upon this violent era. Through our deeds, we preserve life. And in the end, we return to nothingness, knowing that we gave our all for the tribe and humanity. From blood we are born shouting. In death, we disappear in silence, watching over those who will come after us.¡±


    The shaman paused, patiently awaiting Alpha¡¯s arrival. As per tradition, either Ravager or Alpha should have concluded the ceremony by lighting the flames and liberating the souls from their mortal shells. But the strongest warlord had yet to appear. Soulless One nodded and resumed her prayer, calling for the warlord to step forward and do what is right. Civilian rulers and war leaders united in body and soul, saying goodbyes to their kin. Unity even in the most somber moments. Such was the way of the tribe. Together, we stand. Divided, we fall.


    Janine moved through the ranks and approached the dais. She raised her axe to the sky, bellowing a single howl in honor of those who had died to end tyranny. Behind her, the Wolfkins joined their voices to hers, unleashing hundreds of howls that merged into a single cry of pain, anger, despair, and joy. Be happy. We miss you. I am sorry. Save me a spot at the Great Fire! Janine stepped into the pool and brought the axe down, creating a spark that set off a chain reaction, igniting a pillar of flame around her and the lines leading to the corpses.


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    The flames consumed her clothes and the bare flesh of her wounds tingled as the unpleasant touch of fire licked her body. Janine embraced it, ignoring the heat in her eyes and the warmth in her fur. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air, and the warlord remained unmoved, serving as a guiding pillar through which souls ascend to the Great Beyond. Soulless One stood by her side, praying for the happy afterlife of her lost kin.


    They stood in such a way for several minutes, relieving memories of those whom they had lost, remembering how she met the fallen soldiers of her own pack, their smiles, mistakes, insolence, loyalty, dedication, everything. A normal fire was not enough to devour a Normie¡¯s body, let alone a Wolfkin¡¯s. But the raging bonfire in the square burned bright enough to melt a wall of steel, and the bodies slowly collapsed in upon themselves, their flesh turned to ash, and the shamans will soon use the gleaming bones to create sacred totems.


    ¡°There is no shame in dying, for this moment comes to us all,¡± Janine steadily said ritual words, breathing freely in this hell. So many talents, so many potential warlords and shamans have died in the past wars, never given an opportunity to mature in full¡­ ¡°You have given us your all, and that is all we could have ever asked from you. Be at peace at the start of your new journey. One day, we will all meet again.¡±


    ¡°One day, we will meet again!¡± The tribe repeated after her, and a surge of fear came over Janine, pushing the grief away.


    An alabaster figure emerged from the fire wall, looking down at Janine. Lakes of purple contained amber orbs that scrutinized the smaller warlord, a torch of crimson, silken hair gathered in a tight topknot that hung high from the strongest warlord¡¯s head. Dozens of necklaces, loose bracelets, and talismans clanked against a pristine whiteness of perfect skin that barely concealed the great ropes of muscles. Three-fingered paws clicked.


    ¡°Wish to usurp my position?¡± Alpha asked, conveying both calmness and rage.


    ¡°No,¡± Janine replied honestly, ¡°not after the loss I have brought to the tribe.¡±


    Alpha¡¯s gaze bored into Janine, demanding an explanation.


    ¡°The Blessed Mother is indisposed, and we must use the time of peace wisely, Alpha. The ceremony had to end; our forces are needed elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°Ever the coward, Janine. Let yourself fly already.¡± Alpha¡¯s snout drew close. ¡°Submit.¡±


    Janine threw her head up, and twin sets of fangs bit her neck. Alpha wasn¡¯t gentle; her fangs pierced the skin, narrowly missing arteries and scratching at bone. Alpha easily lifted Janine off the ground, holding her like a chew toy. Janine released the scent of submission and went limp, accepting the punishment.


    It didn¡¯t last long. A single twist of the neck tossed Janine off the platform, and the younger warlord laughed, accepting the mercy. Normally, Alpha used her sharpest claws to open up those who annoyed her. A relish washed over Janine¡¯s strained muscles, soaking deep into her skin. Done. Her duties are done. She can go to her sons and daughter, check her pack and later have a nap to recuperate.


    ¡°The farewell ceremony is over!¡± Alpha roared, throwing a glance of annoyance at Janine.


    ¡°All packs, your task is to assist the engineering crews!¡± Janine snapped an order, guessing the hint. ¡°Chak¡¯s orders are to be obeyed to the letter, or you shall meet my knuckles!¡±


    The Wolfkins banged their fists on their chests and turned to the descending Chak, who immediately began assigning the soldiers to various factories and arsenals.


    ¡°And don¡¯t dare mess around, or your guts are mine,¡± Alpha added, noticing a disappointed frown on the face of a tall, white-haired Wolfkin and a wolf hag who had tried to stir trouble by beating a covering male. Both stopped their foolishness at once, and Alpha dropped off the dais. ¡°Ravager is suffering the worst headaches. Even the Dynast advised her to take a nap, but you know how she is.¡± Janine thought she saw a flash of yellow on the exposed side of the tower, but it disappeared too fast for her to be sure. ¡°Fortunately, your howl pierced the madness¡¯ shroud, and she had permitted my leave. Ravager and Zero are keeping the maimed alive. Till Ingo should arrive any hour now.¡±


    ¡°Does this mean we will leave soon?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Abyss take me, if I know. Right now, the Dynast is whining about the strain on the resources to save the cripples. And Ingo is his usual self: ¡®Let¡¯s turn them into cyborgs¡¯. Fool,¡± Alpha spat after imitating the man¡¯s voice and gesturing for her pack to bring her crimson trench coat. ¡°You look like shit, Jan. Enjoy the peace, I¡¯ll say¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord Janine?¡± A bareheaded young Ice Fang¡¯s knight, who wore a short yellow cape, approached them. He knelt before the warlords and laid his weapon on the ground. ¡°My condolences for the loss of your kin and apologies for the interruption. Sword Saint Bertruda demands your immediate presence to settle the matter of the insulted honor.¡± His expression changed at the sight of Janine¡¯s wounds. ¡°If you wish, lady, I can try to persuade the sword saint to postpone the duel. I am sure she¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother, cousin,¡± Janine said.


    Steam escaped her lips. She wanted to rip and tear, but maintained a cold visage that would make even their distant kin proud. She dares? Disgust at the betrayal washed over Janine. Strategically, Bertruda had picked a perfect moment. Janine wasn¡¯t in a sound mind or body. Her sons had suffered, and her soldiers had sustained wounds. The injuries and exhaustion threatened to impair her thinking. And a refusal in front of everyone will tarnish her hard-earned title, bringing shame to the pack. An ideal combination of factors to earn an easy win and a perfect masterstroke to secure it.


    But she thought better of Bertruda. She thought that she had found a friend, a sister among the ice-blooded¡­ No more regrets. This whore dares distract Janine with an insignificant duel? Is glory all she can think of? So much for the Ice Boys being the more enlightened New Breeds. Fine, everything is fine; she¡¯ll oblige this idiocy.


    The Wolfkins on the square caught her scent and bared their lips, agitated by their superior¡¯s anger. Janine shook off the cold fury and pulled the bowed knight up, hugging him to set an example for the packs.


    No infighting. Shamans had warned the Wolfkins against fraternizing with their cousins, but the betrayal of one does not taint the rest. There is no curse on the Ice Fangs and no danger to the tribe, no matter what Lacerated One thought. The Ice Fangs played an instrumental role in saving lives.


    ¡°Alpha, lend me your coat,¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°You dare challenge me, sister?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m naked, and you know how our cousins are. What if Bertruda faints before I can cave in her snout?¡±


    Alpha let out a brutish chuckle and threw her coat over Janine¡¯s shoulders. The white shoulder tackled Janine, reminding the lower ranks of the hierarchy, and the soldiers of the Alpha pack closed in to help Janine button the coat.


    ¡°Go get her, Bull-Slayer. I expect nothing short of victory.¡± Alpha put a wrist on Janine¡¯s shoulder, keeping the deadly claws away. ¡°Make sure there are no irreplaceable casualties. We can¡¯t afford to lose a sword saint. Or a warlord.¡±


    ¡°Alpha. About Terrific...¡± the pressure on her shoulder made Janine¡¯s heels crack the concrete.


    ¡°Our sister is in the past. You are the future,¡± Alpha interrupted her. ¡°Live and thrive, Janine. Terrific would¡¯ve wanted nothing less.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± Janine found Soulless One rubbing her neck and shoulders. ¡°Soulless One. Martyshkina¡¯s pack is without a shaman. Aid them for a day.¡±

 Chapter 14: Can’t Tolerate Each Other

    Janine arrived at the largest Ice Fangs camp, flanked by the Mountaintop household¡¯s honor guard. Bertruda may be a scheming whore, but she provided an escort worthy of a warlord, and six heavy veterans, clad in their heaviest suits, led her to the gates, where knights of the Sunblade household saluted and let her in.


    Initiates, the youngest of the Ice Fangs, tended to the tents, rushing to either clean their masters¡¯ armor and weapons, cook food, or scurry around the camp delivering messages. These youngsters worked hard, practicing obedience and honing their fighting skills to become first foot soldiers and later squires.


    The camp was divided into several sections. First Sunblade and his troops occupied the central section, but his hunters and defenders spread out evenly throughout the camp, patrolling and bolstering the defenses. Every sword saint¡¯s tall sages filmed the distant city, preserving its history for the national chronicle.


    Janine, the axe resting on her shoulder and the high collar of the oversized coat hiding the neck wounds, marched straight to the Sunblade tent, assuming it to be a place where her rival awaited. Two sages, the order analog of shamans, met her halfway. Both wore highly advanced types of white power armor, with colored red lines running on the outer sides of their arms and legs. Their lenses shone blue, and the heavy steel plates did little to impede their movements in any way. Impressive-looking gunhalberds rested in maglocks behind their backs, next to the tower shields.


    ¡°Halt!¡± a sage spoke in a gentle and melodic voice. The male removed his helmet, showing a scarless snout. ¡°Honored lady, please state the reason for your¡­¡±


    Janine¡¯s paw caught him by the torso¡¯s joint, raising the surprised sage in the air and hearing the whine of his armor beneath her fingers. The other sage¡¯s halberd was already in her paw; the gunhalberd¡¯s barrel, located below the curved blade, was aimed at the warlord¡¯s arm. Nearby knights responded in kind, reaching for their swords and spears and forming a shield wall to protect the curious initiates.


    She ignored the commotion and pulled the sage closer.


    ¡°I came here at the demand of Sword Saint Bertruda.¡± Her pupils dilated in response to the anger boiling in her veins. A male dares to block her passage? Dares questioning her? Something inside her demanded that she remind him of his place in the hierarchy and dominate him. But self-control prevailed. ¡°The interference of this irritant is keeping me from the needs of my pack, and I wish to settle our grievances as soon as possible. Take me to her, shiny boy, before I accidentally break this nice camp.¡± She released the hold, and the sage landed nimbly.


    ¡°My deepest apologies for the disrespect, lady.¡± The impudent little male dared to bow to her! ¡°But I do not have the honor of serving the illustrious Lady Bertruda. My liege is First Sunblade, the greatest Wolfkin alive. Please follow me if you will.¡±


    Greatest? So much for the Blessed Mother, huh? Janine rolled her eyes at the impertinence and accepted the offer, grinning at the initiates¡¯ disappointed snouts. Cubs are cubs everywhere; she remembered herself betting her first hard-earned tokens on who Terrific could beat.


    Along the way, she observed some knights training their initiates, using wooden weapons to battle several at a time, pointing out flaws in their form, or supervising the youngsters at a shooting range. Based on the initiates size, their age was somewhat between ten and fifteen years old. Janine always had trouble determining the age of the ice boys.


    The two groups were wildly different. By the age of three, a Wolfkin of the tribe would have killed his first insectoid, known how to take apart and reassemble a shardgun, and had his share of scars. The shamans examined seven-year-old girls and eight-year-old boys before sending them off to their first packs, prepared to face any hardships that came their way. Their counterparts from the Order would still be hidden in the safety of the cities, nurtured and educated by sages, and would never see any real danger. It was not until the age of ten that an Ice Fang left home to join the army.


    This was due to a fundamental difference between the two groups of Wolfkins. Cubs of the Wolf Tribe grew fast, acquiring basic language within months of birth. They inherited instincts and a desire to dominate, along with mother¡¯s milk, and worked in the villages, herding cusacks and performing basic repairs. Cubs of the Ice Fang Order matured at the rate of Normies, remaining frail and weak for years before catching up to their cousins. While this difference caused much disgust among the tribe, who saw it as a weakness, Janine envied it. What mother wouldn¡¯t want to hold her precious cubs in her paws for longer, instead of sending them off to train in the pits and lick their wounds afterwards?


    As they passed a training arena, Janine grimaced, hearing the words of encouragement given by a trainer to a cub who had lost a sparring match in three moves. Her opponent didn¡¯t even do anything impressive, starting with a straight overhead thrust aimed at the cub¡¯s forehead, using the hand guard of his wooden sword to block the counterthrust, and turning his attack into a slice that touched the other cub¡¯s nose. In the Wolf Tribe, the fight would never have been stopped at such an early stage, because no enemy in the wild would stop if you just ¡°cut¡± him.


    The tribe taught its cubs well. Two, three, or more cubs would crash into each other, biting and slashing, tearing at skin, and seeking to tackle the opponent. No fight would end until either the winner showed mercy or a shaman intervened. The rules were simple: dominate at any cost; initial wounds meant nothing; a losing party could lurk on the fringes of a struggle, waiting for the winning side to weaken and tire, or for the strongest to face off in what seemed to be a final bout. The smart ones would often charge at such moments, even males, though they often lacked the strength to overcome females, who simply swatted them away. Still, the shamans kept a close eye on the young, instructing the males in using ranged weapons and guiding the females to become scouts. Most prized, however, were the females who trained the less intelligent cubs and formed gangs to dominate the pits, for such girls were potential future wolf hags.


    ¡°Lady, are you Warlord Alpha?!¡± The cub who had won the fight bowed low. Without baring his neck. He and his partner wore paired bulletproof skintight bodysuits, sometimes called underarmor. Each underarmor had many zippers, designed to be open so that the battle plate¡¯s cables could be connected to the body¡¯s implants for smoother operation and to monitor the body¡¯s functions.


    ¡°Stupid. This is Warlord Janine,¡± the second cub said quickly, repeating the bow. ¡°Greetings, honored cousin. May the Spirits bless you.¡±


    ¡°But she bears the marks of the Alpha Pack! And the scent...¡± The boy frowned and sniffed the air. ¡°It¡¯s... both.¡±


    ¡°See? I saw her on the news; this is Warlord Janine, I tell you!¡± the girl argued.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Janine, indeed. Greetings¡­ little ones.¡± Janine stumbled for a second, unsure how to address them. Tags on their shoulders told her they were ten-year-old noncombatants. She was confused to see supposed adults acting so childishly.


    ¡°Have you come to pay your respects to the sword saints, Warlord?¡± the male cub asked, earning himself worried looks from the sage and trainer.


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    ¡°Something like that, yes,¡± Janine laughed, not offended in the slightest. Curiosity was a wonderful trait, and the cubs were respectful enough. ¡°Are you Sunblades?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± the girl said.


    ¡°I do not have this honor. My parents are from the household of Ironwill,¡± the boy told her. He hesitated and asked, ¡°Is it true that your axe comes from the Old World, Lady Janine?¡±


    ¡°Just Janine.¡± She put the Taleteller¡¯s head on the ground, aiming its blade at herself. ¡°It is true. I found it on a joint operation where we had to team up with the Oathtakers against the maddened soulless mechanisms and weird biological creatures. Its edge saved the lives of my allies, and Warlord Terrific herself gifted it to me afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Cool!¡± The boy clapped, and suddenly they did not differ from the tribe¡¯s cubs. ¡°Can we take a photo next to it¡­ Better yet, can we take a picture with you?¡±


    ¡°Please, please!¡± the girl begged. ¡°Our group will be so enviou¡­. I mean, it¡¯ll look awesome for our chronicles!¡± She blushed, hastily correcting herself, and Janine nodded, inviting them to stand beside her. She dropped to one knee and let the trainer take a picture with his portable terminal.


    ¡°Enjoy your training.¡± Janine smirked cheerfully.


    ¡°Tell Marco to drop by again, lady Janine!¡± The girl called behind her. ¡°We still have some pizza left!¡±


    ¡°Sure thing¡­¡± Wait, what?! What did the little squirt forget here?! Janine almost tripped and laughed bombastically, happy about her son¡¯s initiative. There was nothing wrong with visiting her cousins; a family was a family. It might even help her achieve her goal¡­


    The sage led her to the tent of First Sunblade, a true marvel of artistry, adorned by the finest finery. A tapestry recounted the twins¡¯ first meeting and Ravager¡¯s acceptance of them as kin. Proud purple and gold flags fluttered in the breeze; soft rugs and carpets covered the dead earth around the tent; and trophy racks stood in the open, holding weapons and equipment collected from those First deemed worthy. Four sword saints¡ªBertruda, Camelia, Tancred, and First himself¡ªsat inside the tent, sipping wine from the golden cups and discussing something over a holographic map.


    First left his seat and tent in a flash, noticing Janine. He was dressed in simple robes of yellow and white, decorated by swords¡¯ embroidery. A purple sash wrapped the robes around his waist. He let his long hair loose, and musical notes produced by dozens of golden and platinum rings woven into his hair accompanied his steps. Similar to Alpha, First stood out among his kind, possessing more muscle than most warlords, and his sclera boasted a golden hue, a characteristic that his direct offspring shared, albeit in somewhat diminished form. Blessed by the Twins¡¯ divine blood, no scar stayed long on his skin.


    ¡°Warlord Janine! What a pleasant surprise!¡± First offered her a cup. He sniffed the air, and a worried look appeared in his sharp, crimson eyes. ¡°Come, sit and feast with your brothers and sisters, and permit us to soothe your¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the sustenance,¡± Janine answered curtly and snatched the cup, drinking the soft wine and enjoying every second of it. ¡°The day is short, and my temper is even shorter. Let us end it.¡±


    First¡¯s eyes glanced to the side as Bertruda left the tent, still clad in her armor like the rest of the sword saints. She tied her long hair into a knot and fumed with barely contained rage, meeting Janine¡¯s stony gaze. The rage pleased Janine. The traitor may be a coward, a schemer, and a trickster, but the anger was real and worthy of Ravager¡¯s approval. Instinct ruled Bertruda, urging her to dominate Janine.


    A shame she chose to do it in this way. Otherwise, Janine might have spared her ribs.


    Next, Camelia Wintersong stepped out, elegantly holding a cup in her paw. A welcoming smile danced on her lips, unmatched by the calculated look in her crimson eyes. The woman chose black for her hair today, and a special ointment and three onyx pins straightened her long saber hair, creating a raven wing behind her back. Tancred Ironwill stood and nodded to Janine from inside the tent, then returned to reading the reports.


    ¡°Pray, explain your reason for coming here, Janine,¡± Camelia asked, her free paw almost accidentally sliding closer to the handle of her sword. ¡°You come uninvited, carrying a weapon and stirring ruckus in the camp, rudely treating fellow soldiers. One might think you seek to incur an insult.¡±


    ¡°Insult? There is no insult, implied or otherwise, Sword Saint Camelia,¡± Janine said. ¡°I came to¡­¡±


    ¡°The barbarian skulked here, answering my call,¡± Bertruda interrupted. She looked over at Janine and wrinkled her nose. ¡°No armor? Did you break your junk, or did you think I would show mercy at such a pitiful sight?¡± Bertruda bared her fangs and let out a low growl. Camelia blinked and put a paw on the woman¡¯s pauldron, stopping her from advancing. ¡°Where is your honor guard? Where is the rabble you call warlords? Are you this scared of losing in front of them? Is this it? Is this why you came alone¡ªto spare yourself further humiliation? Well, if so, then at least you aren¡¯t delusional about your chances, wildling. I almost want to take pity on you.¡± The crimson eyes narrowed. ¡°You could¡¯ve taken a shower, at least, before reporting to your betters. Your stench suits you, but it offends me.¡±


    ¡°Bertruda.¡± Tancred¡¯s calm voice stopped her outburst. The sword saint never broke the line of sight from the map. ¡°You will address our sisters with respect, or I shall discipline you myself.¡±


    ¡°Is this how the Ice Fangs honor a warrior answering a challenge? Ha! Appreciate the honesty. I don¡¯t need armor or a cheerleading squad to see you bite the dust, Ice Girl,¡± Janine smiled broadly, putting the Taleteller¡¯s head on the ground and resting her paws on the knob. ¡°Although I might start calling you Flame Girl. Had I known you had such a storm in you, I would have offered you a place in the tribe. Step to me and give me a taste of what passes for rage among your cold kind.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you more than a taste, barbarian; I will make you regret the words you hurled at the grandmaster. But I will not give you an excuse to blame your inevitable defeat on a lack of equipment. No, my skills will be burned into your brain forever, along with the Order¡¯s martial superiority. Guards!¡± Bertruda shouted, calling her knights. She spread her arms, and they began removing her armor, piece by piece.


    ¡°Kins of mine, there is no need for such heated words.¡± First raised his paws and stepped between the women. ¡°Are we not all brothers and sisters? Are we not servants to the Dynast and spiritual children of the Blessed Mother? Do we not seek the same future? Abandon the conflict and let us settle our differences peacefully.¡±


    ¡°It is most unwise to fight in your condition, Warlord Janine,¡± Camelia said in a more amicable tone, her eyes throwing daggers at Bertruda. ¡°Perhaps we can postpone the duel?¡±


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Janine told them. ¡°The flippant fool has challenged me in public. I will not stain the honor of my pack with refusal or retreat.¡±


    ¡°Bertruda. You incurred an insult on our allies without requesting our permission for the challenge. Please, lady, take your words back,¡± First addressed his fellow sword saint.


    ¡°I am sorry, Grandmaster,¡± Bertruda answered, standing only in a yellow underarmor that left her paws and feet bare. She took her spear from a sage and pointed its tip at Janine. ¡°You are the shining light, an ideal worth striving for. To hear a barbarian, unworthy even to wash your feet, slander you, is an indignity too great for me to overcome or forgive. This misbegotten sand dweller shall be thrown to the ground, bones snapping. This I promise as a sword saint!¡±


    ¡°Foolish.¡± Janine smiled back and relaxed her posture. Her tiredness disappeared. Misbegotten. Unneeded. Reject. Could Bertruda know? No, she is grasping at straws; her mother died a long time ag. ¡°Why lose your pride so easily?¡±


    ¡°Sages.¡± First sighed and called a line of warriors closer. ¡°Prepare to treat the wounds of both noble fighters. Lady Bertruda, Lady Janine, would you please accompany me to the arena¡­¡±


    ¡°We will do it here. I don¡¯t have all day,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Bertruda took her spear in both hands, bending her legs slightly. ¡°Take a stance!¡±


    ¡°Comfortable as it is.¡± Janine grinned.


    Bertruda dashed from the spot, beating up the ground in her wake. The spear¡¯s blade faced the Taleteller¡¯s rising haft, and the impact of the two weapons created a shockwave that snapped one of the flag¡¯s poles. First and Camelia were already in front of the initiates, serving refreshments, shielding the youth with their bodies, and the knights formed a shield wall, forming an arena.


    Janine¡¯s right paw released the grip on her weapon. With her left arm, she moved the blow to the left, drawing the sword saint closer, and rammed her right fist into the woman¡¯s stomach, opening her own jaws. The bite closed in the empty air as Bertruda understood her intentions and kicked at Janine¡¯s knee, regaining the distance right back.


    Should¡¯ve used the claws. Janine thought sourly, feeling her wounds reopen from the strain. A hail of feints concealing the true strike approached her, and Janine took the weapon in both paws.

 Chapter 15: The Duel and the Outcome

    Bertruda¡¯s blow landed on the flat side of Janine¡¯s axe, sending the warlord back and drawing lines in the ground left by the black-furred legs. The woman was strong. Janine ignored an urge to blame her weakness on the bleeding wounds and embraced reality as the sword saint¡¯s muscles bulged, nearly tearing through the tight fabric.


    Bertruda advanced, nimble as a dancer; the flurry of her stabs forced Janine to wield the Taleteller like a shield. With a smug grin of superiority on her lips, the Sword Saint flitted around the warlord, her footwork effortlessly carrying her as she searched for a breach in the warlord¡¯s defenses.


    Janine beamed, letting go of the worry about her son, the weight of deaths, the lack of supplies, and the wounds she¡¯d sustained. Bertruda had a nasty temper, but by the Spirits, she had such worthy skills to back it up! Unlike the soulless machine or the helpless guards she had fought earlier, here was the opponent who could bring her down, and this made her blood boil in excitement, driving her into a pure condition.


    Fight. It wasn¡¯t feasible to stay on the defensive, bleeding like a cusack and exhausted like a male after his first combat operation. Janine brought the battle to the sword saint, deflecting a stab and closing the distance enough to make a slash. Bertruda saved herself by taking the blow to her spear¡¯s shaft. Her feet pressed into the rocky ground, her paws trembling and bleeding from the impact.


    Janine unleashed a roar of pure fury that crashed into her opponent¡¯s face, her lungs pumping air fast enough to mimic the wolf hag¡¯s punch. Bertruda narrowed her eyes, and Janine kicked, aiming to disembowel the sword saint¡¯s using the claws of her leg.


    Bertruda¡¯s lips folded into an ¡°O,¡± and spittle flying at the speed of a bullet hit Janine in the left eye, making her blink. Like a piece of cloth, the sword saint weaved aside from the kick, and the fabric of her armor lightly touched Janine¡¯s skin. Janine was too late to deflect the blow of the lower end of the spear against her leg, and reverberating pain and shivering spilled over the entire limb. She spun around, striking instinctively and leaving one shallow cut under Bertruda¡¯s breasts.


    ¡°No longer scarless, cheating upstart¡­¡± Janine said, trying to buy time for her leg to calm down.


    Bertruda twirled her spear, shielding herself as she danced away to a safe distance. She touched the cut and licked the wet fingers, keeping her crimson eyes on Janine. A storm was brewing in her eyes, giving the warlord great pleasure.


    A hurricane of stabs and thrusts rained down on her, driving Janine back and forcing her to use the axe as a shield once more. She could hardly see every incoming attack, but years of brutal combat and the almost palpable bloodlust of her opponent helped her. Up to a point. Janine timed her advance with a stab blocked by the Taleteller¡¯s head, seeking to shorten the distance as before. The spear¡¯s tip flew over Janine¡¯s shoulder, and Bertruda tightened her grip on the weapon, not letting it bounce off. She dragged the spear back, and with a reverse thrust, she wounded Janine¡¯s shoulder as the end of her blade sank into flesh. Not content with a simple prick, Bertruda drove the spear aside, leaving a laceration above Janine¡¯s shoulder blade.


    ¡°Even,¡± Bertruda hissed, panting heavily. She leaned over, dodging Janine¡¯s axe, and rolled to the side, regaining distance. ¡°But not for long, dust dweller. Too slow, too predictable, too inept.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t rate yourself so low,¡± Janine chuckled.


    ¡°Such arrogance!¡± Bertruda¡¯s eyes flashed. It wasn¡¯t a metaphorical phrase; the sword saint¡¯s eyes glittered brightly as her progenitors¡¯ gift activated, further slowing her perception of time. ¡°Can¡¯t you see the situation? Learn your place and bow to your betters!¡±


    The first strike nearly ruptured Janine¡¯s nostril, and the second and third followed faster than she could blink. Sharp bites fell on the Taleteller, trying to slip past the indestructible metal and taste her flesh. Bertruda¡¯s focus and speed turned her spear into a blurry dome that shaved Janine¡¯s defense rather than touching it. As the attack intensified, the warlord lost count of the sword saint¡¯s strokes. The last thing she knew was that her opponent had exceeded thirty-nine stabs per second. Hunters, foot soldiers, and initiates cheered their leader, but soon those sounds died down.


    Only the dome in front of Bertruda remained; Janine¡¯s entire existence was concentrated on it. She refused to be fooled by the afterimages or feints, blocking the real strikes. Sparks flew in the air as the fighters pushed themselves to their very limits.


    Janine persevered, relying on her instincts and studying her opponent¡¯s movements with each blocked blow. Janine was never the fastest, and the defeats she had suffered at Marty¡¯s paws had taught her that her physical endurance and strength could only take her so far. She honed her combat style to prioritize defense, enjoying the battle, managing her anger, and perfecting the skill of avoiding mortal wounds. In many battles, when the warlord could not overcome her foe, she would stall, prolonging the fight until her pack or named sisters could assist her.


    Or until the opponent slipped.


    Their stalemate continued for ten minutes, each refusing to cede even a centimeter of ground to the opponent, and both too stubborn to break the fight and catch their breath. Sweat-soaked fur clung to their bodies; more and more red spots appeared between Bertruda¡¯s paws as she tried to push harder, and Janine¡¯s view narrowed to the short corridor ahead of her.


    It couldn¡¯t last. Ravager had left a wound too deep, and left untreated, it spread fever through Janine¡¯s quivering body. First shouted something, probably encouraging Bertruda; the Ice Fangs were in on it, Janine was sure of it. The crash of steel against steel drowned out his words, but Bertruda capitalized on Janine¡¯s gasping and struck, cleaving through the coat¡¯s side and exposing the warlord¡¯s ribs.


    Superb combat sense! Janine smiled, blood bubbling on her lips. I¡¯d be honored to see you join the tribe, Flame Girl! But I too have a duty to win.


    Dominate. Alone. No pack to aid. Impossible to outlast the enemy. Outsmarted. Outmaneuvered. Tired. Janine abandoned the defense, inhaling the air and supplanting the lost strength with a surge of frustration and fear. What if something happens to Ignacy? What if someone hurt Marco while she was away? What if she loses the title, bringing shame to the pack that had helped her for so long?


    She had treated Bertruda as a challenger, someone whose life needed to be preserved for the sake of the future. No longer. She¡¯ll take on the sword saint like a fellow sister.


    A lunge inside the dome resulted in an ear split as Janine twisted her neck, dodging a stab that would have left her with a hole between her eyes. She fended off the returning spear and reached for Bertruda. The claws of her left paw closed on Bertruda¡¯s shoulder, and Janine slammed her knee into the solar plexus of the sword saint, landing her axe against the spear¡¯s shaft.


    Bertruda groaned in pain, unable to free herself from the hooked claws digging into her bones and nailing the sword saint in place. She blinked as she saw the jaws coming at her crimson eyes¡­


    ¡°Restraint¡­ Sister¡­¡± gurgled a voice.


    The ghost returned. Terrific. The ruined and dead warlord skulked outside the warriors¡¯ circle, hunched low. Through a slit in the sages¡¯ armor, a dim amber eye stared at Janine. There was no life in this eye, and necrosis around the eye socket threatened to let the orb fall out. And still, this was her. Dead and yet existing.


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    Janine¡¯s worst crime against the tribe. She had stolen such a valuable person who could have saved hundreds of lives, simply because she had let rage overwhelm her. Was she going to do it again? Was she really willing to blind Bertruda, the female whose troops had rushed to save her boy and whose medics had treated her soldiers? And because of what? For fear of losing?


    Never again. Janine clenched her jaws together and head-butted Bertruda, smashing her nose. Still pushing the spearhead away with the Taleteller, Janine let go of the wounded shoulder and wrapped her arm around the sword saint, lifting the woman into the air and holding her tightly against her chest to prevent Bertruda from using the weapon at such close range.


    Without the slightest hint of mercy, Janine cast Bertruda to the ground, collapsing like a comet and breaking the ground beneath them with the sword saint¡¯s back. She increased the pressure even further by slamming her body on top of the sword saint. The blow was powerful enough to knock the air out of Bertruda¡¯s lungs and drive the shaft of her spear into her body, leaving a long dent in her underarmor.


    Janine prepared to repeat the slam. Even exhausted, she had an upper paw over her opponent. Bertruda was overconfident; she had forgotten the desperation and spite that Wolfkins were known for. Never give up. If you are going to lose, make your opponent sweat hard to get that victory, and try to take him with you. The crimson eyes of the Ice Fangs were amazing, but the universe had balanced them out, leaving the ice boys with less stamina and physical strength. Now that the sword saint had exhausted all her reserves, Janine wasn¡¯t about to let her take a breather.


    A groan escaped Janine¡¯s lips. Bertruda reached for the spearhead, and it came off, still connected to the shaft by a chain. Bertruda plunged the dagger into Janine¡¯s biceps and kicked, pushing off the large body and leaping into the air. A stroke of bad luck landed the kick right on the wound left by the Blessed Mother, and the world turned red. Janine let go of the axe and grabbed Bertruda¡¯s ankle, tearing flesh and scratching bones.


    She used Bertruda like a whip, stopping the downward arc at the last moment. The creaking sound of the living whip stunned the initiates. The sages had to physically restrain the Mountaintop knights from rushing to stop the brutal battle. Bertruda screamed in genuine pain, bleeding from her mouth. The shock lasted only a split second, and she curled into a ball, striking Janin¡¯s arm with her improvised dagger and forcing the warlord to let her go.


    ¡°Un¡­¡± Bertruda slipped on her wounded foot and vomited. She limped away, reassembling her spear. ¡°Unforgivable. To drag me to this level, to reduce a noble duel to a graceless brawl¡­¡±


    ¡°Enjoying it?¡± Janine picked up the axe and dropped to one knee. Everything ached. Bertruda¡¯s blow to her leg had made the limb weak; the dagger had severed her arteries, but the blood clotting process was already well underway, sealing them up. The damaged muscles were worse, and a pulsing napalm fire burned where Ravager had pierced her.


    Bertruda growled, surprising Janine with such brutal behavior.


    The girl has lost it. Age and immaturity had played a cruel trick on her mind, fooling her into believing she was invincible. Janine was not kind; she had done enough damage to the Sword Saint¡¯s organs that further attacks risked permanently crippling her. Bertruda won¡¯t hold back; she had already tried to kill Janine once in their combat. As the elder of the two, Janine had to finish the fight in a way that would save both lives for the state.


    So, what can I work with? Bertruda¡¯s broken nose disturbed her breathing. This would ensure that the sword saint wouldn¡¯t endure a prolonged fight. Further, her ankle is already swollen and undoubtedly sprained. This should stop her annoying, graceful fluttering. Next, the damage from the blow and the wound on her shoulder.... Not enough. Insufficient for a definite victory.


    Should I¡­ give up? Just thinking about it caused Janine genuine anguish. She could win; she knew it In battle, nothing is definitive, yet she possessed sufficient understanding of Bertruda¡¯s tactics to grind her down, meticulously preparing her for the ultimate strike of her blade. And who would benefit from this? Who, other than the enemies of the state, would benefit from me slaughtering another champion? How many people would be alive today if I¡¯d just held back and kept Terrific alive?


    ¡°Hey,¡± Janine began. ¡°White-furred. Still awake?¡± The growling again. She knew how to stop it. Janine started to expose her neck.


    A smack to her muzzle threw her into the air, heating the right side of her snout so much that it felt like it would fall off. She rolled across the stony ground, still holding the axe, and stopped at First¡¯s feet, coughing and wheezing for every breath.


    Ravager. The Blessed Mother drew herself to full height, and her long shadow covered Janine. In unison, the ranks of the Ice Fangs knelt, and the sages bowed the initiates¡¯ heads in submission. Even First offered his neck to the Blessed Mother.


    Janine understood the reason for their nervousness. Ravager had been an absent mother to the Ice Fangs, visiting them mostly to fight with the Twins. After their deaths, she had only visited her ice children once, so that First could finish the picture of the Blessed Mother and the Twins standing side by side. They feared the commander might bite the precious cubs.


    ¡°Stand up, all. I warned you.¡± Ravager backhanded Janine, knocking her to the ground. Janine heard a cracking sound and realized, in shock, that it wasn¡¯t a rock. The Blessed Mother¡¯s slap made her bones rattle. ¡°I ordered you not to act like a warlord.¡± Another slap forced Janine to gasp as her ribs cracked. ¡°You dare disobey me?¡± On more. ¡°Why can¡¯t you behave?¡± Janine¡¯s body sank into the ground from a stomp. ¡°Why can¡¯t you be normal, like the Ice Fangs? Noble, kind, respectful! Why do you always provoke violence, you worthless, aggressive monsters? You needed another title, didn¡¯t you?¡± Ravager asked calmly. ¡°I¡¯m taking all titles away from you, miserable warlord. Mockery of the tribe.¡± She spat on the prostrate Wolfkin. ¡°You lost this duel, bringing shame to the pack.¡±


    ¡°Blessed Mother!¡± The amber suns forced Bertruda to stand upright. ¡°Your intervention was not necessary. Warlord Janine did not dishonor anyone. I initiated this duel and had the situation under control. Moreover, I was about to win¡­¡±


    ¡°How oblivious can a person be? Are you blind, Bertruda, or is this the result of a concussion?¡± Camellia snarled, dropping her icy facade. First placed a paw on her shoulder, calming the fellow sword saint.


    ¡°Silence. Silence. Silence!¡± Ravager bellowed the third word, and the noises in the camp died down. The white-furred wolfkins turned still, breathing slowly so as not to incur the wrath of nature. Ravager grabbed Janine by the scruff of her neck and lifted her up, lightly smacking her head on her forehead. ¡°Do you think me mad?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine responded immediately, grimacing under the pressure threatening to pop her head. ¡°You have reason to punish me, though I do not know what wrong I have done, Blessed Mother. Warlords face each other all the time.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ you speak true¡­¡± Ravager chuckled, loosening his grip. ¡°But you are half-wrong. I am mad. Unstable. And I do have a reason. If a sword saint swore an oath and didn¡¯t keep it, she¡¯s no longer a sword saint. Tell me, what did Bertruda tell you before or during the scramble?¡±


    ¡°She claimed to see me on the ground and hear my bones snapping.¡± Janine bit her lip, feeling Ravager¡¯s finger run over her head, checking for cracks.


    ¡°Done. Anything else?¡± Ravager¡¯s words demanded an answer, almost suffocating Janine¡¯s will.


    She wanted to lie. The Blessed Mother hated submissions from warlords. Often, she and Alpha snapped at the others, provoking the sisters to stand up for themselves and trust their decisions rather than blind faith in the Blessed Mother. Dragena summoned the newly promoted sisters regularly, patiently explaining to them how to use tactics and restrain their fervor when challenging a rival pack to a war game. Janine never had to suffer a defeat from either Alpha or Dragena, but Martyshkina¡¯s insolent tongue had led her to utter humiliation in Dragena¡¯s paws. Although this did little to hold the idiot down.


    But at the same time, Janine refused to accept pity from anyone. Whether knowingly or unknowingly, she had wronged and deserved punishment. Grow through hardship; such was the way of the Wolf Tribe. Where others broke down, they rose from the ashes of defeat and marched forward. Lost honor is just honor waiting to be reclaimed, just like the land.


    ¡°To bow to my betters.¡± Janine¡¯s smile mirrored Ravager¡¯s, who let her go. ¡®Betters¡¯ was the keyword. She bowed to the Blessed Mother, whose trembling paw patted her. She then extended her bow to Camelia and First, who graciously returned her bow. And, after hesitation, to Tancred, who gave the lowest bow in return. ¡°You won. I am Bull-Slayer no more,¡± Janine tossed to Bertruda, limping past her.


    She ignored the sages¡¯ offer to treat her wounds, as well as the sudden change in her opponent¡¯s snout when Tancred said something in the sword saint¡¯s ear. But she accepted the heavy cloak to cover her nakedness. Shame and hatred stirred in her soul. And it wasn¡¯t Ravager¡¯s words or the defeat she had suffered. Even the loss of the honorable name she had earned for so long didn¡¯t bother her. Ravager was right: Fame comes and goes.


    Janine hated herself. A warlord has responsibilities. One of them is to mediate conflicts between packs, thus preventing the loss of life. A warlord is expected to avoid falling into obvious traps. The Ice Fangs used her to humiliate the tribe. Her actions distracted even the Blessed Mother from her duties. Worthless, miserable warlord indeed. Never again. Janine vowed to herself, deciding to be better.

 Chapter 16: Mother and Daughter

    Janine returned to the busy city, startled by the sight of a metal minion buzzing past her on a street.


    ¡°Hold, please, mistress!¡± A scream stopped her paws from raising the axe. Two Normie soldiers, accompanied by a man in a dirty white suit, hurried toward her. She recognized the crying boy from the communication tower. The explosive collar was removed, and the kid held a square, unwieldy terminal in his hands. ¡°Help! With the evacuation!¡± he stammered, pointing at a sizeable crate in the drone¡¯s manipulators.


    ¡°Keon means he¡¯s enlisted in the army and is responsible for transporting medical supplies from a clinic down the street, warlord,¡± a soldier said. He took off the gas mask and face protection, exposing the scarred face of a middle-aged red-headed man to the toxic air. A bullet or a dagger had pierced the man¡¯s eye socket years ago, and the eye had sunk deep into the skull. The soldier reached for a cig and lit it.


    ¡°Your assistance is welcomed, citizen,¡± Janine told the kid and addressed the soldier. ¡°If you seek to kill yourself, do it on your own damn time.¡±


    ¡°Artificial lungs.¡± The soldier slapped himself on the chest. ¡°These beauties are keeping me alive. Although exhaling through my back tends to make the armor smell, warlord.¡±


    ¡°Drop smoking; problem solved. At ease,¡± Janine grumbled, giving her paw to the males. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡±


    ¡°Commander Ravager is done playing nice with the region,¡± said the soldier, enjoying his cigarette. ¡°Alpha¡¯s girls have ventured to the west; their forces are supposed to bring in the people from the outlying villages. Dragena and Ygritte¡¯s ladies are on their way east to do the same and convince the rebels to come along.¡±


    ¡°Rebels?¡± Janine¡¯s ears perked.


    ¡°Villagers who rebelled against the bitch¡­ Techno-Queen, mistress¡­¡± Keon shrank in fear as the attention shifted to him.


    ¡°Name¡¯s Janine. Warlord Janine, when it is official,¡± she reminded him. ¡°Also, your metal monster is about to crash into a building,¡± she added, spotting a minion flying toward a wall.


    ¡°Oh, sorry, Jani.¡± Keon¡¯s fingers tapped something on the terminal and the machine changed its trajectory, climbing over the wall and holding a smaller leather bag closer to its belly. The boy went white in the face after realizing what he had said, but the soldiers¡¯ chuckles reassured him. ¡°Some villagers took off to the mountain ranges. They tried to sneak into the Ravaged Lands up north, but the Blood Court, Malformed, and¡­¡± he stopped, but Janine caught the meaning. The Reclamation Army owned a fort in the region, and the locals feared it after the Blessed Mother had skinned the slave lords ruling it alive. ¡°They survive by secretly trading minerals for food and water in the villages¡­¡±


    ¡°How do you know it, then?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°It is a badly kept secret, Janine,¡± Keon replied. ¡°I think Techno-Queen allowed them to stay there to test her bigger toys¡¯ ability to navigate in the narrow tunnels. They would sometimes bring some rebels back to the city to be drowned in a waste for everyone to see.¡± He swallowed and looked at her. ¡°What will happen to them?¡±


    ¡°Nothing if they see reason. If not, their leaders will be culled, and the evacuation will happen either way. The commander¡¯s order is simple: the entire younger population is to be saved, even against their will. Anything else?¡± she asked the soldier.


    ¡°Not much. Warlord Onyxia¡­¡± This time, it was Janine who laughed. Alpha looked down on speaking with the lower ranks, but Janine herself often ignored the Normies¡¯ casual fraternizing disrespect after a hard-fought battle. But no one in their right mind dared to speak Onyxia¡¯s name without due respect. She never saw the woman harm a Normie, but Onyxia¡¯s uncanny ability to be in the most unexpected places unnerved the troopers and earned her almost divine reverence. ¡°Yeah, very funny, Janine. Not all of us want to wake up at midnight to a snout demanding an urgent inspection, thank you very much. Anyway, the most honored warlord¡­¡± the man raised his voice, ¡°¡­.is busy subduing a half-empty raider base. The medical team wants as many resources as they can get.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this enough?¡± Keon asked, directing a small convoy of flying minions carrying crates overhead. ¡°There are prosthetics, antibiotics, artificial organs, and even immune-restoring injections! To be honest, I never even knew we had those, not until your doctor jabbed me with four syringes.¡±


    ¡°Our doctor, Keon,¡± Janine told the boy, and put a paw on his shoulder. ¡°You are now a member of the Third. Congratulations. Don¡¯t think that your work is unappreciated; the medics undoubtedly would¡¯ve thrown a party to honor you and those who helped find and transport these supplies if they hadn¡¯t been awake for sixteen to nineteen hours every day.¡±


    ¡°Not to sound disrespectful, but you look like shit, Janine,¡± said the soldier smoking a cigarette, pointing at the wet stains on her clothes.


    ¡°Well aware. Carry on, soldiers.¡± Janine nodded to them and left for an encampment meant to treat the ¡®lightly wounded¡¯ New Breeds.


    Contrary to the name, the camp wasn¡¯t small. Armored, all-terrain transports rammed their way past the ruined wall, flattening the remains of the bunkers. They carried what looked like thick metal boxes instead of troops and weapons compartments. Once stopped, the walls of these boxes opened akin to blossoming flowers, forming an individual field medical station, fully equipped with an operating room, cold storage, a dressing station, and a sleeping compartment.


    Captain Cristobo organized this highly mobile medical force. The daring assaults led by the Wolf Tribe and other New Breeds of the Third often resulted in soldiers bleeding out in the field before their comrades could deliver them into the crawler¡¯s confines. These mobile hospitals alleviated the situation somewhat, saving hundreds of lives, but to this day the casualties were high, as something that could threaten a Wolfkin¡¯s life usually demanded immediate medical attention, and no Normie surgeon, power armor or not, could hope to keep up with the New Breeds at a fore.


    The warlord stopped, sensing the scent of her pack. A scout from Melina¡¯s pack barged from an entrance, and Janine stepped into her path as if by accident, knowing full well what would happen next. The woman cursed, trying to bypass the warlord, and opened her jaws in pain as a taser¡¯s shot caught her across the back. The discharge buckled her legs, and two darts struck her nape, sending the scout sprawling face down.


    ¡°And this is how it is done,¡± a dark-skinned medic in a crisp white uniform explained the procedure. Green crosses on his chest and arms marked him as a noncombatant. He holstered a tranquilizer rifle and a taster and approached the downed Wolfkin alongside another medic who was pulling a stretcher beside her.


    ¡°But isn¡¯t this disrespectful to our masters?¡± the female medic asked. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t we ask¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord!¡± the scout groaned, struggling to raise a paw. ¡°I am capable! I am ready to reunite with the pack¡­¡±


    ¡°No, no, you got it all wrong. Don¡¯t ask, demand. Most of the time, we outrank them. The Wolfkins seek death, and it is our job to ensure their survival. It is as simple as that; some barbarians won¡¯t know their limits no matter what,¡± said the male medic. Janine threw her soldier onto the stretcher, and the medic secured the scout, ignoring the warlord. ¡°She is prescribed four weeks of rest, and by the Planet I shall see it done, even if I have to chain her to a bed inside the crawler.¡±


    ¡°Release me, you soothsaying meddlers!¡± roared the scout. ¡°These wounds are not enough to keep me down! I ain¡¯t this weak! I can serve!¡±


    ¡°Are all of them like this?¡± the female medic inquired.


    ¡°Oh yes. Unbearable bitches. Don¡¯t let them walk over you. This is why you have to learn how to shoot; it¡¯s sort of mandatory for a member of the Third, unless you want to have your patients slip away¡­¡± the doctor explained to his new colleague.


    Marco stepped from another medical tent, his terminal in paw, and frowned in worry, seeing the new wounds covering his mother.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± Janine shrugged. ¡°How is your nose?¡±


    ¡°Eh, stopped bleeding a while ago.¡± Marco sniffed the air and put on his beret. ¡°A doctor set my bones properly and gave me candy for good behavior. Sorry, got to run. Wolf Hag Anissa expects a full report from the packs assisting the logistics teams.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing¡­¡± She barely made a single step forward before a doctor in a white protective suit stopped her and placed a hand on her stomach. Through the transparent visor, Janine saw a sallow face with deeply sunken, tired eyes. ¡°What do you want, Maxence?¡±


    Janine learned, once and for all, never to insult or disrespect someone taking care of your body. The last time she tried it, the woman had first patched up her pierced heart and then given Janine medication to set her mood straight. Martyshkina had laughed her ass off, rolling in the dirt, holding her sides like a cub as she listened to the less than dignified sounds of Janine¡¯s bowels forcibly emptying themselves and the scout¡¯s embarrassed groans. That torture had lasted for an hour!


    The Wolf Tribe had a tense relationship with the medics. The Dynast¡¯s orders were clear: obey and listen to them in everything. Never dare to harm a medic. A Wolfkin would rather die than disobey the order of the supreme ruler. This was drilled into them by the Blessed Mother, who despised and hated any medical personnel. Such a schizophrenic relationship had brought confusion, but the Wolfkins found ways around it. Most of the medics were Normies, and even if it was banned to harm them, a Wolfkin could sneak away, pretending not to hear the medical teams¡¯ orders.


    Maxence was a medic who dared to talk back to the warlords and even the commander herself. When he thought a domination was going too far or that the Blessed Mother was about to kill another Wolfkin, this small, wizened man would step in. Lost in her fury, Ravager had even sliced off his arm at the elbow, claiming him to be just another ¡®whitecoat¡¯. Maxence replaced his lost limb and refused to change his behavior, earning himself genuine respect from the warlords.


    ¡°You are injured, Janine.¡± His voice was barely a whisper; he blinked three times, bracing against fatigue, and pointed at her bleeding arm. ¡°After me.¡±


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    ¡°This? This paper cut has already been closed by¡­¡±


    ¡°After. Me.¡±


    Janine clenched her fangs but obeyed, following the doctor inside the metal tent. The newly formed medical institutions, funded by Commanders Devourer and Outsider, not only taught the new generations about medical science but also instilled love and care for people in their students. Janine almost found it admirable and certainly respected them for their dedication¡­ However, the doctors were a pain in the ass to get around.


    The tent¡¯s outer part had an abraded look and even traces of enduring gunfire, but inside there was a pristine atmosphere. Mechanical systems filtered the air, the interior walls were smooth. Special rails in the floor made it easy to move heavy cabinets holding medicaments and surgical equipment. Maxence placed Janine on a gurney that creaked under her weight and secured her injured limb in an armrest. He removed her cloak and sighed at the injuries underneath.


    ¡°Not making it easy, are you, Janine?¡± he asked, calling two nurses to assist him. Knowing better than to argue, the warlord simply listed the extent of her damage.


    A nurse brought a stool closer for Janine to rest her injured knee on, and another limb-support system held it in place. Painkillers numbed the uncomfortable sensation, and she leaned against a wall, letting the medics work. Several members of the military police were present here, hands on their stun batons and their faces unreadable behind the helmets of their combat plates. It was another invention of Captain Cristobo, who had his fill of losing valuable personnel and assigned guards to oversee the situations in his field hospitals.


    Beside her, there were six Wolfkins here, five of them wounded. Four of them slept because of the sedatives. Janine smirked, seeing how a nurse washed away blood from a wounded Wolfkin¡¯s thigh, only to discover a formed scar beneath.


    The last wounded Wolfkin belonged to her own pack. Scout Elzada. A good and loyal soldier, whose dark-void fur promised a great future. Regrettably, the bull¡¯s energy beam had severed her at the knee, and a metal insect had sliced through her armor, rupturing a lung beyond even a Wolfkin¡¯s capability to heal. Anissa knelt beside her wounded comrade, holding her paw.


    ¡°My¡­¡± Elzada gasped for air, struggling to speak. ¡°My decision is final. I refuse¡­¡±


    Elzada screamed, squirming in agony as Anissa turned her finger into a pancake, turning the phalanges into bone powder. The nurses shouted for the guards, but Anissa waved them away, putting a paw on Elzada¡¯s chest to calm her.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just order her?¡± Maxence asked.


    ¡°It is Elzada¡¯s decision to make,¡± Janine replied. The doctor requested a set of mechanical arms and warned her of possible pain as he repositioned the bones of her misaligned knee. Despite his warnings, there was no discomfort. ¡°And it is Anissa¡¯s job to keep the pack alive.¡±


    ¡°You want her to live or what?¡± Anissa smiled into the face of a hesitating nurse. ¡°Thought so. Let me work my magic. So, Elzada, about that new limb and the lung. I really think you should take them.¡±


    ¡°I will not be despoiled¡­¡± Elzada¡¯s words turned into a howl as Anissa first cracked her wrist and then her elbow, twisting the arm at an unnatural angle. ¡°Pain is nothing! Nothing! My will is iron!¡±


    ¡°How right you are.¡± Anissa¡¯s muzzle nuzzled the wolfkin¡¯s ear, and she whispered softly. ¡°See, you have a beautiful son, Elzi-girl. It would be a shame if someone squashed him now that you are not around anymore, right?¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± The wounded woman licked her lips. ¡°You wouldn¡¯t dare¡­¡±


    ¡°Banish the thought!¡± Anissa released her claws for Elzada to see. ¡°But you know how our people are. On the other paw, your stubborn refusal has¡­ upset me, to tell the truth. I might just take it out on that friend of yours. Bite her snout off or something; not really decided yet.¡±


    ¡°Bitch!¡± The scout tried to stand up, only to fall helplessly back on the gurney. ¡°Fine! Graft metal on me and prolong my misery! Sever my connection to the Spirits forever more; just don¡¯t hurt them!¡±


    ¡°Found a will to live, aint¡¯cha? You make the pack proud.¡± The smile faded, and Anissa pressed her paws together in prayer. ¡°Worry not about the Spirits¡¯ wrath. Many people err on their life paths, but the Spirits¡¯ love for us is eternal. They give us life, and they give us the duty to save the lives of those who can¡¯t protect themselves. Everything else is irrelevant. Should you find yourself devoid of flesh, should microchips replace the synapses of your brain, should a blood pumper replace your heart¡­ Your duty will sustain you. Save people; stay true to your comrades; dominate; and strive to be better. Do this, and you will never walk alone, for we all will meet once more on the other side, restored to our perfect forms. Sleep now, Elzada, and know that the Spirits¡¯ grace is with you.¡±


    ¡°And one day I¡¯ll kick your ass, Nissi.¡± Elzada smirked and cursed upon receiving a playful smack on the head. ¡°You won¡¯t hurt them¡­¡±


    ¡°Course not,¡± Anissa promised. ¡°I may or may not know a few girls back in the village who owe me. Don¡¯t worry, your boy will never forget his breakfast again.¡±


    ¡°I am fucking hate you stubborn freaks. We have the patient¡¯s permission!¡± The nurse yelled, dragging the gurney with the wounded out of the tent. ¡°Prepare the operating room ASAP!¡±


    ¡°Nicely done,¡± Janine said, clenching her fist to see whether the bandages around her wound were restrictive. The medical personnel around them left to treat Elzada, leaving just a few MPs to watch over the wounded. Janine snapped her fingers, commanding them to step outside and provide some privacy.


    ¡°All in a day¡¯s work, ma¡¯am.¡± Anissa bowed. She didn¡¯t ask about the outcome of the duel. The warlord¡¯s silence was enough for an answer.


    Janine¡¯s free arm moved in a burst of speed, grabbing her daughter by the throat before the woman could see her. Anissa clawed at the thicker limb, filling Janine with pride at such a display of bravery. The wolf hag showed restraint, refusing to attack the freshly treated parts.


    ¡°Speaking of duty.¡± Janine¡¯s claw lifted the eyepatch to reveal the empty socket. ¡°Anissa, I have put up with your antics for a long time. Spirit of Loss, be my witness; I have coddled you for far too long, and today our family has suffered a blow because of my incompetence.¡± Her daughter¡¯s remaining eye widened. ¡°Yes, mine. I am in charge. Everything that happens under my command is my fault, Anissa. Ignacy¡¯s injury is my fault, not yours; it was my mistake that I will now rectify. You have the skills, knowledge, and speed; only your field of vision has caused the incident. Anissa, I know not if you keep this wound as a memory of your loss to that girl¡­¡±


    ¡°Not a girl,¡± Anissa whispered. ¡°It was an insectoid.¡±


    Janine let go of her daughter¡¯s neck, trying to compute what she had just heard. Not a girl? But¡­ why lie? For a while, Janine did not know what to say. She had always assumed that her family would always tell her the truth about everything, and nothing less. How else could she protect them when someone was dominating them in the pits or packs? Never, she had never raised a paw on her children for speaking the truth, not even when Ignacy took apart her private energy rifle and couldn¡¯t assemble it back. It was her rule that the truth, no matter how difficult, was always welcome in her family and her pack. For the Spirits¡¯ sake, even males could step in and give her their grievances without risking their hides being scarred.


    ¡°Explain yourself,¡± she asked simply, trying to sound gentle. The girl had a reason to lie; there could be no doubt about it.


    ¡°I lost my eye during field training.¡± Anissa sat nearby and bit her lip. ¡°It was a stupid mistake, honest. I¡¯ve killed dozens of drones before, but that day I was riled up about¡­ to be honest, I don¡¯t even remember what it was. Maybe Elzi broke my rib, or a boy rebuffed my advances. Either way, I steamed from frustration, hopping from boulder to boulder and smashing myself a path. That blasted drone had sprung from a crack, and the next thing I knew, its claw was in my eye. I refused an augment because¡­ Well, you know. I believed myself to be pathetic for losing an eye to such a parasite. And when I thought about the disappointment on your face, I¡­ lied,¡± she finished weakly.


    ¡°Are you telling me I broke the legs of the girls in your group for nothing?¡± Janine exploded.


    Family mattered to the Wolfkins. The strong must rule, but the strong must also be smart; otherwise, they are not strong, only brutish. Thus, when some girls dominated others, their family members could show up to protect their blood kin. This sometimes led to feuds between extensive families. Although such cases were rare, mothers almost always spent time in faraway wars, and fathers were too weak to stop a rampaging teen. Nonetheless, this caused motherless cubs to grow up, carefully weighting their opinions and forming entire alliances to ensure their safety before dominating others. Janine knew much of this; her own mother had abandoned her for the crime of being misshapen.


    So, upon learning what had happened to her daughter, she first forcibly brought her to a hospital. Then she visited the pits and identified the fiercest, cleverest, and cruelest of the future leaders. And she introduced them to the concept of humility, causing the rest to cringe at the cracking bones. No one dared challenge her for this.


    ¡°Wait, it was you? You are the reason our group calmed down and everyone graduated?¡± Anissa burst into laughter, seeing her mother¡¯s face, and for a second, Janine had a desire to throttle the stupid girl. ¡°When I came back to the pits, they spun a story about how they had challenged a wolf hag to a fight and gave her one hell of a beating, leaving her limping!¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t a fight, and this isn¡¯t a joking matter, Anissa,¡± Janine tried to explain. ¡°Abyss, take me; I intervened in a natural selection for naught! Warlords are meant to be better than this. I must find the females I hurt and apologize.¡±


    ¡°Elzada is one of them. So if you want, feel free to drop by after the operation. She¡¯ll probably be seething in bile for a while, though.¡±


    ¡°Praise be the Spirits; I can undo some of the harm to their honor,¡± Janine sighed in relief. She wasn¡¯t angry because of the lie. Why should she be? As a warlord, it is one of her duties to lead the tribe during a war. If her own daughter could mislead her, it meant that Janine still had a long way to go. ¡°What I did was wrong. I gave in to fear; I didn¡¯t trust in your ability to stand up for yourself, and for this, I am eternally sorry.¡±


    ¡°For what?¡± Anissa hugged her. ¡°What girl doesn¡¯t like to be protected by her mom?¡±


    ¡°Is that so? Regardless, I couldn¡¯t behave otherwise. Not after what had happened to your sister.¡± They both fell silent, remembering the lost friends. Finally, Janine sighed. ¡°It was good to talk like a family.¡±


    ¡°Should do it more often,¡± Anissa agreed. ¡°There are a lot of little things I ought to tell you about. My first boy, my first kiss, my first ice cream cone¡­¡±


    ¡°The what? Is that some slang for one of the Ice Boys? Wait, Ani, you didn¡¯t mean their...¡±


    ¡°No! See?¡± Her daughter beamed. ¡°I know things you didn¡¯t even hear about! After the reunification?¡±


    ¡°After the reunification,¡± Janine promised. It was a hollow promise, as neither of them will live this long. But miracles do happen. And if they live to this glorious moment, she¡¯ll gather her entire family, and they¡¯ll visit one of those... what do the Normies call it? A restaurant, yes. Note to self: Learn what an ice cream cone is. ¡°Your eye is a weakness, Anissa. And weakness must be removed or turned into strength. Get a new one.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am!¡± Anissa straightened up and then took herself by the chin. ¡°Chak ought to have access to some advanced models.¡± Her eye flashed. ¡°Perhaps I¡¯ll even be able to access the Net through the prosthetic!¡±


    ¡°Chief quartermaster Chak,¡± Janine¡¯s growl corrected her daughter. Chak was sensitive about his rank, and he had every reason for it. Far too many people viewed him as someone lesser due to his lineage. He deserved some well-earned respect.


    ¡°Yes, he and I are going to have dinner to¡­¡± Janine grabbed her daughter by the shoulder mid-sentence.


    ¡°Anissa. He is¡­ The chief quartermaster is¡­ Chak is a centipede! He is strong, yes, and under other circumstances, I would¡¯ve approved of your choice. But¡­ I am not sure it is even possible for you two to mate, much less to have cubs¡­¡±


    ¡°Mom, we are just having fun, that¡¯s all.¡± Her daughter raised her palms, fighting back a smile. ¡°He is not my soulmate, if you are worried about it. It¡¯s¡­ How can I explain it? When his coils close around you, his mandibles play a clicking song behind your ear, and his legs run down your spine¡­ Ah, it¡¯s truly a one-of-a-kind feeling. Any of us can die at any moment, might as well live in a moment too, right?¡±


    Chak deserves to be butchered! That many-legged, horny son of a whore dares to touch my little girl?! I will rip his head off his none-existent shoulders and shove it into his¡­ Janine forced herself to calm down and released her daughter. Life was weird. Anissa has a right to a private life and freedom just as much as she does.


    ¡°Sure thing. Just don¡¯t do anything overly strange, okay? And keep studying. No matter what, your future must not be denied to you. You will become a shaman, like your sister, and that is final.¡± Janine leaned back against the wall. ¡°Gather the pack after you finish helping the engineers. I have a confession to give after the doctors are done patching me up and after a talk with Ignacy. Abyss, how am I supposed to convince him to take a new arm¡­¡±


    ¡°I have a feeling that you don¡¯t need to worry about that.¡± Anissa mysteriously smiled and left the room, calling the MPs back.

 Chapter 17: A Path for Another

    Janine had to spend more time in the tent than she would have liked. Maxence ignored her protests and made her sit down and eat a cusack¡¯s weight of nutrient paste, while he cleaned her injuries, pushed the dislocated bones and joints back into place, and sutured the wounds.


    ¡°You know this isn¡¯t needed, right?¡± Janine grumbled in-between stuffing her mouth. ¡°I once¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ survived an entire month eating nothing but licking moss off rocks.¡± Maxence rolled his eyes at her confusion. ¡°I read your file, Janine. Listen, how about you shut up about teaching me how to do my job, and I won¡¯t nag you about Anissa¡¯s behavior?¡±


    ¡°She is a good girl,¡± the warlord growled defensively. ¡°Loyal. Gentle. Smart. Would gladly give a life to save you.¡±


    ¡°And she added us more work,¡± the doctor said, swallowing a pill to stave off the exhaustion and closing his bloodshot eyes. ¡°Never thought I¡¯d say it, but thank the Planet for Ravager¡¯s headache. We can use a rest.¡± His arms, encased in the military-grade exosuit¡¯s sleeves, ran over her legs, tapping at tendons to check reflexes and moving a scanner over the injured knee. Maxence was one of the few people Janine didn¡¯t feel ashamed of her short legs. Even tired and annoyed, the man somehow managed to be gentle. ¡°Hm, surprising. Despite the torn muscles around the upper tibia and behind the cracked articular cartilage, an elastic layer of muscle fibers stretching from the pelvis down to the toes allows you to walk with ease. There wasn¡¯t a mention of this in your file, and Ashbringer lacks this unusual phenomenon.¡±


    ¡°The Blessed Mother¡¯s gift changes us in unique ways,¡± Janine said, satisfied with her superiority over her named sister in at least something. Ashbringer¡¯s bone density was greater than hers, and she anguished about the inability to catch up with the woman, despite training just as rigorously.


    ¡°Mutates, you mean. Visit me later; a scan is needed to keep your medical records up to date. This is not a request, Janine,¡± he told her.


    ¡°As you command, Max,¡± she sighed. The doctor took off the oversized sleeve, rubbing his biological wrist with his metal hand. ¡°Listen. Ravager never apologized¡­¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing to apologize for,¡± Maxence cut her off and tapped on a bottle, reminding Janine to drink water. ¡°I was well briefed and chose to ignore the danger. I would have done the same choice today. The commander is not at fault; in a less fucked-up world, she would have received medical help in a mental institution instead of being forced into slaughter after slaughter. I will never blame a patient for lashing out due to the condition. But I wouldn¡¯t mind knowing more about the circumstances that led to such sporadic outbursts of aggression.¡±


    ¡°Not my secret to tell,¡± Janine told the inquisitive doctor. Maxence meant well. He desperately wanted to know why Ravager hated most scientists and medical personnel and even tried to talk things out. But the Blessed Mother kept him at arm¡¯s length, both for his and the tribe¡¯s safety.


    The Wolf Tribe weren¡¯t human. Only the warlords, the supreme shaman, and the Dynast knew of this. Although the liege had offered to let everyone know this fact and swore his protection, the Blessed Mother had refused the idea. The stigma against biological weapons permeated the world since the things birthed in the laboratories of the Old World haunted the planet to this day, often leaving desolated ruins in their wake. Ravager and Lacerated One encouraged the Wolfkins to think of themselves as humans, while Alpha tried her best to safeguard this shameful secret. There was no way the citizens could ever forgive such a tainted lineage, and existing under the Dynast¡¯s protection was no way to live.


    Legally, the Wolf Tribe wasn¡¯t in any trouble. The Dynast¡¯s dreadful intelligence agency, the Investigation Bureau, regularly cracked down on the racist groups, be they Normies, New Breeds or mutants. All living under the Reclamation Army¡¯s rule are humans by law, and those trying to divide people by appearance or birth faced severe punishment. But the stain remained. That filthy Chak had to go above and beyond to earn his rank, and no one knew how the Oathtakers or the blasted Iternian scumbags would treat the Wolfkins¡¯ prisoners if the truth came out. Memories of the Culling, a genocidal act carried out by Iterna, had fortified the resolve to conceal the unpleasant information about their origin from any outsiders.


    Janine thought nothing of it. She believed Alpha and Ashbringer to be stuck-up bitches, but saying so to their faces would spell uncounted pain for her. The same principle applied to the knowledge about their creation. Some things are better left unspoken.


    Once she satisfied Maxence¡¯s insistent requests, she left him dotting over the wounded and left the medical bay, wearing a proper jacket of rough cusack leather and similar pants, brought to her by Impatient One. The shaman herself led a small prayer, asking the Spirits to bless the medical personnel for rescuing tribesmen and to help the injured recover and grow stronger.


    Janine found her sons in another tent, the one meant to house those whose lives weren¡¯t in danger. They shared the space with the burned New Breeds from the work crews, who played cards, glancing amusedly at the furiously arguing wolfkins. Bogdan was out of his armor, standing in a green sleeveless shirt and simple pants. Ignacy lay on a bed, wrapped in a blanket to the waist. The nurses had bandaged the stump of his arm tightly, and the surrounding area had been shaved of fur, revealing his tanned skin.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Bogdan stood at attention, and even Ignacy tried to jump to his feet.


    ¡°At ease, both of you. It¡¯s just Janine for now.¡± She waved her paw and put her axe down. Janine hugged Bogdan and squatted before Ignacy¡¯s bed, still towering over him. ¡°Ignacy. I know it might go against your beliefs.¡± She clenched her paws, trying to find the right words to calm and persuade him without implying that he was weak. ¡°Son, our tribe has somewhat unique views about metal and the sanctity of flesh.¡± Ignacy tilted his head, and she hurriedly continued. ¡°Yes! The soul is important! How could it not be? It gives us emotions, love for our duty, and love for the people bequeathed to our protection. But the steel¡­ It isn¡¯t bad, Ignacy! You see me wielding an axe in battle instead of relying on my claws. You use a shardgun yourself, for it helps you fell a greater prey. The implants are the same!¡± She took him by the paw when a spark of something appeared in his gentle, amber eyes. ¡°Your family will never abandon you, no matter what, even if you choose to become a Crippled. But, please, consider¡­¡±


    ¡°Mom, I already agreed to the augmentation,¡± Ignacy said casually, and Janine¡¯s world cracked from relief.


    She stood up, trying to be dignified and presentable. Had Impatient One been here, she would¡¯ve rightly reprimanded the warlord, potentially ordering some flesh punishment. Family, no matter how much you love them, always takes a backseat when it comes to matters of the tribe. To avoid favoritism and weed out any possible seeds of corruption, warlords were expected to cut their families off and treat them like everyone else. No one forced a female to become a warlord; if she was unwilling to follow certain rules, she should not have taken the rank in the first place. In practice, however, most warlords maintained close ties with their families, often setting higher standards for their offspring. The shamans didn¡¯t fight this, believing it to be one of the many changes the future had brought to the tribe. Adapt and keep living, or struggle in vain and perish. Change was inevitable, and the shamans steered it in a positive direction rather than tearing the tribe asunder in a pointless struggle.


    Janine¡¯s heart raced happily. Her son won¡¯t be a Crippled! He won¡¯t turn into someone whose only goal in life is to eke out an existence and sacrifice himself to save the tribe in times of need. Relief had washed over her, banishing her hatred for herself. Her son will be fine! And given time, the rest can be fixed.


    ¡°Check this out.¡± Ignacy struggled a bit to scroll to something on a portable terminal before letting his brother help him. Its display flashed an image of a steel limb, causing Janine¡¯s eyes to narrow. Spirits are her witnesses; she wasn¡¯t the brightest lass when it came to machinery, but even her knowledge was enough to spot a strange tube in this limb, connected to a large container storing flammable material near the elbow. ¡°It took some pleading, but the technicians had agreed to test my design. Well, not really my own; I blatantly copied and adapted it from books we got from that bunker we stumbled upon a year ago, but that¡¯s beside the point! The idea was to install a generator powerful enough to emit plasma from my palm, but the logistics officer had shut down this idea¡­¡±


    Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Because it would be too expensive.¡± Bogdan rolled his eyes and pressed a button on the terminal to show Janine the initial design. Janine only whistled, reading about the damn thing¡¯s cost and output. Once fully charged, it could eat its way through an entire mountain if needed. ¡°My thoughts exactly. There¡¯s no way the state would give this experimental tech to grunts like us. And thank the Spirits for it; Ignacy would¡¯ve blown himself or others up while trying to wield it.¡±


    ¡°Lies!¡± Ignacy snapped and returned the image. ¡°I calculated everything! From recoil to an emergency shutdown in case of¡­ Know what? It doesn¡¯t really matter anymore, and I will not spend a second trying to convince laymen otherwise. Anyway, the downgraded model can unleash a stream of heat that can melt through a diamodite alloy upon prolonged exposure. Just imagine me jumping on a tank, pressing a palm against a hatch, and burning¡­¡±


    ¡°Slowpoke!¡± Bogdan stretched the word. ¡°You deal with the tanks by ripping off their hatches, dropping welcome gifts in the form of grenades down, and leaping onto the next one to repeat the process. Your method sounds like unnecessary extra steps.¡±


    ¡°Listen to the voice of reason, Ignacy.¡± Janine studied the schematic, examining the gripping strength and reaction and response times of the new arm, as well as the materials used in its construction. Seeing that it was comparable to a power suit, the warlord relaxed. ¡°I am proud of you. No, really,¡± she added as Ignacy hummed incredulously. ¡°You said you copied the design, but it was you who adapted it to our bodies. This is impressive, son.¡± She ruffled his hair and asked worriedly. ¡°Is there any way to attach claws to this arm? Girls might start to ignore a clawless male. If it costs too much, just tell me; maybe I can find some tokens¡­¡±


    ¡°It is fine,¡± Ignacy said, looking triumphantly at the image. ¡°Fyra caster is perfect as it is!¡±


    ¡°Flame caster,¡± Bogdan corrected him. ¡°What kind of name is fyra, anyway?¡±


    ¡°I heard it from a game! Mom¡­ I mean, Warlord Janine, this is my first major project!¡± Ignacy beamed, forgetting about his missing limb. ¡°Can you imagine? I actually created something of value! I am not useless!¡±


    ¡°You are never useless, Ignacy.¡±


    Just don¡¯t end like your brother. Janine bit her tongue. This was a high moment for her boy. No need to dwell on the sorrows of the past. The implants studding her flesh were the results of her firstborn, a somewhat unruly cub who shared Ignacy¡¯s passion and pushed far ahead in becoming one with the steel, dreaming about a day where his technological prowess would let him dominate a scout or even a wolf hag. His youthful naivete and eagerness to improve himself through the steel was so great that even Lacerated One couldn¡¯t find a heart to reprimand him. Oh, how wrong they were.


    What happened to her firstborn was Eugenia¡¯s and Skulltaker¡¯s fault, not a flaw in his knowledge of technology. But the strained squeals of her precious boy, the way his veins bulged beneath his skin shortly before rupturing, the agonized contortions of his limbs, and the despair in his beautiful amber eyes caused by his implants going awry and cooking her boy from within plagued her dreams.


    For that, she hated the fake saint and the precious little land of lies, Iterna. The Reclamation Army had a long history of rivalry with this mythical country.


    The Iternians, the bastards who survived the Extinction unscathed, proclaimed unity and friendship to the ruined wastes around them. In an attempt to win some goodwill, Iterna invited the brightest youths from around the world to attend their universities. They even provided convoys, and many countries sent soldiers to escort their children, losing some troops along the way during delivering their wards to Iterna¡¯s care.


    Zero accepted the proposal despite Ravager¡¯s advice. And lo-and-behold, Iterna¡¯s government had changed while her named sister was there, and they backstabbed her and the other youths, kicking non-Normies students into the Ravaged Lands without alerting their countries. No guides, no supplies, and the attack of a sand reaper, a most dangerous predator around the lands, have left hundreds of students dead and far more injured. And once the students turned back to the Iternian bastion, begging the guards for help, the Iternians left them to rot. Ravager¡¯s arrival prevented further tragedy.


    In the aftermath, Iterna suffered a major revolution and ostensibly tried to make amends, offering vast sums of money and free medical care to the victims of this atrocity and their families. Some agreed, but Zero saw through their lies and warned the tribe never to trust Iterna again. Then, a few years later, the entire world got exposed to the horror that was the apocalypse class, and the two countries came to blows once more.


    Amidst the painful birth of the new world, some people gained powers¡ªunnatural abilities granting various things. These powers, ranging from being able to foretell a disaster to being able to turn one¡¯s body into steel or summon fire from hands, were as numerous as they were varied in strength. Iterna, the Oathtakers, and the Reclaimers, the three strongest nations in the world, had agreed to rank these powers in order to track the whereabouts of the most potentially dangerous individuals.


    And among them, the strongest is the apocalypse class. These individuals are fully capable of destroying the entire world, sometimes by mere accident. The Reclaimers first experienced this horror when a wave of nightmares spread across the world, tormenting humans and animals alike. Superstitious tribes brought bloody sacrifices to their callous gods. Scientists tried various methods to stop the horrors, but even drugs that induce a dreamless sleep couldn¡¯t prevent demons from sleeping into a mind.


    Not only that, but these nightmares had also caused sand reapers to go on a rampage, killing thousands. An unfortunate mutant trapped alone on a mountaintop, unaware of the full extent of his power, caused all of this. He didn¡¯t even know he had power.


    The pack, including Janine and her son, set out to capture the mutant. Led by the young Blessed Mother, the pack arrived at the snowy heights, fighting through the groups of competitors who sought to find and control the mutant to achieve the world¡¯s unification. At the top, outside the mutant¡¯s house, Janine and her son faced off against Skulltaker and the damned Eugenia Mylli. In the ensuing combat, a lucky blow overloaded the implants of her boy before Eugenia left, taking the mutant with her at Ravager¡¯s permission when the rest of the vultures descended upon them. It sickened Janine to the bone, but she obeyed the order and fought beside the Iternians against the mad and ambitious.


    After the victory, Ravager forbade settling the score against the Iternians, and both groups descended. Janine ignored Eugenia and laid her precious boy into the pyre, prepared by Lacerated One herself. The mutilation of his body influenced the shaman; she embraced the teachings of the elder shamans, forbidding the males from tinkering with the technology to preserve them.


    Janine vowed to exact a blood price from Eugenia for her son¡¯s death, but in their next encounter, the false saint easily disarmed the wolf hag, refused to kill any member of the Wolf Tribe, and tried to make excuses, treating the prisoners amiable when the captured Janine roared her grievances into that angelic face. Unassailable Elite, the strongest soldier of Iterna, the wicked witch who murdered her son. Ravager was the only member of the Wolf Tribe who could match this bitch in battle. A most cursed and unattainable prey for Janine.


    ¡°You are great, Ignacy.¡± She hesitated and kissed his forehead, abandoning the dreams of vengeance for a while. Janine straightened up and flicked a finger at Ignacy¡¯s head, gifting him a tiny bruise. ¡°Never dare to call yourself useless again, silly cub. You risked your life to save lives on both sides today and were a loyal comrade. You have a family who cares for you and a keen mind. Is this not enough to satiate your sense of worth?¡±


    ¡°It is, warlord.¡± Her son bowed his head and laughed. ¡°I have allowed the shamans¡¯ chastisement and occasional mockery to cloud my mind and warp my words.¡±


    ¡°You are a good boy, Ignacy. So what if you have different tastes in life? I can live with it, and so can you. To the Abyss with anyone thinking otherwise,¡± Janine assured him. ¡°Yes, even the shamans; they don¡¯t own you, merely guide you. Change is constant. Obey the orders in war, but pursue the path you wish in life, as long as it does not bring evil to the weak.¡± These were the hardest words she spoke in a long time. A mother in her shouted to discourage him, but as a leader, she had no right to hinder the growth of her troops. Of course, she didn¡¯t believe in Zero¡¯s delusions that males of the Wolf Tribe could ever be equal to females, but to shrink from a challenge was unworthy of a Wolfkin. ¡°Bogdan, a Trial of Failure is about to begin. Will you attend?¡±


    ¡°With your permission, I would rather stay with my brother, Mother.¡± Bogdan bowed gracefully. ¡°The operation to install his new arm will begin in an hour, and I would like to cheer him up when he wakes.¡±


    ¡°And to tease me up, no doubt,¡± Ignacy mumbled with a smile.


    ¡°That comes without saying, dear brother,¡± Bogdan agreed eagerly, causing his brother to groan from embarrassment.


    ¡°Ignacy, you have ten days of leave to recuperate. Bogdan, I give you a day of leave to help Ignacy adjust to his new paw. No female is to dominate either of you during this period. Any who dares will find death at the tips of my claws,¡± Janine announced.


    ¡°Capital!¡± Bogdan clapped and pulled cards from his pants, addressing the workers. ¡°Okay, lasses, lads, pardon the scene; let¡¯s get to know each other better. Who¡¯s up for a round? Loser pays in nudes or rations¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it, soldier.¡± Janine grabbed his ear and looked at the grinning workers. ¡°Behave yourselves.¡± She let go of her son and stormed out to deliver herself to the pack¡¯s judgment.

 Chapter 18: A Trial and a Meeting

    The pack gathered outside the city, finding a spot in the shadow of a natural hill. There was no military gear or civilian garb here; every Wolfkin present only had their natural fur coat to protect them. Janine didn¡¯t growl, demanding obedience. She stepped into a circle of amber eyes, burning from shame and fuming in anger.


    ¡°When I brought Terrific low, I swore to become a worthy warlord. When I saw your performance in battle under my leadership, my heart sang, propelling me to greater heights. When Alpha herself bestowed upon me an honorary title, I believed I had finally transformed into the woman I had always aspired to be. Bull-Slayer, she dubbed me!¡± Janine said loudly, slamming the flat of her weapon against her barrel-shaped chest, accompanied by encouraging howls. She waited for them to cease, not trying to weasel out of the responsibility. ¡°I led you through the Abyss and back, and you never betrayed my expectations. However, I have betrayed you. Bertruda, a member of the Ice Fang Order, challenged me. This battle I lost, the Blessed Mother herself stripped me of the title, ravaged my body, and pointed out my inferiority.¡± She dropped the weapon in anticipation of judgment. ¡°My shame is our shame! My weakness is our weakness! My command has cost you the great Terrific and honor. Won¡¯t someone rid the pack of this disgrace?! Rage, rage, rage upon the shame I have brought unto you, and strike me down if you deem me unworthy! Sisters and brothers of different mothers, end me if you so choose!¡±


    Their confusion was clear. The rumors had already circulated, misguided, no doubt. The pack directed its wrath not at her, but at the Ice Fangs. Claws crushed rocks, fists tore crevices in the stone floor, and the wolf hag began circling around the warlord, moving on four limbs, agitating the lesser ranks so they could abandon their natural fear and decide. United together, the pack could easily bring down even a warlord.


    Impatient One acted first, charging at Janine from the rear and aiming her paw at the wound in the ribs. The warlord elbowed back, sending the shaman into the warrior¡¯s ring. Impatient One down two scouts and landed on several males. She rose, shook the dust from her fur, and bowed to Janine, accepting her superiority.


    The dance continued. Janine was surprised that Melina hadn¡¯t led an attack yet. But the woman circled, bristling and sniffing the air like an animal, leading six scouts after her.


    ¡°Weak.¡± Janine whirled around and smacked Anissa, cannoning her through the ranks. ¡°Tear me asunder and reclaim the lost honor! Bathe me in blood as penance for shaming Terrific¡¯s legacy! Pop my eyes and rip out my lying tongue that promised a victory! Paint the ground red with the liar¡¯s blood! Take my limbs one by one so that my agony may bring succor to the fallen!¡±


    The black-furred wave engulfed her. The warlord weathered this storm, taking blows on her forearms, never once releasing her claws. Heavy slaps tossed the scouts upward. A punch in the plexus stole a wolf hag¡¯s breath, and she backhanded the woman up, barely drawing blood. She brought shame, and she should suffer, no matter what tradition said. Blows pounded against her hide, fangs tore at the skin of her legs, but the pack¡¯s restraint puzzled the warlord. A scout jumped, and Impatient One and Anissa grabbed her by the wrists. Janine dodged the kick and caught the scout¡¯s leg between her neck and shoulder. She grabbed her daughters by their waists, easily overpowering them, and slammed them into the scout above.


    Melina seized the moment, springing at her from the dark stream that rushed around the warlord. Her claws flashed, directed at Janine¡¯s eyes, and the warlord met them calmly, pushing aside the males trying to gnaw at her feet. A headbutt knocked Melina back, and she sprang to her feet, hissing and rubbing her toes.


    Janine understood then. There was no wound¡ªnot even a bruise on her forehead. Melina missed on purpose. Even Impatient One held back. The pack took after the warlord, sensing her frustration, and swarmed her, punching and kicking to let their leader loosen up while avoiding going for a kill. They treated her as if she were a male on the verge of breaking. It was a game to lift her spirit, and Janine laughed, accepting their care and support.


    The assault ended as suddenly as it had begun, and the pack knelt, howling at the sky in shame and longing, mourning the defeat of their warlord and the loss of the honor that Terrific had built in the pack. But this howling had another note, and it was not one of reproach. Support. A warlord is responsible for the pack, but the reverse is also true. Their disharmonious song lamented about failing to protect and guide the inexperienced warlord, and this share of the burden touched Janine.


    ¡°This is how it is today!¡± Janine roared, transforming the grief into words. ¡°We are weak. Honorless. The white-furred threw us into dust and walked all over us, and this is! Only! My! Fault! Not theirs! Not yours! A lost honor simply waits to be restored! If deeds do not support an honorable name, it becomes meaningless! I swear on my life to earn another honorable name and give it to the pack in Terrific¡¯s memory! And how could it be otherwise when I have such a magnificent pack as you? We won it once, and we shall do it again, felling humanity¡¯s foes and shielding the tribe! Rise, my kin. What happened, happened. It is time to tend to the future.¡±


    The pack members eagerly assembled their ranks, fired by her words. Misery turned to ambition. The Wolfkins adored a good comeback.


    ¡°There will be no honorable duels or retaliation against our cousins,¡± Janine warned them, picking up and raising her axe in silent threat. ¡°Oh no, kin of mine, we won¡¯t walk an easy road. We will not steal what was rightfully taken from us. Thievery is not the Wolf Tribe¡¯s way! We will prove by our actions that we deserve new glory! A new honor! Save those who cannot protect themselves! Devour those who prey on the timid! Guard the state and usher in a new, better age for all mankind! For the Blessed Mother and Dynast!¡±


    ¡°For the state and our tribe!¡± The pack roared back.


    ¡°Dismissed. Anyone caught attacking an ice boy will be skinned alive.¡± Disappointment appeared in the ambitious eyes. Doubtless, some planned a few ritual matches today. Janine smiled, warmly addressing them as a comrade. ¡°Duty is eternal, and thus we have innumerable chances to regain what was lost. Rest, my kin. The night was hard, yet the weight of our responsibilities only strengthens us. Melina!¡±


    ¡°Warlord!¡± The wolf hag pressed a paw to her chest.


    ¡°If Chak has no further use for us, stage war games. Ygrite¡¯s fireworks have proved quite effective. See that our warriors and males learn to use grenade launchers. And teach them how to lay minefields again, just for fun.¡± These words elicited a mournful ¡®boo¡¯ from the males and warriors. ¡°Repetition is the mother of learning,¡± Janine told them, turning to Anissa. ¡°Inspect our repaired power armors. I don¡¯t care about scuffs, but if there are any hydraulics or joints that don¡¯t work, report them to me immediately so I can kick the maintenance team¡¯s collective butt. Request laser rifles for the scouts. No need to let Ashbringer and Alpha hog everything.¡±


    ¡°By your will!¡± the wolf hags answered.


    ¡°Impatient One, the health of the pack is on you in Soulless One¡¯s absence.¡± Janine nodded towards the shaman. ¡°A scout has caught an infection.¡± To save her honor, she omitted the woman¡¯s name. ¡°If one can get ill, so can the other. No foolish bravery; send anyone sick to the medic, by force, if necessary.¡±


    Janine spotted Bertruda Mountaintop and Camelia Winterson as she was leaving the trial¡¯s grounds. Bertruda¡¯s limping leg and swollen nose brought the warlord a touch of satisfaction. The women wore simple white cloaks over plain cloth in place of their sumptuous official uniforms. Another form of insult, no doubt. A line of soldiers formed in their path, preventing them from approaching Janine.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Bertruda called. The treated nostrils warped her elegant and youthful speech, and her voice sounded raspy and nasal. ¡°A moment of your time¡­ please,¡± she added through force.


    ¡°Rest, Sword Saint Bull-Slayer,¡± Janine said, ignoring the false humility. ¡°You have a duty to your house to be in top shape.¡±


    The Ice Fang Order had cost her enough. She wished she had nothing more to do with them, except to fight by their side in future battles. The shamans spoke true: when black and white meddle in the lives of one another, misery follows.


    ****


    Till Ingo stepped into the den of death, undaunted, more annoyed at how perilous it was to arrive here.


    He parked his private flying platform on top of the crawler, using its landing pads for the first time in a century. His ship was an oval-shaped, elegant flyer, a relic from the bygone era used by rich tourists in the Old World. He had found it, restored its engines, and modernized it to endure the rigors of this transitory era. The students weren¡¯t happy when he steered his ship straight into a sandstorm, but if he had to leave the cozy atmosphere of his laboratories, he might as well perform a series of empyreal tests.


    Ravager demanded his urgent attendance, but Till Ingo never permitted others to dictate his daily routine. He visited the Inevitable¡¯s anti-matter plant and was appalled by the inefficiency of the engineering crew. After giving a few pointers, Till strode to the cybernetic bay, somewhat pleased to see that the two Wolfkins had accepted the augmentation. The inappropriate sterile environment had deeply offended him, prompting him to personally perform an operation to graft an unconventional limb onto a male Wolfkin, with the intention of speaking to the boy in the future. There were some flaws in the design, naturally, and he had corrected the fuel injection system for the flamethrower, but the transforming fingers earned an A grade from him.


    Then he inspected the rest of the ship. His company had poured impressive resources into upgrading this behemoth, and his heart wept for the disasters and hardships it had so bravely endured. Ingo Development may not be responsible for any failed gears and outdated cybernetics compartments, but this did not absolve him from leaving his pretty girl alone. Even the crew was rude, insisting on addressing the Inevitable as a man. These buffoons wouldn¡¯t know what a class is, even if it smashed them into a pulp. Ingo calmed down and assigned several students to perform immediate repairs. The rest will have to wait, but he will ensure a full-scale restoration of this venerable machine, by blackmail, if needed. If the anti-matter plant explodes, the Core Lands themselves will feel the tremors of this cataclysmic eruption.


    Only then did he see fit to go to the rendezvous point, accompanied by a single bodyguard. He frowned at the amateurish energy cables running up the tower. His guide explained that these supported the life support systems above. Shaking his head, Till summoned his students and ordered them to assemble a more elegant solution¡ªone that would not risk frying a careless living human at a touch. Sure, Techno-Queen was a barbarian, but there was no reason for them to stoop to her level.


    Climbing up the elevator shaft, he heard a rumble. The commander was getting impatient. That fact didn¡¯t bother him as much as his panting while his bodyguard moved nimbly up the ladder, testing the way for him. He should¡¯ve moderated his visits to restaurants.


    At the top, he took the bodyguard¡¯s hand and climbed up through the destruction Ravager¡¯s arrival had left behind. After catching his breath, Till Ingo entered the royal hall of Techno Queen. There were no electric lights, every ounce of energy had been diverted to keep the victims alive, and the engineers had built a makeshift patch by welding crude metal to the walls to prevent the poisonous toxic air from seeping in and darkness reigned over the place. The implants in his eyes activated, allowing him to see the place clearly.


    There was a time when Till believed it would be difficult for anyone to match the depravity of Blood Graf. It saddened him to be proven wrong. He could somehow understand the reasoning behind the blatant depopulation. But the sight of the mutilated bodies hanging in the harnesses awakened emotions in him he thought he had long since discarded.


    Till Ingo was pissed. He sped up, walking by the room¡¯s edge, surveying the tortured people. Only his footsteps, the heavy breathing on the throne and occasional groans broke the silence. Missing lungs, removed kidneys, deliberately reshaped bones, veins and muscles that bore the burns and inflammation, and empty eye sockets. The doctors here did what they could, but these people were near death. It would take a miracle to remove them from the harnesses.


    Or diligence and competence. This he had in abundance.


    The microprocessors activated and sparked warning signals. ¡®DANGER! DANGER! IMMEDIATE EVACUATION IS REQUIRED! SECURING ESCAPE ROUTES!¡¯ Till Ingo banished the letters and maps from his eyes, sending a calming impulse to his four young helpers. These weren¡¯t AIs, nor even the famous VIs of Iterna, but more rudimentary intelligences that nestled in his lobes. He installed them himself and gave them the ability to learn in an attempt to recreate the beautiful helpers of the Old World.


    ¡°Till Ingo. Late as always,¡± the one who had called him said, half snarling, half saying. Ravager shifted on the remains of the throne, illuminating him with the light of her eyes.


    ¡®Psychic manipulation detected!¡¯ warned a little one. Ravager¡¯s voice was captivating and melodic; it drew you in, perfectly mimicking a situation from the distant past when the boy Ingo slipped into the realm of dreams at his sisters¡¯ side, wrapped in soft blankets. Even as she stood, covered in dirt and her pupils dilating and shrinking, the commander¡¯s voice had an unnatural charisma, a promise that everything would be all right if you just listened to her, and his little helpers activated a countermeasure program to protect the scientist from mind control. No wonder the Wolf Tribe held her in such divine reverence.


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    Not that Till had any need for assistance. To resist Wyrms¡¯ influence, he installed chemical and mechanical anti-mind control systems in his body. Sufficient willpower was enough for Ravager¡¯s pathetic attempts.


    Banshee dropped to her knees between Ingo and Ravager. His bodyguard had the palest of white skin; her green irises stretched so far that the white of her eyes couldn¡¯t be seen. Banshee preferred white, but knowing the commander¡¯s problems, she wore a green bodysuit today, twin pistols at her hips and knives in sheaths on her forelegs. Golden necklaces adorned her slender neck, while bronze earrings covered the outer parts of her sharp ears.


    Her features had an unfinished, even ugly shape. Lips stretched to the ears; eyebrows had protruding solidified muscle ridges that blended into the surrounding skin; the nose was almost flat; and there was barely any space between the ears and the head. Strands of her black hair fused into several thick locks that could not be separated even by instruments. An ugly duckling, but her evolution was not yet complete. She might yet become a beautiful princess.


    ¡°Greeting, commander,¡± Banshee sang, and the strained expression vanished from Ravager¡¯s muzzle. She grinned and patted the young woman.


    ¡°No formalities, Banshee,¡± Ravager said. She rubbed her eyes, regaining her senses. ¡°How are your studies?¡±


    ¡°Excellent so far,¡± Banshee replied. ¡°Thank you for naming me your daughter and convincing my father to put his name on my birth certificate.¡±


    ¡°Your creator,¡± Till Ingo corrected.


    ¡°Think nothing of it,¡± Ravager assured Banshee, ignoring him. ¡°Everybody should have someone they can call a parent, real or not. If you wish, the Wolf Tribe¡¯s doors are always open. We are a rowdy bunch, but we stand by our own, Banshee.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather find my path.¡± The woman smiled. ¡°Domination and rank conflicts are not to my taste.¡±


    ¡°Correct choice.¡± Ravager returned the smile. ¡°Be a good girl and stay away from violence.¡±


    ¡°If you have finished exchanging pleasantries, may we proceed to business?¡± Till Ingo asked. He wore a white coat, buttoned vest, and linen pants, not bothering to soothe Ravager¡¯s sensibilities. He had to compromise and replace his shoes with crude boots. Regular rejuvenation kept the gray from touching his hair and the wrinkles from his skin.


    ¡°Come on, Banshee, let the grown-ups play,¡± joked Zero from beside the throne. ¡°Met any handsome boys?¡±


    ¡°Still six, big sister,¡± Banshee replied, and the two laughed.


    Even today, it surprised Ingo how alike and different the two sisters were. Physically, Zero was identical to Ravager in everything, aside from the massive size. Where Ravager stood six meters tall, Zero barely reached four meters, and her limbs were thinner. Their eyes had the same glow, but where Ravager stalked around on four limbs, never letting her guard down, Zero exuded friendliness and walked on two legs.


    She wore a yellow t-shirt and shorts; her helmet hung from her waist. Dozens of leather belts wrapped around her limbs. After the battle, Zero cleaned herself, meticulously combed her lush fur, and sprayed peach perfume on herself. A silver necklace with a locket was around her neck, and Zero had gathered her long hair into a mohawk, dying it from its natural dark to soft blue and yellow. She embraced Banshee and took her by the hands with such sincerity that Till almost believed there was no weapon on her. Almost.


    ¡°They.¡± Ravager pointed at the people on the wall. ¡°Can you fix them?¡±


    ¡°Elementary,¡± Till Ingo agreed. ¡°Frankly, I don¡¯t understand why you bothered to drag me all the way out here. Cybernetics could have done it in less than a month. Prostheses for limbs, oculars for eyes, blood pumps¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough games!¡± Ravager fangs appeared close to his face, and Ingo raised a hand to push the gigantic snout aside.


    ¡°Your nose is dry,¡± he told her.


    ¡°Yeah, we are working on it!¡± Zero distracted from discussing the latest gossip. ¡°Big sis told me to shove the apple juice¡­¡±


    ¡°Up the ass,¡± Ravager grumbled. ¡°Give me clean water or blood. I don¡¯t like sugary or sour drinks.¡±


    ¡°The juice isn¡¯t sour!¡± Zero argued. ¡°There are many vitamins in it. If you had just tried it¡­¡±


    ¡°My nose told me otherwise.¡± Ravager lowered her head, maintaining eye contact with Till Ingo. ¡°You¡¯ve got something funny in your head.¡±


    ¡°They say hello too,¡± Till replied. The machines in his head panicked and begged him to keep their presence a secret. ¡°The little boys and girls are useful for calculations.¡±


    ¡°Biological parts,¡± Ravager said after a pause. ¡°Can you do it? Can you restore them?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Till put his finger to his lips. His assistants calmed down and retrieved the financial data. ¡°Yes. It¡¯ll take time, but we have the resources. Why though? Most of them are Normies. Prosthetics would allow them to transcend the limitations of the flesh. They would gain fingers capable of breaking stones, eyes to see through the thick storm, stomachs to digest and drink the most dangerous and exquisite dishes¡­¡±


    ¡°And lose the warmth of an embrace, the joy of having their own children, and the simple happiness of touch. These mechanical aberrations of yours would serve them as an eternal reminder of the horrors they have lived through, of the things they have lost and suffered¡­¡± Ravager stopped.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you care a bit too much?¡± Ingo probed. ¡°We can wake up one of them and ask if they¡¯d want to walk free as soon as possible or¡­¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Ravager tensed. ¡°Let them dream. Let them sleep.¡± She turned and stomped toward the throne. ¡°You ask why I care? Ingo, in the battle against Blood Graf, I heard a cub. He was what, about two or three years old, at most, with a cut on his chest and his parents dead. He was screaming under a pile of corpses, his blood spurting, empowering Blood Graf. As the hook and axe sliced through my body, he called for help, hoping that someone would save him. And there I was, so strong!¡± Ravager rose to two legs and flexed her muscles. ¡°Mighty! Invulnerable! Useless! By the time I finished the bastard, the cub had expired, smothered by his very dead parents. Have you any idea how often I hear similar cries? Caring... All I can do is care; it¡¯s the only thing that keeps me sane when I hear people dying in places I can¡¯t even reach. I can¡¯t save everyone; I am a monster fit for butchery, but I can give these ones a good future rather than miserable existences devoid of human senses.¡±


    ¡°Very dramatic,¡± Till said.


    He had long concluded that something had happened to Ravager in the past¡ªsomething that had warped her view of medical personnel and mechanical progress. But what? The Dynast found the Wolf Tribe in the Desolation, a region in the far north, shortly before severe seismic tremors forced him to relocate south. Ingo wanted to see the Wolf Tribe¡¯s birthplace and learn what he could do to correct this aversion to natural extensions of human life.


    For technology had not supplanted flesh. Not in the least. The two worked in tandem, living in symbiosis. Sure, he met some oddballs on his journey and listened to rumors of a near-mystical group that replaced all their organs except their brains, but those were extreme cases that undoubtedly led to tragedies and were most likely blown out of proportion. Today¡¯s surgeons and cybernetics left enough flesh for the mind to be at ease, and orphanages offered a steady supply of sons and daughters to raise. There was nothing to fear.


    ¡°I can potentially grow the limbs, but the cost will be astronomical,¡± Till admitted. ¡°We are not Iterna. After the incident, I shifted our focus away from genetic research. To convince the board to fund such a charity, I need something more effective than combat drones and weapons of mass destruction, which we will never use.¡±


    Seven years ago, Ingo Development set out to create an analog of the Iternian biological monstrosities. Mindless beasts, ready to serve and die at the Dynast¡¯s word. Only theirs were to be better, endowed with powers thanks to the added Glow. Banshee and her siblings were the result. As soon as Till understood what was cooking in his vats, he immediately halted further experimentation and called Ravager, admitting what he had done and asking if he should flush the results before they could be ¡®born¡¯.


    They had had their differences in the past, arguing and often blackmailing one another into compliance. But this time, she almost killed him. Ingo did not know what had set her off, but Ravager demanded that he take responsibility for bringing new lives into the world. Eighteen ¡®mutants¡¯ were born with the same level of intelligence as a normal infant and grew up at a steady pace, maturing no differently than a normal human. Banshee was a unique case. She left the vat on her own, surprising the researchers with her knowledge of language, and has since served as Ingo¡¯s bodyguard, accompanying him on the retrieval missions.


    ¡°How about a robot capable of matching a warlord?¡± Ravager¡¯s words piqued Ingo¡¯s interest. The commander walked over to the pile of metal in the middle of the room and lifted a destroyed form. ¡°The machine is destroyed, yes, but its processors and software made adequate decisions in the battle against Warlord Janine. Should you improve it, you may even create that automatic surgeon you have dreamed of for so long, Ingo.¡± The broken machine crashed to the ground, and Ravager was already beside him, whispering softly, almost lovingly, into his ear. ¡°And that¡¯s not the only thing I have to give. I had an engineer extract data from the databanks, and he successfully retrieved the most intriguing research Techno-Queen had left behind. The level of automation in her devices was most impressive. But to perfect her degenerate servants, she had tinkered and concocted another device, one that had allowed her tools to operate on her body, preserving her youth and giving her resistance to mind control. An idea for a prediction machine.¡± Till froze and shook his hands. If this is true... ¡°Imperfect, yes, but the basis should be of interest to you, shouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Curious.¡± Till calmed himself. He often forgot that behind the bestial visage was a cunning general and potential politician. Ravager¡¯s ingenious brain worked at a different speed than his own. In the short time it had taken her to arrive in this hall and witness the depravity, she had already calculated a way to entrap him and the Dynast into aiding her. ¡°And¡­¡± he tried to push his luck.


    ¡°And nothing.¡± She pressed her muzzle to his face, renewing the scent-mark of friendship. The helpers in his head warned him of the chemical imbalance spreading through his body, and Ingo calmed them by turning off the countermeasures. ¡°Take what is offered before I demand more from your company, my old friend.¡±


    ¡°We have an accord,¡± Till said at once.


    Prediction engine. A machine capable of analyzing the present situation and predicting the future based on these factors. He had created several prototypes, but they all fell short of his expectations, ending up unusable in both combat and civilian life. If he failed to develop a working prototype again, Techno-Queen¡¯s device for blocking mental waves would still make a killing when sold to the military.


    Sadly, the emotion-transmitting device will be harder to monetize, but not impossible. Soldiers and heavily augmented individuals will undoubtedly enjoy experiencing the emotions of someone who has had a lavish visit to a brothel or a rejuvenating massage. Yes, there are ways to take advantage of Techno-Queen¡¯s evil and earn tokens. At the very least, he¡¯ll do it to spite the vengeful idiot.


    Ravager exhaled, her shoulders slumping as if she had lifted a great weight from her back. Her pupils dilated and shrank again, and she let Zero massage her temples to calm herself. Till pitied her. A brilliant mind tainted by an event in her past. It took great effort for her to maintain a civilized facade.


    The worst part was that she wanted to be a civilized person. Ingo was sure of it. He heard her clumsily teaching words to Banshee¡¯s brothers and sisters, trying to sing to their elder sister over the communication, and turning it off when she risked telling them a cruel lesson because of her innate bloodlust. There was genuine joy in Ravager¡¯s amber eyes when she persuaded one of the lesser bioweapons to apologize to his sister for accidentally shoving her.


    A most curious conundrum. Till did not buy Ravager¡¯s self-loathing insistence on being a monster. The woman must be brought to heel; she must lose, and lose badly, but be spared, showing the futility of her belief that defeat will lead to death or something worse. Till believed that this could serve as a point of inner healing for the affliction that plagued her mind. But the Dynast had refused his idea, believing it to be a betrayal of the oath he had made, and Outsider recommended Ingo not to pester Ravager any further. Sentimental fools.


    Fine, if he had to, he¡¯d do it himself. First, he would prove to the Wolf Tribe the safety and potential of his devices. And the completion of the prediction engine was one of the many steps in that direction.


    ¡°Pity,¡± Till heard Banshee¡¯s voice. The woman stood over a headless corpse, examining the once-powerful local ruler. ¡°She was born different, so much smarter and useful than I could ever be. And yet here she is.¡±


    ¡°Tch. Different. She had nothing but hate and vanity on her side,¡± Till said. He approached and kicked the dead, sending her rolling. ¡°You can have everything in life, but without life, you have nothing. You surpass her by the virtue of being a moderately decent person alone. Know how she died, Banshee? She had tried to strike a deal, pleading for her life, reduced to nothing when facing the same fate she had planned for others. In the end, she died akin to a junkie; only her overdose was authority, and her death was flashier.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lump junkies in with the likes of her,¡± Ravager grumbled. ¡°True, there are vicious pups among them, but on average, they are content wasting their lives in some ditch. This whore would rather waste the lives of the innocent.¡± She pointed at Banshee¡¯s face. ¡°Let this be a lesson to you, cub. No one is infallible. Make no idols. Make your choices according to your conscience.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of choices.¡± Banshee tried to take Ravager by the finger, but the commander jerked her arm away. ¡°I plan to enlist in the First Army.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ravager and Till said in unison.


    ¡°If you would just listen¡­¡±


    ¡°You will not waste your life in pointless battles!¡± Ravager¡¯s fur rose on her nape.


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her¡­¡± Till Ingo started talking.


    ¡°What do you mean, don¡¯t listen to me? I know what I am saying!¡± Ravager growled at him.


    ¡°Your argumentation is emotional and weak. And you are too young, Banshee,¡± Till said to his creation.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you two nagging just like husband and wife?¡± Zero chuckled and raised her paws in surrender when they faced her. ¡°Give little sis a chance to explain! Surely, if her arguments are wrong, it won¡¯t be hard for you to refute them. But from where I stand, if she is old enough to work as a bodyguard¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m paying her!¡± Till interjected. ¡°And she¡¯s never in danger!¡±


    ¡°Irrelevant,¡± Zero shot him down. ¡°If she is old enough to work, she is old enough to make her own decisions.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s really nothing bad.¡± Banshee nodded. ¡°The First Army is recruiting Normies to form a unit in the east.¡±


    ¡°In the Heatlands?¡± Ravager grabbed her chin. ¡°The temperature there reaches fifty degrees Celsius. What on earth are Normies supposed to do in that hellish heat?¡±


    ¡°Guard duty,¡± Ingo told her. ¡°Outsider had toppled a nation there and evacuated the people. Unlike this region, the Heatlands have several prosperous mines, and the Dynast would like to see them continue to work. Is this correct, Banshee?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± the woman replied. ¡°The soldiers will live in the new mining complexes, and such sturdy targets are of no interest to raiders. And if the Normies can handle the job, then it¡¯s perfect for me to take my first steps in life.¡±


    ¡°We can buy you an apartment¡­¡±


    ¡°A gilded cage is nevertheless a cage.¡± Zero shrugged at Ravager¡¯s look. ¡°What? You saw the inside of the lab; it¡¯s boring in there. The kids will go to school soon, and what is Banshee supposed to do? She seems to have calculated well. There is little chance of anyone attacking her in there; the First does not know of her origin, so there are no kid gloves waiting to treat the little sister. If she gets kicked out, too bad, but hey, at least she tried.¡± Zero raised a finger to stop Ravager from arguing. ¡°Ravy, you have more pressing concerns to solve.¡±


    ¡°Is this about a warlord?¡± Banshee asked. ¡°I heard murmurs on the street. The tribe¡¯s riled up about some injustice.¡±


    ¡°My mistake, not theirs.¡± Ravager glanced at the entrance. ¡°Another proof of my fallibility. I lashed out, not learning about the situation, and drove a wedge between those under my command. It doesn¡¯t concern you, Till, Banshee. I will fix it soon enough.¡± She turned to Till. ¡°Shall I break open the tower for you¡­¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Till Ingo shouted in her face. ¡°Do nothing! Leave the extraction to the professionals. As for you, young lady,¡± he addressed Banshee. ¡°You and I are going to talk about your little plan. If it is indeed safe, as you say, consider me in favor of it.¡±

 Chapter 19: Decisions and Worries

    They met in one of the captured city¡¯s back alleys. Soldiers had already evacuated the nearby streets, shut down a looming factory and allowed it to cool. Rainbow sludge clogged many of the pipes that had previously spewed pollution into the underground canals. With the materials extracted, this place turned into a perfect hangout for those who wished to avoid prying eyes.


    The Wolfkins of several packs stepped into the dark cover of the alley, leaning against the walls, frowning and glancing at the large figures of the shamans who patiently waited for the talk to begin. Such assemblies were unusual, and doubly so without the presence of warriors or warlords. To talk about a warlord behind her back? To invite the wolf hags of the other packs and not inform their warlords? It reeked of intrigue, or worse, treachery, and even the older wolf hags didn¡¯t seem to be at ease here.


    ¡°Thank you for coming, sisters.¡± Melina stepped from the darkness and tore a cowl from her head, raising her paws to the dim sunlight to signify her pure intentions to the Spirits. ¡°Sorrowful tidings had called¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop posturing,¡± dropped Sarkeesian, a wolf hag of the Alpha pack.


    The woman was easily the size of a shaman. She alone wore a full uniform, a crimson jumpsuit. A tank shell had gouged her face, devouring fur and leaving rough skin covered with layers of scar tissue in its place. Constant domination struggles had robbed her of her natural fangs, and the wolf hag had implanted titanium daggers, causing a loud clanking to accompany her every utterance. The rejuvenation procedures kept age from dulling the movements of the second-highest-ranking wolf hag in Alpha¡¯s pack, and she had lived for well over a century, often joking that she had birthed a small army on her own.


    ¡°I shall speak plainly, then.¡± Melina spread her arms. ¡°The Janine pack is left honorless. Others think us weak¡­¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± spat Zlata, a scrawny and balding wolf hag of the Martyshkina pack. The nation deemed her a valuable asset, and she had bathed in her first rejuvenation capsule a month ago, lamenting the need to prolong her shame.


    ¡°Was it not you who told this in the face of our wolf hag?¡± Melina faced her.


    ¡°To rile up the bitch and dominate her, yeah.¡± Zlata nibbled at her forearm, noticed pieces of fur in her jaws, sighed, and reached for the medicine. ¡°There¡¯s no way someone who has reached the rank of a warlord and given birth to such an adorable piece of meat¡­¡± she nodded at the silent Anissa. ¡°¡­ can be weak. So your pack fell on hard times¡­¡±


    ¡°And this is the crux of the matter!¡± Melina raised her voice, ignoring the snarl of the offended wolf hag. ¡°It¡¯s been years since Janine took over, and she still hasn¡¯t given a single honorable name to her rank.¡±


    ¡°She has one, and an excellent one at that,¡± Sarkeesian grumbled. ¡°It was stolen.¡±


    Some of the group released claws, but not in response to the wolf hag¡¯s statement. An Ice Fang approached, a male larger than any of the females present. Sword Saint Tancred Ironwill wore no armor, painted tattoos visible through his short fur on his open arms and legs. He threw the end of his short robe over one shoulder and stood patiently.


    ¡°Stolen, lost, irrelevant,¡± Melina said, not even nodding to the infringing outsider. ¡°The warlord no longer has a second name, and the Blessed Mother herself has stripped us of our hard-earned glory.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Zlata rubbed medicinal gel over herself. ¡°Fame isn¡¯t food or water; it comes and goes. Dedication remains, and the little Jani¡­¡± She swayed as Impatient One landed a heavy slap at the back of her head. The wolf hag growled, but she bared her throat in surrender. ¡°Janine did good in culling the bandits. Help me here, Meli-girl. What exactly do you want?¡±


    ¡°I ask for your help,¡± Melina said.


    ¡°Choose your next words very carefully, Melina,¡± Anissa said, pointing a claw at the smaller woman.


    ¡°Janine is worthy,¡± Melina stated. She stepped close to Anissa and pushed her paw against the claw, earning herself a laceration. ¡°But it is my duty and our duty to worry about morale! The balance of packs is important; we are deliberately pushing the Ygrite pack forward for the sake of it! Are you seriously telling me that after years of watching our sisters and brothers suffer ridicule for serving under a nameless warlord, you will stand by and do nothing? What about no one left behind?¡±


    ¡°Would you like me to transfer to your pack and give Janine a few pointers on how to be a warlord?¡± Sarkeesian¡¯s roaring laughter echoed from the empty buildings.


    ¡°Melina, it takes some time for a warlord to adjust to her rank. That¡¯s why they work with the former ones for years. If you¡¯re stressed about falling behind, consider that Martyshkina had the luxury of being mentored by her former mistress and Alpha after she earned her rank,¡± said Arruda, a wounded wolf hag embarrassed at the need to have two scouts attend to her. ¡°Janine was neglected. The tribe screwed up.¡±


    ¡°She must have an honorable name.¡± Melina offered her palm, and Anissa sliced her own and pressed it against Melina¡¯s, merging her blood with hers. ¡°I plan to challenge Janine. Yes, I know I¡¯ll lose!¡± she stopped jokes and grinned. ¡°Mighty is my leader. As I lose, I plan to push her. I will hurl insults at her, and I ask Soulless One to remind Janine how Terrific earned her face and insist on the ultimate punishment for disgracing the spirit of the duel. Janine has served under Terrific longer than anyone else; she knows every single torture the woman has ever inflicted. As life will leave my screaming body¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Soulless One stated. She opened her mouth to speak, and a strained rasp left the surprised shaman. She convulsed and grabbed the nearest building, elbowing Impatient One¡¯s worried paw away. ¡°Concern¡­¡± she forced a word out. ¡°¡­Not for me. Fine. Melina, your devotion is pure, and this is the reason you breathe still. Anyone else suggesting such foulness would be expiring in my jaws. This¡­ Impatient One!¡±


    ¡°Cheating is not our way.¡± Impatient One took Melina by the shoulders. ¡°Every warlord has her own way to rule. What you are suggesting will inevitably change the warlord and may cause discord in our ranks.¡± Impatient One nodded to Anissa and several scouts. ¡°Yes, Melina. There are alphas, omegas, and intermediates within packs. All of them are different, and not all must be first. Abandon thoughts of premature death and serve honestly and loyally, sister. Sacrifice not for glory, but to save lives. Believe. Our kin¡¯s is sturdier than that. Patience is a hunter¡¯s virtue.¡±


    Melina dropped to her knees and bowed her head, chastened by the shaman¡¯s words. If she had expected to be met with contempt, the jokes and congratulations had disappointed her. Wolf hags and scouts renewed the oaths of friendship, binding the packs by exposing their necks and permitting the weaker ones to bite them gently, before embracing and wishing each other long and prosperous lives.


    ¡°If a name is so important,¡± Tancred said, and the atmosphere of welcome reunion vanished. Distrustful eyes watched him. Sarkeesian, Zlata, and Anissa raised their paws, calling the lesser ranks into submission to prevent a brawl. Tancred continued as if he had not noticed anything, a lone white figure against an agitated group of fangs. ¡°Then perhaps I may offer a friendly sparring match? Janine and I are roughly on the same physical level, and there will be no gossip should she defeat me.¡±


    ¡°Should,¡± Impatient One said. ¡°Curious choice of words.¡±


    ¡°It is merely a figure of speech¡­¡±


    ¡°Be quiet, cousin.¡± Soulless One slapped herself on the chest several times. ¡°This is a warrior¡¯s gathering, and we won¡¯t shoo you away. But your web of lies won¡¯t catch a soul here.¡± She raised a finger, stopping him. ¡°Warlord Janine carries wounds from battle, from the Blessed Mother, and those done by the betrayer. Do you take us for fools and think that we will help you convince her to accept another challenge? Tell the rest of your snowy kind this. Approach Janine at your own peril. Packs stand united!¡±


    ¡°Packs stand united! Warlords for packs, packs for warlords!¡± barked Sarkeesian, and the rest of the group cheered in agreement.


    ¡°Is there anything else?¡± Impatient One asked when Tancred bowed.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Anissa scratched her backhand. ¡°My brother is fiddling with various technologies, and males often join him. Abyss, even I come to him for help in requesting a connection back to the village through the Net. Is this against the law?¡±


    ¡°Self-education should never be opposed,¡± Tancred asserted.


    ¡°Our cousin speaks out of turn, but his words ring true,¡± Soulless One declared. ¡°Ignacy and everyone else are permitted to learn, help the mechanics, and even use the unusual gifts in their spare time! Should they ignore the warlord¡¯s orders again, beat them. If they want to join the engineering corps, banish them, for we are all fighters. But learning new crafts to use in war is admirable.¡±


    ¡°There were times when we fought naked,¡± Arruda said. ¡°Nowadays, we wear heavy armor and use ranged weapons. I say the shaman¡¯s decision is reasonable enough. No reason to pester Lacerated One about it.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, there were times?¡± Zlata¡¯s suspicious look set off a series of laughs in the alley, and even Tancred joined in with a paw over his mouth.


    Janine skulked away from the factory¡¯s rooftop edge, disappearing into the darkness. Many, including Normies and Wolfkins, believed her to be clumsy and loud, and she did little to change that perception. It was advantageous to be underestimated. And working hard meant taking on more deadly tasks that were often downright dangerous for her pack. And their welfare was her responsibility.


    She would¡¯ve been a poor excuse for a warlord if she hadn¡¯t caught a whiff of Melina¡¯s call for the assembly. Perhaps the wolf hag thought herself to be crafty and sneaky, but her sudden request for immediate leave, coupled with the same situation throughout the city, was enough to tell a story in itself. Janine asked Soulless One not to stop this meeting and to attend it, not as her representative or spy, Janine could do both very well herself, but as a judge of the warlord¡¯s rulership.


    Melina wasn¡¯t an opportunistic upstart. Her pushing on Janine¡¯s buttons was a way to push her leader ahead, and the constant self-doubt and the call for the trial of shame must¡¯ve been grating for the woman. Lesson learned. No more worrying about being worthy, but about leadership. The pack must see her as a rock, a mountain shielding them from harm, not as a lost and inexperienced idiot.


    She landed on the street opposite the alley, shaking the ground. The warlord hurried back to the camp, occasionally greeting the soldiers and escorting civilians. Maxence was still in the field medical camp, supervising the loading of the wounded into the crawler.


    ¡°Maxence. How are you?¡± Janine asked instead of greeting.


    ¡°Had an hour¡¯s sleep. Still tired.¡± He removed the hood of his protective suit and injected a shot of adrenaline into his sweaty neck. ¡°Nothing a long rest and a proper meal won¡¯t fix.¡±


    ¡°How is Soulless One?¡± Janine asked directly, leaning on the medical cabinet.


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    ¡°Not my secret to tell.¡± He tried to walk away, but she put a paw on his shoulder.


    ¡°Max, please,¡± the warlord pleaded. ¡°I am neither heartless nor blind. She twitches like a broken toy soldier. She smells of oil. If her life is at risk, I must fix it before she can endanger the lives of her comrades.¡±


    ¡°Fix it,¡± Maxence chuckled. ¡°A human organism is not a machine to be repaired, reassembled, and put back together. There is always psychology to consider. Do you know how many of my patients have died because they simply refused to accept modern, harmless implants designed to save their lives?¡±


    ¡°And Soulless One is one of those people?¡± Janine asked, making sure his frustration wasn¡¯t just a side effect of his overworked schedule.


    "I have no idea what you are talking about, warlord." The doctor pushed her paw away from his shoulder. ¡°Our patients¡¯ medical records are their private business.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Max.¡± Janine got the signal and left.


    She picked up several bottles of cheap moonshine from her own personal stash. Officers, Ice Fangs, and Wolfkins of the Third had access to more sophisticated beverages like wine, vodka, brandy, and even regular beer, but after spending so much time in the sparsely populated wastelands, where days and weeks could pass without encountering another settlement, Janine had grown accustomed to these harmless mushroom-based drinks.


    Soulless One has returned to her tent. The Wolfkins lived in these cloth motile houses, assembling them and hiding them in the pits during a sandstorm, one of the few stone structures in the village. After a storm passed, the villagers would leave the pits and start unburying hidden treasures and iron chests containing their belongings, while the little ones were busy setting up the tents anew and leading cusacks to pastures, places of slaughter where either harsh winds or hunters decimated insectoid parties. When their presence thinned the wildlife too much, the Wolfkins would pack up and migrate to let nature replenish itself. Upon their return, they often found prayer dens and pits occupied by either bandits or predators, driving out the latter and leaving the former to a grisly fate unless they heeded a shaman¡¯s suggestion and surrendered.


    Such lifestyles led to different customs and rules than those of the Normies, most of whom lived sedentary lives either in the dilapidated ruins of the Old World or in built settlements. Knocking on a tent was considered a sign of bad manners, as it was easier to heal wounds than to procure sturdy cloth or leather hides to patch the damage. The Wolfkins stomped outside the entrance, announcing their arrival if the host was asleep and couldn¡¯t sense them.


    The shaman wasn¡¯t sleeping. But she hadn¡¯t met Janine, either, and the warlord banged her foot on the ground, lightly enough not to wake the soldiers in other dens and hard enough to create vibrations that said: A guest has arrived.


    ¡°Warlord?¡± Soulless One invited her in.


    Up close, Janine heard an unnatural electrical hissing coming from the shaman¡¯s ears, and the odor of oil and the sweet aroma of rotting flesh intensified. As the shaman sat cross-legged on the floor, an implant that replaced her lungs pushed into her ribs, parting the fur on her side. The woman¡¯s skin was pale, marked by yellow veins, but her eyes were clear and calm.


    ¡°How long do we know each other, shaman?¡± Janine uncorked the bottles.


    ¡°Counting since you helped my mother give her littler, or since I joined the pack?¡± Soulless One asked, placing clean stone cups on the ground.


    ¡°I assisted in your birth?¡± Janine poured alcohol into the cups. ¡°I don¡¯t remember.¡±


    ¡°Starstruck One said you did.¡±


    ¡°Since we met in the pack, then.¡±


    ¡°Fifty years.¡± Soulless One sniffed the moonshine and drank it in one gulp. ¡°Good stuff.¡±


    Janine followed her example. The drink created heat in her body, and it spread to the rest of her body in a quick, comforting wave. The Wolf Tribe¡¯s alcohol was strong enough to knock a Normie off her feet in one go, and a very first bottle of it caused males and warriors to experience visions. It had a different effect on everyone; some went berserk, and some wept, imagining meeting their lost relatives as the drink bridged this world and that of the Spirits.


    Upon growing in power or drinking more, such mushrooms were losing their punch. Not even a hint of confusion clouded the warlord¡¯s vision, and she continued to enjoy the drink, welcoming its honest warmth and savoring the woodsy, meaty flavor that reminded her of the times the scouts treated her to a bowl of chicken soup.


    ¡°And so are you. Never have I complained about your service; never have I been afraid to show you my back or to defer to your judgment, and your punishments have ironed out my mischief and helped mold our pack into a wonderful unit¡­¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Soulless One asked.


    ¡°Why do you want to die?¡± Janine put aside her cup. She saw the shaman gazing at her own implants and answered, ¡°Not the same. The necrosis around the mines do not even threaten my nerves, let alone my organs. My body out-heals the harm done by them. You are different. The stench, cramping, pain in your eyes¡­ I consider you my friend and family. Fifty years we served together. Will you insult me by lying?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Soulless One gestured for more moonshine. ¡°Forty-five years. It¡¯s been forty years since I saw this flash and woke up with most of my organs replaced. How do you think I feel having a blood pump in place of my heart, Janine?¡± She drank another cup and made a circle in the air with her finger. ¡°Imagine this. I go into battle after battle, hoping to perish, always giving my all, as traditions demand. But there is no respite; medical miracles prevent me from aging, keeping me forever young. Death eludes me. I can¡¯t just kill myself; it goes against my every belief in duty. Nor can I ignore how hypocritical I sound when I encourage young females to have cubs when my own dead womb can¡¯t produce a soul. It is a perfect trap. But there is a way out. If my implants wear me down, if I die naturally, I¡¯ll be free.¡± Soulless One went silent for a while. ¡°Fifty years of my life. I¡¯ve served enough, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Janine clinked cups with her. ¡°Yet you gave in to despair.¡± Soulless One tensed. ¡°Yes. We all have flaws, and shamans are not an exception.¡±


    ¡°I never betrayed¡­¡±


    ¡°I do not speak of treason. Spirits, I would sooner betray that state than you! You are my guiding light, Soulless One, but even a pathfinder needs a paw now and then.¡± Janine¡¯s eyes met the shaman¡¯s eyes. ¡°You grief about inability to bring life into this world, but have you thought how many lives you have saved with your own two paws? The Spirits may have taken the ability to give life away from you, but you have transcended this limitation and helped keep my soldiers alive. Now it is my turn to do the same. Get your implants fixed, Soulless One. Give the medics permission to upgrade the artificial organs. Live.¡±


    ¡°What if I am too tired for that?¡± the shaman asked.


    ¡°Then heal yourself and rest. Exile yourself from the tribe and see the world. There will always be a place for you in my pack,¡± Janine promised her. ¡°If you need rest, we¡¯ll understand. But live you must. While you are under my command, you will live. Don¡¯t make me dominate you into obedience.¡±


    Soulless One¡¯s arm moved, splashing moonlight over Janine¡¯s eyes. The shaman charged faster than a bullet, opening her jaws to bite into the warlord¡¯s neck. But the fangs closed on empty air; Janine had already risen and connected §â§å§Ü knee to the shaman¡¯s jaw, knocking the woman¡¯s head back. She held back the blow, unwilling to potentially maim her old friend, unwilling to potentially maim her old friend, but the attack drew a stream of foam from Soulless One¡¯s lips. With her eyes still blurry from the moonshine, Janine acted on instinct and retreated, dodging the claws that sought to hook her under the shoulder blades.


    She grabbed the shaman in a hold, as the claws missed their mark. This sudden burst of speed allowed her to pin the shaman¡¯s paws to her chest, and Janine tensed her muscles, locking her opponent in an iron grip. Soulless One tried to break free, but Janine¡¯s fangs closed around her neck, immobilizing her. The shaman closed her eyes and whined in surrender.


    ¡°Fix yourself, Soulless One.¡± Janine released her and stepped away.


    ¡°By your will, warlord,¡± submitted the shaman.


    ****


    Three times. That is how many times Soulless One has visited the cybernetic bay in the past forty-five years. Once she awoke here to find a world devoid of the lifegiving. Another time, she had come to find a replacement for her failing heart. And the last time, she had come to pick up a restored soldier.


    Today she came on her own volition, walking through the wide, quiet corridors, large enough so even Ravager could come in freely. Instead of being a single hangar stretching for over a hundred meters, the cybernetic bay now had over a dozen compartments, each meant to accommodate cases of varying severity. A strange woman who looked like a green-eyed white ghost led the shaman to a spot in the middle of this small labyrinth and opened a door.


    ¡°Sorry for the mess; we are still cleaning up the place. Name¡¯s Banshee, by the way; I am sort of a student here,¡± the woman said.


    The room wasn¡¯t large. It had three operating tables at the end, each capable of staying in a horizontal or vertical position. Beneath each table were a variety of mechanical attachments. There were saws, drills, pliers, hands for holding blood transfusions, manipulators, and various other types of machinery. The shaman didn¡¯t understand the woman¡¯s words about the mess. She could taste the pungent smell of a cleaning solution permeating every millimeter of this place.


    ¡°Now get undressed, lie down, relax, and don¡¯t worry about a thing.¡± Banshee pointed at the operating table to the left. ¡°I¡¯ll secure you and inject painkillers. Sure you don¡¯t want proper anesthesia? You¡¯ll just go to sleep and wake up to a whole new world of wonder!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather be awake,¡± Soulless One replied. The table wasn¡¯t cold. There was a heater installed in it, and the surface soon warmed up, creating a comfortable sensation. Iron rings slipped off the table, restraining her limbs, and another secured her neck. Mechanical arms holding syringes came into view, releasing painkillers into her bloodstream. ¡°It isn¡¯t necessary,¡± she mumbled. ¡°If I so much as scream or twitch, everything I own is yours.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look rich, and yes, it is needed; you¡¯re not the doctor here,¡± Banshee said. The mutant turned on a terminal on a wall as another mechanical appendage moved a scanner over the Wolfkin. ¡°Series two point one? Who even uses these torture devices?! They were banned decades ago!¡±


    ¡°Me, apparently,¡± the shaman said drily. ¡°I¡¯ve never seen you before. Are you a recruit?¡±


    ¡°No, no, nothing like that; my parents won¡¯t let me join the army yet,¡± Banshee replied. ¡°I used to help my dad with cyberization operations back home, and I volunteered to help since he is busy.¡±


    Soulless One decided not to pry any further and returned her thoughts back to Janine. She was conflicted about her friend. Dominations allowed for a wide range of commands, but as the tribe grew and matured, Lacerated One officially banned some things, such as body mutilation or forcing another into copulation via domination. What Janine made her to agree on was¡­ No friend should¡¯ve done it.


    But a warlord should. A leader who cared more about a valuable asset that she could use to preserve lives and win battles. Was Soulless One such an asset to Janine? Could she ever forgive the betrayal of being denied an exit from a lifetime of duty? In the end, it wasn¡¯t relevant. Warlord Janine acted as a leader should, and she will respect this choice and do everything in her power to use her new body for the betterment of the Reclamation Army.


    The painkillers numbed the nagging ghost pain in her missing liver, and a tube inserted into her mouth cleared her trachea of pus. Injections to her scalp eased the pulsating headache, but the annoying grinding turns of gears and hoarse sounds of air pushing in and out of her artificial lungs remained. It haunted her even in her sleep, poisoning her dreams and constantly reminding her of the things she had lost and the machine she had become.


    More metal appendages worked on her body, cutting off fur, removing it, and washing off her body. It was a humiliating experience, but the Normies were obsessive about treating their patients under sterile conditions. The metal rings lifted her body over the table, keeping her perfectly level, and the overzealous nurse shaved the fur from the shaman¡¯s back.


    ¡°Okay, the prep phase is complete; time for phase one!¡± Banshee sounded both excited and hesitant. Soulless One noticed that the mutant¡¯s mouth opened all the way to the ears, giving her the eerie impression that the top of her head was about to slide off. ¡°Honestly, I have no idea how anyone could live with that irritating noise. I just met you, and this banging is threatening to drive me crazy. Don¡¯t worry, the newer artificial organs will work peachy, pinky promise.¡±


    The shaman furrowed her brows. No one else had said anything about the functioning of her implants, and mutants were inferior New Breeds compared to the Wolfkins. How could this nurse hear the machinery?


    ¡°The cybernetics team will be here in five to ten minutes, so we best start relieving you of some non-important stuff¡­¡± Banshee said, navigating automatic saws to Soulless One¡¯s side. The woman controlled them through the terminal. The stench of pus and oil assaulted the shaman¡¯s nose as the saws sliced into her side. ¡°What the fuck!¡± Banshee screeched, and the shaman thought she felt someone hitting her and the room shaking.


    Must be my imagination. She decided. The nurse stopped the saw, quickly inspected the wound, grabbed her head, and reached for a terminal to call and send the video recording to a designated recipient.


    ¡°Dad! Daddy! Answer up, it¡¯s an emergency!¡± the mutant cried desperately.


    ¡°I am not your father, student,¡± said a voice from the terminal. ¡°What is it? I am in the middle of a delicate business.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is! I made a standard incision; I¡¯m not sure why she fountains like that! It¡¯s like I popped up a balloon, only it¡¯s a human!¡± Banshee paced the room, one hand on her head, the other filming the shaman. ¡°Fuck! I¡­ I¡­ I never saw anything like this in my practice! Is this normal for a Wolfkin?!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t swear, young lady. Swearing is a sign of a stupid person who lacks the vocabulary to properly explain a simple event. This is why you are not ready to live alone,¡± the voice said smugly. ¡°You took a job to do a simple preparation that even a village idiot could do, and... What the hell is this? Why is she rotting? What garbage is installed in her? Hell skewer me, she¡¯s even leaking oil. Why?¡±


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you supposed to be a genius? You tell me, Dad!¡± Banshee yelled back. ¡°And how about not swearing in the medical room?!¡±


    At least this promises to be amusing. Soulless One chuckled and relaxed, enjoying the spectacle.

 Chapter 20: Another Demigod

    Rongo groaned, helping to push the heavy cart filled to the brim with heavy tungsten slugs and shells. Ever since the Gilded Horde flattened his homelands, his existence was limited to a simple routine. Wake up in the morning, gulp down water and rations, storm out of the barrack, let overseers check you for injuries, and rush to the working place inside the gigantic moving factory serving as a private armory for the horde¡¯s dread leader.


    The place was a noisy hell of tens of thousands of gears and parts working, turning railroad bridges so the slaves could bring in material and retrieve their cargo, industrial presses pounding the superheated molten metal flowing from the smelters into proper shape, and assembly lines churning out ammunition and weapons by the hour. The process never stopped; this factory was but one of many, tracing after the main force, swallowing up ruins, dismantling the wrecked vehicles of allies and enemies alike, and rebuilding them for the warriors to use. Tanks, power armors too large for normal humans, ammunition, guns, missiles, and rockets were its gifts to the ever-growing army.


    Golden letters stared down at the workers, visible from every corner of the factory. Obedience leads to survival. Such was the promise the Merchants gave to their purchased slaves, and up to this point, they upheld it, treating wounded laborers and replacing faulty organs. Older slaves warned newcomers never to resist or disobey. They now belonged to the Incarnation of the one true God. Even if they escape from these halls, Slavetaker will hunt them down personally and add their skins to his hideous clothing.


    Not a single Pureblood, the core warriors of the horde, was in sight. There was no need for their assistance. Every level of the factory had hidden compartments housing automatic turrets, and, in case of an emergency, their masters could seal off entire levels and use sleeping gas to quell an uprising. The Merchants, the craftsmen of the horde, rarely attended the process, and only to teach promising slaves how to operate the complicated machinery. They valued these laborers and provided them with better conditions. In a show of unity, these people offered free lessons to the lower ranks, uplifting their companions in misfortune.


    Sweat rolled down Rongo¡¯s body, and the lenses of his protective mask fogged up, but he didn¡¯t dare take it off to clean it. Overseers, chosen from the ranks of the slaves for their loyalty and physique, walked past the workers, hands on stun batons. He had already earned himself several burn marks close to his spine and didn¡¯t intend to experience another.


    Massive gates smoothly opened on the side of the factory, and a rush of fresh air poured in. Metallic appendages raked in rusted concrete bastions dotted with the wreckage of high-speed bikes and cannons. The gates closed and cranes came down from above, dropping vast slabs of concrete onto the trains to be transported into the processing plant for filtration.


    It could be worse, Rongo supposed. His homeland was an unruly one, and its arrogant noble scions hunted in the countryside, undeterred by cries for mercy. Their own cries went unheard as the screaming hoverbikes raced on the streets, culling rich harvests. Rongo was drafted into the military, but a heavy slap ended his career on the third day of the war. Initially, the population cheered, thinking themselves liberated, but the Khan of Khans had no intention of expanding on their rocky planes. She installed a moderate family of locals to collect and send her people and resources in tribute. Rongo was one of these individuals, and it¡¯s worth noting that he managed to survive and retain his natural body parts. That¡¯s got to count for something.


    The cart came to an abrupt stop, and Rongo cursed, banging his chest against its rough edge.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± he whispered, using this moment to raise his mask and wipe the sweat off his eyes.


    ¡°The fresh blood.¡± A low-ranking overseer, Mairearad, spat on the railing and the spittle evaporated. She oversaw this section and preferred to work out, assisting her laborers in their menial tasks rather than beating them up. She unzipped her overalls and leaned against the cart. ¡°He did it again.¡±


    Rongo cursed. Master of Mountains, he tried! He tried to reason with this idiot!


    The laborers moved aside from the cart, making space in the center of the hall, and overseers on the levels above muttered orders, commanding slaves to come closer and see. Chief Shakir dragged a struggling man behind him. Shakir claimed to be a Pureblood, but no one believed him, not because of his dark skin. The man wasn¡¯t normal; he once casually jerked Rongo into the air by the neck. But he didn¡¯t have the same stature as the conquerors, he lacked their fat, and his skin was dark compared to their pale one. A bastard who embodied the cruelty of his parents.


    The overseer held a recent addition in his hand: a traveler from a distant nation. Rongo and Mairearad caught him praying to his god at night, and they sat the fool down, explaining to him that this was one of the few offenses here for which Shakir would maim or kill someone. The fool was weak-willed, and they tried to shield the weak blood, giving him tasks away from Shakir¡¯s prying eyes, for camaraderie was a way to survive here. But clearly, the idiot uttered a prayer in the wrong place this time.


    ¡°How many times?¡± Shakir asked cheerfully, jabbing the tip of his stun baton under the man¡¯s ribs. Rongo heard a cracking discharge that burned a hole in the man¡¯s overalls. The slave howled in pain, suffering a surge of electricity that violently shook his organs. On his skin, a black hole appeared. ¡°There are no gods in the world, save for the Sky!¡±


    Another stab in the stomach, and the slave vomited in the overseer¡¯s face. Shakir cursed and released the slave, wiping the filth off his mask. A heavy kick brought the crawling man back to his feet.


    ¡°There is no salvation, no escape, no mercy!¡± The overseer¡¯s hand closed around the slave¡¯s neck, and two more stabs left burn marks on his knees. ¡°Get it into your dumb skulls! You belong to us now! The Gilded Horde owns you, and the Sky reigns over your souls! Your feeble rulers couldn¡¯t protect you; your pathetic demons are crushed underfoot of the one true God, and this is your existence!¡± Shakir stabbed the weeping man once in each arm, smiling at his agonizing thrashing. ¡°Now and forever!¡±


    ¡°Planet, please, watch over my soul and deliver salvation to my friends¡­¡± The baton¡¯s end choked the rest of the man¡¯s words as it rammed into his mouth, breaking the jaw and shattering the teeth.


    ¡°You dare?¡± Shakir fumed in anger. ¡°You dare disobey me? Just how much do you intend to piss me off, flea?¡± His smile widened as he glanced at the slave¡¯s limp arms. ¡°If you can¡¯t work, if you are unable to learn, then you will serve as an example!¡±


    He will kill him. Rongo understood and licked his lips, preparing to lunge. He wasn¡¯t brave, and Master be his witness, Shakir could probably backhand him into a smear. Be it as it may, Rongo always has trouble standing aside when people are dying. Maybe he wasn¡¯t cut off for a slave¡¯s or any other life after all.


    ¡°Why has the production of today¡¯s quota stopped?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t a voice that stopped Rongo. He saw a group of people approaching them from the doors leading to the Merchants quarters. The one who asked a question was a bald man, whose eyes were replaced by crimson lenses. A khan in yellow segmented armor, his cloak of steel feathers scraping the floor, marched next to him, a long bow of unknown alloys behind his back. The third person was a woman, clearly not a Merchant. Dressed in a green trench coat, she held both hands behind her back, darting her eyes back and forth to ensure everyone was within her sight. Where the Merchant used a rag to wipe the sweat, she breathed easily; her pale skin and long black hair showing no signs of discomfort. Her presence surprised him; she wasn¡¯t a Merchant, Pureblood or Dirtyblood. So why is she not enslaved and stands equal?


    The fourth member of this group wasn¡¯t a Pureblood like the khan, but he was a high-ranking member of the Horde, nonetheless. The man had avian features; his nose protruded forward, creating a beak over the lips, and his fingers ended in talons. The Abnormal turned his head to the side slightly, observing the situation with a purple eye. A religious leader. Rongo had heard of them¡ªa caste of shamans and priests who led ceremonies to honor their deity, often involving human sacrifice.


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    But it wasn¡¯t them who had Rongo chained in fear. There was another. A figure well-known to them all. The Khan of Khans towered over the wounded slave, holding him steady by the shoulders and examining Shakir like a curious insect. The woman was burly, like all Purebloods, even if the golden khan¡¯s armor hid his body. But the perception that she was slow or fat was a dangerous misconception.


    ¡°I¡­¡± The overseer gulped, pulling his baton free. ¡°I¡­ I was making an example, khan! The slave mentioned his demonic lord!¡±


    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± the golden khan said.


    ¡°Burn the heretic,¡± screeched the priest. His voice sounded close to a crow¡¯s imitation of human speech. ¡°Let me open his belly and use his entrails for divination, Incarnate.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± the deity asked. Her voice, so strong and commanding, dropped Rongo to his knees. He remembered! Impossible, unconquerable, unstoppable. It was hard to even look at her, so he concentrated on the hem of the fur coat and elegant wellies. ¡°My father cares not for competition.¡± A drop of blood dripped from under her leather half-mask, landing on the slave¡¯s scalp, and he shuddered. ¡°Sky is all-powerful.¡±


    ¡°To tolerate the heresy¡­¡±


    ¡°Is a sign of strength,¡± The Khan of Khans finished for him. ¡°Dalantai, I do not care what others believe, as long as they obey. It pleases Sky to see an unbeliever toil in His honor, and it amuses me. To kill or maim a slave is a waste fit of Brood Lord.¡± Rongo heard the overseer¡¯s gulp. ¡°And you have cost me a servant.¡±


    ¡°Khan, I¡­¡± Rongo imagined Shakir must¡¯ve gone pale.


    ¡°Take his place if you fail to understand your responsibilities.¡± Rongo dared to lift his head. The Khan of Khans pushed Shakir to the ranks of the workers, her finger almost as large as the man¡¯s torso. Then she turned her attention back to the wounded slave and purred. ¡°As for you. You can¡¯t work anymore? Are you unable to serve?¡± Her all-encompassing eyes shrank and widened, burrowing hungrily into the smaller man.


    ¡°He can be healed.¡± The small woman waved her hand, looking around. ¡°It¡¯s just nerve damage, nothing serious.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± the Khan of Khans said. ¡°Trace, you do it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll cost you,¡± Trace stated.


    ¡°It won¡¯t, my dear,¡± the Khan laughed, and Rongo¡¯s heart beat faster. This voice danced with the promise of a great night, a call to war and boundless happiness. Inhuman. She can¡¯t be an Abnormal or a Normie. Such might, such gravitational pull of a character couldn¡¯t come from the womb of a woman. ¡°You alone have yet to prove your usefulness to me.¡± She let the slave slump to the floor and moved quietly, without a sound, casting a shadow over the terrified slaves. ¡°Brood Lord may insist on your usefulness, but you want not one but two prizes. Such an arrogant toy. Don¡¯t get too greedy¡­¡±


    ¡°Watch out! Behind you!¡± Trace shouted.


    Her mouth opened, the lower jaw simply sliding down, not exactly tearing the flesh but treating the skin as if it were a water surface for it to travel. A booming scream left Trace¡¯s mouth, causing several slaves to fall, shielding their bleeding ears. The golden-armored khan and the priest turned toward the woman, one raising a fist and another his talons, while the Merchant hid behind their backs. But the Khan of Khans showed no aggression, and the hem of her fur coat swirled around her legs as she faced the opposite direction, slowly and arrogantly.


    Blurry shapes leapt from the ruins brought in from the battle. Each had a human shape, just translucent enough for a person to see the wall behind them. Rongo was still marveling at this miracle when they raised their hands and knelt down, and he realized they were holding something in their hands. Mass reactive rounds flashed into existence, slipping free from the camouflage fields, and roared, flying to the group.


    Several shots hit the golden khan, destroying his gorgeous faceplate and ripping a wing off his helmet. Craters gouged his armor, but he calmly reached for his bow and slashed, using it to send a shot back at the attackers. One phantom¡¯s head exploded, and the cartwheeling projectile struck the wall, ricocheting off of it and cleaving another at his shoulders.


    Dalantai merely stood; the very air changed around him, shifting as if he were surrounded by a gas cloud. Stains of rust on the floor began to disappear, and the surface gleamed anew. The heavy, fist-sized rounds stopped dead upon reaching this field. The exhaust ports sucked in the flames spewing from their rear, while the projectile itself trembled, breaking down into ammunition pieces and transforming into small bars of metal.


    ¡°Free of charge,¡± the priest threw to the Merchant.


    A shot hit Trace in the chest, bulging the flesh on her back. The woman¡¯s face regained a serene expression. She fixed her jaw without a crack. Instead of tearing, both cloth and bones swallowed the shot with a slurping sound. The hump on her back turned into a smooth surface again, and she straightened out her coat and morphed a hand into a blade.


    She stopped at the rising fist. The Khan of Khans advanced, sending tremors through the floor and treating the fact that she was the target of this attack like an afterthought. She knocked the shots from the air and chuckled.


    ¡°Relying on toys. How childish.¡± The surviving assassins tried to retreat into the ruins, but they found themselves leaning against the legs of the Khan of Khans. They freaked out; Rongo paled at the display of speed and the shockwave of displaced air that slammed into everyone in the hall. The Khan of Khans leaned forward, using her fingers to redirect the bursts of incoming fire. ¡°Let me tell you a story,¡± she said, her voice clear even in this chaos. ¡°In the past, humans believed they transcended age itself. Their spaceships flew past the sky, seeking to escape the God who enveloped this world like a caring father pulling a blanket over his sleeping daughter on a rainy night. But in the end, their fabled technology had failed to overcome death. Because they didn¡¯t pierce Sky. It swallowed them.¡±


    The Khan of Khans bit the three killers, devouring them to the waist. Her teeth crushed bodies covered by power suits. The hissing of their generators disappeared inside her throat. She feasted on the remains, the waists and legs covered by brown carapace armor, no longer invisible.


    ¡°Trace. You have passed the test. Heal my wounded cattle, and I will adorn you in pearls and rubies.¡±


    ¡°I prefer rare samples,¡± Trace said.


    ¡°Suit yourself. By my name, you shall have any man, woman, or child you desire from the next raid,¡± the Khan of Khans promised, picking up a stuck foot from her tooth. ¡°Sky Lord Khan, the conquest is soon to begin. Are you willing to hunt alone, nevertheless? Is my company such a bore?¡±


    ¡°I am a free bird, my khan.¡± The golden khan knelt. ¡°prefer solitary raids, unencumbered by politics.¡±


    ¡°But you do understand that both are using you to divert their attention to the north?¡± the Khan of Khans asked. ¡°By refusing to join either, you have painted a target on your back. They are looking for a moment of weakness to ravage your lands, hoping that our future prey will bleed you enough so they can finish you off.¡±


    ¡°Then I offer my lands to you, oh great khan,¡± answered Sky Lord. ¡°Absorb my khaganate and treat them as you treat your own. Schemes were never my forte; I seek the thrill of battle, and there is little of that to be found in the slaughter to come. As for bleeding me,¡± he chuckled, ¡°unless they sprout wings, it won¡¯t be I who¡¯ll suffer.¡±


    ¡°I graciously accept,¡± the Incarnate grinned. ¡°Brood Lord¡¯s troops will be your arrows. If he wishes to test the defenses, he may as well pay for it. Water, airag and meat for all!¡± she laughed, raising her arms to the ceiling. ¡°Slave, trader or warrior, celebrate the privilege of witnessing me kill! Bask in my divine power and drink to the Gilded Horde¡¯s dominion over this world!¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the great mercy, great khan,¡± the Merchant said nervously. ¡°Who were these fatherless runts? We need to find the one responsible¡­¡±


    ¡°Why bother? We¡¯ll run into them eventually, and since they are too cowardly to show in person, they clearly are too weak to face us at a moment.¡± The Incarnate approached a fiery smelter, unbuttoning her richly ornamented cloak of jewels and exquisite gold trimmings, creating lines that flashed like the morning sun. ¡°But a moment is all it takes for a situation to change in combat. Ask Trace how she made them visible. I suspect a certain sound frequency overloaded her generators. If so, I want you to replicate the feat mechanically.¡± The Merchant rubbed his hands eagerly.


    ¡°We still haven¡¯t decided¡­¡±


    ¡°Must you pester me about every little thing?¡± The Khan of Khans interrupted her priest. ¡°Make an impossible demand, and when he refuses, order his most influential general to kill her and end her bloodline. Afterward, no one will willingly follow the moron; even if they value their lives, they have a reputation to uphold. This should kick the stability down and keep them servile. Don¡¯t kill the hostage the ruler sent to us; we¡¯ll use her in the future to repeat the process and keep them from getting fat.¡± She took off her coat, and the floor shook as the belt with golden scimitars landed. ¡°Focus your efforts on finding the devil¡¯s whereabouts and spare me the trivialities. It is why I created the Council; if you cannot decide on governance in my absence, I will behead you and replace you.¡±


    The priest nodded, and the Khan of Khans stepped closer to the smelter¡¯s edge, admiring the bubbles and streaks of flame rising on its surface. She took off her hat and the rest of her clothes, standing naked in front of everyone.


    ¡°What are you planning to do?¡± Trace asked.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? A bath since I dirtied myself.¡± The Khan of Khans stepped into the molten substance, ignoring the heat that could heat the tungsten enough for the industrial presses to beat it into a new form. Rongo heard a hiss and gasped, drawing the Incarnate¡¯s attention. ¡°Like what you see, boy?¡± She beckoned to him, standing waist-deep in flaming hell. Red streaks ran down her cheeks from her bloodshot eyes. ¡°Come, join me. You¡¯ll be reduced to ashes, but what a death it¡¯ll be! A divine kiss on your lips! Is this not a tale worth dying for?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡± Rongo retreated. ¡°Please, no, mistress.¡±


    ¡°Weak. Then live as a slave,¡± the woman lowered herself to the neck. ¡°Oh, and Trace, about that skin for you.¡±


    ¡°You plan to renege on the deal?¡± Trace asked.


    ¡°Never. A khan¡¯s word is set in stone. It¡¯s just a matter of whether or not you can cut me down in a day to get it. I have a world to devour.¡± The Khan of Khans¡¯ face disappeared underneath the molten waters, and only her loose hair remained on the surface.

 Chapter 21: A Simple Talk

    ¡°Sword Saint Bertruda insists on meeting with you,¡± Marco announced, stepping into Janine¡¯s tent.


    Janine put the terminal aside and let out a slow breath. Her wounds had long since healed, but Maxence had twisted the command¡¯s arm to give her a full five-day leave to recover. Her! As if she were a cub! And now she had MP soldiers stationed outside her tent, escorting her everywhere, including to feast or take a leak. Captain Cristobo personally grilled her over the duel against the damned Sword Saint, warning that he would tolerate no retaliation.


    It infuriated her, and she plunged into duties to relieve this anger. She checked up on Marty to cheer her up and ended up giving her a little talk that ended up being way more awkward because of these MP bastards present. She wanted to find Ashbringer and try her luck against the woman, but with her ¡®nannies¡¯ around, it was impossible.


    She confined herself to the tent, reading reports, approving requests, scheduling regular trainings, and writing letters to the families of her dead soldiers. Martyshkina feigned a recovery, but Janine saw through this disguise and took the load off her, informing the families of her deceased pack¡¯s members so nothing would remind her friend about the loss of her daughter.


    After completing this duty, she visited the wounded comrades and ended up a bit disappointed Soulless One had to be placed in a medical coma. Maxence scheduled no less than three more surgeries for her old comrade to repair the damage caused by the faulty implants.


    ¡°She can waste her time standing until a new dawn for all I care,¡± Janine said calmly, making a note of where she stopped reading the reports about the faulty equipment.


    Chak wasn¡¯t lying; the pack was on its last legs in terms of gear. Even the most revered and greatest Alpha¡¯s, Predaig¡¯s, and Dragena¡¯s packs struggled to maintain combat readiness despite receiving resupplies first. Welded armor plates no longer had the usual durability, as inferior alloys replaced diamodite. She poked a hole in a seam using her fingers and deemed it unfit for prolonged combat. Shortage of grenades, shardgun ammo¡­ What a mess. At least energy cells were in abundance.


    Swallowing her pride, Janine messaged everyone she knew, informing the Dynast, Till Ingo, Devourer, the Ice Fang Order, and Outsider of her pack¡¯s sorry condition. The liege promised to beat some sense into Ravager; Devourer and Outsider kept their silence; Ingo didn¡¯t respond; and the Order answered at once, sharing their weapons caches. Wolf hags complained about the silliness of using the peashooters and recoilless rifles provided by the army, but the warlord couldn¡¯t care less and wrote an official gratitude letter to the Order and forced her pack to exercise in wielding the new weapons. Other packs followed, growling at the humiliation.


    Alas, there wasn¡¯t much more she could¡¯ve done. In a way, Chak¡¯s wish came true. The army had stopped camping outside the fallen capital for three days, completing the evacuation and scouring the region free of raiders. Ravager and Cristobo recruited volunteers from the refugees, conscripting the youngest criminals to bolster the Third ranks. A few Iternians showed up, people from some news agency. They crawled around the city like obnoxious spine mites, interviewing soldiers and recording the Techno-Queen¡¯s crimes. The Wolf Tribe ignored them, for everyone¡¯s sake.


    ¡°Thanks, Marco.¡± Janine took the reports off his paws and read them briefly. Food supplies were dwindling, but Chak and the former rebel leaders had solved the problem. ¡°Wait.¡± She stopped her son before he could sneak out. ¡°Sit with me.¡±


    Janine reached into her bag of things, found a chocolate bar and threw it to Marco to lighten the mood. Chocolate was something of a recent rediscovery from the Old World. It never really disappeared from Iterna, but both the Reclaimers and the Oathtakers had their share of problems before restoring the old treats, and it cost a lot in the Outer Lands. But by the Spirits, the joyful look on Marco¡¯s snout as he closed his fangs on the chocolate bar was well worth the price. Ravager is right. The Old World may have destroyed itself, but its wonders must be rediscovered, and the remnants of its culture and history will serve as the foundation for a better tomorrow.


    No longer did the Reclaimers have to ration food, keeping half of their population living off of nutrient paste or mushrooms. The news reported the creation of vast farmlands, where thousands upon thousands of cusacks¡ªmore than she had ever imagined existed in the world¡ªgrazed peacefully on grass, providing milk and meat for the state. Chernozem was created, spawning entire industries that grew bread and vegetables in abundance. And if the propaganda spoke true, this was only the beginning. More jobs opened by the day; the state bought genetically enhanced cows from Iterna, reintroducing white milk to the nation; and nature experts worked overtime, replanting forests in the wake of spreading terraformation.


    What will I do in a time of peace? Perhaps I can become a trainer of young cubs? She banished these pointless dreams. There was no chance for her to see that day, not when better and stronger people had fallen. But someone else can.


    ¡°How are things between you and your sisters? Everything is okay? No one is hurting you?¡± Janine inquired, unsure of how to ask him properly.


    ¡°Better than okay!¡± Marco replied, taking his time to enjoy the sweetness of the milk chocolate melting in his mouth. ¡°Impatient One taught me how to make a noose to haul crates. Bogdan and I polished the plates crystal clean using sand. Nissi gave me pointers on how to assemble a shardgun. I wanted to try grenades, but she laughed and said it was too early for that kind of fun. And no girl has kicked me in months! The army is great, Mom! Much better than the pits; everyone here is helpful and so respectful!¡±


    ¡°If only.¡± Janine smiled sadly, remembering friends and comrades lost to wars. ¡°No, Marco, an army usually means a war at some point. And wars are nothing but mindless pain, hate, rage, and death.¡±


    ¡°Why are we fighting, then? Can¡¯t we live in our villages?¡± His ears flicked.


    ¡°We can, but then war will come to us. We fight to end the need for war. To liberate those who can¡¯t save themselves,¡± Janine said, leaning back in her chair. ¡°I remember my first mission well. It was a simple mop-up operation; a group of slavers had taken over a settlement near our border. We sneaked to its edge and spotted a group of people demanding the freedom of their little ones, children, as Normies call them. A shot in the knee was their answer, and then the leader of the slavers gave the order to string the wounded man for everyone to see what happens to those who incur her wrath. We struck at this very moment.¡± Janine closed her eyes, slipping back into the day when she had lost herself in rage. ¡°We lost a brother and a sister on this night, and by the end of it, I tore the pleading slaver in half and feasted on her remains. The liberated settlement was well outside our borders. Had we not attacked, our kin would still be alive, Marco.¡±


    ¡°But the settlers would suffer.¡± He nodded, understanding what she meant.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than this.¡± She released a claw and made a circle. ¡°One of these saved settlers also later founded the largest medical clinic in the entire Reclamation Army. Some medics who are responsible for saving our lives studied in that very clinic. And had we left the slavers alone, they would¡¯ve come to our lands, eventually. So you see. What goes around comes around. Our sacrifices are not in vain.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± The cub nodded eagerly. ¡°Kill the bad people. Save the good ones.¡±


    ¡°Wrong again!¡± Janine laughed, reached across the table, took Marco under her arms, and sat him on her lap. ¡°Marco, the world is not black and white. Imagine a settlement, a nation, even. Not ruled by a tyrant, but by a council, a group of people, and they refused to join us. Are they good or bad?¡±


    ¡°Dunno,¡± Marco stated. ¡°By refusing the Dynast¡¯s offer, they deny their people prosperity. But¡­ Do they do anything bad?¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡± She patted him on the head. ¡°Sure, some of their laws might be cruel, but who¡¯s to say we¡¯re perfect, eh? The state tries to persuade them or buy their leadership off, yet often we conquer such stubborn neighbors, enforcing the Common language and our culture upon them.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± her son asked. ¡°If they don¡¯t oppress their people¡­¡±


    ¡°A host of reasons. The world is cruel. The few nations that the Dynast has tried to leave alone have experienced carnage at the hands of more violent groups. Cubs in their hundreds, butchered to the last.¡± She closed her eyes, and the image of broken, bleached bones impaled on stakes flashed before her eyes. The retribution Terrific had wrought for it was spectacular. ¡°Or they find a dangerous technology in the ruins and unleash another cataclysm, similar to the one that forced the Reclamation Army to abandon the Desolation. We conquer them for their own good, and as such, we must do everything to preserve their lives. For we are powerful and they are not. Next question. Children raised under Malformed¡¯s rule¡­ who are they?¡±


    ¡°Spawns of evil.¡± Marco nodded seriously. ¡°They eat prisoners alive, torture innocents. Can¡¯t get any eviler.¡±


    ¡°And yet, Chak...¡± Who your sister is probably fucking right now. Janine wanted to say and only smiled, understanding how much this bothered her. She had always considered herself as quite open-minded, but here she was, grumbling to herself like a shaman. ¡°...came to us from their ranks, and the chocolate you ate came from his shop. If the soldiers who conquered his tribe had killed him, we would be robbed of the masterful handling of logistics that saved the lives of our kin. Marco, you need to understand why we, despite our wild nature, obey the military laws and take prisoners. Children who grew up in darkness, never seeing light... Are we really so much better than them to condemn them to extinction just because they had the unfortunate fate of being born under the rule of insane scum? Do we hold a moral superiority to decide if they should perish to the last just because the Spirits graced us with the Blessed Mother? No. I¡¯ll kill anyone stepping up to me in battle, true, but I believe that mercy is never wasted. If we give in to bloodlust, what kind of world will we build? Certainly not the one worth living in.¡±


    ¡°So keep the good people safe, strike down evildoers wherever you can, and show mercy when possible,¡± Marco said.


    ¡°Not when possible. When the laws require it, when it does not go against the mission, and when it is reasonable,¡± Janine corrected him, allowing an amber flame to burst anew in her eyes. ¡°Sparing a soldier is proper. Sparing a civilian is a must. And I¡¯ll butcher any soul who dares to harm a Normie cub. But what is the point of showing mercy to a slaver, a serial killer, or a traitor? Trial, execution¡­ Such a waste of everyone¡¯s time. Never be stingy about compassion, but don¡¯t be a fool either. Use common sense.¡±


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°Correct, Warlord. We are monsters and nothing more. Mercy is not ours to give, but we may as well try. A monster conquers everything in its path, including its own nature.¡± A pleasant voice spoke behind her, and Janine froze for a second, stunned by the fact that someone had sneaked up on her in her own tent.


    Long, elongated fingers appeared from the corner of her vision, encircling her like spider legs. For a moment, Janine thought that Terrific had crawled from the afterlife and arrived to wreak vengeance on her for being an unworthy heir. Why else would her ghost have appeared so often in recent times? However, when an unnatural light illuminated the ten, Janine exhaled. She turned around, covering Marco, and met Ravager¡¯s stare.


    ¡°Blessed Mother,¡± she and Marco said in unison, admitting her superiority. Janine had put a paw over Marco¡¯s mouth to keep him safe. ¡°Why are you here?¡±


    ¡°The Dynast woke me.¡± Ravager removed her paws. The warlord¡¯s tent was spacious enough for her to place a rack of her power armor in, yet the Blessed Mother¡¯s bulk devoured most of the free space. ¡°I heard you asked for help from the Order.¡±


    ¡°As was my duty before the pack,¡± she said sternly. Spirits take all; mortifying or not, she¡¯ll grovel as much as needed to maintain the packs in peak condition.


    ¡°Such a good girl. First told me something interesting, Janine.¡± Ravager leaned over and sniffed, her eyes almost bigger than Marco¡¯s entire body. And she still grew! Everyone saw it; after killing the Techno-Queen, the Blessed Mother had grown a tiny bit. Janine struggled to imagine what her peak even was. ¡°You held back against the sword saint. Willingly. My anger toward you¡­ was misplaced. And for this, I wish to offer recompense.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I¡¯m weak?¡± Janine growled, jumping off the chair and hiding Marco behind herself. ¡°Blessed Mother or not, I refuse! I am Janine! My flaws are my own, and I need no curse to ascend! I will never, ever become a skinwalker!¡±


    She expected a claw to split her from head to waist for such impertinence, leaving two halves of her body struggling to stand up, the ruptured brain trying to retain thought, healing processes overwhelmed, and then Ravager¡¯s jaws would close on the remains, devouring¡­


    The Blessed Mother laughed, shattering the illusion. It was not a mad laugh, and neither was this a mockery. Ravager sounded like a high-society lady who had just heard a fantastic joke from her cavalier.


    ¡°No, this path is not for you, Warlord. Ah, I remember you at last, Warlord Janine,¡± Ravager said. ¡°Four times you have made the right decisions in my presence. You resisted the urge to strike the angel. Forgave your mother. Stopped my madness and saved lives. And showed enough wisdom to go easy on our future.¡± Ravager exhaled a cloud of steam and left a smelly mark on Janine¡¯s cheek. ¡°Welcome to the inner circle, warlord. Devourer will come in the morning, and we are to meet him. Are you free now?¡±


    ¡°I still need to teach my son,¡± Janine replied stubbornly, cursing that the commander had ruined a moment to speak with Marco heart-to-heart.


    ¡°Do so then; we have time aplenty.¡± Ravager pushed herself to the side of the tent and lay on the ground, closing her eyes.


    Janine had quite several things in her tent, including a leather jacket left by Terrific, now serving as a relic to remind her of Mom. A chest of glasses manufactured in the Old World, gifted to her by the National Museum as a souvenir for saving valuable artifacts from raiders. Janine had no actual use for them and was afraid of breaking the beautiful things. So she never drank from them, only occasionally taking them out to polish them, training her fingers to be careful with things.


    Other than that, she had an empty harness, a weapons rack, her other trophies, and a family stone listing her direct relatives and their descendants. Theoretically, Ravager should have smashed them all with her bulk. In theory, Ravager should¡¯ve smashed them all with her bulk. But somehow, almost supernaturally, the woman fit inside the tent, taking up just enough space without destroying anything or sending Janine and Marco flying.


    Janine took a book from her backpack and started asking Marco questions about the tribe¡¯s history, inquiring about the date their name was officially added to the nation and about the founders. Shamans performed this duty in the pits, teaching cubs how to count, about the laws of physics, and explaining the nation¡¯s laws. Since she had ended her son¡¯s education under the shaman¡¯s tutelage, it was now her duty to ensure Marco¡¯s development.


    Ravager kept quiet. Her heartbeat sounded like a drum, beating slowly but steadily, and Janine wondered how the Blessed Mother could sneak up on anyone with this bombastic sound in her chest. The breath coming out of her mouth resembled the heat from a furnace, reminding Janine of the pleasant desert around their village.


    ¡°Very good, Marco.¡± Janine turned a page. ¡°Here is a hard one¡­.¡±


    ¡°You have a question!¡± Ravager snapped, catching Marco¡¯s glance. ¡°Ask away already. Youth should not hold back curiosity; remember it once and for all.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Marco tried to bow, but a tap of a gigantic finger rocketed the tent, prompting the MPs to step inside and inquire if everything was fine. Ravager ignored them. ¡°Your fur,¡± Marco has finally found the courage to ask. ¡°Is it true that it can bisect an arm?¡±


    Ravager blinked, and the aggression vanished from her face. What came into her eyes instead looked like cheeky fun. Ravager held out her arm toward Marco.


    ¡°Touch it, cub,¡± she commanded, and Marco obeyed, first pressing one finger and then his full palm.


    ¡°Soft. Smooth. Like silk,¡± he whispered in surprise, and Ravager laughed.


    ¡°Sharp fur! Divine heir! Blessed Mother!¡± Ravager shook her head and placed it back on her paws. ¡°Seriously, who is spreading these rumors about me? No, cub. I am neither divine nor a mother, and certainly not a hedgehog. I am Ravager, a monster, and nothing more.¡±


    ¡°Then let me talk with my son in peace,¡± Janine barked, waving the MPs away. They couldn¡¯t hope to stop Ravager if the commander had lost it, but she still appreciated their dedication and willingness to help. Perhaps she was being unfair to them.


    The look on Marty¡¯s face when she had to kill her daughter. Her own beautiful cubs, either stillborn or murdered in the pits, haunted her. Death in battle, death from malfunction, death from rivalry, death during a domination, death from old age, death from culling¡­ death, death, death. She got fed up with death.


    ¡°Marco. Do your knees still hurt?¡± Janine softly asked her son.


    ¡°Huh? No! Well, they bother me a little, but I am on my feet all day!¡± Marco jumped off the chair and did a few squats to show that he was okay. But she saw. A minor tremble occurred when his knees bent. Just a minor flaw, but it was there. All because she couldn¡¯t bear him in peace like a proper mother.


    ¡°Marco,¡± Janine forced herself to sound kind and warm, unwilling to scare her son. ¡°How would you like to become an exile?¡±


    ¡°Mom? Warlord?¡± Marco stumbled, fiddling with his beret in his paws. ¡°Have I done something bad? If so, I will fix it! Please don¡¯t throw me out; I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    ¡°I will never throw you out, Marco. You are forever my son.¡± I love you. She wanted to say it but stopped herself. No sign of weakness in front of the family. ¡°I wasn¡¯t a perfect mother. I hadn¡¯t given you enough vitality; I could not give you sisters to keep you safe in the pits¡­¡±


    ¡°But you took me out there! You saved me, mom!¡± She raised a paw, stopping his outburst.


    ¡°But I can give you a life worth living,¡± Janine continued, as if nothing had happened. ¡°Marco, Dad, and I have saved up some tokens. I¡¯m not exactly poor, you know. I can ask for help and buy you a house in the Core Lands. You can go into an actual school and live a normal, peaceful life, a life that was promised to us by the Dynast.¡± She quickly pressed on at a hesitation in his eyes. ¡°You won¡¯t be alone! The Net has greatly expanded in our day and age. My rank allows for certain liberties, so we can speak daily! And there are plenty of chocolate treats in the Core Lands. Think about it: no girl would dare to hit you; you¡¯ll see the wonders of the world firsthand¡­¡±


    ¡°And leave you to fight for my safety alone?¡± Marco asked bluntly.


    ¡°Marco. You¡¯ll die here. Your brothers will die. Your sisters will die. A day will come, and I myself will perish in some ditch, forgotten and alone.¡± Janine told him the truth to frighten him. ¡°There is no noble demise in battle. The songs and legends told by the shamans? They are about the dead kin who never knew peace in their lives. Demise on a battlefield is either painful and ugly or instantaneous, if you are lucky. The Wolf Tribe fights so that future generations of all people can live in peace. You¡¯re part of that generation! In the Core Lands, you can start a family and become happy. Not fake happy to reassure me, don¡¯t argue with me, Marco, I¡¯m not blind! Actually happy. Imagine holding your cubs and having no fear of seeing them dead!¡±


    ¡°This will mean leaving you and kin here alone,¡± Marco said sadly. There was determination in his amber eyes. ¡°No, mother. I am a Wolfkin! It is our duty to serve as shields for the meek. I may be weak and frail, but I will never leave you and my kin to shoulder the duty alone.¡±


    ¡°Right choice, Cubbie,¡± Ravager chuckled. ¡°Monsters belong with monsters.¡±


    Would it kill you to shut up? She suppressed the urge to grab the axe and bury it in Ravager¡¯s forehead. It was not Ravager¡¯s fault. It was Janine who had failed to convince her little boy to choose a happier path in life. She picked up the textbook and found a page.


    ¡°Should you ever change your mind, Marco, the offer is always here for as long as I live.¡± She flipped a page, gesturing for her son to sit. ¡°Let us continue, without interruptions this time. Here is a hard one. The Heatlands, the Ravaged Lands, the Wastes, and the Desolation have exceedingly high temperatures, making them often dangerous to non-New Breeds. How come?¡±


    ¡°Uhm¡­¡± Marco scratched his head, and she gave him time to collect his thoughts. Normies studied this subject in the eighth grade, so she wouldn¡¯t hold it against him if he forgot. The topic was of no use in their lives, and rather boring to boot. ¡°I know!¡± He beamed. ¡°It¡¯s the sun! Our planet is protected by a protective layer of atmosphere, but the Extinction thinned it out. Well, the weapons were unleashed during it. The terraforming process is slowly healing it, forming heavy clouds over our skies, but despite the work of the Great Nations, it hasn¡¯t recovered everywhere yet.¡±


    ¡°Not wholly true,¡± Ravager whispered to Marco, holding a paw over her mouth. ¡°Know about nanomachines, cubbie?¡± Marco nodded, and the commander continued. ¡°The madmen unleashed it during the Extinction and parts of them still linger in the atmosphere. Imagine a constant magnifying glass looming over the lands¡­¡±


    ¡°Commander!¡± Janine raised her voice. ¡°No prompting!¡±


    ¡°What?¡± The Blessed Mother perked up and tilted her head. ¡°I¡¯m nothing. You have no proof that I did anything, Janine.¡±


    ¡°I saw you whispering to my son!¡±


    ¡°No idea what you are talking about.¡±


    It¡¯s like dealing with two unruly cubs whom I can¡¯t smack!


    ¡°Please refrain from adding anything, Commander,¡± Janine asked, grinding her fangs. ¡°I planned to educate my son about the topic tonight¡­¡±


    ¡°So he doesn¡¯t know? Great!¡± The black bulk flung Janine off her feet, and Ravager took her place. ¡°Class, listen up. Nanotech, of which nanomachine weaponry is a part, played a vital role in the Old World. Imagine a laser scalpel forming in the doctor¡¯s hand, automatically cleaning itself, or a steel wave flowing over a person, forming armor. Nanotech gave us great wonders, creating many engines capable of self-repair, but it is also a source of great peril when its programming goes awry. To understand the scope of the potential danger, you first need to understand where it was used¡­ Would you stop acting like a female in heat? We are leading a lesson here!¡± Ravager snapped at Janine, who tried to push her away. ¡°Where were I¡­ Application of nanotech. Aside from serving as instruments, it was sold as a subscription to patients suffering from various ailments. Picture a situation. Your stomach no longer produces juices to digest food. Nanotech can fix it, five credits per month, please! Pay up, and your faulty organs will work as good as new for the duration of the subscription.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t this magic heal the sick?¡± Marco dared to ask.


    ¡°It¡¯s not magic; it¡¯s technology, little one. And yes, it could, but it would¡¯ve made less money for the suits, since heal a person once and¡­¡±


    ¡°Who are these suits?¡±


    Janine clenched her fists, but then noticed Ravager¡¯s grin and genuine interest in Marco¡¯s expression. The commander was also hungry for a life without violence, and who was she to deny her a brief touch of that? She sat by her son¡¯s side and listened to a three-hour lecture in which Ravager explained in detail the uses and applications of nanotech, what is the difference between nanomachines and self-replicating swarms, how MAD weapons of nanotech class had changed the climate of the regions for centuries, and why the Great Nations had banned certain uses of nanotech in wars, marking the creation of situations where nanomachines imitated the wounded to lure soldiers as a war crime.


    We are more than monsters, Blessed Mother. The warlord hugged her son. And so are you.

 Chapter 22: The Second Army

    The commander led her south of the military camp, stopping right after they passed the final minefield. A few surprise patrol parties and recon teams noticed them and inquired about their purpose here, but Ravager sat still, listening to the distant tremors only she could hear, and Janine took it upon herself to explain their reason for being here.


    It was morning, but the clouds draped a shadow over the army. Engineers toiled to remove the buried shield generators, officers oversaw the abandonment of the city so the agents of the Investigation Bureau could seal its gate, officially claiming the region for the Reclamation Army. The plan was for the place to remain an abandoned necropolis until the terraformation could eliminate the most severe hazards, allowing the settlers to arrive.


    In truth, it won¡¯t be so. In mere days or weeks, if they are lucky, after their redeployment, scavengers would arrive, disarming left behind traps and mines. From there, these people would either take the city apart or sell its location to one of the many raiding gangs. Life, lawlessness, and disease caused by the toxic waste would still permeate this region for decades to come, until the Reclamation Army¡¯s return. The region was claimed to keep the Iternian noses out.


    Speak of the devil. Four Iternians filmed the white pods moving out of the city. Each pod traveled on an individual platform. Inside them floated the victims of Techno-Queen¡¯s madness. Students of Till Ingo, men and women of various shapes, flanked this procession, refusing to let the reporters speak or film the injured.


    Reporters¡­Heh. Three Iternians looked exactly as one would expect from the press, clad in elegant blue suits, pale faces behind illuminated transparent visors without a hint of scars. Round, hovering drones hovered soundlessly around them, recording everything as the trio tried to engage a shaman assigned to their protection in conversation. Armbands emblazoned with ¡°PRESS¡± encircled their arms, and the same glowing letters decorated their chests and the backs of their helmets. They stuck out like sore thumbs, and despite their claims of the ability to keep themselves safe, Ravager had assigned them protection.


    Because the Iternians didn¡¯t know better. Corpses of their people were often found in the vast wastes or abandoned ruins. Rival country or not, Janine approved the commander¡¯s decision to see them safely to Fort Uglo, where they would be escorted to Iternian territory.


    The last one, though. He was no reporter. The man had the same eager expression on his face as his companions, but he had the entire camp in view, never leaving his back open or failing to spot an approaching soldier. Holsters and sheaths grown from his nanomachine armor kept his weapons within perfect reach. Noticing her stare, he smiled and pressed a finger to his helmet, admitting her suspicion.


    Graverobber. Explorators, as Iterna called them. Genetically enhanced humans, their muscles enlarged and compressed, their organs made immune to poisons, their bones thicker than those of a Normie. No longer Normies, explorators worked as spies and bodyguards. A sudden steel glint in his eyes and the speed with which he scanned her neck and sides warned the warlord that he had killed before.


    The shaman nodded at Janine¡¯s look, wordlessly telling her she had the same suspicions. The explorator had probably planned to visit the city after the army had left, but there was no reason to make it easier for the Iternians. She had no fear for the shaman¡¯s life. Iterna was their rival, not an enemy. And if needed, no pseudo-New Breed could hope to stand up to the real deal.


    ¡°What is the reason for Commander Ravager¡¯s presence here in the open?¡± a reporter asked after being pushed back by the shaman. ¡°The public has a right to know! Commander Ravager! A few questions, please!¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Ravager said, and swung her head to examine the iternian. ¡°Your name?¡±


    ¡°Jacob,¡± the startled reporter answered. ¡°Jacob Makarevich, commander.¡±


    ¡°Date of birth?¡±


    ¡°April, two¡­ Wait, this isn¡¯t what I meant, commander! I wanted to ask you questions, not the other way around.¡±


    ¡°Blame your own poor wording. Date of birth. I am waiting.¡±


    Janine caught the explorator grinning at Ravager¡¯s interrogation of the man. The Blessed Mother demanded to know everything about him, his family, how many cubs he had sired, where he was born, and what the weather was like on Iterna at this time of year. The warlord heard chuckles of the passing soldiers and let them have their fun.


    Her feet caught it. Faint tremors raced through the ground, intensifying with each passing second. Back home, that would be a warning of an impending earthquake. While not entirely inaccurate, another kind of natural disaster was approaching them.


    ¡°Welcome to the inner circle,¡± said Dragena, coming closer with other warlords. She continued to wear her full combat gear.


    ¡°You owe me a coat,¡± Alpha growled instead of greeting, looking ridiculous in her cargo pants and a white shirt that quickly turned black in the acrid winds. Alpha sniffed Janine, leaving a scent mark. ¡°Took you long enough.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll aim to be better.¡± Janine shook Alpha¡¯s wrist, steering clear of the ginormous claws. ¡°Sorry about the coat. How much¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Give me a new one.¡±


    A Wolfkin encased in highly advanced pitch-black power armor wrapped her arms around Janine next. Zero didn¡¯t care what the lower ranks might think of her; she rubbed her elongated helmet against her named sister¡¯s forehead, her black cloak flapping in the wind. Janine had only seen Zero¡¯s face once, when she was accepted into the ranks of the warlords.


    Zero and Ravager were twins, indistinguishable in appearance but different in size and personality. Zero shared every ounce of Ravager¡¯s gift, healing as fast as the Blessed Mother. When Dominator punched a hole in the First Warlord, she healed in under a week. She led no troops, preferring to wage war from range, using her rifle and traps to collect lives. Many shamans still mistook Zero for a Ravager or claimed she was an incarnation of the Blessed Mother, so she scrubbed her face from most photos and always wore a sealed helmet, insisting on being her own person.


    ¡°Congratulation!¡± Zero spoke warmly, grabbing Janine by the paws and spinning her around like a young and expressive female. Her power armor was a masterpiece of technology; every joint worked soundlessly, and its alloy provided enough protection to withstand the fiercest explosions and fastest projectiles. ¡°I always knew Big Sis would start admitting new gens closer to her eventually!¡±


    ¡°Sucks, it¡¯s not my girl,¡± Ygrite chuckled. A Wolfkin, easily as tall as a warlord, waltzed in behind her, surveying Janine inquisitively. ¡°Welcome to the circle. Heard that, Kalaisa? Janine has outsped you!¡±


    ¡°Adorable,¡± the Wolfkin replied casually.


    ¡°You are not a warlord,¡± Janine said icily, hugging Ygrite. Kalaisa smelled like a wolf hag, but she was huge. Easily a warlord material. ¡°Address your leader with respect befitting her status before I beat it into you.¡±


    ¡°You can try.¡± Kalaisa rolled her eyes. But at Ygrite¡¯s look, she knelt. ¡°Warlord.¡±


    Ah, so this is why you keep dragging the girl around. Janine chose to ignore the implied disrespect. No wonder Ygrite has been so stressed lately. The girl was, what, sixteen or seventeen years old? And is already prime material. Rapid growth without proper experience, backed by countless easy wins¡­ Too valuable for the tribe to be broken, maimed, or killed; too volatile to be left alone. Yes, had Janine been in Ygrite¡¯s shoes, she would¡¯ve chained the idiotic cub to herself until she wizened up enough.


    Come to think of it, Terrific had let Janine and Martyshkina get away with a lot of weird shit in the past. They once held their own warlord at gunpoint to protect a Troll, a prisoner whom their leader planned to kill. Terrific backed off, but didn¡¯t murder them later, seeing talent and promise in her wolf hags. She even gave them a pep talk once, when they were scouts.


    ¡°Keep your prot¨¦g¨¦ on a leash, Ygrite, before someone cuts her down to size,¡± snapped Ashbringer. She grabbed Janine in a bear hug. Janine returned the favor, matching her muscles against Ashbringer¡¯s. With a grunt of admiration, Ashbringer let go of Janine. ¡°Don¡¯t lose this promotion as fast as you lost the title.¡± She lightly punched Janine in the chest. ¡°Do nothing I wouldn¡¯t do. If you are uncertain, come and talk, sister.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Janine promised. Ashbringer was the first Wolfkin of the non-first generation to be admitted into Ravager¡¯s inner circle of helpers. It must¡¯ve been lonely for her to be the youngest among her peers for so long.


    The inner circle weren¡¯t advisors. When she made up her mind, Ravager heeded no advice. The inner circle was responsible for smoothing out situations resulting from the commander¡¯s actions, passing orders to the Normies, and listening to the complaints of local governments and medical personnel. They were glorified helpers, rushing back and forth to try to mitigate the consequences of the Blessed Mother¡¯s madness, but the lower ranks viewed the warlords privy to Ravager¡¯s words with almost divine reverence.


    ¡°Blessed be, sister.¡± Lacerated One said and joined Ravager.


    ¡°Always knew you had it in you.¡± Predaig patted Janine.


    ¡°Saw your girls recently,¡± Onyxia whispered in Janine¡¯s ears, catching the warlord by surprise. Of them all, Onyxia was the most unique, beating even Janine to the punch. Her body was like a dark portal that sucked in the light. Shrouded in utter darkness, she stood tall as Zero, with two amber orbs floating in the pools of darkness in her eyes. Envious tongues whispered that the woman existed in several planes at once, and that is why she never mated. Janine dismissed these rumors; Dragena had no cubs yet, either. When Onyxia spoke, she did so in two voices: one sounded like a knife sharpening itself against a bone, and another tone was that of a normal sister, secure in her authority. ¡°How do they stack up against my Anji, huh?¡±


    The Wolfkin behind the dark warlord bowed, eagerly offering her neck. With a pristine white mane of hair flowing freely to her waist and bulging muscles barely concealed by a greenish jumpsuit, Anji looked breathtakingly beautiful.


    ¡°They¡¯d lose.¡± Janine grinned, shaking paws with the respectful wolf hag. ¡°You¡¯ve raised a fine replacement, Onyxia! Many healthy cubs to you, girl.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Warlord,¡± Anji replied in a serene tone.


    ¡°Thank you, Warlord. Bootlicker,¡± Kalaisa mockingly grumbled.


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    She gasped as Janine elbowed her in the solar plexus, knocking the woman back. Kalaisa reeled, wrapping her arms around her sides, sinking her foot claws into the stone, and letting out a low growl of annoyance.


    ¡°You are wide open and too slow for your temperament, girlie. Don¡¯t drop your guard around those you wish to insult, lest you¡¯ll gain a whole swath of fresh scars,¡± Janine advised Kalaisa, not angered in the slightest. It happens sometimes. Rapid growth clouded judgment, and beatings in the pits didn¡¯t help a cub mature. No biggie; Ygrite will eventually shape this rough gem into a diamond.


    ¡°Slow? Wide open?¡± Fire flashed in Kalaisa¡¯s eyes. Her arms slashed out in a crisscrossing pattern, landing a heavy blow on Janine¡¯s raised forearm, surprising the warlord with the impact and speed behind the attack, as well as how fast the wolf hag closed the distance. Kalaisa clenched her fists, breathing hard from the excitement. ¡°Why won¡¯t you show me how it¡¯s done, granny?¡±


    Sorry, Ygrite, gotta break some bones. Janine thought as she flexed her muscles. This wasn¡¯t a challenge, not really. There was no hatred, rage, or anything similar behind Kalaisa¡¯s eyes; her scent also betrayed just a desire for a brawl rather than a dominance match. The youngster wanted to test her strength. Janine has noticed the hungry look in Ashbringer¡¯s eyes. If she withdraws from the challenge, Ashbringer will step forward and maul the fool.


    ¡°Stay calm, wolf hag,¡± the voices whispered in Kalaisa¡¯s ear, and her head was jerked to the side. One paw immobilized a shoulder, and the other the head, pressing a claw against the jugular. Onyxia grinned with her pitch-black fangs, rubbing a nose across the strained neck. ¡°There is no shame in receiving a remark. You easily lose track of your surroundings. Own your mistake, and let¡¯s act as adults, shall we?¡± The claw pushed, piercing the skin, and Kalaisa shivered from an unnatural cold. ¡°Or must I discipline a cub?¡±


    ¡°I obey, warlord.¡± Kalaisa bared her neck, and Janine accepted the invitation, biting her but leaving the woman scarless out of respect for Ygrite and to preserve her honor. She shoved Kalaisa to her knees.


    ¡°At attention!¡± Alpha barked, stopping the bickering.


    The tremors intensified, and even the Iternians felt them now, along with the thunderous roar of avalanches coming down as a titanic mass moved across the plains. The roar of hundreds of engines pierced this chaotic cacophony, and the light of projectors pierced the toxic veil obscuring the horizon. Dozens of reconnaissance vehicles burst through the swirling clouds, followed by rows of heavy tanks shielding troop carriers and mobile missile launchers. Orderly ranks of soldiers clad in power armor marched in unison, moving as if on parade, rifles clutched to their chests. Their steps thundered like an approaching storm.


    The Second Army has arrived.


    Where the Third Army had three primary colors: black for the Wolf Tribe, white for the Order, and finally brown for their troops, the Second Army proudly wore the silver colors to honor their mighty leader. The Second kept its vehicles in peak condition; no bullet marks marred the tanks¡¯ sides, and no scratches from explosions ruined the silvery color of their infantry.


    Their armor and weapons came directly from the foundries of the Core Lands, not from the factories of the Outer Lands. Former raiders, their children, conscripted villagers, former refugees, and many New Breeds served in the Third, making uniformity an impossibility. The brave men and women of the Second came from the Core Lands, the Normies raised in the safety of the great bastions, now venturing out to bring stability and order to those who lacked it.


    The discipline of the Second put the Third to shame. In this advance, there was no arrogance, just calm assurance that they could handle everything through the joint coordination of different divisions. What they lacked in experience, they made up for in dedication.


    Three crawlers rolled into sight. The Perfection, the Ideal, and the Hare, formerly known as the Snake Lord. There were still some traces of the former heraldry, ghosts of snakes¡¯ images stretching across the Hare¡¯s immense bulk. It was adorned with new images of leaping animals from the Old World. Shield generators kept the banners on the crawlers clear by sweeping away every particle of dust. A feeder, an ancient mobile kitchen, trotted on large wheels in the shadow of its larger siblings, protected by enough weaponry to hollow out a mountain. This generated calories for a single person in the entire army.


    At last, the Emerald Guard came into view¡ªtwo thousand soldiers, veterans of the original Second, kept forever young and capable by Devourer¡¯s personal coffins. They vowed to not die until they saw the Unification, and in their loyalty they followed first the Dynast and then Devourer into every hell, suffering, losing body parts, and rising again, reforged by the nation¡¯s finest cybernetics.


    Drones, a recent addition to the military, flew above them, mapping the area and carrying small-caliber energy weapons, ready to add their fury to any struggle that might befall their allies.


    The Emerald Guard were normal humans who had undergone countless augmentations and preferred to hide their faces under helmets. Initially, they fashioned their armor in the shape of snakes and dubbed themselves the Serpents¡¯ Heirs. However, following Devourer¡¯s total metamorphosis, which resulted in the permanent loss of human features, they renamed themselves. The gold and emerald elements of their ornamentation blended seamlessly with the alloys of their armor, giving them the appearance of ferocious, wingless half-wyrms.


    The elites¡¯ numbers dwindled, but Janine had no idea where they were enlisting reinforcements to maintain the strict two-thousand-man limit. There were rumors that the Emerald Guard voluntarily provided their genetic material to clone factories, allowing them to reincarnate not only from metal, but also from flesh. While romantic, there couldn¡¯t be much truth to such stories. If you could clone someone from scratch, why create Normies and not New Breeds?


    Ravager spread her arms, welcoming the guests. Immediately, the Sword Saints emerged from the camp and stood to the left of the Blessed Mother, while Janine and the others stood to her right, leaving Anji and Kalaisa behind. Janine caught Bertruda¡¯s glance but ignored it, only giving a single amiable nod to enforce an image of unity. Ignore the Ice Boys. Never again will Janine allow herself to be tangled in any mess involving them.


    Captain Cristobo Bulwashnikov, a tall and broad man wearing a brown captain¡¯s trench coat and a rebreather to withstand the harsh air of the surrounding lands, joined them. A small entourage of officers and bodyguards flanked the man as he stopped beside Ravager, saluting the incoming forces.


    ¡°Put on the helmet, Cristobo, before you burn your lungs,¡± Ravager hissed.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, commander,¡± the coal-skinned man responded. When the tip of Ravager¡¯s claw left a tiny blood mark on his neck, he trembled. Janine barely saw the Blessed Mother¡¯s movement; to the eyes of the Normies, she never moved an inch, still standing with her arms outstretched in greeting.


    ¡°You have cubs at home, idiot.¡± Ravager smirked, and the captain¡¯s eyes widened. He raised a shaking hand and removed the rebreather. ¡°Congratulation. You are now a New Breed. No poison can harm you. Ignore the voice; it¡¯ll disappear in a couple of months.¡±


    Ravager herself was strong enough for many soldiers to revere her as someone mystical and divine. To see her topple a mountain filled the hearts of the people with nothing less than pure awe. But there was one thing that struck fear in Janine. Power grafting. At the touch of her claw, Ravager could give a person a power once per week. Sometimes she could control this process and give it the exact power she wanted, but more often than not, it was a lottery. And sometimes, very rarely, it could trigger an involuntary change into a skinwalker.


    ¡°Greetings, comrades!¡± Ravager roared to the Second; the corners of her mouth twitched and formed a warm smile. The recon vehicles stopped, and the soldiers shouted greetings back, sounding genuinely happy. ¡°We thank you for your loyal support! With you here, the Third Army can finally march on again!¡±


    ¡°Greetings to you too, Commander Ravager.¡± A deep lush baritone boomed across the plains, heard by everyone, and finally Devourer showed himself from within the clouds, leaving the Iternians gasping in amazement.


    A giant¡ªlonger than a crawler¡ªslithered forward; his body could stretch to the sky, his immense weight carving new roads in the ground as Devourer moved to Ravager, circling around his forces. Once he was a man, born after the Extinction into a normal family. According to the official history, as a child, Devourer was exposed to the glow as a child, and his skin sloughed off and scales grew in its place. He was one of the first New Breeds to join the Reclamation Army, following Outsider and Ravager. Back then, he was just a rival to First and Alpha, with a similar build, a mouth full of fangs, and tough claws on his fingers. His ferocious nature and indiscriminate eating habits had earned him the name Devourer. Atop his bike, Devourer led his forces to victory like some barbarian.


    Decades passed, and Devourer changed. His torso elongated, swallowing his limbs as he grew. And keep growing, becoming larger than most vehicles in the state, towering even above mountains. His jaws could stretch to an unimaginable size, swallowing sand reapers whole. The rattle at the end of its tail sounded like an artillery barrage, instilling fear in the enemy before his massive body crashed down, tearing wide holes in the opposing forces¡¯ formations. His scales matched the toughest alloys of the Old World; his bright eyes spotted satellites in orbit; and the weave of his coils could put an entire brigade to sleep.


    Above all, Devourer had become a match for Ravager. The two battled each other, ruining mountains and creating canyons. After winning the official match and tearing a gaping hole from the corner of Devourer¡¯s mouth to his tail, the Blessed Mother succumbed to Devourer¡¯s venom and fell into a coma that lasted for a week. The sheer stubbornness of the Second Army commander had earned him the respect of the Wolf Tribe. There was no scar on Devourer anymore, and this surprised Janine. The costs to remove such a scar must¡¯ve been astronomical.


    She heard the Normies argue Devourer was envious of Ravager. Foolishness, she told them. Commander Devourer was the uncrowned ruler of the Stormfiend, the greatest archeotech city in the Core Lands; he was the patron of many built towns and an idol to the growing generations, a person surrounded by brilliant minds; he himself was well spoken and an excellently self-educated star of the Reclamation Army.


    What could such a person envy?


    ¡°Brave men and women of the Third, I greet you all,¡± Devourer said, raising to full height and swaying so his shadows wouldn¡¯t cover the Third. ¡°By your sacrifice, you have saved the population of an entire region! Bravo Ravager! Excellent work, my comrades! Glory to the Third!¡±


    ¡°Excellent work, comrades! Glory to the Third!¡± his army roared.


    Several groups and even whole squads shouted and waved their own personal cheers to the individual members of the Third they had worked with before, and Janine returned the gesture, letting out a howl to the troops who had dragged her from under a wreck in the past. The scheming Iternians filmed it, but there was no way to remove them.


    Devourer let the thundering shouts subside, then extended the tip of his tail to Ravager, allowing her paw to grasp it for a shake. His snake eyes flicked and singled out Janine, and a pleasant smile, reserved for more private occasions, touched his lips.


    ¡°Ah, Janine, it¡¯s been thirty-eight years since I last saw you! You have become a warlord? Well earned, I say!¡±


    ¡°It warms my heart to see you in good health, Commander Devourer. My apologies for distracting you recently.¡± When she attempted to bow, the tip of his tail stopped her. It boggled her mind how something so gigantic could control the very edge of his body to be gentle.


    ¡°I will have none of this on this joyous day... Night? It¡¯s hard to say in such a dreary place. Occasion it is, Warlord! Call me Devourer. You are most welcome to message me at any time of the day. Your sisters, you, and the fabled sword saints...¡± He nodded amiably to the Ice Fangs, ¡°...have richly deserved such a privilege. How are the children? All well, I trust?¡±


    ¡°Just fine, thank you.¡± Janine forced a smile, hoping that Devourer would finally look away.


    She felt herself drowning in his eyes, as if something was about to rip out her soul and suck it into those huge pools. Once, Janine worked with Devourer to take down an irrecoverable Apocalypse class. Against all rules and commands, Devourer came upon the girl they had been ordered to kill and talked, trying to convince the cub to step down and get help. Upon hearing that she wasn¡¯t needed by anyone, Devourer nodded. His tail dropped, and the apocalypse was averted.


    ¡°Superb, simply superb. Zero, Camelia, First, Alpha, Macarius!¡± His eyes shifted toward the group. ¡°My dear friends, how I have missed you! We will speak at length later, but for now I must steal Ravager away for a while; we have matters of state to discuss. But pray, don¡¯t think I¡¯m leaving you high and dry, my friends. We have brought enough refreshments for everyone, including our unexpected Iternian friends. Today we celebrate our reunion!¡± Noticing Cristobo¡¯s movement, the commander shifted his head and lowered himself to the ground. ¡°And of course, everything mine is yours! Supplies, medicine, and personnel¡ªwe will help however we can. Please give orders to my troops as if they were yours, Captain Cristobo.¡±


    ¡°I thank you for the courtesy, your lordship.¡± The captain dropped to one knee, but the tail prompted him to stand up.


    ¡°Janine, with me,¡± Ravager growled, heading for the mountains on the west side. ¡°Alpha, First.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Blessed Mother,¡± First said. He put a paw on the explorator¡¯s shoulder. Courteously, but sternly, he accompanied the man to the feast while Alpha entertained the reporters, answering their questions in a mumbling voice.


    The warlord followed her leader, shocked at the sudden call. Previously, Cristobo, First, or Alpha would accompany Ravager during negotiations between the commanders. For what possible reason could the Blessed Mother need her?

 Chapter 23: To Live and Change

    Janine had to run to keep up with Devoured and Ravager, who traveled at a leisurely pace. A hill, a protruding rock, a steel pipe¡ªanything that ended up in front of Devourer had become a part of a flattened road, compressed by his incomprehensible bulk. Ravager punched holes in everything in her path, rather than leaping over jagged rocks. Devourer shifted his body, coiling closer to Ravager, and the commander picked up the game, folding her arms behind her back and standing upright, slowing her pace to a stroll. The two walked in a show of unity for the armies, and Janine caught up.


    The illusion was shattered when they crossed ten kilometers and reached a canyon that encircled parts of the mountain range. Ravager leaned against a mountain, and Devourer hissed, his shadow dancing over the commander. It took Janine a moment to realize that the Second Army commander was shaking with rage.


    ¡°Are you trying to upstage me?¡± He thundered, and the politeness and warmth washed out of his voice. His baritone echoed through the canyon below the group.


    ¡°I simply followed the Dynast¡¯s order, Devourer.¡± Ravager released her claws, licking something off of them. ¡°The bitch was a threat. Now there is no bitch.¡±


    ¡°Except for the one before me.¡± He struck.


    In her long life, Janine has seen city walls fall, some of them crushed by her own axe. She¡¯d seen entire mountain ranges engulfed in flames, their sides melting from the intense heat and collapsing under the weight of a never-ending artillery barrage. What she had not seen was a mountain disappear from her sight. And Devourer did just that. His lower half moved so fast that her eyes simply failed to register the movement; only the throbbing pain in her eardrums and the shockwave crashing against her alerted her to the titanic moment when the tail connected with Ravager¡¯s chin, cracking the mountain. The rift of destruction widened, splitting the mountain in two. Before the warlord could raise her paws to protect herself, the commanders swapped the stones that were falling on Janine.


    ¡°Apologies for the outburst, warlord,¡± Devourer said. ¡°The Dynast gave us the order to take the city together!¡± His voice silenced the fallen avalanche. ¡°We were to surround the city properly, cut off all escape routes, and bombard it into the stone age.¡±


    ¡°And how many people would¡¯ve died?¡± Ravager asked, wiping her chin.


    ¡°And how many of our soldiers had died?¡± Devourer replied. ¡°I reviewed the report, Ravager! The bastards tortured and murdered our emissary. Why did he even go in there?¡±


    ¡°He insisted on doing his duty¡­¡±


    ¡°I am sure the feeble Ravager couldn¡¯t restrain a mighty Normie,¡± Devourer sneered.


    ¡°Techno-Queen had planned¡­¡±


    ¡°Something to slaughter us all; yes, it is obvious to anyone with half a brain.¡± Devourer rolled his eyes. ¡°Scanners could¡¯ve pinpointed the bomb¡¯s location, and the sheer firepower of four heat rays fired by the crawlers¡¯ main cannons would¡¯ve melted her throne room, shield or no shield.¡±


    ¡°Along with the hostages,¡± Ravager said quietly.


    ¡°Along with the hostages.¡± Devourer nodded. ¡°Tragedy and mercy. We wage war, Ravager. People can die. Techno-Queen was never a threat. She was simply a relic from an era that stubbornly refused to die, existing solely to add to my peerless legacy. You stole this triumph from me because you refused to wait for my arrival¡­¡±


    ¡°Your fault for being so slow, weakling.¡± A splash of Ravager¡¯s blood landed between Devourer¡¯s eyes.


    He froze and closed his huge eyelids. Hearing the rattling sound of Devourer¡¯s tail and the fur rising on Ravager¡¯s neck, Janine lunged forward, landing between the commanders and kneeling.


    ¡°Blessed Mother, Commander Devourer, cease this aggression! Our armies stand near, extending a comradely paw to each other. It won¡¯t do for either of you to shatter our sisterhood out of pure childishness.¡± I am dead. Janine decided, as their combined irritation focused on her. Might as well go all out. ¡°Yes, childishness! For what reasons do you act like a cub who¡¯s been denied her first treat? Commander Devourer, your ingenuity has led to the founding of some of the most prestigious cities in the state; why should you worry about missing out on a humble snack unworthy of the title of settlement? Once the Blessed Mother toppled the tyrant, her people willingly joined our ranks. I imagine that if we had bombarded them mercilessly, the situation would have been different, and if Iterna had recorded us conducting a more traditional siege, they might have used these materials to sow discord in our ranks instead. Commander Ravager, I understand your dedication to keeping our allies safe, but Commander Devourer has a point! If the Dynast had ordered us to work together, we should have worked together! At the very least, you should have informed him of the change in plans.¡±


    They glared at her. Two godlike beings, annoyed that an ant has barged into their business. Janine could almost sense Ravager¡¯s lips parting, revealing deadly fangs ready to pierce her skin for daring to take the initiative. Devourer¡¯s silent disapproval was just as palpable. But she didn¡¯t care. Soldiers must see their leaders united, never attacking each other in public. What was allowed for warlords and lower ranks wasn¡¯t allowed for Ravager or Devourer, and by the Spirits, she will make them see the reason, or perish trying!


    ¡°Janine,¡± Ravager said. To calm herself, she placed a paw on her head. ¡°Our duty demands the utmost sacrifice from us all¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, be silent for a moment, gnat,¡± Devourer hissed, taking a deep breath that tugged at Janine like the pull of a sandstorm. ¡°On principle, I agree with you, warlord. However, there is a larger issue at play here. Do you see these things?¡± Devourer¡¯s head came down, stopping before Ravager. He turned his head to the left and right. ¡°Do you know what they are called? Eyes! Anyone with eyes can see that you are reflexively lashing out at everything and everyone in your path in the misguided hope of being destroyed.¡±


    ¡°How dare you?¡± Ravager¡¯s muscles flexed, the skin of her neck and arms inflating like balloons. ¡°You forget your place¡­¡±


    ¡°It is above you, now and forever,¡± the Second¡¯s commander replied smugly.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Ravager¡¯s voice dropped to a whisper. ¡°You lost the last time.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Ravager blinked, more confused than angry. ¡°Why?!¡±


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t win. Stay silent, woman; I haven¡¯t finished talking. Sure, I¡¯d have liked nothing more than to see your wreck get its comeuppance, but alas, the men and women who were so foolishly placed under your command deserve none of this shit. Look at the state of your forces. Open your eyes and see, Ravager! Power armor is falling apart, your warlords are wearing filthy rags, medicine is in short supply, wounded and dying everywhere, and soldiers are forced to scavenge like looters! Where are your supply lines? For once in your miserable life, understand what you are causing for the people under your command, insolent child!¡± Devourer¡¯s head rose. ¡°I do not know what the hell happened in your life to make you like this, and frankly, I do not care. The past has come and gone. It can¡¯t hurt you; it has no control over you; only the present and the future matter. But if you want to act like a petulant child in need of a punishment, fine, I¡¯ll treat you like one. I had a little talk with Dynast, and you are grounded, bitch! You may speak.¡±


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    ¡°What do you mean by this, Devourer?¡± Ravager asked cautiously.


    ¡°Why, the Third Army¡ªthe entire army, mind you¡ªis to be stationed in Houstad. It is time for you to see what you have helped to build.¡± A hint of genuine warmth crept into Devourer¡¯s tone, replaced by a mocking tone almost as quickly as it came. ¡°Officially, the Third Army is to help the regional defense forces keep the peace. Unofficially, you are to resupply and replenish their numbers. And you are to rest. No killing allies, no sneaking into other regions to hunt or fight; just stay, sleep, or finally start acting like an adult and try to educate yourself to become someone worth looking up to. You can even call me; I¡¯m a good listener and won¡¯t judge, truly.¡±


    ¡°You have no right to do this to me, Devourer. You owe me for the Restoration Pact! I¡¯d supported you! I helped however¡­¡± Ravager stepped forward and stared intently at the massive, serpentine figure. There was fear in her eyes. Fear not of Devourer, but of something else.


    ¡°And for that, I am eternally grateful to you, Ravager. However, my obligation to you does not excuse me from permitting you to reduce your army to nothing in order to satisfy your pitiful need for misery. Sort yourself out and leave the war to the professionals.¡± Devourer glanced at the distant city. ¡°The old-timers are all the same. Cowards and idiots, resigned to a single role, handicapped by their past. Yet here I am, armless and legless, enjoying life, unlike you. I live instead of existing. Even your own children have changed, and in that they have surpassed you,¡± the serpentine New Breed said, nodding at Janine. ¡°The day will come when the Wolf Tribe¡¯s cubs will attend schools in the Core Lands and study alongside the Ice Fangs, and that is final.¡±


    ¡°Would that be true,¡± Ravager mused. ¡°What a life it would be. You need me. I¡­ This is all I know.¡±


    ¡°Learn something else,¡± Devourer said mercilessly. ¡°Do not fall too far behind your children. Face the world you helped build, marvel at its excellence, and find a place for yourself in it! Or crawl away like a coward and prove me right.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it! You haven¡¯t seen what the people do in these regions! You have no idea how they operate or what they can do to your soldiers! Your conventional methods will spell disaster for your troops.¡±


    ¡°People are the same everywhere. Just because the fools in this region pride themselves on their brutality does not make them special. Civilization has always devoured barbarians in the end,¡± Devourer cut her off, smirking smugly. ¡°Take Crimson Plague, for example, and his fire cult. They¡¯ve been burning hundreds each month, raiding and pillaging everything in sight. So I have burned Crimson Plague and forced his forces to kneel on my way here. All without firing a single shot.¡±


    ¡°But.¡± Ravager drooled uncontrollably on the ground. ¡°Crimson Plague is immune to flame.¡±


    ¡°Was. Also, flame is not the only thing that can set your body alight, my friend. Poison, carefully injected into his food by my agents, did just that to his nerves. This led to him experiencing excruciating pain, rolling around, and screaming for mercy. Since he had denied it to others, it too was denied to him, and he perished ignobly,¡± the commander laughed. ¡°I am Devourer, and I am anything but conventional! I can adapt to anything, for I am the one who will ascend to the position of Grand Commander of the Reclamation Army. It is my destiny to command you and Outsider, to bring the will of the Dynast to every corner of this planet! No one is my equal! I will save humanity and bring it under the Dynast¡¯s rule! Tales of my glory will ring forevermore! Now sit on the sidelines and watch how a true professional prosecutes the reconquest swiftly and efficiently. Never again will you dare to steal my thunder, Ravager.¡± He turned to Janine. ¡°My apologies for the pompous speech; I still occasionally lose a hold of myself. No matter, nothing gets perfect without putting in work. Say, how about serving under someone competent for a change?¡±


    ¡°Commander Ravager is competent, sir.¡± Janine stood at attention. ¡°Her methods may be unorthodox, but she brings results. And I can¡¯t leave my pack or the villages in my care.¡±


    ¡°The more, the merrier, I say!¡± Devourer¡¯s smile grew wider. ¡°Bring them all; the Second could use your expertise.¡±


    ¡°Our loyalty is to the Blessed Mother and to the tribe, Commander,¡± Janine responded. ¡°The Blessed Mother delivered us from demise, and to her, and it is to her and the Tribe that we owe our very existence. This is not a debt we can ignore or discard.¡±


    ¡°Ack, this stinks.¡± Devourer glanced at Ravager. ¡°About that pet project of yours. I¡¯ll foot the bill.¡±


    ¡°Till Ingo has already agreed to treat them for free,¡± the Blessed Mother responded.


    ¡°How in¡­ Never mind. Hop on, comrades!¡± He slapped his back with the tail. ¡°Drinks are on me! First one down¡­ loses!¡±


    ¡°Challenge accepted, Devourer.¡± Ravager smiled.


    ****


    ¡°How are you?¡± Janine asked Martyshkina. She wanted to ask, ¡®Are you okay?¡¯ but that question felt hollow even for her.


    Marty wasn¡¯t okay. It was as clear as day. The warlord had ordered her pack to board the crawler, while she forced herself to joke and brag. Her laugh sounded strained even to Janine¡¯s ears, who followed the warlord after their packs had settled in.


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know.¡± Martyshkina stood on a small observation platform atop the crawler¡¯s spire, staring at the distant sun. She raised her trembling paws. ¡°It¡¯s cold. And painful.¡±


    ¡°Your daughter,¡± Janine stated, stopping beside her. Marty had lied to her earlier, saying everything was fine.


    The crawler was on the move, circling the city. The machine was so large that a simple turn in place required a much larger berth than the camp could provide without risking crushing the soldiers of the Second Army.


    Laughter and cheers filled the air. The Second Army brought large vats of nutrient paste, hermetically sealed. Devourer no longer lived up to his name; he preferred regular cuisine and never tasted human flesh. On this day, he allowed the soldiers to sample the exquisite dishes synthesized by the feeder and ordered them to bring out his personal stash of alcohol. Champions of both armies accepted the challenge, renewing the oaths of sisterhood and brotherhood, and soon drunken bodies littered the plains, often embracing in their slumber, while two demigods continued to fight, surrounded by the awe of soldiers on both sides.


    Ravager and Devourer gulped down bottle after bottle, threatening to deplete the Second Army¡¯s supplies. The Blessed Mother¡¯s belly had disgracefully bloated, turning into a barrel of flesh. Yet she persisted, somehow managing not to burst as she kept pace with the larger opponent, her body digesting the alcohol as quickly as it poured in.


    First cringed, not even trying to explain to the Iternians what was going on. Alpha lied, claiming it was part of the Reclamation Army¡¯s national games.


    ¡°I can¡¯t stop thinking about the last battle¡­ About¡­ My cubs, Jani,¡± Martyshkina choked out the words. ¡°I promised my soulmates to look after the cubs, and they all¡­ I outlived them.¡±


    ¡°You kept your promise.¡± Janine rested her elbows on the railing. ¡°I saw your granddaughters dating boys back in the village. Sweet girls, all twelve of them.¡±


    ¡°Have I?¡± A flash of anger ran through the amber eyes. ¡°Have I really, Jani? I can¡¯t stop thinking about how I failed her, even for a moment. I knew of the possibility of a taint in her blood, yet I allowed¡ªI damn well allowed¡ªmy beautiful princess into the pack. I could have kicked her out and sent her far away to live safely as a hermit, away from danger, away from war, away from¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­ from making her own decisions,¡± Janine grabbed her friend and turned her around to face herself. ¡°You can¡¯t live your life for her, Marty. I¡­¡± There was something in her throat that made her words flow quickly and passionately. ¡°Not a day goes by that I don¡¯t think about my cubs and what I did wrong in raising them. Every morning I am afraid I will never see them again; that is why I tried to push some of them away to safety.¡±


    ¡°You too?¡± Marty smiled. ¡°I saved some tokens and offered her a place at university¡­¡±


    ¡°And an apartment in the Core Lands,¡± Janine finished, and the two women laughed mournfully and hugged. Like in their childhood, Janine found her snout on Marty¡¯s shoulder and Martyshkina¡¯s snout on her own. ¡°It¡¯s a most damning feeling, Marty. To know how to save, yet having to let go,¡± she whispered. ¡°But we can¡¯t enslave our cubs; we can¡¯t force them to do our bidding all their lives. Whatever the situation, all we can do is guide them, educate them, support them, and always be in their lives when they need us. And you have done that. You have never abandoned your family; you have watched over your cubs every step of the way, and they have lived their lives as they have desired. It¡¯s time to let them go and live.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard, Jani.¡± Marty replied, and something wet dripped on Janine¡¯s fur.


    ¡°It never gets easier. Not to my knowledge.¡± Images of her dead cubs, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren threatened to overwhelm her. ¡°But we have to live. We must forge our own path, endure new wounds and heal, and rediscover how to be happy. For the fallen deserve nothing less. One day we will see our families again in the Great Beyond, and how can we look them in the eye if we waste the gift of their sacrifice? There is enough tragedy in the world, no need to add to it. For now, we must live for those left behind, Marty. Our strength can save thousands. Thousands of people who think like us. Mothers and fathers who lack the strength to protect their families. Take solace in aiding them. And our pain is not special.¡±


    They stood together, grieving for their loved ones and supporting each other as the loud competition continued and the laughter of the soldiers filled the air.

 Chapter 24: Sniffing and Snarling

    ¡°Why are you lot here?¡± Janine asked bluntly.


    She was in the storage compartment of the crawler, surrounded by crates. Scents of oils and some remnants of energy cells gave her a general idea of what this place had been used for when the army had enough resources to fill it. The captain, unwilling to deprive the Second Army of its precious supplies, has ordered the army to take the bare minimum from their allies, and Ravager, despite Devourer¡¯s arguments, has supported this decision.


    Their journey has been uneventful so far. Crowded into tight quarters, the packs grumbled. The slightest provocation sparked fights and dominations, and the military police, more enraged than usual, fired tranquilizer darts and electric shots left and right to break up scuffles. Wolf hags patrolled the corridors, stamping out any disturbance of the peace, while the warlords drew matches, hoping to win a lottery for a daily patrol outside. Ravager assigned Dragena and First to take charge and sealed herself in her quarters.


    Janine skipped the offers of the outside patrols, much to the disappointment of her pack. She knew their eagerness to leave this steel coffin and go hunting, bathing away their worries in insectoids¡¯ hemolymph. But civilized lands awaited their arrival, and they had to look the part. With brutal efficiency, the warlord started implementing her plan.


    In the morning, she summoned her entire pack, checking their well-being and supervising the domination and rank duels to prevent the fools from killing one another. After completing the task, she visited the injured members, and while she was away, the wolf hags conducted the pack¡¯s training sessions, using a large cargo storage compartment to stage combat exercises. Its wall reeked of acid and napalm as the other warlords joined the Janine pack. Afterwards, she sat her pack down like unruly puppies and read them about the customs and rules of their homeland. It wasn¡¯t a simple task to trust an electronic notebook, and she invited several officers to help her lead these lessons. Captain Cristobo joined them once, telling about his own experience. Janine also added new rules. Defecating outside the toilet, fifteen lashes. Insulting the crew, thirty lashes. Failure to answer the quiz at the end of each study is a single lash.


    Wolfkins were hardy people, but she taught them to fear the chain in Janine¡¯s arms. A single lash comprised a regular strike, but rather than pulling the titanium chain back, the warlord waited until it wrapped around the insubordinate soldier¡¯s torso. Then she yanked him or her off the ground, spinning the idiot in mid-air as sharp chain links bit into the body, drawing blood and scraping against the hardened exoskeleton. The cumulative disorientation of the spins was humiliating enough to ensure that no lower rank could enjoy the pain, as Anissa, Bogdan, and Melina learned on their hides.


    After three days of strictly enforcing the new rules, Janine had earned a seething hatred from the medics who had to treat the wounded, a begrudging respect from the Alpha pack who admired her adherence to iron discipline, and many scarred bodies who huffed and scrubbed and took notes in class for fear of getting a bad grade. When Warlord Alpha picked up on Janine¡¯s methods, a spark of pride shot through the pack, and they smugly whispered praise for their leader¡¯s ingenuity to the wolfkins who served under various warlords. Predictably, this led to an influx of domination matches.


    Thankfully, the ice boys stayed on their side of the crawler, joining the tribe during feeding times in areas where both warlords and sword saints enforced Ravager¡¯s order to refrain from engaging in duels or combat between the two groups. Some of the sword saints joined the lessons led by Janine, but she kept Bertruda away.


    With free time on her paws, Janine had called Marco for a regular personal lesson, only to find the compartment they had chosen for themselves cramped. Ignacy, Bogdan, Impatient One, and Anissa, both of whom had finally healed enough to sit comfortably after all the lashes they had received for the poor grades, showed up. Elzada, the only scout who had performed well during studies, came after them, bringing a notepad. The scout with the metal leg and artificial lung seated herself next to Ignacy, almost pushing him off the crate with a casual movement of her hip. The arm, broken by Anissa, still rested in a sling. Most annoyingly, Kalaisa and Anji forced their way through the closing door. Kalaisa angrily sat behind everyone, and Anji found a spot beside Marco.


    ¡°Still on leave,¡± Ignacy replied, resting his slightly oversized metal arm on his knee and fiddling with a screwdriver. His new arm still had the gray color, but her son had plans to paint it black. His new fingers had the same fluidity as his organic ones. Bogdan admitted to Janine that Ignacy had already disassembled and reassembled his new arm at least once, trying to speed up his new fingers. ¡°Might as well learn something new.¡±


    ¡°And Ignacy had promised to look at my leg,¡± Elzada purred, her hip bumping into Ignacy again. At her request, Ignacy added a set of tungsten claws to the inelegant but sturdy toes on her artificial leg. Ignacy had planned to use a regular titanium alloy, but a student of Till Ingo surprised him, granting the male access to the wreckage of the battle robot. He used the crawler¡¯s foundry to fashion these deadly murder instruments. Elzada grinned and showed him her natural claws. ¡°The claws that were installed on my leg come out a bit¡­ slowly. Perhaps we could use some privacy and check them in my den?¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Ignacy asked, confused. ¡°Let¡¯s do it now!¡±


    Janine wanted to slap herself across the face for her boy¡¯s obliviousness as he dropped to one knee and took a flashlight to examine the spot where the metal had seeped into Elzada¡¯s flesh. He whistled, pulled instruments from his jacket, and began to tinker. Kalaisa and Anissa showed no such mercy; one let out a mocking laugh and kicked Elzada in the back, and the other giggled like a girl and helped the scout sit up.


    Even despite a metal arm, Ignacy was handsome. His fur was combed free of any parasites, and in his experiments to test the comparability of his new limb with water, his fur gained a pristine lushness and smelled like a cheap shampoo. Few scars marred his hide, a testament to his sensible nature and ability to survive and thrive in the tribe. Colt had taught his cubs how to brush their fangs using a special powder bought from the convenience store, and Bogdan¡¯s and Ignacy¡¯s fangs shone. It¡¯s no wonder that the girl had fallen over him, flirting with him to get his attention.


    Elzada herself looked no worse for wear. She still had to ask Anissa to help her dress, and the fur around the junction of her biological and metal parts and over her lungs was shorn of all fur, but several strands of darkness were already growing on the tanned skin. A tight bandage hid the mirth of the freshly healed ugly scar in the place where the cyber crafters had cut her body open to install a prosthetic lung.


    When Janine approached her to apologize for shattering her legs years ago, the scout raised her eyebrows, puzzled that anyone could remember the events of the distant past. As soon as the medics cleared her to walk, she rushed to Impatient One, confessed her sin, and asked for forgiveness for accepting the Metal Union. Impatient One assigned the scout a penance, but refused to give Janine any details, promising only that it would not affect the woman¡¯s combat abilities.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Ignacy mumbled, checking the metal claws. ¡°The restraint appears to have been intentional. Look here once I remove this wire and this¡­¡±


    ¡°I literally have no idea what else to do,¡± Elzada whispered to Anissa, rolling her eyes, and the other woman grimaced sympathetically. ¡°It¡¯s not supposed to be this difficult!¡±


    ¡°Play-bite him,¡± Kalaisa threw.


    ¡°Ignacy likes pancakes,¡± Bogdan advised, earning himself a confused look from his brother. ¡°I¡¯m here for moral support, Warlord,¡± he told Janine, tugging at the high collar of his jumpsuit and dusting it off. Bogdan, as mischievous as his older sister, healed more slowly than his sister, but Janine smelled no fresh blood on him.


    ¡°There is no need for any payment¡­¡± Ignacy began.


    ¡°But I enjoy cooking!¡± Elzada clapped her paws. ¡°Dad always told me I have a knack for it! He always told me: Elzi, when you¡¯re not busy ramming someone¡¯s fangs down their throat, you¡¯re making the best... Wait, I meant to say that Dad always told me I was the gentlest¡­¡±


    ¡°I refuse to fail again! Studies or no, I am a shaman, and on my honor, I will meet any challenge head-on and win!¡± Impatient One interrupted the scout mid-sentence, slamming her paws against the crate.


    ¡°Well, Ygrite gave me orders to stop beating people up and make myself useful. I tried the kitchen and the infirmary, but no one needed me, so...¡± Kalaisa began to explain, leaning back against the wall.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The girl was big. Janine admitted this. Apart from Janine, Kalaisa and Anji were the only Wolfkins present who were much taller than three meters, standing half a head taller than Anissa or Impatient One. Both had muscles that looked like ropes, but where Anji sat relaxed, smiling and gesturing to Marco about something, Kalaisa was nervous and on edge all the time. Anji had her gorgeous mane of white hair tied up in countless braids, while Kalaisa¡¯s messy short hair was loose. Where Anji wore an immaculate white button-down shirt and elegant green pants, Kalaisa wore torn cargo pants and a dirty-looking sleeveless shirt.


    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine why.¡± Bogdan laughed, shrinking down as the claws snapped above his nape.


    ¡°What was that, flea? Speak up!¡± Kalaisa frowned and loomed over his neck.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t play-bite me,¡± Bogdan asked in a steady voice. ¡°I am married and have cubs.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d sooner copulate with a parasite-laced cusack than touch your filthy hide!¡±


    ¡°Shall I find one?¡± Bogdan asked eagerly. ¡°Personally, I¡¯m not into bestiality, so I don¡¯t have your experience, but there should be one in the settlements nearby...¡± He fell silent as jaws rattled close to his ear.


    ¡°I can¡¯t hear you! Going mute on me suddenly? Good. Stay that way before I pull out your tongue.¡± Kalaisa smiled wickedly and turned to Janine. ¡°As I said, when I saw that little gnome in the company of two wolf hags, I followed them out of curiosity¡­¡±


    ¡°Just tell the truth. You don¡¯t have any friends and you want to socialize,¡± Anissa yawned, ignoring Kalaisa¡¯s angry hiss.


    ¡°Nissa and Anji are here because of me.¡± Marco scratched the back of his head. Noticing Janine¡¯s raised eyebrow, the boy promptly offered an explanation. ¡°Anji showed me how to sew! Then I sort of got lost in this maze, and she led me here, and we met Nissa along the way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Wolf Hag Anji, Marco. It is disrespectful to address respectable officers by mere names. And you shouldn¡¯t have bothered Wolfkins from other packs.¡± Anissa anxiously moved closer to her brother, wary of the larger female¡¯s possible reaction.


    ¡°Oh, it¡¯s quite alright, Ani!¡± Anji pressed a paw to her mouth to stifle the laughter and patted Marco. ¡°We¡¯re off duty, anyway. Marco, it¡¯s been a genuine pleasure teaching you. Warlord Janine, your boy really is a pleasant little gentleman.¡±


    Should I be worried? Janine returned the smile. No Wolfkins worth her salt would refuse to play with or train a cub, and Marco was still young... But Anji weirded her out. The woman was too pleasant for her ranks; other wolf hags, Anissa aside, gave Marco the cold shoulder, maintaining their status or seeing no reason for him to be so close to the warlord.


    ¡°Whoring yourself before the males. Is there a limit to your false modesty, Anji?¡± Kalaisa laughed mockingly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Kalaisa. I do not have any aspirations of taking your place.¡± As she held a paw over her mouth, Anji¡¯s smile never wavered.


    ¡°Yeah, like you could¡­ Wait, what?¡± Kalaisa jumped to her feet, and the fur on her nape stood up.


    At Bogdan¡¯s chuckle, Kalaisa whirled in place, aiming to kick him in the head. Anissa acted ahead of her and tackled her brother, rolling away with him to avoid the blow, while Impatient One caught the kick in her palm and closed her fist.


    Janine kept her cool, breathing through her nostrils and fighting against a barely contained rage. This wasn¡¯t her place to interfere, not now, not until claws started flashing. Her reckless behavior had brought shame to her pack; there is no need to include Ygrite¡¯s pack in the mix. Bogdan has overstepped his bounds, even though Kalaisa has indicated a desire for casual conversation.


    I can keep the situation under control. Her paw found a crate nearby, and she ran her fingers over the steel lid.


    ¡°If you dare to try to touch our soldiers ever again, I¡¯ll murder you in your sleep, Kalaisa!¡± Impatient One growled.


    ¡°A peculiar offer, but I do not swing that way, shaman.¡± Kalaisa tore her leg free and jumped on the crate, beckoning the shaman with a finger. ¡°Feel like stepping up to me?¡±


    ¡°I feel like stepping on you,¡± Anji said icily.


    The wolf hag stopped, sensing that the aggression had focused on her. Positioning herself in front of Marco and Impatient One, Anji cracked her knuckles in a silent threat. Ignacy shoved the complaining Elzada toward Bogdan, then pointed his metallic arm at Kalaisa. The steel fingers of his hand bent back and slid into special recesses carved into the metal frame. His palm opened like a flower, and a flame was born in the barrel of the hidden flamethrower.


    ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± Kalaisa sang sweetly, smiling from ear to ear. ¡°A little pest has forgotten his place in the pack and is trying to be a hero? Shall I play the part of a monster and rip off your lighter to beat you with it?¡±


    The wolf hag¡¯s body spasmed uncontrollably; her pupils dilated in response to adrenaline release; her paws closed and opened, seeking some unseen prey; and the tips of her claws appeared from pockets of her fingers. Pissed. Pissed off beyond any reasonable measure, she was angry enough to maim a soldier for a situation that she herself initiated. Janine inhaled the air, tasting Kalaisa¡¯s scent and catching the urge to dominate in it. It surprised her. Wolf hags were not gentle leaders, but neither were they fools who fought for nothing. There was no honor here; any other wolf hag would¡¯ve turned the situation around, playing it as a joke and won companionship.


    What is wrong with her? Why is she wasting aggression on a male?


    ¡°T-tr-try m-me,¡± Ignacy stuttered, sucking in the air and trying to appear calm.


    Never had Janine been so proud of her son as she was now. Ignacy had recently been injured; no doubt his skin and nerves were still healing, resulting in a moderate itch around his horrific wound. And yet here he was, standing his ground against an immensely more powerful opponent, afraid but unwilling to abandon his friends. Kalaisa sniffed the air, first nervously, then infuriated.


    A male standing up to a female¡­ For Kalaisa, it must be inconceivable. Blessed with every possible gift since birth, not unlike Janine, she was enraged at the mere thought of encountering resistance from those she considered lesser. In a few years, she might grow up and soften a bit, but for now, this angry teenager was dangerous to her kin.


    Janine knew why Bogdan, Anissa, and Impatient One stood by Ignacy, but Anji surprised her. Anji was not part of the pack, and similar to Kalaisa, she had every reason to be angry at the males¡¯ remarks. And here she stood, giving off a scent of comfort and reassurance to Janine¡¯s pack.


    She is going to jump. Janine saw a glimmer of fear in Kalaisa¡¯s eyes and guessed the reason. The girl had never had a pack turn on her. She had the strength to escape even if they had attacked her first, but now the fear had taken over, leaving only one way for someone as immature as her. Kalaisa had to prove herself; she thought she had to quench this shame in the blood of her opposition. Janine acted unwilling to give Kalaisa the satisfaction of losing or winning. Fear encouraged growth and preservation. Best not to throw it away.


    Screeching metal froze everyone in place. Janine lazily tore the crate¡¯s lid and tossed it at Kalaisa¡¯s head, fast enough to turn the projectile into a blur. The arrogant woman noticed the lid in time and ducked, losing some of her hair as the metal slammed into a wall, pinning the woman¡¯s hair to it.


    ¡°Tch. I wanted to have a haircut. Thanks, granny.¡± Kalaisa gulped in uncertainty, tearing her hair free from the metal.


    There were grateful tones in her voice, untouched by malice. Not utterly crazy. But she also did not know how to diffuse the situation without causing a bloody brawl with members of two packs, which could lead to a blood feud between packs. Since the warlord had intervened, Kalaisa had relaxed, submitting to the superior and trying to weasel out of a problem while keeping her face. Young. Too young to become a wolf hag. She can¡¯t even control her urges, let alone be fit to lead a pack. And Ygrite, in her typical fashion, did jack and shit to direct Kalaisa on the right path.


    Janine didn¡¯t hold a desire for domination or inflicting pain on the childish idiot. She was the same; first the shamans, then the pits, and finally, Terrific beat this into her. But she also learned humility from the older wolf hags and restraint in not causing needless suffering to the lesser personnel. A single wound in a field could mean the death of a male or the loss of a rival. A rival who could¡¯ve helped bring out the best in you.


    Later, as they served alongside the Normies, Wolfkins females also learned valuable lessons in camaraderie that broadened their perspectives. Where once a wolf hag would kill for implied disobedience, today¡¯s officers limit themselves to giving an unruly male a scar. Janine wanted to see these changes spread more quickly throughout the tribe. She refused to let this young fool repeat the mistakes she had made. What use are the old farts if not to show the new generations how to be better?


    ¡°Disrupt my lesson again, and I¡¯ll make you shorter on the head. Then you won¡¯t have to worry about a haircut ever again,¡± Janine warned Kalaisa. The wolf hag snarled and tried to leave, but the warlord stomped on the floor. ¡°Sit. You came here to learn, so sit down and learn. Everyone. Sit.¡± She didn¡¯t growl, but the group calmed immediately, taking their place. To avoid exposing his back to Kalaisa, Anji sat Marco on her knees.


    Kalaisa crossed her arms, obeying the irritation in Janine¡¯s eyes, and sat down. Anissa sat right next to the idiot, behind Ignacy, and Impatient One flanked Kalaisa from the other side.


    ¡°I get the general idea.¡± Janine decided against dominating Kalaisa. Individual beatings wouldn¡¯t solve the problem; if Kalaisa had been part of her pack, Janine would have gradually exhausted her, pushing her to the limit until the volatile girl had learned to ask for and accept help without seeing it as a weakness. Perhaps a more cautious approach would be better to correct her behavior? ¡°Be silent, everyone. I had plans to educate Marco, but I may as well extend the same courtesy to all of you.¡±


    Janine activated her terminal and accessed her notes on Houstad. It was surprisingly good not to have to spend an entire night out in the open, waiting for a sudden bullet from the darkness or sniffing for slavers poaching on humans. No need to check the perimeter; no sudden ambushes. She enjoyed a warm cup of tea and a dry meal for dinner and used her free time to read about a city the Wolf Tribe had indirectly helped to build. This civilization, the Dynast spoke off¡­ pretty cool, all things considered.


    ¡°Our destination is Houstad, a city in the Core Lands,¡± Janine snorted at the confusion in Bogdan and Kalaisa¡¯s eyes. ¡°How could you not¡­ Marco, do us the honor and explain the term.¡±

 Chapter 25: A Little History

    ¡°Yes, teacher!¡± Anji lifted the happy Marco and placed him on her shoulder. ¡°The Reclamation Army comprises three major regions. The Inner Lands, where the capital of the glorious Dynast is located.¡± Janine wanted to groan as Impatient One was taking notes. How? How does she not know this? ¡°This place was once a gigantic armory, containing an impressive arsenal from the Old World. When the Dynast found it, he made it our capital, where the weak and oppressed were brought to safety. At first, clouds of smoke covered the place, and the citizens toiled restlessly, building the foundation of our glorious state! The power armor worn by the shamans came from its vast foundries.


    ¡°But after decades, and with the help of Iterna, we have discovered how to improve our industry in such a way that does not pollute the surroundings. Today, the Inner Lands are a sanctuary; living carpets of flowers and trees cover their rolling hills and plains, gentle rains fall from the skies, and civilian boats glide lazily across vast rivers.¡±


    ¡°Water. Yack.¡± Anissa shook her head, expressing everyone¡¯s opinion about the annoying wet substance. The Wolf Tribe could swim in quicksand and endure toxic fumes and radiation. But on some almost instinctive level, they were wary of water. You should drink it, not swim in it! Only Anji seemed unfazed by the revelation. Janine tapped on a crate, returning everyone¡¯s attention.


    ¡°There is also the Arena!¡± Marco spoke quickly, worried about losing the audience¡¯s attention. ¡°A place where the Dynast¡¯s champions, Outsider, the Blessed Mother, and Devourer, compete in the Trial of Strength. The Inner Lands are responsible for solving our nation¡¯s major administrative problems. Exotic weapons too terrible to ever be used, are stored inside the capital¡¯s walls. Next are the Core Lands. These are the lands where most of the population lives. They are free of most dangers, and green has returned to the land. There are several cities, huge economic centers that supply our armies. Mighty walls surround the Core Lands. The walls moved each time the region expands¡­ And uhhh¡­.¡±


    ¡°The place is really cool,¡± Janine helped him. ¡°Whereas a normal person can get a sunstroke in our villages, there is little to no danger of such a thing in the Core Lands. I recommend warm clothes, everyone.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I already¡­ I mean.¡± Marco inhaled. ¡°His excellency Devourer rules the Core Lands. Then there are the Outer Lands. We use this term to describe recently conquered regions and places where terraforming back to habitable conditions has not yet begun.¡±


    ¡°So, like¡­ We are in the Outer Lands, right?¡± Kalaisa asked. ¡°If Devourer rules the Core Lands, does it mean that the Blessed Mother rules these lands?¡±


    ¡°Look, everyone, she is learning,¡± Anji beamed, showing a tongue to the snarling Kalaisa. ¡°Now, don¡¯t wrinkle your snout, dear; when you¡¯re not being an asshole, you look adorable. Smile more and be a good girl, and you¡¯ll feel great.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, Bootlicker,¡± Kalaisa cursed.


    ¡°Whore,¡± Anji retorted.


    ¡°You are correct, Sister Kalaisa.¡± Marco nodded, trying to remain calm in the wake of the two women¡¯s aggression. ¡°We are in the Outer Lands. However, the Blessed Mother has declined the right to rule this region, giving it instead to the Provincial Government, an assembly of mayors from the largest settlements around here. They vote on the various small-impact policies in the region, such as tax reductions and the relocation of people from dangerous areas.¡±


    ¡°Wait a second.¡± Elzada accidentally scratched behind Ignacy¡¯s ear. ¡°Does it mean that only the Normies get to say what will change in the region? What about us?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, no fair!¡± Ignacy nodded.


    ¡°We stand outside of the normal government¡¯s structure and live by our own rules,¡± Impatient One explained. ¡°Our rights to cull our elderly, mercy kill our infirm cubs, and use physical violence against each other¡­ The Normies have no right to any of that. They are trying to nurse their cubs to health and can potentially live long enough for their hearts to stop beating on their own.¡±


    ¡°Barbarians. It is cruel to make a broken cub suffer this world,¡± Anji said.


    ¡°Yes, just let the poor soul be reborn and live happily in a healthy body.¡± Bogdan supported her.


    ¡°I am not sure. In this day and age, prosthetics can do wonders,¡± Ignacy said, showing his metal arm. ¡°Just look at it¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, we are very impressed with your new limb, brother.¡± Anissa hugged him and kissed his forehead. ¡°However, some of us have assisted mothers in giving lives. Trust me, when you see a little body gasping and struggling for air, yet unable to live because tiny, underdeveloped lungs are unable to handle the oxygen, the immune system is failing, and the agony spreads like a wave because the skin cannot withstand the heat... You will do the right thing,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°Thank you, Marco. I will take it from here.¡± Janine nodded to her son and sat on a crate. ¡°Marco and Impatient One are not entirely correct. The Blessed Mother is the Third Army¡¯s leader; she is the de facto leader of these lands. In her absence, it is the noble Wyrm Lord who solves the most complex issues. Now about Houstad. Houstad City, or simply Houstad, as the locals first call it, was founded ninety-eight years ago by His Excellency Devourer. Back then, the place was a hub of slavers and flesh traders. They grew humans, often forcing them to mate by force, and sold the children to the Malformed and the Blood Court in exchange for resources and favors. After a month of preparation, and with the help of the rebels led by the Oakster family and our packs, in a single night, Devourer put an end to it, staging riots across the place and eating its rulers. A long and grueling process of rebuilding and reeducation turned Houstad into a proper city.¡±


    She paused, looking at the Wolfkins before her. ¡°Times were hard then. The state needed armor and weapons, and it needs them right now. Devourer¡¯s rule hardly looked any different from that of a common tyrant across the wastes. It was an improvement, mind you, but a very minuscule one. Smog has filled the streets, produced by countless factories. A lack of safety measures resulted in children trading their lives to cogs, crushed or sliced in the factories. People lost limbs; diseases ran rampant¡­¡±


    Janine closed her eyes, remembering that time. She didn¡¯t take pride in that time, but it was a reality, nonetheless. A sea of pale faces, toiling for a loaf of bread, producing weapons to force more people into this hell. Religious organizations provided but a barest succor, and mothers¡¯ wailings filled the streets. It was hard to believe in the benevolence of the Reclamation Army. When you feed your cubs to machines in order to fuel conquest, how are you different from the wicked?


    ¡°The event known as the Coup changed it.¡± Janine smiled as ears flickered. ¡°No, none betrayed the Dynast, not in spirit. The Blessed Mother admitted her fears of the Reclamation Army, slowly morphing into an ugly caricature of the empires of old, and the commander agreed. Together, they persuaded Outsider, and the three champions, mayors and high priests, beseeched the Dynast to stop wars against Iterna and the Oathtakers, to make peace, and to focus more on improving lives. Our ruler agreed, and trade flowed, bringing in superior technology from Iterna and fresh working hands from the Oathtakers¡¯ lands. Houstad thrived, evolving into a hub of prosperity. New terraforming methods had cleared the skies of smog; the ground was flattened to create plains, and the soil was healed of toxic pollution to make way for vast farmlands. Till Ingo has established his company¡¯s headquarters here, and they are currently researching methods to produce inexpensive prosthetics for everyone.¡±


    Still smiling, the warlord rose. ¡°The age of warlords and tyrants is officially over in the Reclamation Army. Sure, some tribes, like ours, are permitted to live by their own traditions, which gives us the right to end the lives of our kin, but even we would be hanged if we dared to harm a Normie. Slowly, more and more tribes are giving up their traditions or changing them, like the Orais did, and accepting the nation¡¯s laws. It is the time of revival, and we will see the fruits of our labors and sacrifices. According to the latest census, the current population of Houstad¡­¡± she permitted herself a dramatic pause, ¡°¡­is five hundred sixty-three thousand eight hundred citizens, not counting migrant workers.¡±


    Their reaction fully met all of her expectations in terms of the shock they must have felt, as well as the shock she herself felt when she first learned this information.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I mean, how could it be, warlord?¡± Bogdan licked his lips.


    ¡°Half a million people,¡± Impatient One whispered, barely audible. ¡°This is¡­ how are they managing the education¡­ How are they feeding them?¡± she asked.


    ¡°You¡¯re kidding, right, granny?¡± Janine ignored Kalaisa¡¯s familiarity. The girl showed genuine curiosity. ¡°There is no way this many people could live in one place. They¡­ They¡¯d stabbed each other for water or males!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s like a hive¡­ A sentient swarm of people!¡± Anissa exclaimed, rubbing her nose and staring blindly ahead. She blinked twice, regaining attention. ¡°How big is this city?¡±


    ¡°Houstad is the seventh-largest city in our nation.¡± This information unsettled them even further. Janine understood their uncertainty; the information she had learned from the news had shocked her far more than an artillery barrage ever could.


    It wasn¡¯t for nothing. Their deaths, losses of comrades, defeats and victories, their way of life¡­ Vindication. Vindication for centuries of the Wolf Tribe¡¯s hardships.


    Technically, she visited Houstad twice, back when the Three Armies didn¡¯t exist. Not the original city itself; no, the modern Houstad was a gigantic place. Janine was involved in fighting in a quarter that served as the city¡¯s north-west district today. The Twins then commanded the packs, as Ravager distrusted her ability not to harm prisoners confined in cages. The Twins brilliantly predicted every weapon placement, and reports from Devourer¡¯s agents gave them full information about the location of the slavers¡¯ forces. It was a masterpiece of an operation, but what came next¡­


    It was a place of horror. A meat market, as they called it, only instead of animals, the bastards served humans here. The stalls displayed freshly prepared hands and legs on hooked chains, ready for sale to the cannibals. Barrels filled with salted organs, a delicacy favored by the Malformed. Crimson drinks, flavored with spices¡ªonly this wasn¡¯t alcohol, but blood so richly desired by the court.


    Things¡­ No, she corrected herself; people huddled in cages, so close that their swollen skin pushed through the bars. It wasn¡¯t an accident; the slavers fed their captives a nutrient paste made from the remains of insects, animals, and even humans. This specially prepared nourishment disrupted the metabolism, and the poor souls rapidly gained weight, choking for every breath. Cannibals and Malformed could taste it by biting off the skin outside a cage before buying. Those kept for the court were healthier and cost more, as the Blood Court preferred beautiful, unspoiled young girls and boys to drain slowly, savoring every sip. Ugliness offended those freaks.


    Stench of blood, sweet smell of decay, urine, and other waste permeated this place, and the Twins added the slavers¡¯ horror to it. The enemies tried everything, from robots and gunfire to energy beams and rockets. Two titanic white forms easily weaved around incoming shots; a hit from a giant claymore bounced projectiles back, while arrows the size of a Wolfkin pierced holes in the machines, never once harming the slaves.


    Janine had no idea how the Twins could be so serene, how they could accept surrenders and cleave only the fighters. She herself had torn a skin from the slaver¡¯s torso when she saw humans on his stall, overfed to the point of becoming living balloons, their eyes gateways to sheer lands of madness. On that day, Janine had shown no mercy, surpassing even Terrific in her cruelty as she waded through the pools of blood, drowning herself in the bleating screams of the slavers. The Twins made her stop the massacre; the male himself embraced her, soothing her beating heart with his words, telling Janine she was better than this. Not could. Was.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The Twins had a weird effect on those they touched or spoke to. Ravager instilled a sense of divine reverence, and her presence screamed of the inevitable divine retribution. Her words, no matter how unhinged, carried a weight of innate charisma, yet she felt like a rising star in the making; the Twins, the progenitors of the Ice Fang Order in comparison, were complete. They were someone who had reached enlightenment and now wanted to help you reach the same heights. Rather than instilling a sense of awe, they offered a promise of calm and stability, to the point where Terrific once admitted that their presence scared her. Because of what their presence implied. The promise of change, the promise that there was a way back from barbarism, that all was not lost, troubled Terrific. Ravager even assumed them to be her parents in their first meeting, only to be gently disabused of that assumption. Their parental touch and innate kinship touched even the Wolf Tribe.


    In retrospect, the Twins could not bother. The Dynast burned most of the prisoners, and the freed slaves formed a new core of the population, helping Houstad heal the scars left by unhinged cruelty. She recorded the speech Devourer had given to the Dynast, persuading him to care more about the inward situation in the state.


    What good is it to replace one tyrant with another? You told us that we are fighting to build a better future for all. It is time to make true on this promise. It is time to make good on that promise. And I have just the plan for how to maintain the balance between reconquest and rebuilding¡­ Devourer, then not so tall, stood tall, supported by the nervous Ravager and the ever-mysterious Outsider. This speech was one of Janine¡¯s most prized possessions, safely stored in the cloud and on her terminal. It was a reminder of another promise.


    A promise that even the Wolf Tribe won¡¯t be wild forever. Every war ends eventually, and there is life waiting, if not for Janine and her immediate descendants, then for the cubs of her cubs, or somewhere further down the line. And the Blessed Mother, radiant and restored, will take the mantle of the Twins and lead both groups into a brighter future. For that day, Janine will give her all.


    The Reclamation Army no longer expanded as fast as it had in the past. Short of having an incredible opportunity, they will never topple the Oathtakers or Iterna; their rivals grew too fat, too strong to be swallowed. Vasco Murzaliev, Mincemeat, Blood Graf, Techno-Queen, Crimson Plague, and dozens of other tyrants would¡¯ve never had a lick of chance to fester for so long if the State had continued to expand like a rising storm, sucking everyone into its caring and austere womb. They chose orphanages, hospitals, medicine, schools, cities, trade, tourism, archaeology, and so much more in place of unrestricted war. Was it the right choice?


    Ultimately, it was the Dynast¡¯s decision. He alone had the correct vision of a golden future for humanity. Lacerated One supported it, bashing the head of any shaman daring to growl otherwise, but the lower ranks, like Impatient One, often grumbled about missing out on the times of their pure state. Janine viewed this as idiocy.


    For the new era brought balance. Marco would have died in those violent days. Today he sits beside his sisters and they take care of the defective male, no matter what Impatient One might claim. Janine gained an opportunity to lead lessons, imperfect as they may be, to be something other than a murder machine. Peace. Soldiers must love those they protect and want them to prosper. Why else fight a war?


    ¡°The people voted to build wide, not tall.¡± Janine dismissed the fantasies and focused on living right now. ¡°Houstad stretches about eleven kilometers from east to west and six kilometers from north to south, with only a few skypillars¡­ sorry, skyscrapers¡ªin the city. Several rivers divide the city into natural neighborhoods, which are connected by huge bridges. Houstad is a massive, sprawling trade center, and thousands of migrants live in barracks owned by various corporations. Its many factories ever hunger for resources, and convoys arrive not weekly, not daily, but hourly, bringing in minerals.¡±


    ¡°Shit!¡± Anissa cursed.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a pain in the ass to defend,¡± Bogdan voiced everyone¡¯s fears.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to worry about it,¡± Janine said. ¡°The last time anyone dared to attack the city was over sixty years ago. The Provincial Army, the standing defense force of the Core Lands, is no joke. Many retired veterans of the three armies work there as instructors.¡±


    ¡°What about criminals, thugs and slave traders?¡± Kalaisa inquired.


    ¡°How dangerous is it for the cubs of the Ice Fang Order or the weakest members of our packs to walk around the streets?¡± Anji asked, automatically patting Marco on the head.


    ¡°None that I know of.¡± Janine raised her paw, halting the following questions: ¡°Houstad is a rarity in the Core Lands. There are no slums and no parts where the police are afraid to tread without the army¡¯s support, like in the Outer Lands. Corporations pay to maintain a standard of living for work migrants, and various social programs uplift the less fortunate members of society. Undoubtedly, some thugs do exist, but the police do a good job of putting them down. Despite the dissolution of the Assassins¡¯ Guild, many of its former members have joined the government structures and are actively involved in rooting out the criminal elements. It is reasonably safe for our kin and even Normies to walk the city all night long, but may the Spirits help you if I have to pull you out of any trouble with the police!¡± Janine picked up the broken crate and crumbled it into a ball. Her voice changed to cold fury. ¡°Understand this. We are not on vacation. We¡¯re not going to live in the Core Lands. Yet. We came to replenish our supplies and heal our wounds. Simple as that. Some fooling around will be allowed, but try to push the boundaries of what is allowed, and your hide is mine.¡±


    ¡°Question.¡± Ignacy raised his paw, and Janine calmed herself.


    ¡°Permitted.¡±


    ¡°We are an army. And Houstad is a city¡­¡± Ignacy gathered his thoughts. ¡°It¡¯s sort of strange. Where will we stay? In these... what¡¯s the word¡­¡±


    ¡°Hotels, motels.¡± Elzada elbowed him lightly. ¡°I don¡¯t mind sharing a den with a capable male, you know¡­¡±


    ¡°Bogdan is married!¡± Kalaisa, Bogdan, and Anissa grasped their snouts, silencing the laughter at Ignacy¡¯s innocent reply, and Impatient One merely patted the wide-eyed Elzada. ¡°Anyway, thanks! Is there even a place for a crawler?¡±


    ¡°Houstad used to be an army center. There are several old army bases there, and the main streets are wide enough for our engines to reach them. I assume,¡± she admitted, not fully privy to the information the captain and commander knew, ¡°that there are barracks for us as well.¡±


    Janine told the soldiers about the Oakster family and how they revolutionized agriculture in the area, about the universities, and about the traditions and customs of the locals. She talked for hours before finally turning off the terminal and ordering the Wolfkins to leave and eat their fill. Anissa informed her that the operation on her eye would take place soon, and Janine approved Elzada as her temporary replacement.


    The warlord came to a door and waited for her ¡°pupils¡± to leave. As Kalaisa walked by, Janine grabbed the fool by the wrist and pushed her against the wall.


    ¡°You have a talent,¡± Janine told her, closing the door. ¡°To turn everyone against you in such a short time is truly something.¡±


    ¡°The hell do you care, gran¡­¡± Kalaisa shut up as Janine grabbed her by the throat. The grip tightened, giving the irritant a taste of the warlord¡¯s displeasure.


    ¡°I am struggling not to cut you open from neck to belly,¡± Janine admitted honestly. ¡°Kalaisa, you are alone.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Kalaisa grabbed the warlord by the fingers, not daring to release her claws. She failed to pry the hold open and growled. ¡°I¡¯ve always been alone. Alone to feed my useless family, alone to do the work, alone in the pits... Alone, alone, alone, and yet I am stronger than all of them! And I will be stronger than you!¡±


    ¡°There is strength in numbers, Kalaisa. Males may be inferior to females, but your behavior is turning potential friends into enemies. Continue to act as you do, and no one will help you in your moment of weakness.¡±


    ¡°I am never weak! Never!¡±


    ¡°Lies, and you know it. Everyone needs help sometimes.¡± Janine let her go. ¡°What is your deal?¡±


    ¡°My deal?¡± Kalaisa laughed hysterically. ¡°Well, I guess it all started when my bitch of a mother and my scumbag of a father both died up on me and left me in the care of my newborn siblings,¡± Kalaisa spat into Janine¡¯s face, leaning against the wall. ¡°Yes, you overgrown bitch, I am a motherless cur! The shamans always told me I was hot shit, telling me how blessed I was with my power, forcing me to train and dominate, never giving me an iota of free time in the pits. On top of that, I had to maintain my tent and try to keep my brothers and sister from being eaten by the insectoids! Even when I broke my knuckles or entire limbs, I still had to forage for food and milk to feed my useless, always-hungry siblings, without a single bitch even coming to check on me¡ªmuch less help! No shaman, no warrior, no male¡ªno one ever helped! Train, suffer, work, feed the family, work, train¡­ Fuck it all!¡±


    Kalaisa kicked a crate, breathing heavily. Janine ignored the object as it flew past her, crashing against the wall. If this behavior had happened in front of the pack, she would have had no choice but to break Kalaisa for her disrespect. But alone, she had more leeway in dealing with this rough jewel. So she let her run her mouth.


    ¡°And then I was given to Warlord Ygrite, the weakest warlord of them all! And you know why? Because my useless brother and sister are of poor stock, and the shamans said that family counts as a pack, inseparable!¡± Kalaisa punched a wall, imprinting the shapes of her knuckles on the solid metal. ¡°Why did they make me train so hard?! Why did they make me hope, make me believe?! Why I had to win, and win again, and win some more, and heal broken legs while herding cusacks to get that disgusting milk for those useless, ungrateful scumbags who stole my life, my future! I heard the shamans; anyone of my might awaited an easy ticket into the Alpha pack! Respect! The best equipment, the best comrades to learn from... I deserved it all! My family robbed me of my dream! Because of them, I am in the gutter!¡± She stopped and ran a paw over her muzzle. ¡°My deal? I won¡¯t let others be happy because I¡¯m not. Fuck unity, fuck pack, and fuck family. Spite and wailing are far more pleasant to my ear. My shitty family has ruined my future. Now it is my turn. Let¡¯s see if they tough it out!¡±


    ¡°But will any of this make you happy, eh, whiny brat?¡± Janine smiled and stepped back.


    She remembered how fast the girl was and had taken note of her measure before. Kalaisa faked a punch from her right and tried to land a full swing with her left paw. Janine turned her head to the left, took the blow with her left fist and countered. Her straight punch landed on the wolf hag¡¯s jaw, causing her head to shake so hard against the wall that the metal shook. Undeterred, Kalaisa tried to kick with her knee, and a heavy elbow landed on her leg, deflecting the attack. The warlord slammed her opponent against the wall and grabbed Kalaisa¡¯s paws to restrain her. Showing her strength, she released the fool without breaking a bone.


    ¡°You should try fighting for fun,¡± Janine offered, spreading her arms. ¡°Come at me however you want; I¡¯ll treat you like a sister during training, and we¡¯ll bond and get to know each other better.¡± There was malice and anger in the fool¡¯s eyes, born of shattered hopes. ¡°We all have our own demons from the past. It sucks, but you can¡¯t change it, no matter how much you rage. Don¡¯t let your frustrations manipulate you like a puppet; refuse to let them own you. I understand some of your anger. I, too, am a motherless cur. I do not promise to be gentle or kind, but if you will let me, I can help you become a person you will be proud of. A happy person. A worthy leader. Isn¡¯t that what you want? To live a little? Maybe even have a family? And treat your cubs right.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Kalaisa frowned. ¡°You don¡¯t sound like you want to dominate me.¡±


    ¡°Should I?¡± Janine pondered. ¡°I reprimanded you during the battle for your irresponsible behavior and later tried to spare you from Ashbringer¡¯s wrath. There is no beef between us, Kalaisa. What I see before me is a lost cub, and so I wish to offer guidance and help.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Kalaisa retreated to the door, moving slowly and never once breaking eye contact. ¡°I was wrong. It wasn¡¯t right to have such thoughts. He¡¯s off the hook. As for your offer, warlord¡­ Perhaps I will. But only if I can grind you to powder.¡±


    With that, she slipped out the door, puzzling Janine as to what she meant. Who was off the hook? Bogdan? Bogdan? If so, the girl is even dumber than she looks. Her son had an innate talent for avoiding being beaten by a girl. Either by hiding or by stirring up trouble and sending a rival after his would-be attacker. The pack has Bogdan¡¯s back, and Kalaisa isn¡¯t the most popular girl around. If Kalaisa tries to dominate the male, the females of the Janine pack will take it as an insult and rip the wolf hag¡¯s guts out.


    ¡°Is everything in order?¡± Impatient One asked as Janine left the compartment.


    ¡°No,¡± Janine said. A familiar scent wafted through the air, unnoticed by anyone with senses worse than warlords or shamans. Ashbringer. What could she want? ¡°Tell me, Shaman, has something changed in the way we treat our cubs¡­¡±


    ¡°If this is about the disrespect¡­¡±


    ¡°Respect is earned, shaman,¡± Janine said. ¡°And I¡¯ve gotten mine. Frankly, your insinuation insults me far more than any soldier ever could. Impatient One, is it not the duty of shamans to care for motherless curs? To feed us and repair our tents and teach us how to care for our lesser siblings so that we, too, have a chance to fly? To act as surrogate mothers?¡±


    ¡°You are not a motherless cur, warlord.¡± The shaman bowed. ¡°Your biological mother admitted¡­¡±


    ¡°Answer the question, shaman,¡± Janine interrupted.


    ¡°Yes. Such are our duties. The height of our duties, even. A missed lesson in the pits can be learned again later, but a life lost is lost forever ¡­¡±


    ¡°I suspect not all our sisters understand this,¡± Janine said. She tapped the floor, irritated by the potency of the calling mark. It urged and demanded her to move, to run at once. ¡°Visit Lacerated One. In my name, inquire about the shamans in charge of the village where Kalaisa was raised. Tell the Supreme Shaman that I believe that they have failed in their duties. Order her to contact the village immediately and demand a report on how often they brought milk and meat to Kalaisa. And motherless curs in general.¡±


    ¡°Kalaisa slanders against shamans?¡± Impatient One asked, and the warlord put a paw on her shoulder.


    ¡°Breathe, Impatient One. Your training is not yet complete. You suspect malice where there may be truth. Both she and you are a part of the tribe.¡± It was a challenging experience for both. Yennifer was learning to be an impartial judge, and Janine was still trying not to think of her little girl as her daughter. ¡°Would you punish a sister for pointing out flaws to preserve the shamans¡¯ image, or would you follow our laws?¡±


    ¡°Laws, of course,¡± Impatient One snarled. ¡°You are correct. Kalaisa is a stinking shit, a basket of foulness, but she¡¯s no schemer. Too stupid for that. If, if! our sisters have failed in their duties, we will make our fallibility known to everyone. The Supreme Shaman will get to the bottom of this, and if they dare to lie to her¡­¡± Her eyes flashed with indignation. ¡°¡­ then more woe to them.¡±

 Chapter 26: A Tragedy of the Past

    ¡°Ready?¡± asked Anissa and tightened her muscles.


    ¡°No surprises?¡± Elzada clarified.


    ¡°None whatsoever!¡± Anissa grinned and tensed her muscles to the limit.


    They were always like that. The first to slam their milk fangs down each other¡¯s throats in the pits. The first to steal a boy¡¯s kiss. Pouting, arguing, fighting, sulking, and always making peace and cheering at the end. Where the other cubs talked their minds out, Elzada and Anissa preferred a more direct solution. Oh, they chatted. Who doesn¡¯t like to share the latest gossip when you¡¯re lying on an overheated rock, the stars shining in the clear night sky, and you think this time will never end and you¡¯ll live forever¡­


    But words were cheap. Whether it be a stolen toy or a tasty insectoid drone, a fault is a fault, and blood is the best currency to show sincerity. After Mom¡¯s lesson, Anissa dragged the ¡°acting¡± wolf hag Elzada into a remote, cramped compartment in the crawler''s rear. The constant grinding of the tracks made the place vibrate slightly, silencing any potential screams that might leave the compact space, and Anissa apologized for breaking Elzi¡¯s wrist and making an implied threat about her little boy. It was necessary, but¡­


    Elzada¡¯s biological leg flashed, and her toes, forged into unyielding hooks by the agony of shattering and healing, stabbed Anissa in the solar plexus. She prided herself on growing stronger than her rival, even winning their last sparring match with a single arm. Clearly, her friend worked on a strategy to equalize the strength difference, and by focusing her attack on a vulnerable area, she¡¯d bypassed the layer of toughened outer skin and subdermal hardened tissue that had calcified into a rudimentary exoskeleton, a faint precursor to a true shell she would have in a few years.


    The wolf hag relaxed her muscles; this attack caught her off-guard, and Elzada stepped on Anissa¡¯s poor midsection. The artificial limb exploded against the side of the wolf hag¡¯s skull, flinging her off her feet and headfirst into a wall.


    ¡°Cheating!¡± Anissa complained, taking Elzada¡¯s helping paw. ¡°You tenderized me!¡±


    ¡°Hey, you¡¯re the one who gave me a free kick with my new leg. Not my fault you didn¡¯t specify that I couldn¡¯t use my other leg beforehand.¡± Elzada jumped on her biological feet and raised her prosthetic high enough to kiss it. ¡°Spirits, forgive this blasphemer, but I think this is the beginning of a beautiful coexistence.¡±


    ¡°As long as we¡¯re even,¡± Anissa grumbled and spat on the floor. She took a rag, wiped the blood from her mouth, nose, and ears, and swallowed the rest. They didn¡¯t hold back in apologizing for ass-kicking, as they called their method of bonding. You have to release all the bad energy, or the Spirit of Rage will get you. ¡°Did you find out what your boy was wasting tokens on? Was it extortion?¡±


    ¡°Nope, a gift. It¡¯s for a girl, but not for the reason I thought,¡± Elzada giggled, refusing to elaborate. She put a paw on her friend¡¯s shoulder and helped Anissa to her feet. ¡°And you? Who among the Oathtakers are Janine and Martyshkina writing letters to?¡±


    ¡°No idea.¡± Anissa shook her head and groaned from a fresh surge of pain. She accepted a hastily offered flask and drank water, pouring some on her scalp to banish the stars dancing in her eyes. ¡°They guard that secret like a wyrm guards his credit card.¡±


    ¡°I bet it¡¯s a male. A secret lover, even,¡± Elzada teased. ¡°They probably hooked up with Lord Steward during their imprisonment and will soon run off to him.¡±


    ¡°And he probably uses majestic Wolfkin bodies to¡­¡± Anissa cringed at the vivid image and wrapped an arm around Elzada¡¯s neck, joining her in laughter. ¡°Eh, who am I kidding? They can do better than that.¡±


    Dad. The words brought back painful memories. Colt wasn¡¯t an absent or timid father like many males in the tribe. The old man entered their lives, chastising girls and boys alike, regardless of their social standing. Even Impatient One respected his antics when he convinced the entire family to join him for dinner at a Normie¡¯s motel and later led them to show glowing crystals in a cave. Colt even gave them ice cream in secret from Mom and Impatient One. He was an awesome dad.


    ¡°My bad,¡± Elzada apologized, guessing what plagued Anissa¡¯s mood. This wound was still too fresh. ¡°You¡¯re stalling, by the way.¡±


    ¡°True,¡± Anissa admitted, using her tongue to taste swollen lips. Elzi¡¯s kick packed even more impact. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s scary, okay? To have a machine nestling in your socket, its wires entering the brain, transmitting a lifeless, unnatural video feed to the lobes. Implants alone are freaky; this damn thing could well be a mind controller.¡±


    ¡°Then you have nothing to worry about!¡± Elzada smiled. ¡°You never had any brains for it to take over.¡±


    ¡°Jerk!¡± Anissa joined Elzada¡¯s laughter. ¡°And¡­¡±


    They stopped, startled by an unexpected scream. Thoughts raced through Anissa¡¯s mind as she rushed to the door. Scream? In here? The tracks¡¯ noise would¡¯ve silenced anything, so the source had to be nearby. The voice belonged to a Normie; she could bet her life on it. Could this be another instance of a forceful sexual intrusion or a shady deal gone wrong? Lethal stabbings or physical violations among Normies were rare, but they did happen. The Investigation Bureau recently broke up a small smuggling ring after its members switched from sneaking in sweets and drinks to trying their hand at selling drugs.


    Anissa opened the door and glanced out, concealing herself in the room, while Elzada quietly released her claws, falling in line. Thick, almost oily darkness greeted them, swirling in the corridor, dimming the lamps. Two people stood in the middle of the hallway. Anissa recognized one of them. Keon of the auxiliary forces, a recent recruit who¡¯s been training to join the engineering crews. Next to him stood the Iternian, a pale-skinned bastard who had begged his way on the trip to Houstad to film a story.


    She had thought that the vile foreign scum had used some advanced technology to ambush the boy, but it was Keon who stood before the Iternian, his hands outstretched as if shielding him from something. Her eyes caught a movement in the darkness, and Warlord Onyxia¡¯s head appeared briefly on the ceiling. She swam around the frightened couple, moving in bursts of speed and softly grabbing lamps and rails to maintain the balance. Even Anissa¡¯s eyes had trouble keeping up with the warlord¡¯s movements; to the Normies, it must have looked like teleportation.


    ¡°Jacob¡­¡± Onyxia spoke in a bland, unemotional tone, but some words came out screeching. ¡°Makarevich. I overheard your date of birth. It checks out. You are the son of Csenia Makarevich.¡±


    ¡°You knew my mother?¡± Jacob inquired, oblivious to the threat.


    Onyxia wasn¡¯t the one to bully Normies. She pulled a rank on those who disrespected her, forcing them into the most humiliating tasks at unexpected times, and when they often failed, the warlord would then drag them and their entire unit through soul-crushing field training. Tired and angry, the soldiers squeezed an apology from the unfortunate idiot. But stalking down the hallway and dancing around an allied Normie, instilling a sense of helplessness while staring at wide-open arteries as if he was a raider¡­


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    It never happened.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Anissa leapt to the Normies and Elzada joined her. Together, they pressed the males together, shielding them with their backs. ¡°Cease this act!¡± She bared her throat. ¡°Not the tribe¡¯s member! They can¡¯t endure a bit! Whatever the insult the reporter has committed, take it on me¡­¡±


    ¡°Why would I kill you?¡± Onyxia, blindingly fast, appeared over Anissa. ¡°Yes, Jacob, I heard of the bitch who spawned you. Your words imply she is no longer in this world¡­¡± The warlord¡¯s voice changed. She roared in pure rage, shaking the walls harder than moving tracks. ¡°Twice fate has handed you to me on a silver platter. Do the Spirits really ask for the settlement of the old blood debt?¡± Onyxia hissed, baring her fangs, and retreated, merging with the darkness covering the wall. Anissa saw the dark shape splattering against a solid metal, and then she leapt like an insectoid, reaching the ceiling and soundlessly disappearing.


    ¡°Dammit, Keon, what did you do? What is this moron asking the warlord about?¡± Elzada asked through stuttering fangs.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± the man replied, nearly crying from horror. ¡°I was assigned to show Jacob the lower decks, so he wouldn¡¯t get lost! He kept asking questions¡­¡±


    ¡°Interviewing,¡± Jacob corrected him.


    ¡°Whatever! He pestered everyone we met until we stumbled upon the warlord, and then all hell broke loose! We¡¯ve done nothing to warrant such aggression!¡±


    ¡°Iterna knows preciously little about the Wolf Tribe,¡± Jacob said. ¡°Understanding is the first step in building bridges between people. Iterna hides nothing, and since Commander Ravager refused an interview, I tried to find the second-best person to help my country understand¡­¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you understood us enough?¡± Onyxia asked from above the group. She hung, grasping the protective shell of the lamp, somehow not crumpling it or tearing it with her weight. ¡°Bridging people? How dare you? How dare you?!¡± Her echoing voices merged into one.


    A dark paw with seeping black streaks approached the reporter¡¯s head, and Anissa grabbed it, trying to push it aside. It mattered not, warlord, respect, or anything else; the Blessed teachings about protecting the weak meant everything to her. But try as she might, Onyxia easily prevailed, slowly preparing to grab Jacob¡¯s head.


    ¡°Desist.¡± Warlord Predaig emerged from the darkness, bedecked in the full plate aside, carrying her weapon in her paws. ¡°Desist sister. We deny fate, staying true to our principles.¡±


    The paw stopped over the reporter¡¯s head, and Onyxia hissed again¡ªa noise rarely heard in the Wolf Tribe. She let go of the lamp, landed nimbly beside the group, and darted away from Predaig, disappearing in the thinning veil of darkness. Light returned to the corridor, illuminating it brightly, and Anissa couldn¡¯t even detect a faint scent of Onyxia. The shadow warlord was gone.


    ¡°Phew!¡± Elzada exhaled. ¡°Did the warlord really attack a Normie?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Predaig said as she hoisted her weapon onto her shoulder.


    ¡°Thank you for your aid, warlord,¡± Jacob thanked Predaig. Anissa wanted to strangle the bastard after seeing how calm he was. He almost died! ¡°May I inquire as to the reason for such hostility? My mother never served in the military; she was a professor at Redlands University, teaching anthropology. To my knowledge, she never left Iterna¡¯s borders and chose to age normally¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not what she taught; it¡¯s who she taught and what she did. I suggest you do some reporting and dig deeper into your family history,¡± Predaig growled. She whirled and faced Anissa.


    ¡°Explanation, warlord,¡± the wolf hag demanded. ¡°Bite me, dominate me, but I need to know if Warlord Onyxia is on the verge on¡­¡±


    ¡°She is not,¡± Predaig interrupted. She opened her jaws, closed them, and examined Anissa. ¡°Why are you bleeding, Anissa?¡±


    ¡°I bit my lip!¡±


    ¡°And why is your side swollen?¡±


    ¡°I bit it really bad!¡± Anissa panicked. She was never good at lying.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Predaig glanced at Elzada and shook her head. ¡°Not my problem. As for your question¡­ Understand this. Everything you¡¯ll hear is strictly private. Spill it to anyone and you¡¯ll learn that old people aren¡¯t as afraid of the law as young people.¡±


    ¡°I swear on my life. If I ever reveal the knowledge you are about to give me, I will rip my heart out,¡± Anissa vowed.


    ¡°Yeah, the same!¡± Elzada supported her.


    ¡°Not a talker, but¡­¡± Keon gulped, turning almost as pale as the Iternian. ¡°I am curious. You have my word.¡±


    ¡°Forty-five seconds!¡± Jacob held up a hand, stopping Predaig. The man reached into his pants, into the back of his molded boots, then under the gloves formed by his armor. He pulled out recording devices, turned them off, and finally pressed something on his helmet. The visor opened and the inside of the helm went dark. ¡°There, everything is offline. Now, explanation, please.¡±


    ¡°The Culling,¡± Predaig said, as if it explained everything. She continued, answering the confused looks. ¡°Iterna¡¯s crimes are not limited solely to the president¡¯s loyalists. When the convoys arrived in Redlands, it was the teachers and professors who handed over the students¡­¡±


    ¡°They merely obeyed the law; no one expected the bitch to be this crazy,¡± the reporter argued. ¡°The government told the people that the kids would be safely resting in five-star hotels until¡­¡±


    ¡°Silence, Iternian,¡± Predaig interrupted Jacob. ¡°Onyxia had a daughter. Not biological; she simply took in a girl whose mother was killed under her leadership. Few know of it today. The girl perished, cut in two by the sand reaper, when Iterna drove out the students. But it wasn¡¯t the end of it. Not every corpse was recovered, but Onyxia and I spent plenty of time interrogating raiders, opening the bellies of the beasts. We even wrote to Iterna¡¯s government, against Ravager¡¯s wishes.¡± She closed her eyes wearily. ¡°Sometimes I wish we had done that. Some secrets are too painful.¡±


    ¡°I get the gist of the idea,¡± Anissa said hurriedly. ¡°This Csenia Makarevich, a teacher, must have given Onyxia¡¯s cub to the police, right? There is no need to elaborate if this is so hard for you.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, are we so soft to be broken under the deaths of our cubs?¡± Predaig chuckles. ¡°They would¡¯ve kicked our asses in the Great Beyond if this were so. No, Anissa, the betrayal went deeper than that. Iterna, too, searched for bodies, contacted families, did what she could to mend the irreparable. Some bodies were unrecognizable. And Csenia, that trust-busting bitch, had performed an autopsy on the poor cub¡¯s body.¡± Predaig¡¯s grip on the weapon tightened. ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough to kill her; they had to desecrate the poor baby too. There is a stall, or auditorium, as they call it in Redlands. Students come in there to learn about the various New Breeds. Onyxia and I received a video about it.¡±


    Predaig opened her eyes. ¡°The girl exists after a fashion. They turned her into a hologram, who cheerfully greets students and explains well-known facts about the Wolf Tribe. It¡¯s not her; it¡¯s just her faint image. Even the girl¡¯s voice is distorted, too clear, too happy. A phantom on invisible strings, dancing for Iterna¡¯s amusement while her bones are on display.¡±


    Anissa slowed her breathing, fighting against an urge to wrest away Jacob¡¯s head. Savages. The Iternians are a little better than savages. No, they¡¯re even worse! At least savages have the dignity of eventually killing you. But these scums abused the trust, murdered the best generation, and then dared to use their souls? When will it be enough for them?


    ¡°I¡­¡± Jacob stumbled. His composure vanished, and the man was visibly shocked. ¡°We didn¡¯t know. Mother always blamed herself for what had transpired. She made it her goal to prove to the citizens that abnormals and humans were not so different. To that end, she performed autopsies, linking human evolution to the Glow, and the history holograms are meant to show students that people outside of Iterna are no different from us. That they too have their cultures, lives, and hopes. They are meant to illustrate the true horror of our deed, so we would never again repeat it!¡± He desperately met Predaig¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°We wear trophies to boast of our victories,¡± Predaig said mercilessly. ¡°But... I suppose we also wear bone totems to remember those who left before us,¡± she added, a little softer.


    ¡°As soon as I tell everyone back home, they will remove the hologram¡­¡± Jacob stopped as Predaig¡¯s blade touched the neck of his suit.


    ¡°No. Onyxia and her poor daughter were humiliated enough. There will be no more dishonor to their names. It is better to let the hologram remain nameless. Let the dead rest and the grieving mourn. Onyxia has found another whom she considers family. There is no one left to blame, punish, or forgive. We just have to learn how to move on. Don¡¯t stir the pot and ruin her life again, Iternian,¡± Predaig stated. ¡°Come, Keon. I¡¯ll assist you in escorting our guest. And as for you two,¡± the warlord addressed the Wolfkins. ¡°Don¡¯t bite your lips in strange places again.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t trust Iternians,¡± Elzada said as the group left her. Then she hiccupped and turned. ¡°You didn¡¯t think that the warlord thought us¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡­ No!¡± Anissa shouted. ¡°Spirits, no! You have a son! I had males and intend to have cubs. It¡­ Elzi, it¡¯s all your fault! Your bad influence always gets me into trouble!¡±


    ¡°My bad influence?! You broke my freaking arm!¡±


    ¡°Well, I apologized for that!¡±

 Chapter 27: A Lesson

    Janine followed the scent mark to a small observation platform that overlooked dining compartment number 4. The crawler was a living, moving city, and spacious corridors served as its veins and streets. Even after several days of being confined in this coffin, Janine still relied on the scents left by other Wolfkins, which mapped the environment far better than any soulless terminal could ever do.


    And right now, she had entered the territory of the Ygrite pack. Her scent was thin, reeking of uncertainty and avoidance of challenge. But it was mixed with a veiled, acrid stench of a mixture of digestive fluids and powder. The initial taste lulled a challenger into a false sense of security, promising an easier victory before the weaker warriors used every dirty trick in the book. The warlord recalled a wolf hag cursing and choking on razors hidden in the thick fur of Ygrite¡¯s scout. And then the scout buried a knife under the wolf hag¡¯s ribs, drawing a long gash and damaging a lung.


    Ygrite¡¯s girls imitated after their warlord, winning duels through smarts where their claws and muscles faltered.


    It left Janine wondering why Ashbringer had called her here. The packs claimed territory for their own warriors. Many males, warriors, and scouts napped happily in the airways, their confinement reminding them of their cramped home villages, while wolf hags and warlords rested in private rooms to set an example. An uninvited trespass could lead to a sporadic brawl when a stressed guard threw a reflexive punch. The Blessed Mother made her will clear. Avoid violence in these lifeless bowels.


    If this idea troubled Ashbringer, she didn¡¯t show it. She stood at the edge of the observation platform, ignoring the wolf hag of the friendly pack beside her. Her eyes scanned the rows of chewing Wolfkins below.


    Ashbringer, like Janine, possessed a misshapen body. Her fur had a silky touch, even softer than the Blessed Mother¡¯s, and it lay smooth instead of sticking like needles. Ashbringer rubbed the ashes of burned victims into her fur, trying to roughen it, but while it created a pleasant shade and black color, the fur refused to lose its softness. Her head was more elongated forward, giving her a wider mouth filled with sharper and smaller fangs, more befitting of a young warrior than of a warlord.


    Once, a rare challenger for her rank called Ashbringer a ferret to her face. The entire pack held their breath, worried about the kind of revenge the woman would inflict on the hussy. However, as soon as the domination match was over, Ashbringer bellowed with laughter, flung the broken body over a shoulder, and carried the defeated to the medics in a good mood. Later, she elevated the challenger to the rank of a wolf hag.


    Below, the Ygrite pack snarled and tried to snatch the fattest pieces of meat from their trays, pleading for larger portions from the Normie cooks. Several Wolfkins, who had been guilty of something, assisted the cooks by handing the trays to the ravenous swarm, for the unruly soldiers might have accidentally injured the cooks in the competition for the trays. Ygrite was the weakest warlord, but she also accepted every reject and her pack grew numerous.


    This pack was an oddity. They lacked the standard family relationships befitting the Wolf Tribe. Suicides caused by rampant dominations, deaths during sparring, added to the already high toll of casualties that came from being the first unleashed on the front lines and serving as the rearguard during rare retreats. Sisterhood never took hold here, and even wolf hags often lost their ranks several times a month. However, the soldiers enjoyed Normies¡¯ company, eagerly learning new tricks and listening to weapons¡¯ instructions. Many soldiers had prosthetic arms or legs that sometimes sparked due to disrepair. Doctors and cyber crafters wrote wishes of well-being on these limbs, and not a single soldier in the pack chastised the wounded for it.


    Ygrite believed in survival. It was her law. No matter the indignity, no matter the wounds, if you live, you stand up and keep going, soul be damned. Despite Lacerated One¡¯s repeated attempts to censure the warlord for disregarding her warriors¡¯ wishes for a peaceful death, Ygrite continued to adhere to this heresy. The Wolfkins, scarred and bleeding from fresh scratches, roared in cheer at the news that today¡¯s meal would be mashed potatoes and real cusack steaks instead of synthesized nutrient fakery. Their voices were so sincere that Janine almost had a mind to join in.


    ¡°Saw you speaking with that Kalaisa cub,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°Be wary of the bitch. She¡¯s not right in the head.¡±


    ¡°And who is?¡± Janine asked, confused as to why a warlord would be spying on a wolf hag from another pack. ¡°Seems like no worse than you were. What was that boy¡¯s name again?¡±


    ¡°Irrelevant,¡± Ashbringer snapped. ¡°The Blessed Mother herself absolved me of all sins. Remind me of that incident again and I will rip your jaw out.¡±


    ¡°You will try,¡± Janine said calmly.


    ¡°Do not tempt fate, Sister Slayer Janine.¡± Ashbringer still hadn¡¯t turned. ¡°I make no threats or hypothetical. I deal in facts. Better listen to me. See these Wolfkins? Her brothers and sister.¡±


    Janine saw a shambling mess of a Wolfkin, covered in scars from head to toe. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for a male to be badly injured, especially if a girl took a dislike to him and used him as a chew toy. There was a long scar around the male¡¯s waist, dozens of ugly healed wounds on his arms, and the tips of his once sharp, long ears had been cut off. Recent bruises had swollen his legs, and he had lost some fur from stress. The male looked around like a cornered animal, while a taller girl and a smaller male walked beside him, often holding him by the shoulder. When he saw Kalaisa torpedoing her way through the crowd, the boy shivered and almost dropped his food.


    ¡°She did it,¡± Ashbringer stated flatly. ¡°I asked around. People told me the family was close until one day Kalaisa snapped and began tormenting them for no reason. When another girl tried to kill the wounded male for fun, Kalaisa flayed her face and would have eaten her alive if it weren¡¯t for Ygrite¡¯s intervention. Freak. Why maim if you are going for the kill?¡±


    ¡°Everyone is not without sin, like you said.¡± Janine frowned when Kalaisa shoved her siblings, tossing the two lesser wounded ones aside and crashing the trembling male against a table. The wolf hag sat and laughed mockingly, ordering her brother to eat from the floor. ¡°Ygrite just needs to give her a good beating.¡±


    ¡°You are as soft as our sister. Kalaisa is a motherless cur and must be treated like one,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°Anji is keeping an eye on your youngest. For our sake, I hope she can keep Kalaisa from creating a body. Otherwise, I¡¯ll add another one and will have to listen to Alpha¡¯s screams again.¡±


    Pure fury arrested Janine¡¯s limbs at the understanding of just who that bitch meant by ¡®off the hook¡¯. It was no coincidence that she had followed Marco into the room. Daring to bare fangs at my family? Janine counted from one to ten, resisting the urge to pounce on Kalaisa and wrenching her head clear off for daring to even think about harming Marco. The shamans and her soldiers might chastise her for taking a life for the sake of a male, and Alpha might label her as weak, but she could live with that criticism. What she could not live with was seeing her boy¡­


    ¡°Ashbringer,¡± Janine said. ¡°Thank you. But why do you help me? I thought you had despised me.¡±


    ¡°I despise you,¡± Ashbringer replied. ¡°You are a mongrel cur, so worthless that even your own mother rejected you. To call you a warlord is an insult I must bear. The commander should not have let you be anywhere close to her. But what happened happened. It was brought to my attention that the tribe had failed you. It falls to me to rectify this and support you, since the rest of the rabble is too irresponsible.¡±


    And how different are these cubs? Janine thought, ignoring the insults. Words were irrelevant, as she learned. Actions mattered. All of them, including Kalaisa, were kin. The tribe¡¯s carelessness had led Kalaisa astray, and the misery spread. The warlord clenched her fists as the trembling boy tried to crawl away from his older sister. Marco has her. Anji. Even Ashbringer. Who does this boy have to support him?


    ¡°Who allowed you to eat at a table, eh?¡± Kalaisa kicked her brother in the side. He mumbled something, and Kalaisa¡¯s smile widened. ¡°I can¡¯t hear your whining. Look at me.¡± The boy froze, and the wolf hag kicked him again, this time using her claws to slice a bit of skin. The boy rolled on the ground, whining and leaving a blood trail, before curling up into a ball. Kalaisa¡¯s siblings tried to stand up between the two, but their elder sister grabbed them by the throats and sent them flying with a casual flick of her wrist. ¡°I said. Look. At. Me.¡±


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    Janine did some pure evil things in the past, this much she admitted to herself. She dominated males in pits, often breaking their fingers or leaving them starve for days. This part of her life she could never alter. Janine could not change the traditions; she could only mitigate them somewhat by providing better conditions for the males in her pack, preventing their deaths at the females¡¯ claws. Some grumbled, thinking her soft, but Melina and Anissa had carried out her wishes. No male ever took his life under her command, and the foolishness of Terrific was but a memory.


    Janine wasn¡¯t a better person than Kalaisa. She could not undo the damage she had done in the past.


    But she could do something now, too. As the younger brother wet himself from horror, Janine leapt down, sending a ripple through the floor and sending a few tables jumping up as her massive bulk landed. No more. Kalaisa warily watched as the warlord made her way through the pool of Wolfkins, greeting them with raised throats. She didn¡¯t bite any. Her pack wasn¡¯t large in numbers, and it would be foolish to start a blood feud. But a lesson was in order.


    ¡°Kalaisa,¡± Ashbringer interrupted Janine, landing on two straight legs and never bending her knees. ¡°You and me.¡±


    The warlord stepped down the aisle between the tables, holding her paws behind her back, and rocketed her neck.


    ¡°Want to earn scars so badly, granny?¡± Kalaisa laughed and stood on all fours, releasing her claws and digging them deep into the metal. ¡°Raise your paws.¡±


    ¡°No need,¡± Ashbringer yawned.


    ¡°Take a stance, fool! When I carve my name into your skin, I don¡¯t want you to have any excuses for your sorry¡­ What are you doing?¡± Kalaisa demanded when Ashbringer looked at the ceiling, counting lights. ¡°Got scared?! Offering me your neck for free?!¡±


    ¡°Your mug disgusts me,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°Makes me want to puke just looking at it.¡±


    Kalaisa propelled herself at the warlord, her paws tearing four gaping holes in the floor. Exceeding a bullet¡¯s speed, Kalaisa¡¯s blurred form grabbed knives as she passed tables and hurled them at the warlord¡¯s head as she closed in on Ashbringer, her arms already trying to hook underneath the warlord¡¯s kneecaps to pull them out in a single, unified thrust and bring the opponent to her knees, disoriented and crippled.


    Ashbringer bowed so fast that the knives failed to touch her skin. Or at least, this was what it looked like to Janine. The two opponents¡¯ heads collided with enough force to create an explosion of air and a small, expanding vacuum that had knocked several soldiers off their feet. Food trays, tables, and cups made from reinforced glass¡ªeverything was reverberating. Blood splashed against Janine¡¯s smirking face. Kalaisa¡¯s blood. The blow splattered her face down into the ground; she bled profusely from her ears, and as she tried to rise, more red streaks flowed from her moaning mouth and nose. Kalaisa¡¯s arms shook, and she fell again, unable to stand after a single, disrespectful headbutt from her opponent.


    A snap of fingers bashed the wolf hag¡¯s blood and some ash from Ashbringer¡¯s forehead. She waited a bit, giving time for the glasses and tinkling metal in the compartment to stop, and no one dared speak.


    ¡°Unworthy of my claws. Too weak for my fangs. Ugly. Predictable. Honorless, like the rest of Ygrite¡¯s trash. But what else could I expect from a motherless cur who hasn¡¯t learned life¡¯s first lesson?¡± Ashbringer said in a melodious voice. Her feet touched Kalaisa¡¯s lower jaw, and she lifted her head. ¡°Dominating males wastes time that could be spent honing your skills. I see no sister or comrade in you, filth. Your reckless behavior put several soldiers at risk.¡±


    The wolf hag¡¯s head swelled. Pieces of the exoskeleton pierced the skin, bulging out of alignment from the titanic collision.


    ¡°And the lives of those whom they could have saved,¡± Janine added. She put a paw on Ashbringer¡¯s shoulder, preparing to pull her away from the downed opponent if needed. ¡°Male, female, who cares? We are the soldiers of the Reclamation Army, a shield that rises before the weak, an axe that cuts off the heads of the threatening! We grow stronger to serve, and you deny your pack that opportunity by ruining their lives, Kalaisa.¡±


    Ashbringer stomped on the wolf hag, pushing the panting woman deeper into the floor. Kalaisa screamed in pain, but the warlord kept on going, increasing the pressure and creating a small crater, until Kalaisa¡¯s left shoulder blade cracked under the immense strain, and the woman whined, going limp.


    ¡°You spat on our duty, Kalaisa, for the sake of your petty enjoyment,¡± Janine mercilessly continued, pointing at the Ygrite pack, who stood aside silently. Any pack respected duels, but when they went so far, there should have been soldiers ready to jump in, even at the cost of their lives. These soldiers just stared, not caring about the outcome. ¡°Look around! You cared for none, and none comes to your aid in return.¡±


    ¡°So¡­What new? No one helped before either¡­¡± Kalaisa gasped.


    ¡°You are still young, cur.¡± Ashbringer¡¯s paw closed around Kalaisa¡¯s head, and she lifted the wolf hag in the air, ignoring groans as pieces of the skull moved underneath her fingers. ¡°As of right now, you are a liability. Unworthy of your rank. Change it. The lesson is over. If you force me to repeat this lesson, it will be your last time, potential be damned.¡±


    Ashbringer let go of Kalaisa and spun, moving toward the exit.


    ¡°You don¡¯t grow stronger from dominating males,¡± Ashbringer said, passing by warriors. ¡°Remember it and act as a unit, damn you. If Ygrite would have any complaints, relay to her she is welcome to have her skull broken against my fist any day of the week.¡±


    ¡°What¡­¡± Kalaisa licked her lips, standing up on the wobbly legs. ¡°What did I do wrong? Strength is revered, and I lived by this rule! That was what I was taught!¡±


    ¡°You are brutish, not strong, Kalaisa,¡± Janine said. ¡°There is more than one type of strength that is required to be a wolf hag. You are strong physically, but you fail to inspire loyalty, and your mind is fixated on self-pity, preventing you from shining. Rather than indulging in your impulses, control them, own your bloodlust, and turn it inward, using its energy to make your pack better, stronger, faster, and more united than ever before. A single soldier is but a puzzle piece on the battlefield¡ªa cog in a machine, if you will. Work with others to overcome anything in your path, rather than putting them down.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t get it,¡± Kalaisa admitted, struggling to focus on Janine.


    Mercy is never wasted. It was hard. The bitch threatened her son. She was another warlord¡¯s problem, and Janine¡¯s paws were already full. She wanted to leave and let the fool die a fool¡¯s death. But where Janine had the blessing of Martyshkina, Terrific, and the shamans to guide her through the darkest period of her life, this one had no one.


    ¡°Visit me every evening, and I shall teach you what I can. For the time being, focus on healing, apologize for your actions, and ensure your soldiers¡¯ wounds receive proper treatment.¡± Janine approached the broken Wolfkin, bypassing the male and female¡¯s feeble attempts, and the boy simply closed his eyes, baring his neck.


    Maybe she should¡¯ve gotten Impatient One. The boy was broken; it was plain as day. It may be cruel to let him live. Kalaisa¡¯s treatment would kill him one day. A quick death and a fresh start in a new body or a new life in the Great Beyond is a far better deal. But Janine refused this choice and gave the youngster time to collect his thoughts.


    ¡°Your name?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Kirk, warlord,¡± he replied, and she patted him.


    ¡°I see. Heal. Survive, soldier,¡± she told him, leaving him in the care of his siblings, glaring at Kalaisa one last time to ensure that the moron was obeying her command.


    Good. Small steps toward betterment. The tribe failed this family, and Janine gave Kalaisa a paw, seeking to pull her to the light. But this is just one member of a broken family.


    What am I doing? She pondered, grabbed a terminal, and called Bogdan. Ignacy answered and quickly passed the terminal to her son.


    ¡°Warlord?¡± Her son hiccuped.


    ¡°Have you been drinking?¡± she bristled.


    ¡°In my spare time, as permitted by the rules, warlord!¡± He burped and continued in a hushed tone. ¡°Sorry, Mom. Had a call from my baby and got a little emotional after talking to the little ones. They are already saying words¡­¡±


    ¡°And he taught them profanities while his wife left them alone to talk. Five minutes! That¡¯s all he needed to spoil them!¡± Ignacy complained, and Janine noticed him speaking some words a bit longer than needed. Both of her sons were having a celebration of their own, it would seem. ¡°Bogdan, she¡¯s going to kill you once she hears them spewing vileness in the pits, and I fully support this decision, you bastard.¡±


    ¡°Eh, I never thought I¡¯d live to hear my little ones speak, so I¡¯m taking every day as a bonus and living life to the fullest, and there¡¯s nothing you can do about it, nerd,¡± Bogdan replied. ¡°Sorry for my undigni¡­ innapro¡­ unfitting behavior, warlord!¡±


    ¡°Not another word,¡± Janine relented. Bogdan had gotten into trouble in the past for drinking too much cheap moonshine and alcohol. But he gave up drinking altogether after becoming a father. The silly boy claimed he wanted to be an example for his cubs. It was hard for him to be so alone, unable to see his girls and boys growing up. ¡°I have a request. Personal,¡± she added. As a warlord, it wasn¡¯t right to offer a male a chance to refuse outright, but Bogdan was smart enough to make up something if he didn¡¯t want to work.


    ¡°I am all ears. Me and Ignacy have plenty of time on our paws.¡±


    ¡°Why do you speak for me?¡± Ignacy argued.


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not doing anything!¡±


    ¡°I planned to read about sonic emitters¡­.¡±


    ¡°See! Doing nothing.¡±


    ¡°Bogdan, I have a new arm, and I am not afraid of heating someone!¡± Ignacy warned.


    ¡°Ho-ho, then how about you use it to heat a girl for once?¡± Bogdan laughed.


    ¡°The Abyss are you meaning?! Why would I set an innocent woman aflame?¡±


    ¡°I meant, get yourself a mate already, brother!¡±


    ¡°You done?¡± Janine asked, and her boys fell silent. ¡°Good. There¡¯s someone I want you to help, in a way only you can, Bogdan¡­¡±

 Chapter 28: A Glimmer of the Horde

    ¡°And when evil rears its ugly head¡­¡± Mirko Jovi? roared as he jumped bare-chested onto a table and raised a bottle.


    ¡°We¡¯ll ram a saber straight through its ass!¡± the gathering erupted.


    ¡°Damn right we will! Happy winter, you bastards, and live long!¡± Mirko poured the vodka down his throat, not caring about a snack.


    Miners, workers, citizens, off-duty soldiers, and even several policemen joined their voices to his and raised their toasts, hugging each other in a half-drunken stupor. Their numbers cramped the spacious bar; streams of smoke gathered in a small cloud above their heads, hiding the ceiling; and pleasant country music surged from the dynamics, shaking the windows. Mirko spotted sergeant ?ime ?tefan?i? and Kit dancing on a pool table next to more couples and raised his bottle to them, both lads and lassies alike. Let there be more kids next year!


    Winter! Who didn¡¯t love this season in the Wastes? It was the time when living mountains moved underneath the sea of sand, hundred-meter-long insects known as long sand reapers. They migrated to the Ravaged Lands to mate. These titanic creatures showed little concern for humans; even if they happened upon a random group of scavengers in a desert, a sand reaper rarely attacked, as it could not replenish the nutrients it would lose during movement to consume even a hundred humans.


    But their passing created amazing scenery! Rolling walls of sand, like waters in dried-up oceans, passed toward the horizon, bringing to the surface the wonders hidden in the depths. Cadavers of lesser predators whose armor was as tough as a battle suit and whose blades could sever a limb at a touch. Submerged laboratories and excavated bunkers. Bodies of ancient soldiers, some still perfectly preserved by their life systems.


    But none of it mattered to Mirko. He loved winter for its tranquility, for it was a time when people didn¡¯t worry about hiding sugar in bunkers, and sweet treats and drinks were commonplace on the streets. He enjoyed filming the swimming titans and sending these videos to his wide-eyed pearl in the Core Lands.


    ¡°Sarge,¡± ?ime¡¯s voice snapped him from the blissful enjoyment, and Mirko noticed Lieutenant Veronika Eenpalu and a group of soldiers waiting outside the entrance. The woman wore a black officer¡¯s coat over a standard exoskeleton suit, and a bronze triangle marking her rank was clear of any dust. Despite the tapestry of scars covering much of her head, Mirko considered her pretty. The cowl of her coat left her eyes and upper part of the face exposed, and she frowned her nose in disgust at the debauchery and beckoned him.


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Mirko saluted to ?ime¡¯s groan. Veronika technically outranked them both, but the silver stars marking them as New Breeds made the situation a bit more complicated. ?ime kissed Kit one last time and followed the older New Breed, pulling on the heat-protection suit. Kit hurried after him, changing into her cheaper citizen¡¯s model, as Mirko stepped outside and breathed in the hot air.


    By the Planet, he enjoyed his home! Their settlement had grown over the past decade, eventually becoming a proper small town. During the day, citizens worked in the mines to the west or inside factories, rarely poking their noses outside to avoid the risk of heat stroke. The youngest children, infants and such, slept the day in the communal schools, while the older ones studied. The heat here was disgusting¡ªnot the kind that dried out your body from the excess water, but the kind that kept you wet all the time unless you wore a special suit. Two, three hours outdoors, and even an adult would find himself dehydrated and stumble and fall to his death.


    At night, when the miners returned from work, the town came alive. Families walked their children along freshly repaired paved roads. These roads were as much a sign of luxury as they were a necessity. Subterranean predators would often try to snatch an unsuspecting victim, and a solid layer of stone provided ample warning. Every single person, including children, knew how to fire basic firearms, but only the army and police had enough firepower to take down a creature.


    Children played in the playground or raced up and down the road, and Mirko chuckled, evading a kid driving a scooter. His hand moved as fast as an insectoid warrior¡¯s blade, pulling the girl¡¯s hood over her head. Running around in a hood sucks and water was no longer a problem, but there was no reason not to let the suit¡¯s system work. Its fabric soaked up any sweat or urine and recycled it into drinkable water, which was later stored for emergencies. At least they hadn¡¯t had to drink it in a decade, and used it to water the greenery.


    Ecological Habitat 647, as Captain Ivar Murzaliev named it, or Just Peachy, as everyone else called it, had a single greenhouse producing fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, cabbages, and potatoes to meet the population¡¯s needs. In-between every square living apartments, edging the playground, stood tall cactuses, specially genetically tailored plants that could thrive in this dry land and provide fresh oxygen to the setters.


    Kids took a liking to them, using their sharp needles for the initiation ritual of trying to get a bright color off the green shapes, and soldiers had to drag the rascals home so they could taste a parental belt and shake these foolish delusions from their minds. Their parents didn¡¯t work their asses off to build this little sanctuary in a cruel world so that their offspring would be covered in scars, and if they had to beat that wisdom into them, then by the Planet they did so.


    Most of the population worked in the mines, and this is where Mirko spent his youth. Trucks hauled precious ore excavated by miners, and at night, a second shift used a special anti-radiation solution to decontaminate the opened tunnels so the workers could work safely in the morning. The youngster dropped this job at the first opportunity. Sure, only four people got radiation poisoning and went bald last year, but no hazmat suit provided complete protection, especially when human factors were involved. An accident involving a suit tearing itself against a rusty spike or a clumsy coworker could result in receiving an unhealthy dose of radiation.


    Such was the life in Just Peachy, and the green-eyed, pale-skinned, and well-built Mirko loved every second of it, even when he had to keep immigrants like ?ime and Kit out of trouble with the law. The dumb dumbs still couldn¡¯t get it into their heads that the Reclamation Army had a set age of consent, and it wasn¡¯t ten like the uncontrollable part of the Wastes. Is it really that hard to wait until you turn nineteen? The rules are written in the town¡¯s hall, for the Planet¡¯s sake, and the newly opened TV station did its best to keep the citizens informed.


    ¡°You reek of alcohol,¡± Veronika stated.


    ¡°Apologies, ma¡¯am! Off duty, ma¡¯am!¡± Mirko and ?ime saluted, swaying on their feet.


    They were the regulars, a part of the military created by Wyrm Lord to take the burden off the Third Army. Although they lacked the necessary equipment to participate in the war, their training and numbers enabled them to assist the police in keeping the peace in the regions. Under the leadership of Captain Murzaliev, the infamous Blue Wyrm, their organized forces served in every major settlement. In Just Peachy, they were responsible for maintaining the minefield around the town, manning the walls and four towers, keeping the mines operating, and protecting the citizens. The law was rough here, and Mirko had to end more than one life of some psycho who tried to stir problems. In cases of a full-scale raid, a communication tower positioned on the south side of the settlement was used to call upon Warlord Fatima and her pack for help.


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    ¡°A patrol unit took a detour.¡± Veronika¡¯s pale eyes locked with his. ¡°They claimed a sudden avalanche, but the video feed showed them filming the Third Army.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, ma¡¯am!¡± Mirko rubbed the back of his head. ¡°Not every day an entire army passes us by, and I thought it¡¯d lift the people¡¯s spirits if they saw our heroes coming home.¡±


    ¡°And no doubt your girl would like the footage too, and if some reporters pay for it, then it is even sweeter,¡± Veronika said. ¡°Mirko, I have nothing against you earning tokens on the side. But the inspection is to arrive overmorrow. All of us need to be in top shape.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll be sober; I swear, lieutenant!¡± ?ime stood at attention.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a question of sobriety, sergeant,¡± the lieutenant sighed and wiped the sweat from her tanned nose. ¡°Warlord Fatima and her pack are no longer in charge of protecting this area.¡±


    ¡°Then it is true?¡± Mirko¡¯s shoulders slumped. ¡°The girls are leaving?¡±


    ¡°Already left. Fatima expressed her concern for our well-being two hours ago, and the entire pack is en route to their villages.¡±


    All regulars, regardless of their stationing, shared a common game. The Wolfkins, the fierce but trusted and heroic guardians of peace in the Wastes, rarely visited the humans during peacetime, and each such visit was an exquisite curiosity. Mirko, along with many others, attempted to steal a kiss from one of their female scouts or wolf hags. Males didn¡¯t count, much to the seething disappointment of the female regulars. It was too easy; what man would turn down an invitation to kiss a lassie for free? The reverse was harder, and the prize money accumulated over the years reached an impressive sum.


    No one had claimed it yet, and Mirko loathed missing out on a chance. That, and he slept better when howls pierced the night.


    ¡°So we¡¯ll be protected by the Second Army now?¡± Kit asked, and the lieutenant nodded, not deeming it worthwhile to speak to the girl. ¡°Great! Anyone know if they have snake boys among their ranks? You know, the hairy Ravager has wolf girls, and the serpentine Devourer must have snake boys, right? It, like, makes sense,¡± she teased the twitching ?ime.


    ¡°Kit, speak about the champions with proper respect,¡± Veronika said in a strained voice. ¡°This is no laughing matter, soldiers,¡± she told the grinning men. ¡°We are alone for two days. Get it into your heads. Yes, yes, there is zero chance of anyone attacking from the east, where the convoy is moving now. But it is our responsibility, our sacred duty, to be on high alert. We owe that much to Just Peachy and its citizens, unless you want to have your eyes torn out and be hanged on Captain Murzaliev¡¯s orders.¡±


    ¡°What is required of us?¡± Mirko asked, sobering up.


    Dammit, he hadn¡¯t considered it! Yeah, the Blue Wyrm won¡¯t touch him or ?ime. The wyrm hoarded over his New Breeds and those he deemed smart among the Normies, punishing only serious crimes. But if even half of the rumors that spoke about the captain were true, he may very well dispose of the patrol group, and Mirko would rather die than let this happen. The Blue Wyrm¡¯s legendary ability to achieve results paled compared to his ruthless vindictiveness. If he decides the troopers had made the Third Army look bad in the eyes of the Second¡­ This is why the lieutenant came here¡ªto beat the danger to her people into his stupid head.


    ¡°Remain vigilant until the transition of defenders is completed.¡± The lieutenant glared at his casual dress. ¡°I have no doubt that the Second have their own champions just as worthy as the Third, but I prefer not to take any chances until they arrive. I plan to remove the off-duty time for both officers and soldiers and would like your support, sir.¡±


    ¡°You have it, ma¡¯am.¡± Mirko nodded eagerly, zipping up his jacket and concentrating on flushing the alcohol from his veins. Ripples ran through ?ime¡¯s skin and his black eyes focused, banishing the drunken haze. He kissed Kit and put on his cap, saluting in readiness to accept any assignment.


    ¡°Good. Thirty hours of community service in the sewers for your stunt with the patrol, sergeant. Oversee it after the ceremony of transition, corporal,¡± Veronika told her second-in-command, and the officer nervously added this to her terminal. ¡°Now, get your people sorted out and¡­¡±


    An explosion of sand stopped her words as a row of mines outside of the settlement exploded almost simultaneously. The billowing dust hit the faces of the soldiers on the wall. The officers had already barked orders to activate searchlights and fire mortars into the area, but it was too late.


    Something pierced a cloud in the sky, tearing it in two and impaling the communication tower. Mirko failed to spot who fired at them; the projectile¡¯s supersonic speed exceeded that of any bullet, and a tearing scream of torn space followed in its wake as the tower built of solid reinforced concrete fell to the side. This strange shot took out several relay arrays and left a gaping hole, completely destroying the structural integrity and causing the entire structure to collapse under its own weight. The three soldiers inside never had a chance.


    ¡°Danger!¡± Mirko shouted at the top of his lungs as the wall shook and crimson explosions blossomed on top of it, knocking soldiers to the ground along with chunks of stone. He grabbed a portable visor from his pocket and placed it over his left eye, activating the HUD to see through the soldiers¡¯ cameras. ¡°Get the citizens into the bunker! Call for the Third¡¯s aid!¡± He pushed Veronika¡¯s second-in-command over to Kit so they could attempt a swift evacuation, while Veronika calmly shouted orders, directing the regulars to their defensive positions and demanding any visual contact with the enemy.


    ¡°Rapidly moving eng...¡± A fist-sized hole appeared in a parapet next to the speaking soldier, and he died, half his head missing.


    His comrade, a terrified woman who had been filming this murder, gasped as she peeked over the parapet wall, no longer worried about her safety. Her lenses transmitted the rapidly approaching engines, and then a flash from one of them struck her in the chest, piercing armor and bone alike, and her broken body stumbled off the wall. Less than a second later, this entire part of the parapet disappeared, broken into pieces by the sudden starlight. The attackers fired madly, not conserving their ammunition; their projectiles were strange energy that traveled in the form of pulsating, bright orbs.


    ?ime clapped his hands together, and his muscles ballooned, tearing through his clothes. His hair disappeared, giving way to throbbing, fat tentacles ending in sharp talons. The skin at the base of the back of his neck erupted, releasing even more murderous appendages. The man reached three meters; his tanned skin took on a dark blue hue, growing thick with muscle; a rough hide replaced the skin; and the genitals were sucked into his body. ?ime screamed once, when his knees shattered into countless pieces and reassembled themselves into reverse-jointed legs. His skull stretched forward, bones snapping, breaking, and reassembling as the sergeant closed and then opened his new jaws, testing the mobility of his three-fingered palms. The transformed human lunged at a building, reaching the top of a six-story apartment building in a single leap, and charged forward, sticking to the rooftops so as not to crush into a civilian.


    Air gathered around Mirko, creating a cocoon, and he stepped up to a frightened child, grabbing him by the shoulder just in time to spread the effect on him as a shell landed at them from above. This projectile Mirko saw, and he closed the air currents around it, creating an impregnable wall of pure molecules of air in its path. The air wall endured, and the projectile exploded inside the contained pocket created by his power. The sealed shockwave died, sparing the lives of those nearby.


    Artillery and an unknown number of attackers. Mirko tossed the boy to Kit and hovered in the air, flying to the burning section of the wall and hearing more explosions hitting the other towers. The organization of this attack was extremely well planned, executed with exceptional skill, and coincided with the very moment Just Peachy found itself without protection. A betrayal? Had someone sold information to the slavers? No, it couldn¡¯t be, no idiot would do that. Even ignoring Captain Murzaliev¡¯s vengeful spite, no one in their right mind would collaborate with the barbarians, and madmen aren¡¯t a threat because they¡¯re incapable of strategizing...


    The explosion, which killed a family as they attempted to charge into a building, interrupted his thoughts. A random shell flattened the family of five as they entered the doorway. He¡¯ll think about who, why, and the rest later.


    Mirko¡¯s limbs burst, shredding flesh that vanished from sight, merging with the surrounding oxygen. His jacket and pants slipped off, his hair turned into a shroud of mist, and his eyes flashed blue, two pieces of ephemeral ice trapped in the eye sockets of the misty skeleton. His belt also hit the ground, but it was okay; his intangible, ghostly arms wielded far greater weapons than any pistol or knife. He no longer needed to breathe; he was the air itself, and his translucent, naked body darkened, trying to create lightning in vain. That, too, was fine; his power provided limited control over the element, and it had taken Mirko years to learn how to see colors and hear in this state.


    It was time to slaughter until there was no one left standing but his side.

 Chapter 29: A Desperate Struggle

    The wall shook as the rears of the armored vehicles breached it in several places. Those bastards who drove high-speed bikes outside, and the artillery softened it up, and the troop carriers did the rest. Veronika never panicked; her calm commands brought relief to the regulars, and the soldiers assembled close to the houses, making a space between themselves and the wall. At the lieutenant¡¯s command, a series of reinforced panels rose from the ground, forming barricades. The retreated soldiers helped the wounded to safety, and their allies took aim, opening fire at the stuck vehicles.


    Blue laser beams linked to the lids, melting the strange golden alloy that adorned the outside of the troop carriers. Bullets pounded on their surfaces, but the foes held on, waiting until more of their forces got into position, and then the heavy lids flung open, slamming so hard that they entered the wall.


    The first foes stepped into Just Peachy. Giants clad in strange hodgepodge power suits. In certain areas, metal-overlapping plates shielded the exposed wires of the suits, while in others, they seamlessly integrated into the sleeves. The sleeves themselves belonged to various different types of suits, but unknown mechanics fused them into individual power armors. There was no uniformity in their defensive gear, as some used visors, showing exited oriental eyes, and many more had yellow lenses. Gold alloy created fancy patterns on the armor, and heavy chains held ornate overcoats and jewelry closer to their bodies. They moved swiftly, breaking rubble beneath their armored legs, a heavy rifle in one hand and a curved saber at their hips. Mirko struggled to believe it, but each raider had spears strapped to their backs.


    They marched on, enduring firepower capable of downing a rabid New Breed. Laser beams melted parts of their gorgets, creating running-down streaks of molten metal and gold on their helmets. The bullets and heavier rounds dented the armor. Acid grenades shredded cloaks, and still the raiders advanced. They were big. Mirko even thought the invaders were fat, but when the intense fire knocked down one bastard and he rose, his body exposed in several gaps in his ruined chest plate, the sergeant understood he was only half-right.


    There was an abundance of fat, for sure. But it served as extra armor, cushioning small-caliber fire¡¯s impact and gulping bullets while the wounded attacker fired. The heavy rounds of his oversized rifle broke a corner of the wall of an apartment building, showering the soldiers in dust, bent a raised platform, and tore away a soldier¡¯s arm. The remaining assailants joined in, and a wall of bright flashes hid them, forcing the regulars to take cover or perish.


    More foes took advantage of this, surging from the armored trucks. These had a smaller build; their bodies weren¡¯t as round as the initial assailants; their armor had less golden decoration; and they carried rifles in both hands. They added their fury, keeping the soldiers pinned as the long-range artillery began hollowing the damaged walls. The first giants and smaller raiders reached the barrier and ducked, taking advantage of the reclaimers¡¯ defenses.


    ¡°And now you die.¡± Mirko heard Veronika¡¯s cold voice in the helmet of a soldier, who also hurried to the wall.


    The regulars weren¡¯t helpless cusacks, ripe for slaughter. Wyrm Lord recruited them from the farthest reaches of the Wastes and Ravaged Lands. Hunters, mutants, former bandits, steely-eyed immigrants who had imbibed the desire to struggle for life along with their mothers¡¯ milk. Even former murderers, seeking a better life or trying to start a new one, often filled the ranks. Many officers, under the supervision of Captain Murzaliev, drilled and trained them to excellence, expecting them to hold and repel any situation that came their way, no matter how dire.


    Because civilization always triumphed in the end, and it brought many gifts. The lieutenant used one such gift, known as tactics. She lacked the time to create a proper battle strategy, but her merciless training bore fruit, and the regulars maintained discipline, luring the enemy in. Their comrades on the far walls moved the mortar emplacements into the streets, saving them from the artillery fire. The automatic defense system retracted the platforms occupied by the enemy, leaving them wide open in crouched positions.


    A killing field. This was what Veronika Eenpalu created as her troops returned fire, their lenses relaying the coordinates for an allied bombardment to the mortar teams. Windows in the apartments opened, soldiers and civilians showed up, firing at the invaders, and fireballs blossomed on the long stretch of land separating the wall from the town.


    ¡°The Reclamation Army greets you, bitches!¡± Mirko chuckled as the wind whipped from him, knocking the obese invaders off their feet. These were New Breeds and if they were close enough, no Normie would stand a chance in hand-to-hand combat. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, we¡¯ll use your corpses for fertilizer! Now act like cusacks and WHEEEE as we butcher you!¡± his voice boomed over the battlefield, and the regulars laughed as they fought for their homes.


    Mirko hovered over the center of the allied forces; his misty form harmlessly ate the incoming rounds. Torn holes closed at once, the occasional temporary loss of vision when a shot disrupted his ethereal eyes did not bother him. It didn¡¯t matter what part of him was destroyed; the very air was his element, and the sergeant rebuilt himself anew, shielding his allies and assaulting the invaders.


    A group of raiders broke away from the main force and charged the regulars to the west. Their shots turned the people in the windows into crimson tatters, and they almost reached a road leading into the town when ?ime stepped in.


    ?ime¡¯s gift made it impossible for him to use military equipment. It transformed him into a fierce predator¡ªa monster whose claws gouged crimson gashes at a surprised raider. The tendrils and appendages on his head and neck moved independently, sinking their talons into the lenses and joints of his armor. The raiders gurgled as the carnivorous appendages injected the digestive fluids and paralyzing venom into their bodies, softening and drinking the humans as a spider does its prey.


    But in this state, ?ime lacked any proper control over his body. He admitted to Mirko that he still saw and experienced the adrenaline and voracious hunger of his combat form, but it also reduced him to a passenger in the driver¡¯s seat. He could merely direct his aggression, telling the beast ¡®not to eat allies¡¯ or ¡®devour this one¡¯.


    He suffered for it, as the fat raider took a long slice across his chest and fired into the monstrous chest. ?ime, or rather, the thing ruling ?ime¡¯s body, let out a thin, barely audible cry and retreated rather than attacking, still carrying the husks of dead raiders on its appendages. The raider followed after the thing, keeping firing the mass reactive rounds that cratered into the younger sergeant¡¯s chest, shaking his body enough to bring it to a halt.


    The creature hunched low, dodging a slash of a curved blade aimed at his ribs, his clawed hands closed at the tall man¡¯s ankles, and yanked him to the ground. In a burst of movement, ?ime mounted the opponent and bit into his neck, mercilessly chewing through metal and stabbing with his appendages until the body below him moved no longer. Smooth skin has already covered his chest, removing any injuries.


    We are winning this. Mirko decided. The intensity of the fire had killed several larger raiders, wounded the rest, and many smaller ones lay in pools of their own blood. And then the wall collapsed and bright spheres flew in, bypassing his air wall and tearing chunks out of the soldiers¡¯ bodies. What? thought the sergeant, stunned by the sudden turn of events.


    Hoverbikes raced in, flying nimbly over the barricades and avoiding hitting their allies. The similar giants as the ones who had first assaulted the place were driving these hoverbikes, and when they reached the frontline, the sharp blades attached to the prow and sides of these strange vehicles cut through both the defenders¡¯ armor and the bodies within. The raiders¡¯ engines emitted terrifying noises, not so much roars as deafening screams, as if they were torturing the air with their passage. They skillfully aimed their unique weapons, unleashing pulsating energy towards the defenders, disregarding Mirko¡¯s attempts to obstruct them.


    The invaders shouted a battle cry of sorts, filling the night with their guttural voices, and reached for the spears, hurling them at the regulars. The weapons pinned some soldiers, and Mirko managed to deflect several spears, but the rest exploded, throwing the orderly ranks of the slowly retreating soldiers into chaos long enough for the bastards to close in. Even the smallest of them proved to be stronger than a Normie. A regular tried to stab the approaching raider with his knife, while searching for his fallen weapon. The large hand closed around the blade, collapsing the knife and the hand holding it into one, easily overpowering the soldier¡¯s exoskeleton¡¯s added strength.


    ?ime hissed as a hoverbike drew a torn line in his side. He jumped away, evading two exploding spears, and hid behind a barricade to protect himself from the painful stings of the pulsing ammunition. Where the muscles and tough leather hide of his body could endure physical projectiles, the energy ones burned swaths of his flesh and threatened to spell his doom.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Mirko boomed. They wanted deaths? They wanted destruction? He will give them it in full!


    He expanded his body, creating channels of air, engulfing two tall raiders, covering three others in a dark, stormy cloak, and grabbing a racing bastard. The sounds faded, the roar of the engines barely a whisper. It was suddenly hard to see, but the sergeant persevered, holding on to himself. There was a debt to repay. He controlled the air. And Mirko used this control to create a vacuum.


    The bike¡¯s engine came to a halt, breaking down as a wind gust forced the flames to move in reverse. It veered off course and slammed into the wall. The rider and the people in Mirko¡¯s hold twitched and clawed at their necks, trying to crawl away from the zone of utter silence, trying to escape a piece of void in real space, but the sergeant moved it along with them. He ignored the fire focused on him; as his victims convulsed, their lungs swelled, tearing at the delicate tissues responsible for gas exchange. Within thirty seconds, they fell unconscious as deoxygenated blood reached their brains, and soon died.


    ¡°Defeat us? Impossible! Inconceivable! The Dynast¡¯s will shall prevail! The Reclamation Army always trumps any foe, and I shall see your death before the first ray of the sun.¡± Mirko¡¯s mist form lashed out, no longer wielding emptiness but pure oxygen instead, and the enemies reeled, their advance halted. He was blessed, gifted with unparalleled power! Pride and sorrow swelled inside him, rising to unimaginable heights as the sergeant abandoned more of his humanity.


    He despised being so strong and yet seeing his friends, comrades, and drinking buddies die so senselessly. There was a future for all of them, and this wasn¡¯t it! More. Mirko clung to his grief to keep control of the power that threatened to rob him of his conscience. Bigger. He had to get bigger to become the ultimate weapon of the state.


    A crimson star fell from the sky, changing into a flaming comet as it neared him. Another biker approached, so tall that the people below were just children to him. Great wings spread from his helmet, a gilded metallic cloak flapped at his back, arrows the size of spears rested in the quiver at his back, and in his hand, the invader held the largest bow Mirko had ever seen. Arrogant and unafraid, he halted his approach, flying over the wall and stopping a few paces from the cloud.


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    The winged helm swung briefly regarding the resistance in the west.


    ¡°Hunt, whelp,¡± said a harsh voice in butchered Common.


    A figure rushed from a truck, skittering to the defenders on four stalked legs that ended in hooked pincers. This unusual centaur combined an ugly human appearance above the waist with the chitin legs of an insect below. Chitin plates covered the man¡¯s flesh, mostly hidden by the butchery of a mechanical exoskeleton suit mounted on his body to protect him. The armor¡¯s servomotors whined, giving the mutant impressive strength, and he exploded onward, appearing among the soldiers, slashing and hacking at everyone nearby.


    ?ime rose from the barricade, narrowly avoiding a blade aimed at his neck. The creature controlling his body let out a jittery cry, challenging the newcomer for territory, anxiously slashing tendrils against the barricades and gouging lines in them. The spider sniggered and thrust his blade, seeking to cut a jugular on ?ime¡¯s neck.


    Whether the young man took control of his body or the monster itself made an irrational decision, it did not react like an animal. It willingly took the blow on its forearm, intensifying the jittering cry as the sinew was cut, and grabbed the blade by the handle, drawing closer to the enemy.


    ¡°Are you the enemy leader?¡± Mirko demanded from the large raider. His voice no longer came as a boom; it was a soft and gentle whisper borne from the swirling cloud.


    ¡°I am a hurricane; I bring rain and thunder. What horrible crimes must¡¯ve you committed to share a world with the Gilded Horde?¡± the raider said haughtily, standing on golden stirrups. His guttural, deep voice mangled some words, but overall his Common was intelligible. ¡°The Horde is coming, and we will devour everything in our path. This is not even a prelude to our might, and your people have already failed our expectations. The protection of this dusty hole is weaker than even our worst camp. But you need not perish. You are strong. God has given you a divine right to rule over the weak. This is your reward, your obligation, even. Wine, gold, women, children, men¡­ Any of your desires could be instantly fulfilled if you would only bend your knee and join my Khaganate. Do so, accept your place in the natural order, serve the great incarnate Mad Hatter, and I swear to elevate you to a khan one day. Your clan will know prosperity...¡±


    ¡°No, thanks. Rather break you,¡± Mirko said, reaching out to the target.


    The bow was immediately in the raider¡¯s hands, and the string sang, releasing an arrow that passed through Mirko¡¯s disembodied form. It tore a hole in him and collapsed a building behind him, cooling his nonexistent blood. There were children and elderly people there, hiding in their rooms, trying to get down and rush to the emergency bunker in the middle of Just Peachy, or maybe waiting out in the basement. His eye formed at the back of his body, just in time to see a small, delicate arm being splattered by a chunk of stone.


    Mirko was hit by the sonic boom, but he had regained his form, and electricity crackled at the edge of his form, created by the friction of thunderclouds. Anger. He never thought he¡¯d be so angry, not even when he caught his father with his younger sister and beat the bastard to death, surrendering to the Third Army later. He was so livid that he even ignored the fact that the object of his desire, an ability to create lightning, was nearly in his grasp.


    ¡°Cease breathing!¡± he hissed, and an air channel closed around the raider as the hawk-helmed fiend drove through him. The fire spewing from the back of his flying bike melted the ruined building, drawing more screams of agony.


    The sergeant¡¯s body touched the building, creating a vacuum of space just for a second, and the fire died. His channel locked around the golden-armored fiend, and the sounds died for him as the vacuum came to be. The steel-feathered cloak no longer fluttered loudly; the exhaust spewed flames no more; and the man touched his neck, looking around as if searching for something.


    But he didn¡¯t fall. Whatever engine was installed in his weird vehicle could work, even in the coldness of space. The vehicle sped up, and the raider broke free from the vacuum, breathing loudly and firing two arrows into the sky. He raced down the street, setting fire to the regulars below, and approached a house as Mirko closed the vacuum around the bastard.


    And then the raider struck the wall, shattering the stone silently, and pulled a child out, pausing mockingly and waving the gasping baby above him. The silent message was clear. Go on, and the kid dies.


    These bastards have dealt with the exotic New Breeds before. Among the New Breeds capable of wielding powers, there were numerous categories. Some, like ?ime, had semi-automatic powers; others could predict the future to some degree. Mind control, the ability to conjure elements, and a variety of other abilities existed in the New World People like Mirko were known as Exotics, the New Breeds, who ranked higher in the catalog system due to a form of invulnerability granted to them by their power. Mirko¡¯s normal ranking was B class, but when he used his power to its fullest, he rose to A class, thanks to the fact that he became increasingly difficult to kill. Aside from losing his conscience to exhaustion, he knew of a few ways to take him down.


    He sighted four riders who, as if by chance, had gathered underneath the raider, reading their weapons. Should he shut down his power, not even an aura of wind will save him. The logical thing was to keep fighting, ignoring the youngster¡¯s death as collateral¡­


    Only screw it. Mirko decided and stopped the vacuum. Does he want to live in a world where his fellow comrades would let his precious pearl or his little sis die? A soldier fights not for the sake of murder, but to shield those under his protection. He owed his duty to the people of Just Peachy, and may the Planet curse him, but he made his choice. This kid was around the age of his own girl. There¡¯s no way he lets her down.


    A surge of wind blew from the sergeant, beating away the raider¡¯s bow to buy himself time and toppling the hoverbikes below to the side. Like an arrow, Mirko flew forward, returning himself to flesh and bone, and a cocoon of moving air formed around him, thick enough to turn him into a projectile. It shielded him from the regular rounds fired at him, deflecting them aside. Surprised, the raider let go of the screaming child, and the sergeant caught her, extending his protection to the girl. Now, to toss her across the town to the bunker and return to¡­


    Mirko croaked, his eyes widening in shock as a wave of agony reached his brain. Legs. Waist. Stomach. He no longer had them. The sergeant spasmed, losing control over his power, and fell, still dumbfounded by the sudden loss of his body. As he and his ward spun in the air, falling to the ground, he heard a distant, closing rumble and understood what had happened.


    It wasn¡¯t the bastards riding the screaming bikes. The arrows that the raider had shot skyward. They reached him, falling from above at great speed, like drops of rain. Only one hit him, but it was enough to split him in two. Time seemed to slow down for Mirko as he desperately searched for a way out or someone to help him.


    ?ime still fought; his appendages rose and stabbed at the monstrous centaur, who grunted, taking them on his arm. He proceeded to headbutt the enemy and attempt to close his jaws on the exposed neck, but the insectoid leg swiftly swept away the sergeant¡¯s footing. The curved blade then plunged into the man¡¯s chest, pinning him to the ground and piercing his spinal column.


    Mirko landed on his side, desperately trying to preserve the child in his hands. He handed her over to a running citizen, raised his torso on the harrowed arms, spilling blood, and tried to shout a warning to Veronika, who had managed to assemble yet another line of defense, buying time for the people. In vain. The fiery flying bike stopped near him, and the bowstring snapped, sending a devastating arrow that reduced the lieutenant to a faint crimson mist.


    This Mad Hatter, or whatever his name was, stopped over Mirko, examining him. The dying sergeant heard commands in an unknown language, and then an iron boot rose and trampled him to death. The last thing he heard was the cracking of his skull, and the last thing he experienced was the pressure of fluids tearing at his eyes.


    ****


    ¡°And if your soldier doesn¡¯t know how to tie a noose?¡± asked Janine.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tear off the bastard¡¯s ears for such stupidity, break his legs, and leave him crawling back to the camp from the desert!¡± Kalaisa bristled, and the warlord sighed.


    ¡°Idiot,¡± Melina said, stretching words.


    ¡°What did you say to me, weakling?!¡±


    ¡°Facts.¡±


    They sat in Janine¡¯s room. Kalaisa still had the severe injuries from the Ashbringer, and her arm still didn¡¯t work. But she surprised Janine by coming to the lectures, snarling, often spitting curses, but never missing a night. Melina escorted her in and out of the pack¡¯s territory at the warlord¡¯s request, as Anissa would undoubtedly have tried to dominate a rival wolf hag, and this could have led to potential bodies. For all her foolishness, even the wounded Kalaisa was strong.


    At her demand, her guest brought a small round table they fashioned from the ruined metal crates, and they sat on the floor. An electric kettle kept the water warm, and strips of dried meat served as snacks.


    ¡°Melina speaks harsh, but she speaks true.¡± Janine passed glasses of tea to the cringing wolf hags. They found the taste too sweet, but when else would a Wolfkin have access to free sugar? Best to grow fat to endure the hard times and enjoy the good times. ¡°Kalaisa, your way of punishment is wrong.¡±


    ¡°How is it wrong?! The bastard ought to know better!¡±


    ¡°Because you end up a soldier short, dumbass!¡± Melina laughed and shut up as Janine¡¯s fangs closed on her neck. The warlord tasted blood and let her go. She permitted a certain familiarity, but it was best not to allow wolf hags to think they were on the same level.


    ¡°This is how it is done,¡± Janine explained. ¡°Indeed, a soldier is expected to have certain knowledge. But not everything in life is perfect¡­¡±


    ¡°Story of my life,¡± Kalaisa grumbled and almost spilled her tea when Janine slapped her behind the ears, rocking her head so hard that the girl¡¯s forehead nearly smacked against the table.


    ¡°Interrupt me again, and I¡¯ll scar you,¡± the warlord promised. ¡°Kalaisa, there is a difference between punishment and mutilation. What I¡¯ve just done to you and Melina is a punishment. It is humiliating and will be remembered. It¡¯s not something she wants to experience willingly, but despite her best efforts, Melina will slip. Everyone does. And I will repeat the punishment, molding her into a better form. If I had taken your backs and broken them, as I often want to, I would have deprived the tribe of soldiers,¡± she ignored the expected flash of fear in their eyes. ¡°A punishment combines pain, fear, humiliation, but most importantly, it is a lesson so that the guilty party can grow or become better, and a tool to maintain discipline. Everything else is optional. All too often, the females of our tribe forget it and act brutish. Scar if you must, but it is your duty as a leader to explain to your soldiers what they did wrong and teach them how to be better.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that the job of the scouts?¡± Kalaisa asked cautiously.


    ¡°Yes. So what? If you don¡¯t complete a task, it remains unfinished. That¡¯s why it¡¯s more important to address the problem and train the scouts to meet your expectations, rather than raging pointlessly.¡± Janine drank her tea. Divine. Sweet. What do these fools know? Her measure of sugar was perfect. The more, the better; everyone knows that. ¡°Understand, if you maim a soldier, he or she is out of duty for days or weeks, like you. Doubtlessly, you have performed patrol duty. No matter how strong you are, you can¡¯t be in several places at once, and the loss of a soldier might mean a failure in your duties. A failure to spot an enemy group or to send a distress signal in time to save a village. There are different kinds of strength, and numbers are one of them.¡± Janine closed her eyes. ¡°I am tired, and you are about to nap. Go to bed and then take your brother and yourself to the doctors for the bandages changes. Melina, check to see if Soulless One has woken up yet, and keep your scout in the medical bay for the Spirits¡¯ sake.¡±


    Kalaisa stood up and nodded. Her fur rose in anger as the grinning Melina held a door open for the younger wolf hag, reminding the younger woman of her disability. Janine was half certain that this was more than a game at this point. Melina wasn¡¯t stupid, and her snide remarks had a reason. She was trying to teach to teach their idiot a little restraint by bringing her closer to a boiling point. So far, Kalaisa had made some progress. She no longer promised to feast on Melina¡¯s intestines.


    What a bother. Janine stretched her body, worried over Marco, Impatient One, Ani¡¯s postponed surgery, irritated at the pointless request of First to arrive for parley. Parley. Ha. As if they were at war. The Ice Fang Order defeated and humiliated her. Do they really need to rub it into her snout, too? To parade a defeated before their ranks, so Bertruda Mountaintop, Bertruda the Bull-Slayer, a thief holding on to the title that Janine¡¯s fallen soldiers had fought so hard to earn for her¡­


    The warlord slapped her muzzle hard. You can¡¯t change the past, and the Mountaintop household are allies and kin. You don¡¯t hate your kin. She let her lassitude prevail and lay on her bed, sinking into the realm of dreams.

 Chapter 30: A Memory

    Janine hugged Colt, trying to be as gentle as possible. Her soulmate wasn¡¯t as young as he once was; gray had spread over his receding fur, his once pristine white fangs now had a yellow tint, and his mind played tricks on him, causing the man to misuse words and sometimes mistake Bogdan for Ignacy. But tonight, on this beautiful, sad night, the light she had seen in his eyes when they first went on a scouting mission together had returned, and his arms had returned the embrace.


    They looked so strange together, she and he. Janine, a small mound of muscle, had arms as thick as his torso, and her fur shared the color of the night. Colt¡¯s body had become lighter than before, the result of age and various illnesses. His arms thinned, and he could no longer fully wrap around her body; his paws stopped short of her ribs.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Janine stopped tears, unwilling to put any weight on the male she loved. ¡°You don¡¯t have to do it, Colt. Exile is always an option.¡± She tried one last time. ¡°We can go together! I¡¯m sure our cubs will follow us!¡±


    ¡°We swore an oath. If you abandon your post, how many will die? Our sisters and brothers, devoid of your strength. Normies, who depend on us¡­ And besides, I don¡¯t want to be a burden or lose myself, Jani.¡± His forehead pressed against her chest, and her snout rested on the back of his skull. Their breath warmed them for the last time. ¡°Sacrifice only means something if it is voluntary. This is the life I have chosen, and this is the road I will walk until the end.¡± They broke their embrace, and Janine looked at his wrinkled face, noting the missing upper lip and the countless scars that marred his handsome visage. Colt smiled and took her by the paws. ¡°You and the cubs have made me the happiest male alive on the road, Jani. Even in the darkest night, with you by my side, there was nothing but light. Keep the cubs safe. Ignacy sometimes frightens too easily. Read to him more, but set him straight if you can. I don¡¯t trust his obsession with lifeless things. Anissa is too careless when hunting. Teach her awareness. And Bogdan¡­¡±


    ¡°Colt,¡± Janine whispered. ¡°They¡¯ve all grown up by now.¡± At the confusion in his eyes, she kissed her soulmate, distracting him from the sadness. ¡°I swear to watch over them for as long as I live.¡±


    ¡°Then I have no regrets.¡± The light returned to his eyes, and he stood up, letting go of her. ¡°Jani, I must not be your last. It may hurt now, but the life must go on. When you are ready, open your heart and be happy again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ try.¡±


    Janine wanted to grab him and run; she wanted to fall to her knees and beg him not to leave her alone, to tell him she loved him, that she needed him by her side, that their cubs needed him¡­ But this would be a sign of weakness and selfishness to the others who had gathered for a farewell ceremony. Janine watched, putting a paw over her aching heart.


    Colt, Colt, dearest Colt. How many times had they mourned, laughed, rejoiced and endured together? She showed him how to buy stuff on the Net, and he taught her how to use the washing machines at the crawler. They learned and shared, loved and grew, fought as one, and their young together. Of her many soulmates, he held a special place in her heart.


    Impatient One stepped forward, taking each step across a rocky plain as if she were walking on lava. The shaman-in-training grimaced, blinking something wet out of her eyes, and waved Soulless One away, insisting on performing this gruesome task herself. She quickly mounted a chitin mask, hiding her face, and raised a trembling paw, touching her father¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°It won¡¯t hurt¡­ Colt.¡± A whisper escaped her lips.


    The old Wolfkin sized her up, smiled warmly, and grabbed the shaman by the wrist.


    ¡°Yennifer? Is that you, girl? Sorry, I couldn¡¯t find those treats,¡± he said in an apologetic tone, ¡°but I¡¯ll try tomorrow! Surely someone on the base has some chocolate¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Colt,¡± Impatient One scooped her father into her arms and held him gently as if he were a cub. ¡°Everything is all right. You have been a splendid father to your cubs. And still are! You¡¯ve found that sweet baton. It was pleasant. I lov¡­ Thank you. The Spirits love you, male.¡±


    Impatient One carried the old man to the hut, followed by the shamans, who each led a gray-furred wolfkin by a paw or carried one in their paws like Impatient One. Some sang hymns and prayers, trying to calm the shaken elders. Others simply chatted with those on the last path, abandoning dignity and engaging in friendly banter to give their flock a measure of relief before the end. Male or female, it mattered not. The shamans treated every elderly Wolfkin gently, asking them if they had any last wishes. At the regret of not seeing the family, a shaman used a terminal to record the Wolfkin''s words, swearing to deliver the video to the family. Those who were hungry received milk, honey, and the best meat that the shamans could get. Even a simple desire for a hug was fulfilled.


    Colt had a single wish, and Impatient One granted it by removing her mask and whispering in his ear.


    ¡°Duty is all,¡± Lacerated One stepped outside and approached the Wolfkins sentenced to the culling. Her blood, blessed by the Spirits, dripped from many self-inflicted torn wounds, and it helped even the most hunched person to straighten their shoulders and breathe easily. The clarity of mind returned once more, awakened by the touch of the divine. ¡°Sacrifice is all. Know that you have walked your life¡¯s path with excellence. No one will ever dare to shame you! My kin, I ask you as a sister in blood. Have you come willingly? Do you have any fears? If yes, voice them and be exiled.¡± Lacerated One studied the faces, shocked at the suggestion, and saw them harden with resolve. ¡°I understand. Should you change your decision, say it at any time, my kin. Blessed be.¡±


    Exiles were rare. The tribe viewed this as either shameful or unthinkable. Exile meant transitioning from the tribe¡¯s laws to the state¡¯s laws and leaving the tribe¡¯s lands to live among the Normies. So far, only three seniors have asked to be exiled and spent their last days in nursing homes run by the Reclamation Army, occasionally speaking with their families via video feed and slowly losing more and more of their personalities as age took hold. One even returned and begged to be culled, afraid of forgetting everything forever. Against all traditions, Soulless One granted the outsider¡¯s request and was punished for it later.


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    Every Culling Lacerated One asked the same question, as if desperate to keep her kin from death. But old traditions die hard, and there was a reason for their existence. Twice the tribe had nearly faced extinction because of their efforts to prioritize the sick and elderly over the healthy, a decision their enemies had exploited in full. They had no right to subject the Reclamation Army to the same risk by forbidding culling, even if the government had offered their aid. Strong to the end, until the day comes when the world is reunited and the tribe no longer needs to kill. Whether she liked it or not, Lacerated One had to uphold the laws.


    No one asked to be exiled tonight. Even knowing what awaited them in the hut, no female or male backed down. They stay true to their beliefs and traditions to the end. A line was formed, and fifty shamans entered the hut one by one to perform the honor killing. The elders¡¯ friends and families gathered around, howling wailingly when a shaman carried their kin inside.


    Please, Sprits. Take my life, take my life essence, and give it to my soulmate and our cubs. Janine¡¯s eyes focused on the trembling Impatient One, who walked toward the hut under the hawkish gaze of Soulless One. Another test. Fail it, and the name will be returned. Pass it and take another step into the ranks of a shaman. There was sobbing, and Soulless One took a female from another shaman, kindly addressing the failed initiate by her name, convincing her that there was no shame and that the burden of shamanic duty was not for everyone. Impatient One persisted, gritting her teeth. Please make him young again. Please. Haven¡¯t I served enough? Haven¡¯t I given enough? Please, just one wish. Take from me and give to them. Put me in his place and let him live.


    There was no answer, but she never expected one. Sacrifice was their lot and the price they paid for the abundance of gifts that the Spirits deemed fit to bestow upon them. And now Colt was sacrificing himself to take the load off the Tribe. The moment Impatient One stepped inside the hut, Janine let out her strongest howl yet, sending her grief and love to the white disk of the moon and the numerous stars that dotted the sky above.


    All our sacrifices. They mean something in the end... right? Janine craned her head, sensing a familiar presence. Ravager stood against the moon disk, so far away that her face was unreadable. Speak to me, Blessed Mother, Spirits. Our lost friends, cubs, and those of our kin we kill in domination, and these cullings we do to stay strong and mighty¡­ Tell me it wasn¡¯t for nothing.


    ****


    Janine rolled out of bed, sweating and rubbing her eyes. The warlord shook her head, banishing the dream, and glanced around her room. A black beret lay on a table close to a mirror. During the study, Marco fell asleep, and Impatient One carried him away. Empty beer cans in a corner¡ªthe remnants of her and Martyshkina¡¯s somber party. Glasses were scattered on the table, all in need of cleaning. The memorial stone, covered by engravings of her entire family, gave off a pleasant scent of Colt and her missing soulmates and children. A whiff of that scent gave her strength. There were also wooden figurines, toys made by her long-dead daughter. Janine kept some and sent most of them to her great-grandchildren in remembrance.


    The warlord picked up cans and trash from the floor and tossed them into a small opening in a wall that led to a recycling area. Waste was not a thing on any crawler. Rotten food was reused as fuel or turned into a healthy and safe nutrient paste; broken equipment was repaired; and even dead bodies lost their organs to save the stubborn living who refused prosthetic replacements.


    She pushed aside a wardrobe to reveal a poster of her smiling family attending a fair to buy new pants for Marco. Even Impatient One forced a smile as her brothers poked their heads through a special wooden cutout depicting a pair of giant roosters. No one really knew who these animals were, but Ignacy and Bogdan looked so hilarious that Janine later asked a Normie to enlarge the photo to make a poster. She hid it from her officers, but the sight of her family helped ease their worries.


    In the closet was a small bowl filled with photos. She and Marty and their friends, the Loser Pack, as Terrific¡¯s sharp tongue called them. For the most part, they weren¡¯t filming themselves triumphantly over trophies. No, these pictures were of them doing stupid shit, getting drunk, stargazing, smoking¡ªa habit she had to spend years getting rid of later. There were they jumping in quicksand or rummaging through toxic cannisters in search of a laser pistol or something that could be exchanged for tokens to buy a pack of playing cards.


    Someone was missing in every photo. Sometimes it was Janine, Marty, or another member of their pack, because they didn¡¯t know how to set up a delayed photo in those days. So many of their friends were left in the past, killed or culled. Seeing them in their offspring was a mixture of distraught and comfort. Distraught, because it reminded her of Marty¡¯s mortality and because she missed their silly antics and voices. Comfort, since it reminded her that life moved on and things did turn for the best.


    Longevity was a wondrous gift and a potential trap for the unprepared mind. It provided you with countless opportunities to do so many things, but it also threatened to poison your soul by caressing wrongs, inflating them over time, and trying to blow them out of proportion. Death and loss are a natural part of life. It is foolish to believe that your friends and family will live forever. The pain of losing them should not overshadow the fact that they lived full lives and gave birth to many cubs. It is the duty of those who remain to fight on, to build a better world for the generation younger.


    Shrugging off her melancholy, she came to the mirror and spread her pelt to examine the spot where Ravager had pierced her body. Nothing remained but tanned, rough skin; even the scar itself was gone. Curious. Yesterday, there had been a pale, thin line. Janine had heard rumors about the healing powers of Ravager¡¯s drool, but she had never given them much thought.


    I wonder if it¡¯s possible to convince the Blessed Mother to donate some spits... She¡¯ll probably beat me up, but it¡¯s worth a try if it can save lives. Yes. Enough moping. Duty time.


    Janine checked if the scar Blood Graf had given her was still there and then examined the implants. By all rights, these were the things of the past¡ªbrutal devices reinvented in the post-Extinction world that connected her nerves to the power armor, allowing her to react faster and use the suit like a second skin. Compared to today¡¯s sleek implants, they were torture devices; their sockets protruded like festering pimples, the edges of her skin around the steel had turned white from necrosis, and the once shiny metal had rusted a bit. But Janine had decided never to replace them, for to do so would be to remove the last traces of her boy from this world.


    So she grabbed instruments and medical gel and began to clean the implants and apply medicine to the surrounding skin, according to Maxence¡¯s prescriptions. It was amazing how the man changed after getting enough rest. The good doctor even put on weight!


    ¡°I am okay,¡± Janine promised her reflection.


    Life was strange. She offered Colt to leave the army and take him and the family to the Core Lands, but he refused. Yet here they were, traveling to a place where she dared hope some of her offspring would choose to go on their own. Perhaps it was a cruel joke of fate, but if by chance her boys or girls like it here and ask to stay at the cost of exile¡­ what a day it could be! Does she have the right to nudge them a little¡­


    An alarm roar sent a jolt of electricity through her body, and Janine grasped the Taleteller, barging from the doors. The two Wolfkins assigned to guard her in the absence of the shamans followed her, eagerly releasing and retracting their claws. Red flashes lit up the corridor, and a special sequence that arrived on her terminal informed Janine that she was urgently needed in the launch bay.

 Chapter 31: Preparing for Battle

    Orderly chaos reigned in the magnetic catapult launch bay. Where the Normies displayed exemplar discipline and calmness as they prepared five round-shaped spheres for takeoff, the Wolfkins rushed into the bay at full speed, howling to announce their arrival and demanding a spot in one of the magnetic catapults. Janine and her bodyguards were one of the first to arrive, pushing the Wolfkins from Dragena¡¯s pack aside on their way. Janine slammed the knob of her axe into the floor and bellowed a guttural roar, securing the obedient from the incoming troops. The bickering subsided, and Wolf Hags and Scouts unhappily fell in line.


    ¡°Captain Cristobo.¡± Janine approached the captain, who was standing before the spheres, reading information from his terminal. ¡°What¡¯s the sitrep, sir?¡±


    ¡°Eco¡­ Just Peachy is being raided.¡± The captain nodded, greeting two more warlords and two sword saints as they entered the bay. ¡°The attackers made quick work of the defenders, bypassing the patrols and neutralizing the outside sensors, eliminating the perimeter towers, and then rushing the regulars. Their first strike was aimed at the communication tower, so they know their craft. We will use the magnetic catapults to send in an assault team. Saving civilian lives is the highest priority. Recapturing the town, eliminating the attackers, or anything else is at your discretion. ETA for ground reinforcements is thirty minutes. Save our people, Janine.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Suit up at once!¡± Janine whirled and faced Impatient One, who had brought a bowl of insectoid blood. ¡°No rituals! Gear up immediately! Males, attend me!¡±


    Impatient One nodded, dropped the bowl, and jumped away, giving Janine a wider berth as the bodyguards mounted armor pieces on the warlord, rapidly inserting cords into the implants¡¯ sockets, and pushing the warlord without a hint of reverence or respect. Ignacy arrived, already clad in his armor. He leapt to the males¡¯ aid, wielding his new arm with the same ease as his original limb and effortlessly activating the power armor¡¯s generator. Around them, newer pieces of the Wolf Tribe¡¯s power armor rose from the openings in the floor, delivered straight from the armory. It mattered not if a suit belonged to another Wolfkin; at this moment of urgency, engineers and males put it on the females, anyway. There was no snarling about any disrespect or refusal of the Normies¡¯ aid; the amber eyes of every Wolfkin present were focused on the task at paw.


    ¡°Battle!¡± Eled ran a finger along the edge of her scythe blade. ¡°At last. I¡¯ve been longing for a decent slaughter. Ready for competition, Janine? Let¡¯s see if you can collect as many skulls as I.¡±


    ¡°Curses,¡± Predaig said, spreading her arms. Her fur had grayed in several parts of her body, giving her hide a spotted look. ¡°We haven¡¯t even left the Outer Lands yet, and Devourer immediately fucks up!¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Janine grinned, lifting her lips and baring her fangs. Now was not the time for pointless boasting of imaginary superiority. As if the raiders had never attacked when the Wolf Tribe was here! ¡°I came first. I lead.¡±


    ¡°You lead. We follow.¡± Eled and Predaig bowed quickly together.


    ¡°I follow,¡± Impatient One said.


    ¡°I follow!¡± shouted Till Ingo¡¯s strange, snow-skinned assistant. The woman arrived carrying twin machineguns, which she snatched off the passing guards.


    ¡°Nope.¡± A paw grabbed her by the nape and yanked off her feet. Despite being tossed in the air, Banshee made a graceful turn in the air and landed smoothly as Wolf Hag Sarkeesian and two scouts of the Alpha Pack took her place.


    ¡°I was here first! I can fight!¡± Banshee argued vehemently.


    ¡°But can you put on a suit?¡± Sarkeesian¡¯s mouth daggers gnashed out the question, and the mutant stopped. ¡°Thought so. Elites of the Alpha Pack, ready to serve! Any challenging Warlord Janine¡¯s authority is our enemy!¡±


    ¡°We follow!¡± The mixed group of assembled Wolfkins howled.


    ¡°Thank you for your help, Wolf Hag. Children these days,¡± Till Ingo remarked from his place in the operator¡¯s seat. The man took over a console and proceeded to prepare the launch procedure. ¡°Worry not; as a reward, I shall give you a smooth landing. Banshee, be a good girl and help your teacher.¡±


    ¡°I can fight, father!¡± The mutant returned the weapons and ran to Ingo.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t,¡± the man said patiently. ¡°Still too young and inexperienced. And I am not your father, student. Keon, increase the output; we want our forces in sooner.¡±


    "But sir, won¡¯t we risk missing the landing coordinates?¡± asked the former servant of Techno-Queen and glanced at the man in charge of the shift, who nodded and added:


    ¡°Sir, we haven¡¯t used the magnetic catapults in a while...¡±


    ¡°Calm down, will you?¡± Till Ingo asked. ¡°I was the one who reinvented them. They went out of fashion because the stationary platforms are not usable by Normies, and the ones on crawlers have the added negative of being unable to deliver a large enough strike group. In theory. This isn''t the case here, as we have sword saints and warlords. Using the mainframe, we can make real-time adjustments to account for the crawler''s movements, ensuring a precise delivery. See these calculations on the display?¡± He glanced at Cristobo. ¡°I¡¯ll be joining the land forces, captain. I am very curious to learn how our sensors failed to alert the town about the raid.¡±


    ¡°We thank you for your assistance, sir,¡± Cristobo said politely, not breaking away from giving orders to the land troops.


    ¡°I follow,¡± Bertruda announced.


    ¡°No.¡± Janine noticed she was limping. ¡°Stay. Too valuable to lose to the wounds.¡±


    Bertruda¡¯s snout twitched in annoyance, but Camelia put a paw on her shoulder and stepped forward. The sword saint was still dressed in a light nightgown of a black color; her weapon, the Moon, rested at her waist in the form of a sheathed claymore strapped to a jeweled belt.


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    ¡°I follow,¡± she said in a tone that left no room for objections.


    Janine sighed. A change was needed. At the dawn of the Wolf Tribe, the warlords didn¡¯t permit their packs to mix up, even in the face of imminent danger, forcing them to fight as separate units. Such a strategy lacked benefits granted by a singular command and had cost far too many lives, so the warlords assigned Alpha, Dragena, or an officer in charge of large-scale engagements so that the leader could coordinate packs, monitoring the flow of battle and giving orders when to push or pull. Now, a host of Wolfkins from various packs, including even the Alphas, have willingly submitted themselves to Janine, giving their hides to her care. Like it or not, she can¡¯t spurn away help from someone as strong as Camelia if she cares about the survival of her troops. And the sword saint did show up earlier than many others.


    ¡°Accepted. But we have no time to wait for your armor, nor will you hold back, Sword Saint.¡± Janine¡¯s eyes dug into Camelia¡¯s crimson ones.


    The sword saint didn¡¯t waste time bowing. She tore her rich gown off, exposing a body covered by exquisite implants, richly incrusted with silver, and painted in the colors of her household so that from afar they looked more like talismans. The engineers gave her Ygrite¡¯s power armor, as it was the only suit fit for someone of her size. If Camelia experienced any pain when the hissing cords were pushed into her implants and sparks of the connection briefly lit the surrounding skin, all without an underarmor to mitigate a rapid union, then she didn¡¯t show a sign of it.


    ¡°I follow.¡± Kalaisa, still bandaged, leapt ahead.


    ¡°No,¡± Janine replied, pointing at the entering Anji. ¡°Wolf Hag Anji joins the pack. You stay.¡±


    ¡°But I was here first! I¡­¡± Kalaisa stopped at a kiss of the Taleteller¡¯s blade against her neck.


    ¡°Submit,¡± Janine demanded, and the stubborn girl exposed her neck without wasting a second. Haste and a decision to reward good behavior kept Janine¡¯s jaws from inflicting further punishment. Kalaisa retreated and joined the engineers in suiting up Anji.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare die out there, Bootlicker,¡± Kalaisa hissed.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know you cared. It¡¯s so sweet!¡± Anji¡¯s lips parted in a mocking, honeyed smile, and the rival wolf hag groaned as she placed the helmet on Anji¡¯s head and attached it to the gorget. The fingers of her good paw ran over the rubberized protection, tapping on it to check if it was in place and that there were no gaps. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Kali, I will be fine.¡±


    ¡°Kalaisa! The name is Kalaisa! You owe me three lives tonight for the butchery of my name!¡± Kalaisa rasped, trying her best not to bite the other woman. ¡°We aren¡¯t finished! Your hide is mine to take.¡±


    ¡°Aww! I¡¯ve made a frenemy! Shall we paint our claws together later?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off to the Abyss, weirdo!¡±


    ¡°No, seriously, Kali, thank you for your help.¡± Anji took the young woman by her paws, and Kalaisa gurgled, choking on her own raging foam. ¡°It¡¯s very kind of you.¡±


    Janine let go of her axe so her helpers could put on her gauntlets. The helmet came next, and she blinked, summoning the HUD, now filled with the new icons of the soldiers¡¯ names from outside of her pack. She gasped against her will when Ignacy jammed plugs into the implants near her spine, and a small, piercing pain made her spasm as her nerves received an electric jolt. With Taleteller in her paws, Janine stomped and sat in the nearest sphere, sharing it with Impatient One and three more soldiers.


    Camelia Wintersong left her aides, taking unsteady steps to get used to the cumbersome, heavy black power armor. Even though she wore it for the first time, the grace taught through grueling decades of training worked its magic, and her feet produced no sound. She lightly nodded, accepted a shardgun, and strapped it to her back before unsheathing her blade. The Moon trembled, and streaks of molten metal rose from its sheath, adding mass to the blade. Both pieces of her weapon joined, and a massive spear was now in the sword saint¡¯s paw, held with the same ease as a quill. The blade was so long that its ends extended back a quarter of the spear¡¯s length, forming a triangle.


    Camelia had a unique power, impressive even amongst her peers. By adding her own blood to any alloy, she imbued it with her own essence, manipulating and shifting it like a skilled sculptor, creating new weapons or tools. In battle, when the sword saint found herself in dire straits, her own battleplate flowed, closing the cracks and gashes like a swarm of nanomachines, restoring the integrity of her armor. Camelia wound the lower end of her spear around her wrist like a whip to shorten its length, then entered the launching catapult and took a seat beside Anji, Ignacy, and two other Wolfkins.


    It took each member of the relief force only a little over two minutes to prepare and sit in the spheres strapped in for the rough landing ahead. At the end of the third minute, the spheres were moved to the tracks and lifted into the air, held in place by an activated magnetic force. The soldiers inside didn¡¯t feel anything until the very last second, when the catapults propelled their ¡°ammunition¡± forward at such a high speed that the engineers and technicians couldn¡¯t even perceive the moment when the spheres flashed and flew through the tunnel leading outside. Janine summoned the reports and reviewed the available information from the crawler¡¯s side.


    Their destination was a small frontier settlement named Ecological Habitat 647, but even traders called it Just Peachy. Situated on the long stretch of land that connected the Core Lands to the Outer Lands, it was a regular place, walled for security, and stationed military personnel provided stability. In several decades, this place was to become another part of the Core Lands. Captain Ivar fought fang and claw, trying to secure the mining rights for the Outer Lands, as the nearby mountains had a relatively well-developed mining industry, and a stream of immigrants provided a solid workforce and a nice example for the Reclamation Army¡¯s propaganda to show the outsiders how superior life under the state was. The town itself thrived, announcing the opening of the sixth school and publicly thanking the Blessed Mother and Wyrm Lord for their patronage.


    About half an hour ago, an armed group stormed the place, took out the communication tower, bombarded the walls, and created a gap wide enough for the entire assault force to enter. The one who called for help was a store owner¡¯s daughter, a girl named Kit, who had slipped inside the wreckage of the tower, found a working terminal, and sent a request for relief that was picked up by the crawler¡¯s operators. The girl was naturally panicked and distraught, making confusing statements and mistakes. At first, she screamed about thousands of attackers, but soon calmed down and admitted that there were probably far fewer invaders. She recounted the horrific screamers who had injured her boyfriend and sliced apart her family. She told about a great red comet that rode after the escapees and the gigantic beasts stalking the ruins. The girl whimpered, clearly injured, as she begged for help, explaining that something had happened to the safety bunker and failing to provide any further useful information.


    Aside from two things. The attackers wore power armor covered with golden embroidery, and they began to indiscriminately butcher citizens of Just Peachy, seemingly with no reason. The operators asked her to hide for the time being.


    ¡°A battle is expected in an urban area full of civilians. Activate IFF,¡± Janine ordered.


    ¡°Must we, warlord...¡± The Alpha Pack scout began to moan a question, but stopped abruptly when she heard a shardgun aimed at her. The woman quickly bared her neck in submission.


    ¡°Heard loud and clear and obey, warlord,¡± Sarkeesian assured Janine.

 Chapter 32: A Battle for Ecological Habitat 647

    How did they pull this off so fast? A pestering thought throbbed in Janine¡¯s brain even as she assigned vectors for advance, and their spheres crossed sixty kilometers in less than three minutes and descended upon the town. The energy required to manipulate magnetic forces to create such precision and speed has rendered the crawler¡¯s main shield briefly inoperable, but it mattered little as tank divisions flanked it while its mighty weapons came online, ready to support the pack.


    This town¡¯s defenses weren¡¯t weak. Four sentry towers and high, reinforced walls provided well-fortified positions for soldiers to fire 160mm mortars to fend off a storm. A minefield and tried-and-tested sensors should have alerted the defenders long before visual contact was established. So how? Complacency? Incompetence? Treachery?


    It didn¡¯t matter, Janine decided, surveying the approaching settlement. The oculars of her helmet projected vision from the external cameras onto her retina, and thanks to the links to the other spheres, the Wolfkins had a nearly omnidirectional sight. It could and did confuse many New Breeds using this technology for the first time, and they had to rely on calming stimulants in their first engagements. But after a fighter acclimates to this strange sight and grows accustomed to trusting their armor¡¯s intricate operating system, they transcend the limits of normal situational awareness.


    Icons flashed on the HUD, marking the hewed bodies of the protectors. Several patrols on lookout walked arrogantly over the ruined walls. Then, like shooting stars, the spheres of the strike pack broke through, announcing their arrival with a thunderous cascade of stone and the tremors of explosions as the metal joined the ground, killing several intruders as they passed. The landing ramps opened, and Janine stormed out before the first corpse reached the ground.


    Most buildings here, from simple bars to living blocks and schools, were fusions of concrete and steel, designed to best serve as defensive structures against underground predators. Streaks of smoke rose from windows; heavy wheels rolled over children¡¯s playgrounds, flattening them and the nearby greenery. Warehouses lay broken, and long lines of hunched figures moved goods from them, delivering them to the settlement¡¯s center. More icons flashed, adding red, the allied symbols, and blue, the enemy color of the fat-looking bastards. Spheres¡¯ cameras added their own recordings to the video feed, and their radar waves created a renewed map of the engagement area.


    Tonight¡¯s prey wore mismatched power armor, inlaid with jewelry, gold, cheap minerals, or simple yellow paint. It somehow covered them enough for full protection despite its ridiculous assembly. They carried butcher cleavers and occasionally curved blades on their waists, using their oversized guns to intimidate the populace into submission. The area bore traces of an intense artillery barrage as defenders fought for every house in a desperate attempt to slow down the invasion. Rubble-blocked streets and the jagged ends of the ruined buildings pointed skyward.


    Janine absorbed it all in a split second, focusing on the primary task at paw. APCs stood ready to fill their cages with slaves and riches. Most of the population was herded from the ruins and whipped to the main square, where the bodies of the mayor and his family hung by the legs from a desecrated Dynast¡¯s statue, molten metal dripping from their mouths. Infirm, elderly and those too young were of no interest to the slavers, and a giant dragged a maddened mother from a house, throwing her cub on the pavement. A leg raised, ready to trample the crying little one¡­


    ¡°Wolf Tribe.¡± Janine fired her energy rifle, and a touch of lightning engulfed the visor, drawing a short-lived shrill as the beam vaporized everything in its way as it reached the shit that served as this idiot¡¯s brain. She calmly nodded for the woman to pick up her cub and hide. ¡°Those in our care cry out for salvation and retribution. Do we falter?¡±


    ¡°Never!¡± was the response, and the strike pack burst from the spheres. Camelia, that proud sword saint who had tasted the blessed milk of the Twins, added her cry to theirs.


    And the hunt began.


    The Alpha Pack scout cursed; her finger frozen over the trigger. The IFF¡¯s system identified a group of citizens in the path of her shot and restrained the armor. Sarkeesian laughed, leaping into the fray and headbutting away the flat of the blade, which was aimed at an elderly man. The wolf hag threw the raider down, released her grip, pressed the shardgun¡¯s barrel to his stomach, and fired several point-blank shots, liquefying his insides.


    ¡°No second takes,¡± laughed the gigantic wolf hag, stomping on the head of the trying-to-raise raider.


    ¡°Soldiers!¡± Janine¡¯s axe cleaved through a neck. ¡°The gilded filth¡¯s still alive after a hole in his stomach. No chances, a shot per head.¡±


    ¡°On it!¡± Ignacy¡¯s shot tore a knee wide open, and Dragena¡¯s scout jumped, kicking in the faceplate. As the body touched the ground, the male calmly fired two rounds into the twitching body.


    ¡°Stop! Freaks! Not a leg toward, mutants!¡± A panicked raider in the path of Eled¡¯s pack shouted in garbled Common, mispronouncing the emphases. He pointed his weapon at the citizens carrying goods from the store. ¡°Metal chests, take a leg, and they go! Back¡­¡±


    The warlord emerged from the cloud of smoke, closing the distance between herself and the hostages, never saying a word. Eled¡¯s scythe moved, collecting the bullets fired by the terrified invader on its blade. An almost lazy flick of the paws sent the scythe in the opposite direction, and its horizontal cut across the abdomen parted the raider in two, reducing his screams to a whisper.


    ¡°Took you long enough!¡± Laughed an old man, assisting a weeping girl and boy to their feet.


    ¡°Hunt,¡± Eled said blindly, picking up the still twitching remains. She lifted the body and popped it over her head, laughing as a red wave washed over her. ¡°Hunt! Hunt! Murder! Slaughter! Butcher!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get the clue,¡± said the old man, and hobbled away, leading the youngsters to safety.


    Eled advanced, not bothering to hide, her scythe flying in her paws, weaving blindingly fast arcs in the air and reaping the lives of those in her path. Shots, grenades, and even rockets were carefully sliced or pushed aside as the warlord entered explosions, safeguarded by her battleplate and incredible skills. Lost in a murderous haze, Eled¡¯s field of vision narrowed to a tiny corridor where shadows screamed and fired, trying to survive in vain.


    Janine let her be, trusting in her named sister¡¯s ability to differentiate between allies and enemies. It was par for the course with her.


    Eled first earned her rank on a distant battlefield, wading through fields covered by craters made by an intense artillery barrage and then surviving the suffocating closeness of sewers leading inside the city. She did that, a simple wolf hag at that time, believing that she was following her warlord. They heard her calling the warlord by name and asking the woman to slow down, even as Eled faced heavy vehicles in battle. It was only after Zero caught up to her and asked about the object in her paw that Eled realized she had been carrying the warlord¡¯s scythe instead of a shardgun all along. The warlord died, and in her berserk fury, the wolf hag ascended, leading her pack to victory and breaking through the siege.


    Camelia fluttered past a group of enemies, her spear a blinding light severing limbs. Those opposing her died, and the sword saint fired in tandem with Anji, downing those who tried to retreat to the center of the settlement. Neither wasted any time finishing the wounded, leaving them to two males and the scout of their small team, and the sword saint and wolf hag moved ahead.


    Predaig advanced alongside her soldiers, not pushing forward like everyone else. Her economical swings severed bodies, her kicks sent large slabs of stone at more distant targets, opening them up for her pack. She breathed easily and moved without a trace of confusion, despite her age. Predaig treated this fight no differently than a mock battle, sticking to the basics..


    The strike pack had already dispersed. Janine and Eled moved to the center, Predaig to the south, and Camelia to the north. It was inevitable, for the spheres landed far from each other in order to avoid causing a possible collision. But there was no reason to pursue this strategy. So far, an element of surprise and terror has carried them. It won¡¯t last. A corner drone always strikes back.


    Break the windpipe and a body will die. But where? Where could the leader of the raiders be hiding? Closer to the greatest riches, no doubt. End this target, and there will be no chance for organized resistance. Janine was ready to bet her life on it. She¡¯d done it a hundred times before.


    Distant yells of people and the cracking of wood distracted Janine. There was supposed to be a chapel of the Planet to the north. This belief was strange; its priests frequently led prayers in modest buildings made of dry wood, teaching the faithful to treat others as they would themselves and spreading the gospel about the inherent goodness of the world. A lie, but a sweet one, and the Wolf Tribe had nothing against it. Goodness stems from duty, and the priests performed acts of charity even in dangerous wastes, unknowingly fulfilling their obligations. They might be misguided, but they still earned the tribe¡¯s respect.


    Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    The intelligence of Janine¡¯s armor obligingly switched her vision, giving her an image captured by the spheres during the landing. She saw a burning wooden frame, all that remained of the chapel, and prisoners trapped in the center of it. The murderous freaks had flayed the skin from the priests¡¯ legs and arms, leaving them to die from bleeding and heat. They tied the priests in prone positions to wooden poles before their place of prayers and threw their flock inside to burn.


    ¡°Camelia, you lead Ignacy, Anji, and these three are to save our people from the fire. No mercy,¡± Janine quickly said, assigning two males from Dragena¡¯s pack and the Alpha scout to the Sword Saint. ¡°The rest converge at my location. Sisters, brothers! Hunt. Feast on those who dare to lay hands on the people under the protection of the Wolf Tribe! Crush anyone resisting the Dynast underfoot! Reduce them to memory!¡± Janine intoned the second part of the Savage Promise, an oath taken by Wolfkins upon joining a military pack.


    This close to the Core Lands, the land was no longer lifeless or barren. This place had greenhouses¡ªcompact, special domes for growing vegetables¡ªand the air was cooler and slightly humid. Unlike further to the north, the buildings here were not utilitarian fortresses to house the entire population, where narrow slits served as windows and where citizens slept, gun in hand. No, these were apartment buildings; people here had begun to forget their fears of being beaten, enslaved, and oppressed, and nice cubs¡¯ drawings covered the gray stone surfaces; clothes dried on windowsills; billboards announcing a soon-to-be-opened theater or holding advertisements stood along the roads suitable for civilian transport¡­


    And this peace was shattered. The greenhouses¡¯ domes were shattered, and their plants withered in the air. Flames licked away paintings, and bodies of slaughtered cubs cooled off as their parents screamed and cursed their cruel fate. Bullet holes scarred the billboards, and there were no songs to be heard.


    They didn¡¯t howl. Not this time. The purpose of a howl is to demoralize and scare an opponent into surrendering. It was a tool to reduce casualties. As they charged across the bloody pavement, the Wolfkins shared a common desire.


    To hear a different kind of song.


    ¡°Those who threaten the peace of our lands, we shall destroy!¡± The Wolfkins, excluding Camelia, echoed Janine¡¯s voice as she repeated the last clause of the oath, and Camelia voiced the words a second later. They sniffed the air. Black, spotted, and white, united by the shared pain. Smells of released bowels, blood, and smoke filled their nostrils. And fear too; they breathed it in, mapping the hostages¡¯ location in this unique way.


    Civilians who provided the Wolfkins with medicine, armor, and supplies¡ªpeople whose ancestors had saved the Wolf Tribe and who had every right to expect to be protected¡ªnow lay dead or were captured. Losing family members and friends in a war was understandable and, in many ways, forgivable. But this? This horrible failure demanded not revenge, no. But an efficient and merciless extermination, so that not even a trace of this violent filth would remain in this world.


    The invaders incurred a blood debt. And it was time to collect.


    Janine pushed ahead, using the Taleteller¡¯s blade to block the incoming rounds and firing in return, burning the raiders¡¯ legs. They tried to crawl away, and one even reached for a grenade, pulling the pin with a shaking hand. Shrapnel bounced and ricocheted off the armor plates, only scratching them as the warlord continued to advance, using wide swings to clear the path and draw attention to herself.


    They streamed toward the main square, scouts, males, and warriors breaking into the apartments and hunting down marauding fools. The Warlords were too big to enter the buildings without collapsing them and thus endangering the hiding civilians, but her soldiers made an exemplary work of handling this task.


    ¡°Males, warriors, take to the roofs,¡± Janine said as they approached the crowded main square.


    To her momentary surprise, the raiders closer to the square didn¡¯t panic or make the mistake of letting the Wolfkins close in. The enemies closed ranks, filling the street with the bark of their guns, and retreated in an orderly fashion, concentrating their fire on the weakest members of her pack. As a male vaulted over a piece of debris on the roof and prepared to toss a grenade, shots ripped through his armor and tore into his chest. He toppled and rolled to the side as a warrior kicked the about-to-detonate grenade straight into the raider¡¯s ranks, losing part of her helmet and face to the gunfire from the opposite roof. Meanwhile, the enemies calmly ignored the explosion and the hissing acid on their suits.


    A group of raiders emerged from the roof¡¯s rubble cover, aiming their rocket launchers downward, while those on the street grabbed their own weapons in an attempt to stifle the advance with superior firepower. Janine didn¡¯t have to give the command. Impatient One lunged at the building, clambering up on her own claws. A raider panicked and fired a rocket at her, shaking the building with the blooming, fiery explosion. The rest of his gang cursed, stepping away from the edge of the collapsing roof.


    It was a mistake. Rather than weather the explosion, the shaman broke into the building and raced through the rooms, carefully navigating her way through the lenses of her allies. Once in place, she leapt up, broke through the floors, and grabbed a raider by the ankles. Her sharp claws bisected steel, sinew, and bone, and the screaming man fell to the side, fountaining blood gushing from his stumps. A claw drew a line across the wounded man¡¯s belly, opening it wide.


    The two remaining raiders faced a hurricane of violence, as an elbow strike to the neck sent a chubby woman across the roof and a kick sent the kneecap of another skyward. The man screamed, trying to aim his launcher, and a paw stabbed, piercing the square identification system and the faceplate behind it.


    Impatient One swung her entire body aside, and a rocket exploded the dying man as the shaman glanced back warily. Janine shared her daughter¡¯s confusion. The shaman didn¡¯t hold back her elbow strike, but the female raider stood on her knees, gasping for breath, and her throat was clearly very much intact. Before she could fire the second rocket, a knee had already struck her in the chest, sending her sprawling against the stone ledge. It gave way, but the cruel paws dragged the screaming foe back, right into the mauling swings that tore her to tatters.


    Janine closed the distance to the enemy line and kicked. Her short leg reached the raider¡¯s waist, but it was enough as her feet penetrated deeper, turning his pelvis to bone dust. The man collapsed, and Janine stomped, ending his life and bringing her axe to bear on another raider wielding a rocket launcher. The Taleteller slashed him from shoulder to midsection, destroying the heart, and then dragged the body across the ground, knocking several more raiders off balance.


    Her ruse paid off; the closest raiders thought her axe was stuck and aimed their launchers at her, while their comrades illuminated the area with flashes from the bursts of gunfire. An alert flashed on the HUD, the system worriedly warning the warlord of potential damage as gouges opened on the vambraces and craters dotted the chest plate.


    In a grand scheme of things, it mattered little. The kinetic absorption system continued to function, dispersing the impact across the surface, and the Taleteller came to life, slipping free of the corpse. Two more foes fell bisected by Janine¡¯s blade, while the enemies¡¯ hesitation placed them in position for the Wolfkins fire.


    We must keep them from the hostages¡­. A familiar din interrupted her thought.


    ¡°Artillery! South!¡± Janine raised her energy weapon, trying to pin-point the projectile before it could land.


    Eled moved toward her, hurling her weapon into the air, where it collided with the approaching shell and split it apart. The warlord caught her falling weapon by the shaft and slashed through a raider¡¯s legs. The fallen raider let go of her weapons and raised her hands. Whether she was trying to surrender or simply in pain was irrelevant. A boot came down, crushing the helmet and breaking bones.


    ¡°Eled! Locate and eliminate the artillery piece before it fires again. Take four soldiers with you¡­¡± a squealing interrupted Janine¡¯s command.


    A male from her pack had lost himself to rage. Agitated by the ruins and dead bodies, he stumbled against a raider in a ruined house and tried to wrestle his head off. The man grasped the wolfkin by the paw and effortlessly shattered it, then headbutted the incoming bite, shattering the fangs. The thirty-year-old veteran, Din, blinked through the pain and attempted to claw his opponent, but a blade lodged in his chest, its tip pushing a shoulder blade out of alignment as it exited from his back. A single twist widened the wound, shattering the ribcage, and the shards damaged the surrounding organs enough to make the stab fatal. Din¡¯s icon on the HUD went dark. Even with the aid of a combat suit, such a feat was out of the normal human league.


    ¡°New Breeds among the enemy ranks!¡± Janine issued a warning as the raider emerged from the ruins, seeking to join the retreating ranks of his fellows, only to stumble upon another Wolfkin, a male from Onyxia¡¯s pack.


    ¡°Do you need assistance, Janine?¡± Ravager joined the communication, sounding deadly calm, and the warlord sprang into action, pondering the question.


    Traditions dictated she let the male die and pursue the retreating enemies, trying to maximize the damage. But for herself, Janine had decided that not every tradition was worth adhering to. Impatient One and Soulless One perceived it as heresy, but she consistently refuted it with a straightforward truth. If their way of life was perfect, why did they change it from time to time?


    So when the oversized sword neared the male¡¯s neck, her elbow met it, denting the blade as Janine swung her axe at full force, carving a rift in the hunter¡¯s body. He choked, not quite believing that it was it, and came apart in pieces.


    ¡°Such a soft girl,¡± Ravager¡¯s melodious laugh filled the channel as she glanced through the cameras.


    If Ravager arrives, all resistance will vanish instantly. Even through her laughter, Janine could feel the boiling fury behind the Blessed Mother¡¯s words. Was she the locus of this anger? Was the Blessed Mother thinking her to be unworthy for saving a male¡¯s life? If so, she could extract payment later; Janine will not resist, nor would not have acted differently given the same choice. Lives take priority.


    And it was because of lives that the Blessed Mother could not be unleashed. If she walks, she will leave ruins in the wake of her movements, quickly losing herself to the bloodlust. And who¡¯s to say that she won¡¯t turn her ire upon the civilians?


    ¡°Grenades,¡± Janine ordered, facing a newly formed defensive line. The enemies spread out; five of them leaped forward, trying to buy time for their comrades behind them. It was in vain; Predaig and Janine had no desire to play around any longer. Their blades left dead meat in their paths, denying any respite to the foes. ¡°My apologies, Blessed Mother. The field of battle has no prey worthy of your presence.¡±

 Chapter 33: Murder

    The raiders dropped to their knees, allowing their comrades in the square to fire over their heads. It was a sound decision, as they were facing a small elite team, and sufficient firepower should have won them the night. Moreover, they pushed the captured civilians out of the slave trucks and herded them closer to the larger group on the square using whips. Another cruel but effective tactic. Every missed shot would reap a toll on the people the Wolfkins were trying to save.


    But against the Wolf Tribe, normal tactics were useless. For them, the battlefield or the direction of their advance could change at a moment¡¯s notice. It was dangerous to fire the shardguns to the west, and the IFF system would limit indiscriminate shooting? All the better. The Wolfkins hurled their grenades and darted to the sides, as a cloud of acid engulfed the enemies and concealed the pack. The wolf hags scaled the walls and led the lower ranks into battle, raining down at the foes from the northwest and southwest, while Janine and Predaig pushed to the west, safely enduring the acid thanks to their combat plates. Searing beams from Janine¡¯s rifle flew through the mist, melting new holes in the convulsing figures.


    The goal shifted again. Rather than shooting to kill, they shot to wound the fat bastards. Shards, fired precisely thanks to the shared video feed, damaged helmets, and the raiders choked on the green fumes, their windpipes and lungs burning. Finish the smaller group, then go after the larger one.


    On her HUD, Janine saw the sword saint¡¯s team engaging the opposition in the north. A warlord¡¯s combat plate differed wildly from the exquisitely tailored knight¡¯s plates of their cousins, which provided maximum comfort. It was a heavier tool where every exposed joint, be it around the elbow, wrist, or ankle, was sharpened to help overcome a similarly strong New Breed in a short-lived brawl. Its armor plates were heavy, rough, and abraded, a perfect replica of the body they protected. It was hard to imagine someone as slender and elegant as Ice Fang ever wielding them.


    Camelia dispelled the warlord¡¯s worries. She no longer danced; the grace never left her, but the danger to the civilian awakened that distant kinship shared by both groups, and the sword saint deflected incoming bullets in rather brief and brute movements, ensuring that nothing would scratch her armor. A single thrust of her spear created an airwave that knocked several attackers off their feet, opening them up for Ignacy and the others. Seeing their imminent demise, one raider threw an incendiary grenade into the wooden cage.


    ¡°Anji. If you would be so kind,¡± Camelia said calmly, crossing the distance between herself and the raiders in three zigzagging steps, avoiding the shots.


    ¡°One!¡± Anji jeered, racing past the raiders under the cover of the confusion created by the sword saint. On the move, she secured her shardgun and ripped out a man¡¯s throat. ¡°Two.¡± She leapt into the air and pirouetted, dodging several bullets as if she were an Ice Fang. Her foot touched a raider¡¯s head, burying it all the way to his stomach. ¡°And three.¡± She jumped off the corpse and clawed at the woman who had thrown the grenade. A first swipe opened the raider¡¯s belly. The following swings lacerated the arms to the bone, immobilizing the opponent. And at the end, Anji pried open the raider¡¯s visor, plucked another incendiary grenade from the belt, and pushed it between the screaming lips all the way to the throat. Anji removed the pin and grinned as the woman¡¯s eyes widened in pain and horror.


    The first grenade exploded, and a renewed fiery hell was about to spill on the hostages. The civilians inside screamed and shoved their cubs into the center of the group, desperately trying to buy time and somehow preserve them.


    Anji crashed through the wall of flame and wrapped her arms around the group. The sudden roughness probably cracked a bone or two in someone, but the wolf hag burst free from the burning construction, using her shoulder to smash a wall into nothingness and carried the citizens to safety before the flames could scorch them. Once outside, she let go of them and helped brush some flames off their heads, spreading her arms just in time to pose against the backdrop of an explosion that reduced the panicked and gurgling raider to ashes.


    ¡°And done,¡± Anji sang, patting the cubs to calm them. ¡°Two tasks in one go, not bad, if I do say so myself¡­¡±


    Janine approved of her quick thinking. Onyxia had chosen a wonderful replacement. Anji was already faster than most shamans. In the years to come, she would make a fine warlord and sister. What a match it¡¯ll be!


    ¡°Attend to your duties more seriously!¡± Impatient One snapped as she saved a warrior¡¯s life by deflecting an incoming bullet aimed at her ally¡¯s head with her forearm. ¡°This is a battlefield, not a party!¡±


    ¡°See, this attitude is what makes you shamans grumpy,¡± Sarkeesian said as she jumped off the building and dragged a raider out of the acid cloud by the legs. ¡°If¡­¡± she broke the woman¡¯s neck. ¡°¡­you enjoy your service, there won¡¯t be a single sour day¡­¡± Impatient One¡¯s growl shut her up, and the wolf hag retreated to the shadows.


    ¡°Ah, shaman, if I were to hold back on the theatrics, I¡¯d have to shed tears,¡± Anji whispered, escorting the hostages to the relative safety of a nearby apartment. ¡°Tolerate this weakness of mine, please. I will accept any punishment after the mission.¡±


    ¡°Is this your first time protecting a settlement?¡± Impatient One asked. Her claws opened the retreating raider like a tin can, and she shoved her snout into his chest, feasting on the man¡¯s organs. Janine made no move to chastise her.


    It was a battle. Stuff happens. Not everything was worth noticing.


    ¡°Being too late to save the civilians? Yes,¡± Anji whispered.


    ¡°Pardoned. Concentrate on keeping everyone safe,¡± Janine said, bringing her axe down and taking another life.


    Eled and her unit made it to the wall. The soldiers assigned to the warlord had little to do as they advanced up the blood-soaked steps, while Eled hacked furiously, damaging part of the wall in the process. She claimed twenty lives, and the rest fled from the crimson strokes of her weapon. The warlord¡¯s guard gunned down the escapees.


    The artillery, a lightly armored hovering vehicle outside of the settlement, satisfied her desire for destruction. It was on the move, retreating to gain distance, and the warlord¡¯s head twitched as the lenses focused on such a tasty treat. The mobile artillery adjusted the long main gun, hoping to fire, and shuddered as the warlord threw her weapon, not even giving them a chance to resist. The scythe sliced across the barrel and went deeper, spinning in its flight and impaling the driver on its shaft.


    In shock, the escort and crew came to a halt. Eled jumped off the wall and landed in an explosion of rock that came from the crater her body had created. Musing the tune of the original national anthem, the one that called for the death of the wicked before the Dynast had ordered to amend it to be more peaceful, the warlord jogged to retrieve her weapons and motioned for her soldiers to finish off the survivors.


    Good. Kill, my sister. Janine thought. The main Wolfkin force poured into the main square, butchering the opposition. Mercy was not a word they knew tonight. The pack shot those who survived her wide swings like rabid animals or died under her greaves. A raider extended an arm to the Wolfkins, gurgling about surrender. A hail of shards speared his head, spilling his brains on the pavement. Miraculously, the fiend remained alive and continued to plead for surrender, until a male placed a leg on his chest and fired another bullet into his head.


    Surrender. Ain¡¯t no one had time for that. Death to the dealers of death. No mercy for the merciless. Janine grimly decided, spotting several raiders heading toward the civilians. They shouted warnings in their guttural voices. Janine¡¯s ears discerned the words ¡°stop¡± and ¡°shoot¡±. The rest sounded like gibberish. The implied threat was enough to spur her into action.


    Her legs were always too short. She never denied the fact. Sure, she could kick well up to a point, but when she was a cub, the simple act of running caused immense pain in her back and knees. It was almost as if there were invisible shackles around her bones, restricting her range of motion. It was Terrific who spared her the fate of being marked as a Crippled. The cruel mistress dragged the young girl to the medics for a series of lengthy surgeries and then, without explanation, forced her to run for miles while carrying heavy chunks of metal, always keeping up with her. Every time Janine tried to slow down, Terrific¡¯s fingers would leave a dent or bruise on her back, and the pain would send her flying like an arrow. The warlord regularly took Janine to the medics afterward, forbidding her to talk about the training and forcing the young cub to endure medical injections that felt like a surge of pure plasma coursing through her muscles.


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    The training continued for months, and with it came the never-ending agony. Marty soon forced her way into these running courses to cheer her friend on, hugging the larger girl at night and whispering her words of comfort when everything hurt, hurt so much that Janine could not sleep. In her moment of weakness, she stood up to Terrific and demanded to be culled or thrown away¡ªanything to stop this misery, to stop being a burden and the weakest.


    ¡°No,¡± Terrific whispered to her, leaning forward and lacerating the girl¡¯s back. ¡°You won¡¯t get away this easily, little one. Are the cubs giving you trouble¡­ Ah.¡± The realization hit the amber eyes. ¡°You think you are the one holding them back? Silly, stupid nymph. Martyshkina and you are their forearm and claw. Fail me, and I will pick one of them at random and skin him or her alive. Their safety now lies in your paws, Janine.¡± The ominous jaws touched Janine¡¯s ear, scenting it with a mark of promise. ¡°They live for as long as you persevere.¡±


    Janine endured it for a year, fighting wordlessly against any insectoid foe, completing every training assignment, never once sharing her fears with the pack or the shamans, too afraid of what Terrific might do to others. And then it happened. Something snapped in her swollen back and knees. She could move and run and jump freely, as if the mystical locks had been unlocked and the cruel ropes untied. Janine learned to fly and heard Terrific¡¯s joyous laughter as she outran the walking warlord. Janine was taken to the doctor one last time, and this time she told them all about her recovery at the warlord¡¯s command. There was a lot of shouting at the bored warlord about the risk of permanently crippling the girl. Even Alpha was summoned and elbowed Terrific in the chest, wishing Janine well.


    It was the day when the Spirits and science had given her a chance. And she would be damned if she didn¡¯t use it to protect those weaker than her.


    The stone underneath her exploded under the impact of her legs, carrying Janine into the sky, and she covered the fifteen steps in a single, blindingly fast leap. She kept her gaze focused on the raider closest to the hostages, his fingers pressing the trigger. The Taleteller¡¯s blade blocked the shot as it left the barrel, and the diagonal cut shaved the upper part of the man¡¯s body. Predaig joined Janine, cleaving through the necks of the remaining raiders. And behind them, the pack broke through the last defense, biting, slicing, and shooting.


    Janine ignored this and secured her rifle to grab the last raider, ignoring the knife that left a scratch against her armor. She shattered the visor with the haft of her axe. Beneath it was a slightly tanned woman¡¯s face, and narrowed eyes glinted with fear. The woman gulped nervously, tried in vain to pry the warlord¡¯s fingers open, and kicked at the broad chest.


    ¡°A chance to live,¡± Janine offered. ¡°Where is your leader?¡±


    ¡°Fool,¡± the woman spat. ¡°Hate rises. Fool. No survivors. Riders. You fall.¡±


    Barely knows any Common. Janine tilted her head, more curious than annoyed. Of course, there were many languages and dialects around the world. Common was simply the most used, but many people coming from half a continent away had their own, often melodic and nice-sounding speeches. Sure wish Soulless One was here. Doesn¡¯t matter, the Investigation Bureau¡­


    ¡°You are here!¡± A teenage girl rushed from the ruins, wearing only an oversized military coat that was too big for her. A large bruise swelled her chin and a nasty cut across her face split her left eye in half and blood dripped from under her eyelid. The HUD identified her as the daughter of the general store owner.


    ¡°Please take care not to overextend yourself, Kit. Your wound is not fatal, but there is no reason to risk it.¡± Janine deflected a shot that nearly killed the girl. ¡°The area will be secured in under ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter! I overheard them! Their boss is coming! The screamers are near!¡± Kit yelled, rushing to help unchain the group of citizens.


    A deafening noise filled the square and blurred shapes flashed across it. A warrior pulled her claws from the raider¡¯s eyes and gasped as she watched the arm fall, severed cleanly at the elbow. The attacker, riding a hoverbike, stopped some distance away, slowing to make a turn. The warrior bit her lips, sealing her helmet, and reached for a shardgun, joined by a male who kicked up a lying rocket launcher, planning to use the intruders¡¯ equipment against them.


    The hoverbike sped up, a large thing of steel and blades, and rammed the two Wolfkins, skewering the male on the front blade and its side blade sliced through the warrior¡¯s gorget, and the helmet with the head inside it flew up. The rider grabbed the convulsing male and flung the dying soldier away from his blade.


    So, these must be the screamers. Janine thought, ordering her soldiers back to the roof. A bike moved to mow her down, and the warlord stepped aside, placing the struggling raider in its path. The raider disintegrated in a shower of blood and gore, her entrails entangling the rider. As the axe¡¯s blade was about to cleave through his head, the rider aimed a rifle at Janine, and a purple flash drove her back a step. A fist-sized hole appeared in her pauldron, the energy bolt dissipated, failing to reach her body.


    ¡°High-powered pulse weapons! Keep moving, don¡¯t try to block them!¡± Janine roared. The bike turned around, once again aiming to ram her.


    Janine let go of the worries, intent on shielding the trapped civilians behind her. Her duty to the state demanded nothing less, and she raised a weapon, taking the pulse shot on the flat of her axe. Even for her, the pulsating energy orb moved too fast, but the rider still had to aim his weapon. She successfully blocked the projectile by anticipating the line of fire. The bike¡¯s sharp side blade broke against her armor, cutting it slightly. This collision¡¯s impact veered the vehicle off course. Janine fired, burning a hole in the raider¡¯s back, and his body slumped off the bike as it crashed near the square¡¯s edge.


    ¡°Facing increasing resistance. Eled, really need you here,¡± Janine called for aid. ¡°Sword Saint Camelia, get ready. The bogies are throwing their best now.¡±


    ¡°Warlord, secure a hovering machine for examination¡­¡± The crawler¡¯s control team banned Ingo¡¯s icon after it briefly appeared on their helmet display. It reappeared momentarily. ¡°I haven¡¯t finished! Preferably an intact¡­ Unhand me, you brutes!¡± There was a sound of struggle.


    ¡°Drop the chatter, Mr. Ingo,¡± said Captain Cristobo. ¡°Our soldiers are in combat. Do not distract them, or you will be arrested. You will be able to commit to your research after the mission.¡±


    We will secure the vehicle after the battle. She decided and prepared to face the remaining hoverbikes when the scout of the Dragena Pack disappeared from the HUD. A sharp blade tore through the woman¡¯s armor like a knife through hot butter, severing the spine and reaching the heart. Still-working cameras caught a shadow of something four-legged skittering away into the ruins.


    ¡°Unknown New Breed, melee attacker! Abandon the hunt; watch each other¡¯s backs! Warlords will mop up the rest.¡± Through Ignacy¡¯s lenses, she saw the ground shake. ¡°Camelia¡¯s pack! South!¡±


    Something huge collapsed the building next to Camelia, driving the sword saint to dance aside. A four-legged beast emerged from the ruins, its body covered in armored scales, and heavy metal plates mixed with gold embroidery crudely encased it like a second skin. Shards fired by a nearby male pierced the outer steel, but bounced off the hardened skin inside. With a hateful roar, the beast locked its sunken, beady eyes on the attacker and galloped forward, bringing its immense weight down on the soldier and nearly flattening the male.


    A stream of flame left Ignacy¡¯s artificial palm, cooking one beady eye, and the beast rose on its hind legs in agony, escaping the fire and freeing the splattered wolfkin from its foot. Blood gushed from the many cracks in the male¡¯s suit. His spine, legs, right lung, both arms¡ªeverything that could be broken was broken, and several organs were damaged, but the soldier still lived thanks to his armor.


    ¡°It¡¯ll explode, my ass! Eat your heart out, Bogdan!¡± Ignacy rushed to his wounded comrade, scooped him up without a moment¡¯s hesitation, and tried to escape as the beast slammed its legs down, filling Janine¡¯s heart with fear and distracting her enough that she missed a shot that damaged the armor of her knee. My boy. Spirits, please, take my life; let him live!


    The spear plunged into the beast¡¯s leg, halting its movement. Camelia came to Ignacy¡¯s aid, holding the creature several times her size in one paw and carrying the shardgun in the other. The tip of her spear sank deep into the flat foot. A figure peered from behind the beast¡¯s head¡ªanother raider in power armor of a gray color. The man aimed a rifle at Camelia, only to receive two shards through his lenses and fall. With a flick of her paw, Camelia sent the beast tumbling back into the ruins. The creature¡¯s titanic fall and roll to the side caused another building to collapse, and a web of cracks wove over the stone ground.


    With a grunt, the beast rose, no longer roaring, and hungrily surveyed the sword saint. Stubbornly refusing to back down, it slammed its thick, short tail against the wall of a building, destroying it. It lowered its head to the ground, exhaled angrily through its nose, preparing to charge. Camelia chose to stand her ground to keep the beast away from Anji and the civilians.


    Another hoverbike drove from the curve in the road, preparing to strike at Ignacy and the wounded.

 Chapter 34: Deviation from Traditions

    Ignacy dropped the injured Wolfkin. The tradition was clear on this: leave the crippled to live another day, and save lives where you could not. But the boy didn¡¯t abandon the soldier for this reason. He rolled to the left, right into the middle of the road. The targeting system of his armor connected directly to his prosthetic arm, transferring control of the in-built flamethrower to a cold and rudimentary machine intelligence that operated on far higher levels of perception than a male Wolfkin could ever achieve. And thanks to the linked vision and IFF system, his arm stayed firmly pointed at the opponent, no matter the speed.


    ¡°Need cover!¡± Ignacy called, sealing his helmet, and Janine¡¯s laughter echoed through the ruined streets of the settlement, quieting even the nearby bedlam.


    Colt. What cubs have we given life to.


    Ignacy aimed to save a life. But not at the cost of losing his own. He could never match the rider¡¯s speed, but the clever boy had opened the direct channel to the Alpha Pack scout, and the female listened to him, tossing a grenade at Ignacy. It blossomed into a caustic cloud that hid Ignacy enough for the shots of the pulse rifle to miss him entirely. A shot landed in the scout¡¯s stomach, buckling her knees as the rider panicked and fired madly.


    But it was too late. In her eagerness to ram Ignacy, the invader accelerated her hoverbike too fast, driving the entire thing into the mist left by the grenade, and a new, crimson flower flickered into existence as the automatic system directed the limb and unleashed a stream of searing flame. Shrieking like a banshee, her legs merging with the melting parts of her metal steed, the rider left the cloud, engulfed in flames, and crashed into a distant ruined building.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it worked!¡± Ignacy yelled as he rolled from the cloud. ¡°I lived; thank you, Spirits; we lived, wo-hooo!¡±


    ¡°What¡­ what else did you expect from an elite¡­¡± The scout vomited on the ground. ¡°Damn it, my guts, not again¡­ Stop fooling around!¡±


    ¡°Yes, scout!¡± Ignacy tried to salute, cursing the touch of acid on his exposed biological fingers. He shook them, rushing to help his comrades to safety.


    Camelia faced the charging beast head-on, uncoiling and hardening her weapon. The tip of the weapon faced the massive forehead and sliced through the horns and unusually tough hide. Then it stopped, stuck in the outer layer of muscle and bone. The beast grumbled, as if in satisfaction of its victory, and pressed harder, cutting deep gashes in the pavement with the Ice Fang¡¯s feet.


    A smile touched the sword saint¡¯s lips, and she let go of the shardgun, taking the spear in both paws. Bundles of artificial fiber muscles tightly clung to her body like a second skin. Servomotors on Ygrite¡¯s battleplate roared, boosting the woman¡¯s strength into an entirely new realm.


    The spear moved in. There was no chance the beast didn¡¯t notice it; had it been a normal animal, its instincts should¡¯ve taken over and driven it to flee from a deadly confrontation. But it persisted, perhaps due to the training or perhaps because of the domestication that had dulled the instincts of its species. Whatever the reason, it certainly wasn¡¯t intelligence. Even a cusack had enough wits to understand what would happen when the sharp point of an insectoid drone pierced its bone.


    The blade plunged deep into the beast¡¯s brain, and rivers of blood gushed from its nostrils, ears, mouth, and under its small eyes. In a single, swift motion, Camelia pulled the weapon free and spun the Moon in her arms, and a blinding arc cutting first the ground and then the massive head to the lower jaw. She bowed curtly to the dead and retreated to stand guard over Ignacy as he tended to the wounded, still cursing from the biting sensations on the exposed parts of his body.


    Sarkeesian yanked a male out of the way of the hoverbike, and the soldier threw his grenades, covering the road in acid. The rider made a U-turn, skirting the cloud. Energy orbs flew into the mist, but the wolf hag and the soldier were already hiding in the ruined building. As the enemy ceased firing, looking for another victim, the wolf hag broke free of the building and cratered the ground, narrowly missing the raider¡¯s vehicle. The rider turned and took a shot to the back from the ruins, knocking him off his seat and into the wolf hag¡¯s claws.


    The same picture repeated itself throughout the battlefield. The Wolfkins let go of their rage and let go of the usual direct approach, where males and warriors were expected to give their lives for their superiors to secure a kill. Wolf hags and scouts worked in coordination with the lower ranks, stalking the night and ambushing the opposition, shooting and tearing them apart.


    This was not done for the sake of efficiency alone. Every girl and boy of their tribe deeply ingrained the rule that a warlord knows best, to the extent that cubs would obediently sacrifice their lives for the benefit of many. When Janine rescued a male, she took a different approach, and the pack followed suit, protecting the lower-ranking members from the pulse rifle shots and cooperating like Normies.


    ¡°An unknown object is approaching the battlefield. Altitude ten thousand meters, rapidly descending, no visual on target,¡± said a dispassionate operator back in the crawler.


    ¡°No chances. Shoot it down.¡± Cristobo joined the communication.


    ¡°This could be a rare archeotech piece, Captain,¡± argued Till Ingo. ¡°Its speed and size are¡­¡±


    ¡°Correction. It might have been a potential archeotech piece,¡± Cristobo interrupted in a firm tone while warnings flashed on Janine¡¯s HUD, signaling the start of surface-to-air missiles preparation. ¡°Whatever it is, it is about to become ashes. Operator! Clear the Reclamation Army¡¯s aerospace!¡±


    ¡°Long live the nation! Long live the Dynast!¡± the operator responded, and unleashed a salvo of missiles directed at the target.


    Crawlers bore every conceivable weapon. From the absolute death that were heat ray cannons to the impressive array of artillery, rockets, and missiles. Equipped with chemical, ballistic, and energy weapons to turn even the most unfavorable situations around, these machines were the lynchpins of any war. They were designed to have no weaknesses to exploit, and they could find and destroy any soul that resisted the noble goal of global reunification.


    But there was one weapon, one type of ammunition, that had not been used in over fifty years, not since the Great War of Carnage when Ravager led her forces against the Iternian bastions. This was not due to a lack of restraint or humanity, unlike chemical warfare, which was limited to use against mindless bioweapons and insectoids after the Great Nations signed a preservation treaty banning MAD and cruel weaponry. Its disuse was because of a lack of suitable targets. Tonight, that changed, and missiles took to the skies, aimed at the flying target.


    On the ground, the racing hoverbikes began grating at Janine¡¯s nerves. Their weapons posed a threat to even the thickest armor plates, and she and Predaig had to block the incoming shots, acting in a manner unbecoming of a warlord, while their own swings and shots missed as the riders spread out in a wide circle, avoiding passing near dwellings and no longer taking chances near a possible ambush plate while firing shots at the Reclaimers from a distance.


    ¡°I have an idea. Warlord Predaig, could you play along?¡± Impatient One inquired over a secure channel.


    The shaman¡¯s howl shook a few surviving windows, and she leapt into the last remaining retreating raider group, ripping the head off the nearest raider. A hoverbike raced past her, its blade cutting a sizeable chunk of metal from the shaman¡¯s back. She roared in rage and chased after it, abandoning the ranks.


    ¡°Wait! Shaman, return at once!¡± Predaig yelled worriedly.


    From the intersection, another rider piloted his flying vehicle, aiming the front blade at the shaman¡¯s back and showering Predaig with pulsating orbs that hissed against her raised blade. The intruders also cooperated, though to a lesser degree, and the one being pursued informed his comrade of the potential kill opportunity.


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    The bike¡¯s blade almost touched the seemingly maddened shaman¡¯s back when she slipped a paw under her armpit and grabbed under the sharp edge. All ostentatious fury vanished, and Impatient One flipped the hoverbike¡¯s nose skyward, spinning herself along with it. She stabbed into the center of the vehicle as it passed over the falling shaman, and Janine heard Ignacy¡¯s groan, followed by a bop against his head by the laughing and coughing scout.


    Impatient One¡¯s arm passed through the hoverbike, breaking its engine, and her paws grabbed the raider by his groin, squeezing with all their might. It wasn¡¯t a pretty way to go, but it was a swift one, as the shaman pulled the desperately shrieking man through the entire hoverbike and cast his broken form to the ground, flattening his head.


    A horizontal swing above her head drew sparks from the helmet and blocked the incoming pulse energy orbs. Predaig, content to appear slow until this point, disappeared from view, crossing the distance to the shaman in the blink of an eye as the second rider attempted to avenge his companion¡¯s death. The warlord¡¯s blade cut his head clean off, and the explosion of the first hoverbike bathed both women in flame, burning away the blood and dirt of the night off their plates.


    ¡°Good job.¡± Janine smiled. She spotted the retreating hoverbikes slowing down a bit, inviting the chase. ¡°Let¡¯s do it again. Sarkeesian, gather a group at the turn, but be careful. We have an uninvited guest.¡± Her eyes narrowed at the sight of a stone falling off a ruined building, and she sent this image to the soldiers, warning them of the danger.


    In battle, there are a few reasons to retreat. One was to save your life, naturally. Another is to feign weakness to lure a hunter into a well-placed ambush so you can finish them off.


    Dropping to all fours, the shaman charged after the bikers, howling at the top of her lungs. Her chilling howl didn¡¯t fool the raiders this time, and they sped off, leaving her in their wake as she leapt into the air, grasping the empty space where the laughing raider was a moment ago¡­


    And in this span of a second, the pile of rubble to her left exploded, and pebbles drummed against the diamodite alloy. A familiar shadow rose and propelled itself on all four limbs, wielding a long, curved blade, masterfully utilizing this brief distraction. The blow would have sliced through the exposed rubberized protection, but it struck Janine¡¯s axe instead as the warlord closed the distance to her daughter.


    The impact of the clashing blades shook the nearby windows, and the attacker cursed as the reverberation ran up his arm. Janine shoved her daughter aside just in time for the ambush team to open fire on the hoverbikes, riddling their bodies with armor-piercing shards. One of them even managed to make a full turn to escape, coming right into Predaig¡¯s culling zone. The warlord ignored the screams of the dying foes and focused on her opponent.


    He looked unique for a new breed. He stood on four long, needle-like legs. A hooked pincer was at the end of each leg. Up to the waist, the man was undeniably closer to an insect than a human, but above the waist was a very human body, giving the false impression of an overweight balloon. But there was a real power behind the centaur¡¯s strike, and she remembered how fast he had scuttled away after killing Dragena¡¯s scout. There were impressive muscles hidden by the folds of flesh and occasional chitin plates growing over patches of skin. His head was shaved, he had a long mustache, and one pupil was rectangular while the other was normal.


    A Malformed.


    ¡°Are you the leader of this rabble?¡± Janine asked, noticing a hint of understanding in the oriental eyes. The new breed tried to make room for another slash, and Janine brought the axe down, easily overpowering his resistance and cutting through his right shoulder and two legs at their joints. Grunting in pain, the man spat blood against her helmet, and Janine licked it, tasting the usual human flavor, and bared her fangs. ¡°Answer me. Or I shall devour your brain.¡±


    ¡°I almost feel sorry for you,¡± the raider laughed. His two remaining legs smashed into Janine¡¯s side as she grabbed him by the neck. He kicked again and again, breaking his pincers. ¡°We only came here for a minor raid. To receive a tribute and sniff out if you know anything about him.¡±


    ¡°Him?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°But you have dared to raise a hand against us,¡± the Malformed continued, breathing hard and half-delirious from his wounds. ¡°For this crime, it shall be cut off. You shall weep in unending misery as my father takes you apart! For this insult, Mad Hatter will see your kind conquered and turned into a cannon fodder for our conquest, and your lands turned into another feeding ground for the Horde! Rejoice! You are about to witness a living god in action. I should laugh¡­¡±


    ¡°All you should do is fear.¡± Janine tightened the grip around his neck, examining the gasping face, ignoring the nails that broke against her vambrace. ¡°A night is not enough to list your crimes or to explain how big of a blood debt was incurred for despoiling dens of our citizens. I will see your horde broken at our feet and your leaders gutted.¡± She grimaced as Kit approached her. ¡°Is this their boss?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± the girl gulped. ¡°There was another¡­¡±


    ¡°Janine, incoming from the south!¡± shouted the crawler¡¯s operator.


    An artificial sun briefly shone on the settlement, banishing the darkness of the night and casting a long shadow from beneath her legs. The anti-air missiles. They found their target, chasing it around the settlement. The target skillfully guided two missiles into each other, and the shock wave knocked another missile off course. But three remained, and the object suddenly halted in midair. Cameras installed in the missiles transmitted an image of a giant bow singing as it released three arrows that struck and exploded the missiles. A large hand grasped a metal cloak and wrapped it around the body to withstand the fiery explosion, and an arrow flew from hell in the sky, heading straight for Janine, followed by a deafening roar.


    It wasn¡¯t a random attack. The bastard had timed his shot, and if the operator hadn¡¯t warned her, she would have missed the timing. Even alerted, it wasn¡¯t her skills that saved her. The arm-wielding Taleteller rose on pure instinct, facing up against a projectile that hit harder than any artillery shell that she knew. It slammed into the axe¡¯s flat with enough force to open a bunker, and despite Janine¡¯s best efforts, if not for the aid of the arriving Predaig, who supported Janine¡¯s blade arm, Kit would have died if not for the help of the arriving Predaig, who supported Janine¡¯s blade arm. The ensuing blast of air threw the young girl away, splattering her against a wall before she collapsed, leaving a trail of blood on the stone.


    Janine¡¯s legs trembled, struggling to keep her standing, and the arrow splintered at last, its tip crumbling. A piece of wood flew to the side, spearing the Malformed through the nose and emerging from the back of his head, instantly killing him. An arrow. Someone had aimed an arrow directly at Kit. An arrow that traveled faster than a missile; an arrow that impaled a missile as if it were little more than quicksand.


    This was something new.


    ¡°Pack, take cover!¡± she ordered too late.


    Wreathed in flames and roaring like a dragon, a flying bike raced through the air toward the settlement, descending from the torn clouds and emerging from the swirling smoke. Its rider, a man in a golden segmented armor modeled after scale armor, held a long bow in one hand. He stood as tall as a warlord, the faceplate of his helmet stylized into a scowling human face. Vast, gilded wings spread to the sides of the helmet, bending slightly backwards; the unknown masters put their soul into them, artfully giving each feather a lively appearance, as if the bird was perched on a man¡¯s shoulders.


    Eled barely had time to scream the warning when the bike raced past her pack, ramming through two Wolfkins. This vehicle spared them its blades, and the sheer speed sent them flying. The raging inferno pouring from the roaring vehicle cooked both soldiers alive, burning them to a crisp before they could seal their armor or even squeal in pain.


    The rider stopped, threw one side of his great steel-feathered cloak over his shoulders, and contemptuously examined the assembled warlords.


    ¡°Are you Mad Hatter?¡± Janine asked, keeping herself from lunging at the enemy. The souls of the soldiers who died under her command cried out for retribution. And so it shall be. But the posture didn¡¯t fool her. His eyes, hidden behind pale lenses, scanned them for weakness. She growled, and Impatient One grabbed Kit and disappeared into the ruined building.


    ¡°I left to hunt the runaways, and Brood Lord¡¯s whelp messed things up in my absence.¡± The rider said in a rough Common.


    ¡°You conquered this place.¡± Predaig nodded at the surroundings: at the ruined building, at the dead raiders and citizens, at the flames burning in the ruins, at the emptied stores, at the destroyed vehicles, and at the withering plants. ¡°Was it worth it? To own a ruin?¡±


    ¡°Conquest implies a desire for rulership,¡± the rider corrected Predaig. ¡°I desire only the resources of this stinking hole and some information. Whoever remains in this desolate asshole can govern themselves as they see fit, as long as they abide by the Horde¡¯s rules and pay tithes.¡±


    ¡°Rules?¡± Eled asked quietly, jittering and drooling at an urge to draw blood.


    ¡°Laws for free folk. Rules for serfs,¡± the man explained. He refused to confirm himself to be Mad Hatter, so Janine named him Hawkhead.


    ¡°Serfs,¡± Janine tasted the world. Slaves are called differently in different parts of the world. This word didn¡¯t give her any hints about the invader¡¯s homeland. ¡°Why kill the populace if you need tithes?¡±


    ¡°This tribute is one of flesh. Old and young are not strong enough to survive the journey to the market. Not important to be preserved either. Burden. We would¡¯ve been kindlier had the populace not fought back. Servile people are highly valued. Regrettably, the locals are anything but obedient. Doubtfully regrettable is their inability to provide passing amusement. No matter. Women will breed new children, and the rotting carcasses of these ones will serve as a warning to the next batch of serfs. Irrelevant.¡± Hawkhead shrugged. ¡°You stepped up to the Gilded Horde. There will be no mercy for this¡­¡±


    ¡°Heard that already, peacock,¡± Janine snapped, lunging and slashing at him.

 Chapter 35: Hunting the Hunter

    Her axe came down, aimed at the nose of the vehicle. It moved backwards, spewing fire hot enough to melt the stones of the buildings hit by the fiery wave. Undaunted, Janine let her blow crack the ground and redirected it, sending chunks of pavement at Hawkhead as she reached for the clamped to the back energy rifle. Eled¡¯s scythe had already moved for his head, the warlord herself jittered in eagerness for a fresh kill, and Predaig was advancing in their rear.


    Hawkhead quickly grabbed his cloak and wrapped it around him. Its hem sliced against Eled¡¯s head, cutting through the lenses and rupturing an eye beneath. The beam¡¯s surge and the scythe¡¯s blade harmlessly struck the cloak, failing to penetrate it, and then Hawkhead flung open his cloak, drawing sparks and cutting a line in the warlord¡¯s armor with its sharp edge. His hand sent a long dagger at Janine¡¯s head.


    Predaig¡¯s blade blocked the incoming dagger, and it stubbed itself up to the handle, surprising Janine. Her named sister did not wield a weapon of the Old World like Janine, but even crafted in the New World, it never lost its dullness or was damaged before. Predaig¡¯s pack soldiers reverently referred to this twin-bladed tool of murder, believing the Spirits themselves had blessed it.


    Dangerous. The bastard was dangerous and cunning, and as he maneuvered backwards on his monstrous hoverbike, he forced his opponents to pursue him, relentlessly pushing them to their limits. When his steed rammed through an apartment building, Hawkhead ignored the waves of molten stone and steel pouring at his back. He stood, covered in a superheated halo, and aimed his longbow at Janine.


    She made no move to shield herself, and her named sisters¡¯ weapons struck, facing the incoming arrow. The collision of weapons produced a sonic boom powerful enough to push the molten pool aside, and Wolf Hag Sarkeesian leapt at the hoverbike from behind, jaws wide open and a shardgun firing into the raider¡¯s back.


    The man spun, taking several shards to the chest. His cloak blocked another energy beam, overheating parts of his quiver. The wolf hag closed her fangs on the gilded gauntlet. A single, casual twist of the arm elicited a groan of pain as the bloodied and broken daggers¡ªSarkeesian fangs¡ªsprinkled on the hoverbike.


    ¡°You scratched my gold, wench,¡± Hawkhead said calmly, catching an arm thrust at his neck by the wrist. It moved a few more centimeters; the wolf hag clearly surprised the raider with her resistance, but then the fingers started crumbling the vambrace, and the wolf hag pressed the shardgun¡¯s barrel to his side, firing from point blank.


    Shardguns unleashed a stream of armor-piercing projectiles, called shards, that reached maximum velocity in an instant after leaving the container that held them. Each magazine contained forty such containers, and the Wolf Tribe prized this weapon for its near-perfection in close-quarters combat. Once set to automatic, it unleashed all of its ammunition in one burst, and not even heavy tank armor could withstand it. The students of Till Ingo meticulously crafted these weapons according to the designs of the Blessed Mother, transforming them into precise instruments capable of defeating even warlords. Rumors circulated that Zero and Alpha had volunteered to test the piercing potential of the shardguns against their hides.


    No tyrant, no matter how benevolent, could be tolerated, and the daughters of the Spirits had given their young the means to reclaim their freedom should the darkest hour come.


    The drawback of shardguns was their limited accuracy at long range, and to conserve ammunition, the Wolfkins preferred not to use full-auto, as there were not many creatures capable of withstanding a shot from an anti-power armor weapon. But Sarkeesian didn¡¯t need precision right now. She sought to interrupt Hawkhead¡¯s hunt, and he grunted, surprised by a sting of pain in his side as the remaining eight containers exploded his armor and injured him.


    ¡°Who do you think you are, doggie?¡± He let go of her wrist and smashed her in the neck with the hand holding the longbow, slamming her against the hoverbike seat. If not for the gorget of her combat plate, the blow would¡¯ve murdered the wolf hag in place, but even though it saved her, the metal deeply squeezed into her neck. The shardgun fell.


    ¡°An elite,¡± rasped Sarkeesian. Her paws closed on the grenades, and she grinned through the blood, setting them off.


    Hawkhead was faster. His longbow moved, swatting them away to explode on the ground, and an armored boot lifted to trample the wolf hag when the hoverbike tilted under a sudden increase in weight.


    ¡°Magnificently done, wolf hag,¡± Janine said, rising to full height, her back to the controls. Her named sisters hurled her onto the escaping machine. ¡°Dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warlord,¡± Sarkeesian said, slipping from under her opponent and off the hoverbike.


    Die. Janine brought the Taleteller down in an overheated arc, not caring if Hawkhead would try to dodge or block. Either way, she will ruin this flying horse of his and bring his limbless body back to hang from a crawler¡¯ cannon.


    Hawkhead grabbed an arrow from his quiver and used it to attempt to block the incoming attack. The blade sliced through the wooden shaft, tearing at his pauldron and forcing him to retreat a step. Before it could land on the seat, Hawkhead closed the distance and slammed a knee into her stomach, cracking the armor and kicking the air out of her. Hawkhead¡¯s bow slashed at her rifle, knocking the weapon from her paw. Janine returned the favor by elbowing him in the helmet, breaking the steel lips, and disabling a single lens, leaving it dangling on wires coming out of the socket.


    The eye looking at her from inside the helmet wasn¡¯t agitated or relaying fury after getting injured. Hawkhead had the look of a killer¡ªthe calm and reserved demeanor of a man doing his job, no matter how horrible it was.


    The raider immediately went on the offensive, using his own broken arrow like a short spear, hacking, slashing, and stabbing at the warlord. The metal of their weapons sang a song as they fought. With an almost unnatural agility, the rider kept his balance, advancing and retreating, using his longbow as a shield. Janine took her axe in both paws, shattered his spear, and he grabbed the edge of his cloak, slashing at her. She leaned aside, and Hawkhead leaped past her, pressing a button on the controls. Spinning in a blur, he took an incoming slash on the arrowheads, his longbow held by a string on his shoulder. He stabbed, driving Janine back to the roaring engine as the bike carried them higher and higher to the sky, tilting at irregular intervals.


    Janine grunted, adjusting to the rapid shifts in the balance. Her opponent had skills and strength to match hers! A rare case indeed. In her long life, she had killed her share of teleporters, choked regenerators unconscious, and easily dispatched those who emitted energy or flames from their bare hands. Powers and unique abilities reigned in the New World, but they also threatened to become a kind of narcotic, luring their wielders into over-reliance. And therein lay the danger. When foes are unable to see your movements, victory was all but guaranteed, no matter a power.


    This one could react to her. Hawkhead¡¯s arrows aimed at her knees and shoulders, leaving gashes on steel plates and attempting to stab her eyes. Janine blocked the hits with the flat of her axe and counterattacked using the knob. The glancing blow tore a wing off his helmet, failing to distract the man even for a second. She didn¡¯t like to admit it, but here and now she was facing someone who fought at the level of a warlord with ease.


    At this realization, adrenaline kicked in. How long had it been since she had faced an opponent of equal skill without the need for mercy or restraint? What gifts will the Spirit bestow upon her after victory? An elongated finger, curled by rigor mortis, emerged from the darkness. It caressed the remaining wing, and the dim eyes floating behind Hawkhead demanded something from Janine.


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    Restraint? Or perhaps a life for the life taken?


    ¡°To Abyss with it,¡± she said to the apparition, letting the rage and hatred engulf her, feeling that pillar of righteous fury spread within her, the wounded, the dead, and the dying below fueling it. Restraint? No. ¡°You die tonight,¡± she promised the golden bastard.


    ¡°Ambitious,¡± he responded, driving her closer to the engine with precise stabs. ¡°Let¡¯s see you do it.¡±


    Janine opened her jaws and bit down on both arrowheads, stopping the weapons in their tracks. Their tips scratched her palate, but she didn¡¯t care. It was time to get close and dirty. She swung the Taleteller upward, cutting through the shafts and hacking off the man¡¯s finger. Hawkhead tried to reach for his cloak, and she spat the arrowheads into his face, giving him no time to recover. A single slash drew a bloody path from his right shoulder to the left hip. Golden metal and crimson droplets rained and dripped onto the seat. Janine dropped a paw of her axe and clawed at the mask, receiving a counterattack to her lower jaw that shook her head.


    ¡°Your kind can fight,¡± Hawkhead begrudgingly said, extending his mangled hand to her. ¡°How about it? Join me, and I will protect you from Brood Lord¡¯s vengeance and elevate you to become a khan of your people. The weak must follow the strong, and there are few people stronger than us. It is your obligation to realize your potential and take the rightful place among the¡­¡±


    Janine ignored the heresy, using the pause to gather her strength. Unsteadily, she reached for his hand, as if to accept his offer, and lunged at him. They were both ready for anything. Hawkhead buried a dagger in her side, using her own momentum to impale her. She blinked through the red dots in her vision, ignoring the scraping of the dagger¡¯s edge against her ribs. The warlord bit into his shoulder, right in the crack in the pauldron made by her axe, and sunk her claws into his suit, ripping cords and tearing skin. She scented him, chewed through the metal, reached for the flesh, tried to bite through the arteries and bones.


    Suddenly, the bike turned in midair, and Janine¡¯s head faced the settlement below. Hawkhead pulled her off himself, leaving a sizeable chunk of flesh from his shoulder in her jaws. The warlord understood she was falling and flailed her arms in a desperate attempt to hold on to something. His cloak sliced through her fingers, cutting to the bone despite the armor. The familiar double-bladed sword and scythe flew past her, facing a fired arrow. The air pushed by the collision blew into Janine¡¯s face, catching her despite her fall.


    She tore the dagger from her rips, curled into a fetal position, and fell a kilometer. Her armor protected her from the worst of this landing; the deep wound barely showed a hint of irritation, and the warlord stepped from the crater her body had created, nodding to her named sisters in gratitude for the rescue. She had a multitude of tasks to accomplish: help the civilians, make sure her soldiers got medical attention before the precious cretins worked themselves to death, check on Eled¡¯s eye, and locate the missing weapons, including her rifle, or else Chak will kill her for losing it.


    But there was one deed left to be done. Above, a flaming comet streaked across the sky, followed by a bombastic, mocking laugh as it flew away from the settlement.


    Janine calmly waited until Hawkhead left the walls and called the Inevitable.


    ¡°Blessed Mother.¡± She smiled. ¡°A prey worthy of your presence seeks to escape the battlefield. Marked. Rapidly escapes to the southwest¡­.


    A howl tore through the night, and the ground shook before Janine could finish. Ravager came.


    Wolfkins¡¯ markings were wonderful things. The scent they left lingered for weeks or months, and she left some of her spittle on his skin and exposed wounds. Even should he escape to the end of the world, the Blessed Mother¡¯s nose will never lose his scent.


    And when the commander reaches him... Well, Janine promised he would die.


    ****


    Sky Lord continued to laugh, touching the wound on his shoulder. What a night! His heart hadn¡¯t beaten this fast in a year, not since he was hunting the Malformed. But back then, he had to handicap himself by going naked on a hunt. He picked up bones from the dead mutants and fashioned knives out of their ribs. As amusing as it was to hear the yelping cries of their kits as he stomped them into mush, it was hardly a true test of his limits.


    But these mutants! They sure knew how to put up a fight. A loss of a finger was a small price to pay for the information gathered tonight. The Merchants had tinkered with both his dragon and armor, equipping them with various sensors and recording devices. Everything, from the rate of fire of their rifles to the explosive range of their grenades to the speed of the missiles, the durability of their battle plates, and the approximate calculation for the size of the machine that fired them, was carefully stored in databanks for future review by the Merchants and Iron Lord. Their fondness for new toys ensured a suitable replacement for his finger, and most importantly, it was Brood Lord¡¯s minions who met their demise tonight. This should put him in good graces with Iron Lord and earn his protection for the time being.


    Sky Lord had distanced himself from the political life of the Gilded Horde, ignoring the offers of the two khans to join them. The Horde¡¯s nature required constant testing by rivals, and if you faltered, a stronger khan would absorb your khaganate. Thanks to this, they never stagnated; the innovation brought by their leaders and wars between their offspring kept the people of the steppes strong.


    But he didn¡¯t care for any of that, resigning himself to the role of a simple soldier. Rulership bored him, and so he secured his khaganate¡¯s future by giving it to the leader.


    The Horde grew too large and too powerful, overthrowing lands in a matter of weeks through sheer numbers. What joy could there be for a man like him? It was madness to rebel against Mad Hatter, and serving her led to simple, mundane soldier duties.


    Until tonight. He itched for an opportunity to take on these doggies before they¡¯d be made to join the Horde. Next time, he would take no chances, hunt them down properly, and let the strongest win and live. Sky Lord betted on himself, of course, but the possibility of uncertainty excited him.


    The Reclamation Army seemed to be just a beast capable of producing an adequate supply of worthwhile fighters. If there was a place for the demon plaguing the Khan of Khans¡¯ dreams to lurk, this nation just might be it. What a conquest it¡¯ll be! As the wails of widows and the cries of youngsters beaten into shackles of servitude fill the fallen towns, he will stand, holding the heads of their champions overhead, shattering the pathetic lie of strength in peace! Burning cities, riches to be plundered, serfs to be sold at the market! Competition, excitement, opposition, rivalry, new vassals, war, where a single mistake can cost life, and the Sky¡¯s worship spreading far and wide¡­


    A rumble reached his ears, something akin to an avalanche, and a dot appeared on the radar of his HUD, rapidly approaching. Sky Lord initially mistook the dot for another missile, but it sped up rapidly, hurtling toward him on the ground. He glanced back, and at that moment, as if sensing his movement, the dot overtook the dragon. Nervous about the empty land and the huge footprints in the stone lit by the moonlight, he began to climb to gain altitude when it happened.


    It rose, blocking the dragon¡¯s path like a great storm cloud and as suddenly as a well-placed sniper¡¯s shot. It was the stuff of nightmares¡ªtwin yellow orbs burning in the skull, white fangs gleaming in the night, and an utterly dark fur coat. Panic overcame him, and Sky Lord directed his dragon to the right, flying past the horrid thing. Whatever it was, it couldn¡¯t fly, and gravity halted the monster¡¯s movement, returning it to the ground.


    The thing had its chance. He was not going to give it another.


    ¡°Freak,¡± Sky Lord spat, reaching for an arrow. Tried to.


    There was no hand left to grab an arrow. His left arm was gone, missing at one shoulder, and blood poured from the open wound. When did it¡­ His eyes widened, and an icy needle touched his heart as he heard another rumble. It wasn¡¯t an avalanche. It was a howl, fierce, and hungry¡ªthe howl of an unleashed predator.


    Frightened to the bone, Sky Lord concentrated on driving and accelerated the dragon to the maximum, flying toward the sky, rising above the clouds. Mach 9. There should¡¯ve been nothing capable of keeping up with him, save for the Khan of Khans.


    But the thing below could. A line of destruction snaked its way, as the air displaced by the supernatural movement flattened mounds and hills more surely than any explosion. Sky Lord¡¯s surviving lens relayed the information captured by his dragon¡¯s high-speed cameras. He moved up, feeling the predatory gaze on himself, certain that the monster had never lost track of him.


    Ripples spread across the sand, like circles on the water after a stone has been thrown into a pool. The mighty legs speared the ground, creating vast, gaping canyons that stretched far and wide as the horror leapt, effortlessly covering kilometers in the air. Sky Lord chuckled, comprehending that this thing had timed its jump to coincide with his own trajectory, and that it was too late to dodge.


    He thought the Incarnate would have murdered all the impostors by now! Yet here was another one walking on the planet! He regretted so much that he won¡¯t be able to see the ascension of the Khan of Khans after she cuts down this Incarnate and grows ever stronger, the Sky itself empowering her for her honest dedication.


    But there was a time to live and a time to die. Sky Lord grabbed an arrow and faced his fate, arching his remaining arm back to strike.


    It never landed. The claw tore through first his jaw and then his spine, paralyzing him for the enormous maw to devour.

 Chapter 36: Dishonest and Honest

    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Janine said to a heartbroken family as she handed them the remains of their cub. The mother shuddered, taking the mangled body, and Janine put a paw on her shoulder. ¡°Stay strong. For the sake of living.¡± She nodded to the two little ones.


    The deceased cub was no older than two years old, if Janine understood anything about the Normies¡¯ children. Like most Wolfkins, she sometimes helped in the Normies¡¯ villages. Medicine was scarce in the far reaches of the Wastes, and the roads were still perilous enough for the Wolf Tribe to accompany traders or do deliveries personally.


    As the Dynast¡¯s iron order spread over the lands, the villages adopted a new set of traditions. The taste of civilization and the government¡¯s support convinced them to help their fellows, persevering through the hardest times together and growing stronger through it. Wolfkins followed their example, helping where they could, clearing collapsed roads, nursing the wounded, and sharing rations. When the smallest settlements at the very edge of the nation¡¯s borders freely called for help, and often citizen militias, groups of retired mercenaries and former raiders, would come to their aid ahead of the Wolfkins or the army.


    Normies were strange people. Decades ago, they feared sharing a room with a Wolfkin, slamming doors shut when packs passed by on patrol and telling their cubs stories of how the cruel blood mothers were stealing the unruly youth. But after rescues performed by the packs, and shamans delivering care packages and spare parts, Normies began hauling food to the Wolf Tribe¡¯s villages as gifts of friendship. Their elders and mayors invited shamans to bless marriages, and there were billboards in larger settlements where villagers placed bets on which warlord would rise in rank and which would fall.


    Small cities even had special dens¡ªhomes dedicated to various packs. There were Alpha Pack sports centers, Predaig Pack police stations, and even Warlord Eled boxing arenas. The Janine Pack was patrons of the Starfall Nursery Clinic, a clinic funded by both the government and various anarchist groups that aimed to treat all the sick, regardless of their origin. Janine was always ashamed of it. She hadn¡¯t spent a token on this clinic and had never helped to build it; her soldiers had merely saved the nurses from the bandits. Why did they honor them there?


    The absurdity of the situation went so far that sculptors had requested the warlords and the Blessed Mother to pose so that they could immortalize their visages in marble and stone. Not all refused this vanity offer. Zero and Onyxia accepted this gesture of gratitude, relishing every second of the attention given to them, while the Onyxia Pack cringed at this scene. Statues of the helmeted and bareheaded warlords dotted the largest settlements in the Wastes.


    The rest of the tribe felt uneasy, seeing full carts of fresh cusack meat and rare treats driven to their tents and having to refuse tokens, gold, and silver that the grateful Normies and mutants tried to shove into their paws. The Normies had so little, and yet they tried to give the unearthed share to the Wolfkins. Why? Did the Normies assume that the state would not provide for its servants? Did the fact that their safety was entrusted to the Wolf Tribe elude their understanding? The Wolfkins turned away most gifts; the locals needed every token more than the tribe. The sight of a prosperous, growing, and healing land¡ªa land where young Wolfkins would live in peace in the future¡ªwas a reward enough.


    Janine expected a curse, a slap or something from a sobbing woman clutching a still warm body to her chest. If they had lashed out at her, the family might feel better about finding an object for their hatred. The girl¡¯s head was smashed like a clay pot, and her brains and teeth lay on the pavement. Janine fired a beam to vaporize the grizzly¡¯s remains so as not to stress the family any further. The night heat kept the body warm, but the heart stopped beating.


    The father, mother, and their sons simply bowed, whispering thanks and cursing attackers.


    ¡°If only Jack were here,¡± the eldest boy sobbed. He reached for his sister, cradling the dead body, tears streaming down his cheeks. ¡°I am sorry. Had I been stronger¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡± Janine interrupted him. ¡°Hate the raiders who did this. Hate us for failing to come on time. But do not hate yourself. She wished for you all to live. I am sure of it.¡± Janine looked at the family, unashamed about lying to them. ¡°Find a reason to do so and honor her memory.¡±


    In reality, the little girl had felt little else than terror and pain in her last moments, no doubt calling her Mommy and Daddy if she had been able to speak and think yet. But¡­ Cruel things sometimes happen in the world, and if honesty causes further harm, then honesty must be abandoned for the sake of the living.


    Janine left the family to mourn and went to the settlement center. Eled was forcibly returned to the crawler to have her eye restored. Ignacy commandeered a raider truck to do so. Predaig formed the initial perimeter, but the army¡¯s soldiers had arrived in force, and occasional shots and explosions disturbed the night. Insectoids, subterranean monsters, and scavengers, drawn by the smell of blood, descended on Just Peachy, trying to slip past the defenses. The Third took no chances, bringing in a heavy ordinance in case a young sand reaper paid a visit.


    She joined the search and rescue effort, helping the work crews locate buried civilians. Most of her pack wanted to join in, but after some hesitation, she sent most of them back, leaving a skeleton team under the command of Sarkeesian. Anji wasn¡¯t fine; the events of tonight¡¯s massacre had deeply affected the girl. It wasn¡¯t the killing of the raiders that shocked her, but the deaths of young and elderly citizens. To give her rest and to spare her honor, Janine made warriors and scouts tag along under the pretext of repairing their suits.


    Agents of the Investigation Bureau, dressed in black coats, worked the streets, searching for surviving raiders and collecting their terminals and any letters or maps for future investigation. They packed up the bodies of the New Breed for later examination.


    ¡°Hey, look who made it out alive!¡± Zlata laughed, slapping Sarkeesian across the chest. Whatever the doctors were doing to her was effective; she stopped losing fur and even gnawed at her limbs less frequently. ¡°You had us worried!¡±


    ¡°Respect¡­¡± Softly flapped the fangless lips of the wolf hag.


    ¡°What?¡± Zlata pressed a paw to an ear, pretending not to hear.


    ¡°I think she demands our submission,¡± Melina said thoughtfully, helping a civilian out of the rubble. She checked the man for injuries, fixed his dislocated wrist, and ordered the shocked man to the medics. The wolf hag glanced mischievously at Sarkeesian and grinned. ¡°She can¡¯t really dominate us in this state, though, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, can¡¯t bite shit without fangs. Poor, little girl¡­¡± Zlata looked over the bigger female. ¡°But it might be our chance to win against an alpha¡­¡±


    Sarkeesian released her claws, one by one, and admired their length. Then she turned to the wolf hags.


    ¡°We surrender!¡± They raised their paws, and together, all three returned to rescue duty, snarling and joking.


    Janine let it slide. The two idiots didn¡¯t mean any harm, and judging by the way they inadvertently stood in Sarkeesian¡¯s way and lifted the heaviest chunks to her displeasure, they cared about her. But admitting it would get them a beating, because the Alpha Pack wolf hag wasn¡¯t about to let anyone think she was weak or in need of help.


    ¡°Is it true?¡± asked a wolf hag of the Onyxia Pack.


    ¡°Not sure,¡± replied the wolf hag of the Dragena Pack. ¡°She saved the warlord¡¯s son, from what I heard¡­¡±


    ¡°But she left the warlords to fight against the enemy leader alone!¡± insisted the first woman. ¡°And Warlord Eled was mutilated. Think about it. First, they stole a title from an injured warlord; now the Ice Fang conveniently stayed in the rear again, while we lost several of our kin.¡±


    ¡°It is highly suspicious,¡± the second wolf hag admitted. ¡°She took a place in the pack, snatched a warlord¡¯s armor rather than using her own, and it isn¡¯t like alphas to get hurt so easily.¡±


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    ¡°We grow weaker, and they...¡± the wolf hag gulped as Janine broke away from the search and loomed over them.


    This was not something she could ignore. Discontent at the Ice Fangs¡¯ treatment fomented in the ranks, and more and more soldiers thought that the ice boys were influencing the Blessed Mother to spare their soldiers while earning the same laurels as the Wolf Tribe.


    ¡°If you are weak, it is because you talk too much instead of dominating. Tonight, Sword Saint Camelia saved the lives of our sisters and brothers. And the lives of the people entrusted to our defense. She loyally obeyed every order. Slander her again and I¡¯ll rip out your tongues.¡± They bared their throats, and Janine bit them, asserting her authority. No unfounded accusation will stain the memory of the fallen. ¡°Where is Ashbringer?¡±


    ¡°Took over the crawler¡¯s defense after she stepped from the capsule, warlord. Since it is the divine time,¡± said the wolf hag of the Ashbringer pack with a hint of reverence in her voice.


    Janine nodded, letting them return to the task at paw. Rejuvenation shot. She had almost forgotten about that. This explained why so few of her sisters and sword saints had taken to the field. She appreciated Ashbringer¡¯s gesture of sending everyone available to aid the settlement.


    The thought of brewing dissatisfaction further soured her mood. She could not entirely blame the lower ranks. The Ice Fangs were mighty soldiers, and their absence on any battlefield was sorely missed. Worse, the distancing of two groups naturally bred misunderstandings and alienation. The Ice Fangs weren¡¯t traitors; Bertruda¡¯s schemes were purely the product of her own character, not her tribe as a whole. Despite her disgust toward the sword saint, Janine was saddened by the loss of a potential sister. She asked Marco about his ventures into the Ice Fangs¡¯ territory, and he told her they had treated him well and that he had made friends. No, her cousins were not traitors, backstabbers, or bringers of misfortune, no matter what the lower ranks and shamans thought. The two groups were just different.


    The unknown bred fear, and understanding stemmed from cooperation toward common goals. She was sure of it, and she even had proof. The Normies. Those who lived near their villagers no longer feared for the safety of their cubs as Wolfkins passed by. Could the Blessed Mother be wrong to keep the Ice Fangs at arm¡¯s length and not allow the two groups to interact more? It was heretical to consider such a possibility. Ravager was a million times better than Janine. There must be a hidden agenda behind this, one that Janine was unable to perceive. Maybe the Twins asked Ravager to ensure that the wilderness of the Wolf Tribe didn¡¯t infect their noble offspring, or something. Janine has to believe. It is pure hubris to think that she knows better.


    ¡°Secure this.¡± Janine overheard Till Ingo, who pointed at a slightly damaged hoverbike. His finger moved to a man missing an arm. Someone had torn off his entire limb, and a field medic was working to save him. ¡°Drop the stupidity before he bleeds out!¡± He grabbed a pistol from his belt and fired, cauterizing the wound and shocking the medic.


    ¡°What is your major brain malfunction?¡± The field medic shouted. The injured man did not even react to the shot; the painkillers had driven him into a state of near unconsciousness. ¡°You furthered the damage to the clavicle¡­¡±


    ¡°Quit worrying over small things. It would be removed to make room for a socket to house a prosthesis,¡± Till Ingo said dispassionately. ¡°Get the patient to an APC and on to save lives. Pronto, pronto. Stop night dreaming, Banshee, and add another for an augmentation.¡±


    ¡°How can you be so cruel, father?¡± the mutant asked, biting her lower lip. She held a terminal in her shaking hand. She fixed her eyes on a spot in the molten house where burned limbs protruded from the solidified stone and steel. ¡°People died here! Children!¡±


    ¡°Can you resurrect them?¡± Till Ingo asked. At a snap of his fingers, a drone buzzed to the building, scanning for survivors.


    ¡°Of course not!¡±


    ¡°Then stop anguishing over the people you never knew and focus on saving the living.¡± Till Ingo turned to Banshee. ¡°No one in the world can count those who deserve to live and yet have died. We can¡¯t change that fact. What we can do is help the living through invention and repair of the damage done.¡± He paused. ¡°And don¡¯t call me father, Banshee. Assist in the rescue efforts, students. I¡¯ll handle the retrieval and the paperwork.¡±


    The warlord motioned for the medic to obey, ignoring Ingo¡¯s action. She would let the captain chew him out. Using an energy weapon on an already traumatized civilian, even to save his life, seemed excessive. But it worked, so she wasn¡¯t sure if Ingo had broken any laws. It helped that his students fanned out throughout the settlement, saving lives, disarming unexploded rockets, and collecting equipment. The Banshee girl somehow heard civilians trapped under meters of rubble and dug them out with Janine¡¯s help. Maybe Banshee was too soft and incompetent to be a bodyguard, but she certainly had amazing hearing.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Devourer¡¯s voice asked in her helmet, pleasant and calm. ¡°How severe is the damage?¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± Janine replied, digging through the rubble and finding a dead body. The little one had suffocated, hugging his pet cat to keep it safe from harm. The animal was barely alive, and Janine called for a paramedic to perform basic CPR on it. Later, the beast would be given to another family. Humans, animals¡ªthe rescue crews cared not. All who can survive must survive. ¡°Apologies for the wait. It¡¯s not my area of expertise to answer. The last time there was an attack of this magnitude was when I was a wolf hag.¡±


    ¡°I got the memo, Warlord,¡± Devourer hissed, maintaining the calm tone. ¡°Off the record, Janine. Speak your mind.¡±


    ¡°Sir, I wasn¡¯t intending to insult or imply a lack of competence on your part,¡± Janine said quickly, carefully lifting the destroyed entrance of an apartment building and extracting a man who had his legs broken. She handed him over to Banshee. ¡°Hundreds died, and many more were injured. A group of less than a hundred strong carried out the attack. They had time to maim both the guards and the civilians, destroyed our defenses as if they were nothing, and had at least one strong New Breed on their side. This should not have happened.¡±


    ¡°On that, we are in agreement. I will whip the Investigation Bureau for sleeping on something of this magnitude,¡± Devourer promised. ¡°All survivors will be granted passage to the Core Lands. Those who choose to stay will have their homes restored. Just Peachy will be rebuilt, greater than before, and I will find whoever did this and eliminate¡­¡±


    ¡°The Blessed Mother has probably already beaten you to it, sire,¡± Janine sighed, unearthing two cubs hugging each other from underneath a broken metal beam. No injury marred their flesh, but both cubs were undeniably dead. Choked. Their parents lay nearby, pulverized beyond recognition by the debris. ¡°Sir, your rivalry with Commander Ravager has to stop. Personal glory is irrelevant when it comes to our duty.¡±


    ¡°There is no rivalry, Janine. A rivalry implies a struggle between two equals, with each trying to come out on top. I am far superior to her in every way imaginable. Mere notions of jealousy, anger, or incompetence are alien concepts to the likes of me. It is Ravager who is jealous of me, and that is why she is always trying to one-up me.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you struck the Blessed Mother? Because you can control your anger? She handled the meeting with more dignity than you, sir!¡± Janine said into the deadly silence. Devourer did not hiss; he did not explode in anger; he simply listened to her, and that scared her to her very soul. What if he did something to her pack? Her life was expendable, but her soldiers and cubs¡­ Janine kept going, giving the dead cubs to a Normie soldier. ¡°Sir, we are all servants of the state. Yes, the Blessed Mother is unstable, and yes, she has led our army into the meat grinder of war. I admit, the commander should have waited for you before attacking the city!¡±


    She was done being cautious; she was too angry about everything. At herself for not arriving sooner. She hated the invaders for killing the peaceful citizens. The deaths of her soldiers and the tragic fate of the men trapped underground, killed by cruel coincidence before the rescuers could free them, depressed the warlord and she spoke her mind. Janine was tired, injured, and no longer cared if Devourer swallowed her whole.


    ¡°But you cannot deny our experience!!¡± she insisted. ¡°This region was under the protection of Warlord Fatima and her pack until they were relocated on your orders. The captain told us you have laid plans for a future defense network that will shorten the response time two times. Great, perfect! But while you¡¯re implementing it, the confusion has left gaps in our defenses for the scum to exploit. Sir, we have several warlords stuck protecting our villagers. Use us! Let us help you! There are many things the Second does better than we do, but our troops live here and know every nook and cranny in these parts. They can share their expertise and help your patrols maintain peace. We don¡¯t care about being remembered or stealing your glory; you can have all the credit to yourself. But the bickering between you and the Blessed Mother has cost us dearly. Please, sir, I beseech you; our forces have to work together. If you mistrust us, take several squads of Normies; take Ice Fangs; but permit the soldiers of the Third Army to lighten the burden of your troops. This will save lives.¡±


    Janine continued to dig through the wreckage. ¡°I am ready to commit a ritual self-sacrifice for my words, sir. I am only asking you to postpone my punishment until we finish here.¡±


    ¡°There will be no punishment, Warlord,¡± Devourer replied dryly. ¡°There is a seed of wisdom in your words. I may have been a bit¡­ rash in my assessment of the Third Army¡¯s value. The warlords will resume their patrols, and I will demand¡­ request joint training exercises to improve the cohesion of our forces. The warlords who stay will have the same authority as my own officers. Janine, I once again invite you to consider a transfer to the Second Army. Your skills are wasted on someone like Ravager.¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, sir, I must decline the offer. My life is for the nation and my tribe. This is how I have lived; this is how I will die.¡±


    ¡°If that is your wish. But my offer stands, and I¡¯d rather see you thrive,¡± Devourer said, ending the communication.

 Chapter 37: Janines Flawed Justice

    Janine predicted serious purges against the bandits in the coming weeks. Commander Devourer was, undeniably, the most soft-hearted and civilized of the Dynast¡¯s champions. But when the situation called for it, he could easily surpass even Ravager in sheer, unrestrained carnage. Then again, no one would cry over scum being flushed down the drain.


    Her ear caught muffled voices. She moved away from the rubble that she was excavating and pulled a large steel plate out of another building, opening a concealed hatch leading into the basement. Sinking her claws into the hatch¡¯s edges, she tore it up, blinking in surprise as a shot from the darkness ricocheted off her armor.


    A family of eight people and their neighbors hiding inside recognized their mistake and immediately started apologizing, as the chuckling and joyful warlord helped them outside. Alive! More survivors.


    The ridiculousness of the situation was maddening to her. Thanks? Some settlers even hugged the Wolfkins, stiffening them. Why? Why did they thank them? The Wolf Tribe had failed them; they had let the people die; they had failed the Oath again¡­ And the people were still happy to see them, praising them as if¡­ as if they were heroes. I need to visit Lacerated One and confess my sins. Janine decided, hoping to receive a proper punishment.


    A scream from the settlement¡¯s center jolted her from her thoughts. A group of settlers converging on a woman wearing a tattered officer¡¯s coat was the source of the commotion. Two Wolfkins stood beside the assailed officer, clearly preventing a lynching, as one had to grab a rifle from an enraged settler. Sword Saint Camelia, still wearing Ygrite¡¯s plate, arrived ahead of Janine but waited for the warlord out of respect.


    ¡°The bitch helped them!¡± Kit shouted, pointing at the officer. Kit survived the fight, but the smack against a wall left several fractures in her skull. Despite all the shock and pain that she had suffered, as well as her heavily bandaged head, the girl fiercely tried to help anywhere she could, bandaging the injured, calming cubs, and refusing to leave for medical treatment in the crawler. Janine had the thought that perhaps she was seeing a future mayor. ¡°I saw a soldier ask her to wait so the others could get into the bunker, and the bitch just shot him in the leg and slammed the door in his face before anyone could get in! And when the raiders broke inside, she bargained for her safety in exchange for telling where our folks were hiding!¡±


    ¡°This is a lie! She is lying to you! No, you are all lying; this is¡­ I had no choice!¡± The traitorous officer shrank under the heavy gaze of Janine. The woman licked her lips and continued in a trembling voice. ¡°This¡­ this was the only way I could¡¯ve kept the people inside the bunker safe!¡±


    ¡°And when you saw them killing cubs¡ªinfants, as you call them¡ªdid you grab your weapon and try to protect them as your duty demands?¡± Janine asked emotionlessly, her grip on the shaft tightening and tightening until her skin finally cracked and a trickle of blood ran down the Taleteller.


    Betrayal. It sent a searing fire through her veins. No one raised a fuss if an elder or simple settler gave in to the raiders¡¯ demands under threat of violence. Such cooperation has often saved lives. Help could not get everywhere in time, and material goods were always compensated, with no punishment befalling the one making such a choice. However, for a soldier to act in such a manner, and, even worse, to disregard their duty to protect the vulnerable, was another matter entirely. Both the Blessed Mother and the blue wyrm showed no mercy to such bastards.


    I am focusing on the wrong angle. The situation cleared up a little. How could a small group of raiders attack such a large settlement in such a way that no signal for help was sent? How did the raiders know which parts to strike first? If this filth¡­ The warlord inhaled. Nothing was clear yet. The betrayal could be premeditated or sporadic; there was no point in jumping to conclusions yet.


    ¡°I¡­ You don¡¯t understand, if you had seen what those animals did to Lieutenant Veronika¡­¡± The officer tried to take a step back, and Janine shoved her snout closer, illuminating the frightened face with the light of her amber eyes.


    ¡°I am giving you a choice. We can send you to the Torment.¡±


    ¡°T-torment?!¡±


    ¡°Torment.¡± Janine took pleasure in the sheer terror of the traitor. The Torment. The state¡¯s maximum security prison was notorious for its inhumane treatment of prisoners. Those fortunate enough to leave its walls alive resembled pale shadows of their former selves, forever scarred both mentally and physically. ¡°Or you can tell the Investigation Bureau everything you know, without lying even once tonight. Confess your sins and you will be sent to a regular prison for life. Break the agreement and you will be burned alive.¡±


    The traitor nodded fearfully, but the warlord kept towering over her until that idiot uttered the words of agreement. She paid no attention to the daggers in Camellia¡¯s eyes and the furious and still not realizing what had just happened citizens. An Investigation Bureau agent took over the betrayer from Janine¡¯s paws, and as she planned to have a talk with the sword saint, another situation demanded their utmost attention.


    From the wall came the howling that sounded like a living furnace containing the flammable liquid. Janine, Camelia, and Kit hurried there and came upon a strange picture. Predaig arrived first and pinned down a body, frowning at dozens of tentacles slapping her armor, leaving dents and scratches. A soldier nearby pointed to a dug-up, ruined street and explained that they had dragged the thing from under the debris, thinking it was a dead body.


    There was no fault in their judgment. The creature lacked a lower body; its exposed ribs rattled against the pavement; an eye was missing; and there were a series of deep wounds on the chest. One arm ended at an elbow, and Predaig held the other with the flat of her double blade. The protruding jaws clicked jittery, and the creature inhaled loudly, howling anew and attempting to escape.


    ¡°Not sure who our guest is,¡± Predaig said, keeping an eye on the body. ¡°Keep civilians away, Janine. Once freed, it chewed on the corpses, and I am pretty sure it is regenerating.¡±


    Janine wasn¡¯t sure what her named sister was talking about, but then she heard a loud pop, and a fleshy, somewhat oily lump was pushed from inside the skull into the empty socket. A new set of veins spread out, securing the lump in place, and ripples passed through its surface, slowing down but undeniably forming a fresh eye.


    She restrained Kit as the girl squealed, half-choking, half-happily, and tried to jump to this strange being.


    ¡°Don¡¯t hurt him! It¡¯s my lo¡­ It¡¯s ?ime ?tefan?i?!¡± she screamed. ¡°He is a soldier serving here!¡±


    ¡°Malformed, really?¡± Predaig tilted her head. ¡°Eh, don¡¯t listen to the old hag. You do you, girl. Just remember that some of their cubs eat their way to freedom¡­¡±


    ¡°?ime is not a Malformed!¡± Kit stamped her foot furiously. ¡°He is a human! He used his power and transformed himself¡­¡± She touched Janine by vambrace. ¡°Will ?ime be okay?¡±


    ¡°He is a regenerator, right? Should be.¡± Janine pointed at the leathery sacs pulsating underneath the ribs. ¡°I can only speculate, but based on Predaig¡¯s words, it seems to me that ?ime¡¯s power has grown a rudimentary stomach to digest calories and use for body rebuilding. Stay clear of him; he is not himself yet. Predaig¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, did before,¡± her named sister responded, extending an arm to nearby soldiers.


    They guessed her intentions and started tossing ration batons to her. She caught some and dropped them into the clanking jaws. ?ime ate them hungrily and arched his back, his bones scraping the ground as a slithering spinal column jutted out, covered in a thin layer of protective membrane. His howling subsided, and he concentrated on stuffing himself, glancing at Kit, and Janine could swear that there was a glimmer of humanity there, wounded and in pain.


    ¡°Not sure if I should be jealous or freaking out,¡± Predaig mused. ¡°Tell Till Ingo to stop tinkering with the dead metal and get his ass over here! We need his biased expertise.¡±


    Janine patted Kit on the shoulder and left her in the company of two soldiers, ordering them to keep the girl away from ?ime. There were tragedies aplenty, no need for her to get injured by a sudden bite. She heard Camelia¡¯s footsteps following her on a road to the next excavation site.


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Camelia said in an icy tone.


    ¡°My deepest thanks for saving Ignacy¡¯s life, Sword Saint,¡± Janine said honestly. ¡°Had it not been for you, the losses would have been greater. It was an honor to fight by your side.¡±


    ¡°I know what you did.¡± Camelia raised a finger, and Janine obliged the request. Their helmets closed around their heads, allowing them to speak in a secure channel without prying ears. ¡°You trapped that traitor. This isn¡¯t just. You indulge in revenge, not upholding justice. A clean stroke of a sword¡­¡±


    ¡°Will deny us any information she knows, Camelia. And you are wrong. This is justice, a retribution for the crimes committed,¡± Janine interrupted her. ¡°Justice is blind.¡±


    ¡°But we are not; you¡¯re not an impartial judge either!¡± Camelia insisted. ¡°Janine, you may have the right to condemn her to such a fate, but revenge warps an individual.¡±


    ¡°If it weren¡¯t for you, Camelia, I would have forgotten her by now. How is her death going to affect me?¡±


    ¡°Then think about how your lie might affect the future, and what lasting consequences it may cause to negotiations? Would anyone trust us if we trap unsuspecting people like that?¡± warned Camelia.


    ¡°How will anyone know? Not like we¡¯re going to tell anyone.¡± Janine shrugged. ¡°When people hear her screams, they will naturally think that she lied again.¡±


    ¡°Cruelty inflicted does not excuse cruelty in return! There is a reason why the Twins preached mercy toward the worst scum!¡±


    And where are they now? Janine shut her mouth. Some truths are best left unspoken.


    ¡°Warlord! Sword Saint!¡± she snarled as the figure of the intrusive Iternian appeared from a bend ahead. Three hovering cameras orbited the man like satellites around a planet, filming the surrounding destruction. Two soldiers accompanied the Iternian, clad in his nanomachine armor. ¡°A word, if you please! Your daring rescue tonight saved hundreds of lives and brought victory to the Reclamation Army. What can you tell the public about this savage raid?¡±


    ¡°No comment¡­¡± Camelia started.


    ¡°Victory?¡± The cameras soundlessly broke from filming dead and injured people, focusing on Janine¡¯s snout as the helmet left her face. She spread her arms, as if trying to embrace the tragedy. ¡°Is that what Iterna considers a victory? People died, cu¡­ children died. This is not a victory, but a bloody day, a sorrowful day, and a stark reminder of the dangers lurking in our beautiful world. Iterna, Reclaimers, Oathtakers¡ªit doesn¡¯t matter. We must remain vigilant and never lay down our arms. The wildness must be tamed.¡± She hesitated, recalling Iterna¡¯s extravagant wealth, and an idea sprang into her mind. ¡°The civilians have suffered greatly, Jacob. Any assistance your homeland can provide to the victims of such unjust and unprovoked aggression will be greatly appreciated.¡±


    ¡°You heard it firsthand, people; even the ancient warriors weep for the fallen and help the living,¡± Jacob said as the cameras focused on him. ¡°Do we have any excuse to do otherwise? I say no! Contact your mayor and demand that help be sent immediately. Tom, back to you¡­¡±


    Janine excused herself and hurried away, pausing as she understood the optics of letting a foreign reporter film a scene of a living person burning alive.


    ¡°Agents?¡± Janine contacted the Investigation Bureau. ¡°About the traitor. Change of plans. As soon as you have everything you need, send her to work in the most remote prison mine for the rest of her life.¡±


    ¡°You made the right choice, Janine,¡± Camelia said. ¡°Mercy is good for a soul.¡±


    ¡°Believe whatever delusions you want. We have work to do,¡± Janine told her wearily, and stomped away. Mercy. A life sentence in the mines, where seeing sunlight was rare. It wasn¡¯t a mercy. Not by a long shot.


    ****


    There was no sound. No noisy grinding of gears, no sizzling of liquids passing through many tubes, no beeping of obsolete sensors warning of her body¡¯s condition, no straightening rustling of packets of artificial lungs receiving oxygen, and no hissing of sparkling wires burning her from inside. She swallowed, enjoying the pure, non-acrid drool, and opened her eyes, ignoring her organism¡¯s urges to have a long sleep. She can slumber to her heart¡¯s content later. For now, she had enough rest.


    Soulless One woke up to a dim, gentle light that didn¡¯t irritate her eyes. She was still strapped to a slab of metal that was cleaned of blood and pus, and there were sheets and pillows at her back. Stitches covered her body, but to her pleasure, the wounds were already healing.


    ¡°Water,¡± she asked, and a hand placed the end of a hose in her mouth. A stream of fresh, cool water ran down her throat, and she gulped, enjoying it to the last.


    ¡°Better?¡± asked Banshee, taking the hose away. The mutant was dressed in a field uniform and had a tired appearance.


    ¡°Better.¡± Soulless One charged against her bindings, to no avail. ¡°I am fine. You can remove the restraints.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh, dream on, granny,¡± Banshee yawned. She picked up a tray full of food and began feeding the shaman. ¡°You are here for two more days, no ifs or buts. There is still a problem with a deformed nasal canal that needs to be fixed.¡±


    ¡°What changed?¡± Soulless One asked. ¡°What was taken from me this time?¡±


    ¡°Nothing organic, so relax,¡± Banshee yawned. Soulless One kept her gaze fixed on the woman, and she relented. ¡°Every single original implant has been removed. You¡¯ll feel heavier; your chest now houses the latest model of machine lungs. When you¡¯re free, touch the back of your neck and you¡¯ll find two round metal objects no larger than coins. They can inhale and exhale air if something clogs your throat. A new digestive tract has replaced the old one. No more rubber tubes; it is made of self-cleaning materials to minimize the risk of infection. You don¡¯t want to know what we pulled out of your intestines. Your poor kidney shriveled and resembled a dot. Father and I had half a mind to remove it, but after running tests, the diagnostic system confirmed that it will recover. The generator for your implants is now in your womb; it is a plasma type, so steer clear of being shot by anything serious, or the ensuing blast will incinerate everything within a ten-meter radius. It is an experimental model capable of running for fifty years without a need for recharging.¡±


    ¡°Mijn handen... my arms feel lighter.¡± The shaman clenched her fist and tested each individual finger.


    ¡°Because they are! The damaged tissue of your muscles was crudely grafted onto titanium fiber before, but now new synthetic muscle overlays your natural muscles, working in harmony and more efficiently. The increased muscle density and removal of the titanium fiber has created space for the damaged exoskeleton to regrow partially. Your immune system is recovering rather nicely, so sleep well and don¡¯t bother your roommate. I¡¯ll bring you something to read once we deal with the shitshow.¡± Banshee yawned again. Her mouth opened so wide that her scalp touched the space between her shoulder blades. Noticing the surprised look, the young woman blushed and sneaked away, shutting the door.


    Roommate?


    Soulless One craned her neck to see another Wolfkin lying on a small bed nearby. She was an Ice Fang, dressed in a black tot, and orange lines on the cloth formed a flowing river of her house¡¯s heraldry. The Ice Fang was engrossed in reading, and she remained unrestrained. The shaman understood that the Ice Fang had nothing below her waist, and long elastic tubes stretched out from the ruined part of her body, bringing in medication, aiding in blood circulation, and removing waste.


    ¡°Hey,¡± the shaman said. ¡°Name Soulless One. Resting until recovery. You?¡±


    ¡°Malerata Summerspring, at your service, lady.¡± The Ice Fang set aside her terminal and reached out her paw to make a respectful and elegant fist bump with the bound shaman. The woman¡¯s white fur was even paler than usual. ¡°I¡¯m waiting for a scheduled surgery to install mechanical legs.¡±


    ¡°Did something happen while I was unconscious?¡± Soulless One asked.


    ¡°No idea,¡± Malerata said. ¡°They kept me here for several days before they brought you in. Banshee refuses to share the latest rumors, and my grandfather tells me not to worry. He wanted me to wait until the Core Lands for a proper cloning replacement, but I refuse to be away from my unit any longer.¡±


    ¡°Admirable,¡± Soulless One praised her. Her thin-blooded cousin treated duty seriously.


    So the Ice Fang received no rumors. Unusual. Something did happen, she was willing to bet her life on it. She must contact Janine as soon as possible and find out what has transpired in her absence.


    ¡°Will I be cursed?¡± Malerata asked, and Soulless One raised an eyebrow. The knight pointed to her missing legs. ¡°The mechanical prosthetics. Will the Spirits deny me a meeting with the Twins in the afterlife?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous.¡± Bristled Soulless One. Morons, appropriating a faith that was never meant for them. Belief in the Planet suited the Ice Fang Order far better. ¡°No one serving faithfully is abandoned by the Spirits.¡±


    ¡°But I have heard how many of you reject augmentation. If not for fear of angering the gods, why?¡±


    ¡°Because it is the mutilation of the soul,¡± Soulless One answered bluntly. ¡°By replacing the natural perfection given to us by the Spirits, we diminish our connection to them. Understand, young one, that the Spirits are not omnipotent, nor are they eternal. There will come a time when no soul will remember them. They are a guiding force in existence, helping us move from one corporeal form to another and advising us on every earthly matter. They test us so that we become stronger. When our souls are thinned, we cut ourselves off from their grace; they cannot reach us, and it takes them a long time to heal a ruined soul after death. Imagine spending centuries healing instead of immediately meeting your friends in the Great Beyond. But no, you are not cursed, Malerata. I don¡¯t think the Spirits curse anyone; even skinwalkers are a blessing in disguise.¡±


    ¡°Our sages describe faith in the Spirits differently,¡± Malerata said.


    ¡°Then they should stop meddling in affairs they do not understand,¡± Soulless One replied.


    ¡°Could you explain it to me?¡± Malerata asked. ¡°Since we are both stuck in here. The religion resolving around the Blessed Mother. And why the name Soulless One?¡±


    The shaman wanted to refuse, but the Ice Fang was right. Talking is one of the best ways to pass the time. What harm could they do by sharing the knowledge of her religion?


    ¡°When we become shamans, we take a name after our greatest vice, so we never forget about it and work on bettering ourselves,¡± Soulless One sighed and made herself comfortable. Damn, was it really necessary to secure her neck with a restraint? If not, she could have gnawed on the rings that held her arms. ¡°I was initially supposed to be known as Sour One¡­¡±

 Chapter 38: Stubbornness

    Two dark bronze doors led into the Commander¡¯s chambers. This place, located in the center of the crawler, lacked the usual MPs or guards patrolling the corridors. There was no need for them. Be it a spy, an assassin, a curious idiot, or an officer carrying news, everyone was permitted to step inside the belly of the beast. The question was: who would return safely?


    Janine passed through these doors for the first time in her life. Being in the Inner Circle granted her some privileges, and she intended to use every ounce of them tonight. Tired, hungry, and wounded, she gave the engineers the bare minimum time to remove her battleplate and crudely bandage her wound. On the way here, she encountered Zero, who gave her some pointers, and together with Tancred, they departed from the crawler.


    Her nose caught the smell of food and the sweet aroma of rotting flesh dancing in the air. The chamber itself was semi-spherical in shape, with a platform in the center. Dozens, if not hundreds, of chains dangled from the ceiling, rattling slightly. Icons and religious symbols were in these chains¡ªnot brutally beaten in, but woven into them with great care so as not to fall and break. A layer of stained glass covered the wall, bathing the dais in multicolored illumination.


    And on the dais sat Ravager, one leg under herself, paws wrapped around the knee of the second leg. She hummed to a pre-recorded message sent by Wyrm Lord while basking in yellow, green, red, blue, and purple lights. Beside her lay a specially designed terminal that her large fingers could use. The bright coloring of each button made it easier to understand its purpose.


    ¡°Is it the Spirits?¡± Janine asked, examining the curious things in the chains. There were leather books, marked by a circle; wooden figurines of beautiful women and men, lightly touched by cracks; bronze visages of winged creatures; elegant stone statues of prophets or saints; carvings upon bronze plates; sheets of preserved parchment inscribed with unknown hieroglyphics.


    ¡°These are the gods humanity prayed to before the Extinction,¡± Ravager said, not opening her eyes. ¡°Belief in them has died, even in the weird lands of Iterna. Their temples are barren or buried, and few even remember their names today. I pray to these ghosts when I am myself, begging them for peace and control, or at least a merciful finality, but they never answer.¡±


    ¡°Once the reunification is complete and the last monster is dead, the Spirits will heal your afflictions, Blessed Mother,¡± Janine assured Ravager, repeating the mantra from the shamanic books. ¡°Restored and resplendent, you shall teach us how to live in an era of everlasting peace.¡±


    The progenitor chuckled; the sound resembled the rumblings of a distant storm approaching.


    ¡°What a beautiful dream it is, girl. Would I like it to be true,¡± she laughed cleanly. The laugh turned to a ferocious growl, and Ravager convulsed, lips parted, fangs flashed, and drool dripped to the floor. She slapped herself so hard that a small sonic boom rattled the chains, then continued in a steady voice. ¡°But it is not to be. I am numbered among the monsters.¡±


    ¡°You are not a monster,¡± Janine assured her.


    ¡°I know who I am, and I know my crimes,¡± Ravager said sternly, raising her paw. ¡°It is tempting to blame my sins on the red mist, but my history of ruthlessness began long before that. I have slain oppressors, but at what cost? Do you remember Mincemeat? Did any of his victims deserve to die in the crimson harvest unleashed by my claws? Or what about the tribe? All I ever wanted was for my beautiful boys and girls to be happy and live a life I could never have. Instead, I turned you into my warped reflections.¡±


    ¡°And we are eternally grateful for the strength you have endowed us with,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Broken, so broken. At least I know how broken I am, but you never even had a chance to understand what it means not to be broken.¡± Ravager scratched her head, and Janine stiffened, hearing the scraping of claws against the bone and witnessing great rends left on the skin. ¡°Grateful? This constant pounding against my skull refuses to break free and end. It¡¯s like a volcano spewing magma but refusing to erupt. Every cell in my body calls for the destruction of another living being, for violence and domination. Do you think I like it? You think it is a blessing, little monster?!¡±


    Janine remained silent as the Blessed Mother rose to her full height, her pupils dilating and expanding as a malevolent spirit took over. Zero told her: Do not agitate her. And Janine tried to do just that, standing calm and not reacting to the provocation of aggression.


    A test. That¡¯s what it was. This was something the Blessed Mother herself could not understand, but the shamans did. The Spirits never stopped testing the Wolf Tribe by possessing Ravager, so she would say the most ridiculous and heretical things. They asked: ¡°Is your faith still strong? Can you walk the road to the end?¡± Because sacrifices for the helpless and for a better world had to be made willingly. As the Wolfkins passed these contradictory tests, they grew stronger, as did the Blessed Mother, for she never wavered in her personal duty to rid this world of those who had shed their humanity.


    Janine bared her throat in submission, and Ravager froze.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t come to hear me whine.¡± Ravager inhaled and sat cross-legged, her voice once again reasonable and assured. They passed the test. The ends of the horrible, self-inflicted wounds moved like worms, reaching out to each other and healing the damage. ¡°Speak your mind, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°Your drool.¡± Ravager widened her eyes and hurriedly wiped her jaw. ¡°No, not this!¡± Janine said hurriedly. ¡°It has unmatched healing potential, and we have plenty of injured people in the medical bay.¡± She lowered to her knees. ¡°Blessed Mother, I beg you. Take the price from my body, but give us a basket or two of your healing waters.¡±


    Laughter erupted in the spacious chamber, and Ravager toppled on her back. She grabbed her sides and continued laughing, so clearly and happily that it reminded Janine of the times she had first seen the progenitor welcoming recruits into the military ranks: her inspiring presence was instilling a desire to live and win in the greenhorns.


    The Blessed Mother wiped a tear from her eyes and spat. The spittle splashed, forming a small puddle in front of Janine¡¯s legs. Ravager said, ¡°You are wounded,¡± and the warlord understood the command, soaking her paw, removing the bandages, and rubbing the wound Hawkhead had left. Nothing happened. Ravager approached Janine and licked the wound, and this time there was the familiar itch as the healing process accelerated unnaturally. ¡°Thought me stupid? It was the first thing I ever tried. Scientists ran tests, and it is apparently the result of a short-lived bacteria produced by my organism.¡±


    ¡°Can you visit the medical bay, then?¡± Janine took the Blessed Mother by a paw, pleadingly looking into her eyes. ¡°There are cubs who have suffered 95% body surface area burns!¡±


    ¡°Do they still live?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡±


    ¡°No buts!¡± Ravager interrupted her. ¡°If they lived long enough to get aboard the Inevitable, they¡¯ll survive the recovery. They should. Must. I will not step into the Room ever again.¡±


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    ¡°The Room?¡± Janine asked, perplexed.


    ¡°Into the whitecoats territory,¡± Ravager said, shifting her eyes aside. ¡°There were incidents before. Remember Maxence¡¯s arm. Remember those whom I killed in a fit of rage. It is best not to risk it. The lights here are calming my mind, and I need to be in top shape to address the Wastes tomorrow. Ivar prepared a speech for me, and Wyrm Lord edited it to remove calls for genocide and immediate militarization. It is quite inspiring. The Golden Wyrm is a poet at heart. I have to memorize it.¡±


    ¡°I understand, Blessed Mother,¡± said the disappointed Janine.


    A mischievous glint appeared in Ravager¡¯s eyes, and she nodded at her terminal: ¡°Captain Ivar and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs petitioned me to reprimand you for requesting aid from a foreign power. Thank you, Janine. You have made me proud. Ignore their grumblings. If the world is to grow, it¡¯s best to learn cooperation. I¡¯ll let you in on a secret. An Iternian aerial fortress has taken to the sky. In two days, they should meet us en route to the Core Lands and bring in their whitecoats who are permitted to use Iterna¡¯s cheaper secrets. The cubs of Just Peachy will have their natural skin back and more.¡±


    ¡°It¡­ sounds good,¡± Janine said uncertainly, experiencing mixed emotions.


    She hated and despised the Iternians for the cruel Culling, for the genocide of the New Breeds they had committed, and for the lost friends and her precious sons and daughters lost to the war. But even had the commander punished her, she would still have made the same choice of asking them for help.


    ¡°It is good!¡± Ravager said. ¡°For too long, the planet has relied on powers and New Breeds to survive. To create electricity from thin air, to snap fingers and make a crate of food appear, or to flap up a wing and let water flow¡­ Countries cannot live by relying on individuals or heroes. It pleases me to know that appendicitis is a dead sentence no longer. Civilization is good, Janine! But civilization needs firm arms, a savage capable of backing up a kind soul when it faces impossible odds¡­¡± She paused. ¡°From this day forward, I bestow upon you the honorable title of Commander¡¯s Wielder. You have earned it by using me to kill our enemy without risk to our civilians. And Sword Saint Camelia shall be known as the Friend of the Wolf Tribe. I cannot give Eled and Predaig anything they don¡¯t already have. I have a question of my own,¡± she said, absently reaching for the terminal. ¡°Does that raid counts as a terrorist attack?¡±


    ¡°People got scared,¡± Janine shrugged.


    ¡°Yes, they do¡­¡± Ravager pondered. ¡°Never expected to live to see the day when I would actually hear such terms. How times change.¡±


    ¡°But for the better?¡±


    ¡°For the better,¡± the Blessed Mother promised sternly and waved her paw, dismissing the warlord.


    Janine bowed, receiving the reward with pride in her heart. An honorable name! A title earned fair and square, and she wouldn¡¯t be foolish enough to lose it to anyone. She left the commander to her meditation and was surprised to stumble upon Bertruda waiting for her outside the doors, an officer¡¯s coat and a tasty meat bar in her paws.


    The warlord¡¯s veins bulged at the memory of her ignominious defeat, but she suppressed both the shame and the desire for a rematch and calmly took the cloak and zipped it on. She hesitated but accepted the food as well, sinking her fangs into it and only now understanding how hungry she was.


    ¡°What do you want, Sword Saint?¡± Janine avoided making eye contact. Her rival wore a silken white shirt and pants. Instead of a belt, a gem-covered orange sash accentuated her slender waist, while the same cape cascaded from her shoulders. Surprisingly, the woman was not carrying her spear or any other jewelry.


    ¡°The medics have summoned us. It¡¯s our turn for the rejuvenation procedures. I came to fetch you, Lady Janine.¡± Bertruda¡¯s voice had a slight nasal twang.


    ¡°They could¡¯ve sent me a message,¡± Janine growled. She pulled her collar down and found a strand of gray fur in a familiar spit.


    Times flow fast. They took the elevator and descended to the hospital floor in silence. Moving through the corridor, Janine heard heavy puffing and realized that the sword saint¡¯s ankle still bothered her. There was a sort of pleasure in seeing her limp to keep up, but the warlord had no time to enjoy her rival¡¯s misery.


    ¡°Lean on me,¡± Janine offered her shoulder.


    ¡°There is no need¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll drag you by the ear if you make us risk missing the appointment,¡± Janine warned, and Bertruda took the offer, letting the warlord ease the strain on her wounded leg.


    Together, they proceeded down the corridor, and Janine looked straight ahead, doing her best to ignore Bertruda. It was childish, hardly worthy behavior, but Janine found it was easier to tolerate the other woman¡¯s presence when she wasn¡¯t looking at her. The mere sight of this lean form infuriated Janine, spiraling her emotions into an unnatural urge for domination. Their fight wasn¡¯t over, dammit! Until one is on the ground, bloodied, and beaten, there can be no victor!


    ¡°Camelia explained to me you could¡¯ve easily taken my eyes, and Tancred imparted to me how debilitating your wounds were,¡± said Bertruda. ¡°I am thankful for the courtesy, and I assure you I was truly unaware of your injuries, Warlord. I acted rashly, immaturely, and¡­¡±


    ¡°You said you came to pick me up. You did.¡± Janine interrupted the stream of lies, stopping to let the nurses move a gurney carrying the scout who had saved Ignacy¡¯s life. The scout slept, snoring loudly under the effects of the medical drugs.


    The warlord guessed Bertruda¡¯s question and sniffed, gleaning the information from the scent marks rubbed into the wounded female¡¯s neck by Impatient One. Such marks served no purpose for the Normies or other New Breeds, but they helped return stubborn soldiers to the hospital before the medics unleashed their version of decimation in the form of humiliating check-ups at the pack. They also helped determine whether the returning comrade should receive leniency from the challengers. A title stolen in an unfair domination wasn¡¯t a title worth keeping.


    ¡°She sustained an injury in battle. Her stomach has a hole, but the shot missed the spine. No biggie, she will be back in the ranks in a week or two, depending on Maxence¡¯s mood.¡±


    ¡°I see. Thank you for sharing this,¡± Bertruda said, and they moved on. ¡°Listen, I have caused bad blood between us.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t flatter yourself, Bull-Slayer,¡± Janine snapped. ¡°The mistake was mine for violating the orders.¡±


    ¡°Nonetheless, I have caused a slight against your honor, and for that¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough. Please,¡± Janine asked and stopped, annoyed at having this conversation. ¡°Each time a black fur and a white fur interact, a black fur suffers. I forgot this simple rule and paid the price. Simple as that.¡±


    ¡°This is not a rule, but a simple superstition! And you know it!¡± Bertruda growled, and a flash of anger flashed through her eyes.


    Damn it, she reads me like a book!


    ¡°I am thankful for your assistance against the mechanical beast, and I am beyond grateful for saving my soldiers, Sword Saint Bertruda.¡± Janine faced her, enduring a tick in her left eye. Bertruda¡¯s nose had yet to heal after Janine¡¯s headbutt; her shoulder remained bandaged; and her leg swelled around her ankle and knee. ¡°My defeat against you has caused a problematic loss of honor for my pack. That disgrace has been solved, and I have earned an even greater name. For the sake of our troops, we should keep our relations strictly professional.¡±


    ¡°I count our fight as a draw, Janine.¡± Bertruda said stubbornly. ¡°The title is yours by right.¡±


    ¡°Warlord Janine,¡± she corrected Bertruda. ¡°And your wishful thinking is pointless, Sword Saint Bertruda Mountaintop the Bull-Slayer. I have already entered my loss into our records. It is set in stone now, quite literally, too.¡±


    ¡°Then I will cut it from the stone, and if your shamans try to stop me¡­¡±


    ¡°You will die, your pack will grow weaker because of it, and relationships between our tribes will experience further deterioration. As leaders, we are obligated to learn how to act in the best interests of our groups.¡± Janine admitted it begrudgingly, forcing herself to relieve the shame she had brought upon her pack and Terrific¡¯s memory. ¡°Let¡¯s be clear about something, Sword Saint. I can hardly stop myself from attacking you for what I view as a stolen victory. What is worse, you can hardly control yourself either.¡± Janine pointed a finger at a spark of anger in the crimson eyes. ¡°You won. I lost. You have secured great honor for your household and proven yourself to be a cunning matriarch. Let it go. Please. I am not fit for intrigues, but I will kill if anyone endangers my troops.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like we have a lot in common, Janine.¡± Bertruda smiled and inhaled, banishing the rage from her eyes. ¡°We share the same anger issues and the same desire to rise to the top. We have both harbored negative thoughts about each other, and one of us continues to do so and not undeservedly. You¡¯re correct about our responsibilities as leaders. I think that for the shared future of our people, we ought to talk and work out our differences so that we can fight as sisters...¡±


    ¡°Can it.¡±

 Chapter 39: Peace and Rejuvenation

    Unfortunately, the sword saint refused to remain silent, but Janine ignored her, eyeing the crowded hall compartment that connected to the medical bay. This was a waiting area of sorts, and lightly wounded soldiers, settlers, and those waiting their turn for scheduled procedures sat in chairs, playing cards, or chatting. Kalaisa sat next to her siblings, deliberately ignoring them. Clearly, she dismissed Janine¡¯s advice about apologizing, but at the very least there were no fresh cuts on Kirk¡¯s hide or new bruises on her sister and brothers. Cub steps, Janine, cub steps. Terrific also worked very hard to make a working unit out of you.


    ¡°Grab a token, any token,¡± Bogdan said.


    Her sons dragged several tables close together and invited the children from Just Peachy to watch their play. Some cubs had minor injuries, but the majority were unharmed, anxiously awaiting news from the doctors about their parents. Several transports of the Second will take them and their treated parents off the Inevitable in the coming days and escort them to the Core Lands under the protection of the elite regiments. Commander Devourer has named those who have lost both their parents, sons and daughters of the Second, and the best teachers and civilian workers stood ready to help these youths.


    As of now, soda and proper meals, brought from the ruined settlement, littered two tables. However, the excited cubs fixed their gazes on the third table, where Ignacy held out five tokens of varying values, while Bogdan covered his eyes with a paw, pretending not to look. A mutant girl took a Dynast token, a minted ring worth five tokens.


    ¡°Is that your token?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the girl said shyly. In place of one ear, she had a gray tentacle that reached to her shoulder.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t tell me what it is; drop it in the bag and prepare for a miracle!¡± Bogdan said cheerfully, and the girl obliged, placing the Dynast token into a paper bag held by the Wolfkin. ¡°Now pay attention, everyone. Many people claim the Wolf Tribe knows magic¡­¡± Bogdan fiddled with the bag before the curious eyes, and the coin slipped from a prepared cut into his paw. He blew into the bag, and it exploded, spreading pieces over the gathering. ¡°And wouldn¡¯t you know it, It is true!¡±


    ¡°The token is in your mouth!¡± The children accused him, and the soldier leaned forward, opening his mouth so they could inspect his fangs. ¡°Not there! Where?! Cheater! He swallowed it!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s right here.¡± Bogdan pulled the token from under the girl¡¯s tentacle. ¡°Here, little one. A gift from the Spirits! You want to be impressed?¡± He asked the small crowd, and more than one cub clapped their hands in anticipation. ¡°I am somewhat of a stylish juggler.¡± Bogna pulled an empty shardgun¡¯s container casing from under a table and tossed it into the air. ¡°Now it is not a difficult trick¡­¡± He added another casing and juggled them with one paw. ¡°¡­I can tell by your reaction. A really skilled juggler can do this and even look away,¡± Bogdan said, never breaking eye contact from the empty casings.


    Janine grinned at hearing the giggles, understanding what her son was doing. The cubs were scared, worried, taken to an unfamiliar place, and surrounded by the soldiers and the Wolfkins. Her boys had their own ways of calming down such a crowd. Bertruda asked something, but to her, the sword saint¡¯s words were just an annoying buzz, and the warlord decided to enjoy the show.


    ¡°But two seems a little too easy, am I right, cubbies?¡± Bogdan grinned and took a third metal casing from his pocket. ¡°Watch and be amazed as I place a third one into the pattern!¡± The crowd erupted in laughter, and some even spilled their drinks as Bogdan used his free paw to hold the third casing behind the ones he was juggling. ¡°Cool, yeah? Ain¡¯t no one can match it¡­¡± The casings dropped from his paws as he spotted Ignacy easily juggling eight casings while winking at the cubs. ¡°What a tasteless show-off.¡± Bogdan shook his head at the children¡¯s thunderous laughter. Even some soldiers and settlers joined in on the fun.


    Bogdan spun and confronted a child who remained silent. ¡°Now why are you silent, little one?¡± The cub, a boy who had a rectangular eye and a pincer instead of one hand, kept silence, and the Wolfkin slipped under the table and lay on his stomach in front of him. ¡°Don¡¯t make me make puppy eyes,¡± he said, his amber eyes peering up at the child¡¯s face from below.


    ¡°Mom¡­¡± the boy¡¯s lips trembled. ¡°I miss her. A screamer ripped her arm off. Will she be okay?¡±


    ¡°Of course she will!¡± Kirk grabbed the boy and sat him on his back. ¡°She¡¯ll get an awesome, shiny new prosthetic!¡± He grimaced and patted his rider. ¡°Don¡¯t touch my e-ears, please; they h-hurt a bit. Hold on to the n-neck; it¡¯s sturdy!¡±


    ¡°What is a prosthetic?¡± asked a tiny girl, putting a finger in her mouth.


    ¡°It¡¯s a complex piece of machinery that is surgically implanted into the body. Its sensors and wires are connected directly to the nerves and¡­¡± Ignacy began explaining.


    ¡°It is a metallic limb, like the one my brother has!¡± Bogdan interrupted and clapped his paws. ¡°An unrivaled might, capable of punching holes in walls! Imagine how awesome it is to have such a toy! A gleaming metal form, housing tons of fantastic tools! Ignacy, show the flaming sword!¡±


    ¡°Is it wise¡­¡±


    ¡°Flaming sword! Flaming sword!¡± the crowd chanted, and Ignacy smiled, taking a step back. He swung his metal arm dramatically around as his paw transformed into the flamethrower and pointed at the ceiling. But only a small fire appeared, no larger than a finger.


    ¡°You may be wondering why we have a flaming fart instead of a flaming sword,¡± Bogdan addressed the audience. ¡°So am I. What the Abyss, Ignacy?¡±


    ¡°Built-in safety systems,¡± Ignacy said. ¡°Back to the juggling!¡±


    Janine felt better as Kirk¡¯s brother and sister joined Elzada in entertaining the Normies¡¯ cubs. Bogdan was a miracle worker. Despite his reluctance to even glance at the sitting Kalaisa, Kirk¡¯s shaking had subsided. He even asked Bogdan to teach him how to spit two casings into the air, and the two males amused the crowd by firing up their projectiles and catching them in their mouths, until Kirk accidentally swallowed one to the cubs¡¯ applause. He bowed and permitted the little one to ride him. The supportive network of friends gave the male another chance at living a fulfilling life, and Janine wished him well and a mate to bring him dozens of cubs to raise.


    The Dragena and Alpha packs sent their representatives to commend those who alongside their comrades. A wolf hag from the Alpha Pack grabbed a quiet Anji by the shoulder and sat her down, calmly telling her something. Kalaisa raised an eyebrow at such a sign of weakness but, surprisingly, didn¡¯t mock or provoke her rival. Physical healing could only go so far. Even the Wolfkins occasionally required care to continue their journey through life.


    We are kin. All of us.


    An Investigation Bureau agent came over and thanked the group for babysitting the children. He joined the group, asking questions and typing in the children¡¯s names to ensure their safety during transportation.


    ¡°Degenerates! Morons!¡± Chak arrived, his needle-sharp legs tapping as he led a host of Wolfkins from various packs, including three Ice Boys. Bertruda finally shut up, widening her crimson eyes at the military police escorting the group. None of the newcomers had any injuries, but their prosthetics sparked from disrepair. ¡°You have been granted technological marvels, and you dare treat them like an afterthought? Do you even know how much it cost, you flea-ridden, ingrate idiots?¡± Chak rose to the ceiling and turned his upper body to face the two Wolfkins. One was an Ice Boy, the other a member of Ygrite¡¯s pack. Both growled, frustrated at the insults. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare raise voices, pathetic miscreants! I don¡¯t need any help to teach you a lesson you won¡¯t forget!¡±


    Janine chuckled, earning a stern look from Bertruda, who quickly turned to glare at the Order¡¯s Wolfkins, understanding that one of them was from her household. After seeing the state of the artificial limbs in Ygrite¡¯s pack, Janine went straight to the captain and voiced her concerns about the risk to the soldiers¡¯ health and the potential hindrance in a combat situation. Cristobo promised to rectify the situation and ordered Chak to conduct a full inspection. Upon finding any damage or malfunctioning in a limb, the soldier was dragged to the medical bay to be checked for a potential infection.


    Even seeing so many of her own kind here, it was comforting to know that the Ice Boys weren¡¯t so flawless either. And it was somewhat adorable to see a white-furred boy lose his temper like his cousin.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be resting, Chief Quartermaster? Surely, someone else could take on this task,¡± Janine asked innocently.


    ¡°In this mess?¡± Chak grumbled, watching over the group like a worried mother hen in fear of losing her chicks. ¡°If warlords and sword saints can¡¯t control their ranks, then fine, I¡¯ll be a good boy and solve this problem properly, not permitting any coddling for these insipid meatheads and ensuring that my men have a semblance of rest at my expense.¡±


    Huh-huh, you only want to sleep beside one woman only, bastard. Janine thought sourly. There was another reason why Chak had come here.


    A synthetic voice called their names, and they entered the medical bay, greeted by a thick smell of anesthetics. The stench was so strong that Janine frowned and asked a group of medics to assist Bertruda. Activity was in full swing inside the compartment. Doctors used automatic drills and saws to cut pieces of molten stone and metal from the patients; nurses toiled hard, fighting to stop bleeding and rescue the less severely wounded; medical equipment beeped loudly as the horribly burned and maimed bodies stubbed by countless sensors floated in life-preserving capsules¡ªeverything told that the poor personnel hadn¡¯t had an easy night so far.


    Wolf Hag Sarkeesian was being attended to by two doctors who were busy installing what appeared to be a set of industrial drills into her fangless maw. The wall beside her was transparent, showing Dragena, dressed in a green robe and wearing medical goggles, who led an autopsy on a raider¡¯s corpse. Ashbringer and Onyxia observed the procedure. Curious, Janine approached the glass, for the first time seeing her enemies naked as they hung in the cold storage.


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    Males and females shared similarities: a vast excess of fat on a well-built body. She could tell, despite their missing limbs and gaping wounds, that the excess fat on their well-built bodies was not the result of a decadent lifestyle. Their limbs were elastic, their upper bodies bent easily, and their shoulders were on an even level. There was no sign of the scoliosis so common in sedentary, farming, or mining lifestyles. These were warriors born for conquest¡ªNew Breeds who evolved from the Normies, but some were bigger than the rest.


    Dragena cut open the arms, examining the hardy muscles that allowed the raiders to prove such a threat to the Wolfkins males. Inside the chest were an enlarged heart and two lungs¡ªnothing out of the ordinary for a New Breed. Till Ingo¡¯s student pointed at the bone structure, drawing the warlord¡¯s attention to the similarities to bulls and cusacks, a body shape that distributed kinetic damage evenly around the skin, shielding the head and the rest of the body from the most vicious collisions. Dragena thanked the man and continued the vivisection, intent on prying every secret from the corpses.


    Onyxia picked up a discarded stomach, sniffed it, and tasted the contents.


    ¡°This hydrochloric acid can easily break down metals. No trace of human flesh, familiar meat, unknown drinks¡­ Not cannibals,¡± Onyxia declared, tossing the organ back. ¡°There is nothing for me to work with. We need a prisoner. Had I¡¯d been in the field, such incompetence wouldn¡¯t have happened¡­¡±


    ¡°But you weren¡¯t,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°You talk a lot about incompetence for someone who was too late to answer the call. Is that an example you want to set for future generations, or are you going senile from old age?¡±


    Onyxia blankly stared at her named sister, filling Janine with unease. Even for a warlord, Ashbringer¡¯s words reeked of frivolity when spoken to a first-generation sister. But then the shadow warlord laughed: ¡°True! Rude, but true!¡±


    ¡°I speak how it is,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°Don¡¯t deal in whats; deal in the here and now.¡±


    ¡°Leave someone alive next time, Janine,¡± Onyxia said, grinning. ¡°Pretty please.¡±


    ¡°Enough, sisters.¡± Dragena quickly gave a nod to Janine and Bertruda and resumed her gruesome business. ¡°The situation did not allow enough room for maneuvering. Janine performed the mission exemplarily. You heard names, and we know that the prey was trying to capture civilians to sell them. We saw the vehicles and the beasts they used. Thanks to Onyxia, we know they aren¡¯t cannibals. Judging by the use of weapons and power armor, they have an industrial base of sorts. Plenty of information from one encounter. Set packs loose, get slavers, make them sing. Someone, somewhere, knows about this Gilded Horde. Take note,¡± she said to a nearby nurse, ¡°of the similarity of their organs. My theory is that rather than evolving from an accidental exposure to the glow, they are a group of New Breeds.¡±


    ¡°Please follow me,¡± asked a medic, and Bertruda and Janine obliged.


    On their way, they came across the mauled male from Camelia¡¯s pack. The beast¡¯s brutal slamming had rendered part of his body paper thin, and the poor soul still lived thanks to the machines in the emergency room. His amber eyes pleaded for a swift release of death, but his healer was of another opinion.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall giving you permission to die under my command, soldier,¡± Camelia said. ¡°Perhaps you will refresh my memory later over a cup of tea.¡±


    The Sword Saint donned the green medical hazmat suit and operated on the Wolfkin, moving far faster than most automatic machines, surgically joining torn arteries. Camelia¡¯s paws blurred over the patient, and Janine witnessed the Gentle Star, as patients had called the sword saint before, in action. All sword saints had performed one of many spiritual tasks prior to accepting their title. First had claimed two hundred lives in a span of twenty heartbeats, fulfilling the Quest of the Death Bringer. Bertruda had supposedly finished the Quest of Compassion, which involved surrendering her earthy possessions and serving half a year as a simple laborer in the poorest soup kitchens. Camelia had completed the Oath of Healing, dedicating her life to mastering the arts of medicine, and she continued to practice even after achieving her rank.


    What should have been done by a team of experts, Camelia did on her own. She cleaned the wounds from the bone dust, stopped the bleeding, and worked on the ruined organs, preparing them for artificial replacement.


    Janine felt a sense of relief when she spotted Anissa resting in a bed, her slightly swollen right eye socket now adorned with a crimson eye. During the operation, the surgeon had removed the fur around her right eye, giving the wolf hag a rather ridiculous appearance, as if someone had given her an impressive black eye. Her eyelid had a bit of trouble closing around the metal, and a doctor gently pushed the camera deeper in its shell.


    The doctors had completed the most difficult part of the operation, reviving and connecting the long damaged optic nerve to the artificial eye. Now only the lone doctor and Marco were with Anissa. Marco was retelling Bogdan¡¯s jokes in a cracking voice and kept asking if his sister felt as if she had lost a part of her soul yet, to which she laughed and answered that all was fine. The boy also assisted the doctor by showing his sister images from a medical terminal. Anissa used her mechanical eye to tell if she could see the image clearly or not, and the doctor adjusted if blurriness hindered her vision.


    This was just the first part of the recovery process. Once the artificial eye was calibrated enough for static pictures, Anissa will have to undergo grueling training to test her vision on fast-moving targets.


    ¡°I can wait until you check up on your daughter,¡± Bertruda offered.


    ¡°Drop the small talk!¡± Janine growled, walking toward her destination. ¡°Wolf Hag Anissa is perfectly fine and in good company. To suggest that any Wolfkin needs comfort is an insult to the tribe! We weather any peril without a world of complaint!¡±


    ¡°What about it, then?¡± Bertruda coughed and elegantly pointed a finger.


    Warlord Eled had an entirely different situation. Maxence and his crew tended to her, removing her remaining eye as the warlord¡¯s granddaughter held her by the paw. A cloned replacement, two yellow orbs, waited in a bubbling vat. Such was their value that imperfection was not allowed for the sword saints and warlords.


    Arms, legs, internal organs¡ªcloned parts of their bodies rested in the storage. Unlike Iterna, cloning limbs in the Reclamation Army were obscenely expensive, but the state spared no expense, paying astronomical costs so a maimed A-Class New Breed could be returned to the field in a matter of months instead of years.


    ¡°Shit. I liked my previous set of eyes,¡± Eled complained as a metal appendage slid underneath the space between her eye and the socket.


    ¡°Then you shouldn¡¯t have acted like a careless bum and actually paid attention to the battlefield,¡± her granddaughter yawned.


    ¡°Hey! Weren¡¯t you supposed to provide comfort and care?¡±


    ¡°Care, yeah. Comfort, Abyss, no. I ain¡¯t no pussy. Wanna water?¡±


    ¡°Ungrateful pup! I lie on my deathbed and you dare speak so harshly? Bring me booze so I can drown my sorrows for helping to raise such a fiend!¡±


    ¡°No booze,¡± Maxence said, operating the manipulator and pulling out the damaged eye.


    ¡°Merciless tyrant! I may be dying here! What if I never be able to play a harp again!¡±


    ¡°Stop being so dramatic,¡± Eled¡¯s granddaughter asked.


    ¡°Never!¡±


    ¡°You are doing it to embarrass me. Doc, is there any chance you can prescribe her suppository vitamins?¡±


    ¡°What?! My own flesh and blood! Doctor, I am a warlord; I order you to prescribe her suppository pills.¡±


    ¡°Will you two shut up?¡± Maxence pressed a button and cutters moved closer to the nerves and arteries connecting the extracted eye to the body.


    Blushing from shame, Janine dragged the chuckling sword saint after herself to the west side, where the situation was calmer, and they paused before the doors leading to the rejuvenation chamber. With a soft hiss, the door opened, revealing First and Alpa suspended inside two great spheres. Both leaders curled into a fetus position and were submerged in the restorative fluids, receiving a more advanced form of rejuvenation than the one that was available for shamans and sages. The latter received a rejuvenation injection, but the former had every cell in their body turn younger under a more sophisticated process.


    Whereas First was elegant even now, Alpha had trouble fitting inside her own sphere because of the oversized claws. Her crimson hair covered her like a cloak.


    The spheres opened, the sensor needles left the patients¡¯ bodies, and the two landed, one as nimble as a dancer, the other shaking the floor like an artillery shell. A torrent of fluid spread on the floor, gathering in recesses. First spread his arms, letting the nurses wipe him clean, while Alpha knelt so a nurse could tie up her hair in a topknot.


    ¡°Marvelous, simply marvelous job.¡± First smiled. ¡°Ah, the procedure is always so stimulating! My friends, you have outdone yourselves. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Sweetest Alpha, I have procured a bottle of wine from the fabled Sol¡¯s Vineyard, no less! How about you and I share it in privacy?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t care,¡± Alpha responded. ¡°Go and drink yourself to death alone.¡±


    ¡°Such a taste is not meant to be enjoyed with anyone but the dearest friends!¡± First¡¯s fur had dried up, and he bowed to Janine and Bertruda, inviting two squares to dress him in his voluminous white, purple and golden robes. ¡°Milady Alpha, just imagine orbital platforms circling around the very sun itself, built for the sole purpose of producing the finest beverages in the entire system. Its numerous platforms, doomed during the Extinction, rained down upon the planet, and its noble gifts, created by some of the finest winemakers, remain highly sought even today. A mere sip of it reminds me of meeting a sunny morning in my mother¡¯s arms¡­ It brings tears to my eyes and joy to my soul! In some regions, you can buy an entire island for a single bottle of this beautiful drink!¡±


    ¡°I am trying to quit smoking, First. Replacing one detrimental habit with another is hardly a beneficial trade-off. Shut your trap and join me in the command center if you are ready to be useful. We need to find out who these bastards were and peel their skin off, piece by piece.¡±


    ¡°You have but to ask, my fearsome lady!¡± The grandmaster of the Order took Alpha¡¯s clothes from the nurses and hurried to help her dress.


    Good luck and all, but couldn¡¯t you find anyone¡­ less bitchy? Janine wondered, entering the first sphere, and the sensor needles pierced the skin close to her spine. The Spirits knew she was temperamental, but at this point, it was hard not to be sad about First¡¯s courtship of Alpha. And no one could quite understand why. Alpha wasn¡¯t beautiful: she lacked fur, her claws were the terrifying unretractable rending talons, and she had a foul temper. And then there was First, someone who made breath stay still even in the females of the Wolf Tribe, always pleasant and ready to help, with impeccable swordsmanship.


    Alpha loved might. Be it physical strength, cleverness of mind, stubbornness of self-improvement, or the ability to stand up after the most humiliating defeat. Her sense of duty was unparalleled; her pack held an elite rank by right, but Janine doubted that someone as First could ever win her heart. The two simply had nothing in common aside from being trusted comrades in arms.


    Janine took a deep breath and curled into a ball as the sphere closed and the rejuvenation solution began filling in. She experienced a brief moment of panic while breathing in the thick liquid, but her lungs adapted, and the process of rejuvenation began.


    Age was not for someone like her.


    Rejuvenation. A technology developed shortly before the Extinction. It reversed the aging of cells within an organism, granting agelessness. At set intervals mandated by the medics, all warlords, shamans, sages, and sword saints, along with a few exceptionally valuable New Breeds, like Anji, were to undergo this procedure and return to the prime of their lives. In this New World, the New Breeds, like Bertruda and Janine, were valued more than automatic weapons as they were mobile, thinking weapons of conquest capable of single-handedly carrying out the Dynast¡¯s will. To ensure their loyalty, they received numerous benefits and exemptions, but as with all positive things, there were also drawbacks. Their soulmates grew older, breaking their partners¡¯ hearts as nature took its course. To see your own cubs grow older than you, to see them dead before you, to see your dear comrades wither and die, leaving you all alone on the road to a better future¡­ It wounded their hearts like no spear ever could. This, too, was part of their sacrifice to the state.


    Broken? She remembered Ravager¡¯s words. I am whole, Blessed Mother. A hunk of steel forged into a sword for the state. I am complete and my destiny is set. But you? You are a sea of gems, scattered from a secure case, precious beyond all worth, and once assembled and displayed, priceless.


    Closing her eyes, Janine has allowed the machines to work, let her conscience wander into the past, remembering her soulmates once more, and they greeted her, smiling, concerned, or happy. I am sorry, blood of my soul. I can¡¯t open my heart to another yet or join you. Forgive me, for there is a journey ahead of me.

 Chapter 40: Deciding to Change

    Anger. Anger was something Kalaisa knew very well. She had experienced it ever since her worthless, good-for-nothing parents died in some ditch she couldn¡¯t even name. Not a day went by without her being enraged at the need to dominate opposition in the pits, clean cusacks¡¯ shit, and pour milk into her siblings¡¯ ungrateful, useless mouths instead of sleeping and recovering. It helped her through the worst, both the bane of her existence and the reason for her rash actions, as well as a fiery drive that got her back on her feet.


    But after that bitch had cracked her bones, the rage¡­ lessened, as if released from a punctured balloon. She still intended to see Ashbringer eat dirt, of course, just not right now. She wasn¡¯t fit to lead a larger pack, not when her own was inferior. Anger also helped Kalaisa do things she wouldn¡¯t normally do, and as she stormed across the corridor, seething with embarrassment, it was rage that gave her enough humility to carry out her plan.


    She knocked on the Bootlicker¡¯s door, cringing at the ridiculous portrait of a caped moron raising a hand to a moonlight sky that was clumsily painted over the gray metal. She agonized over her worries, cursing herself since she saw firsthand that Bootlicker was fine, and she wanted to cry from the need to admit an inferiority in anything.


    Spirits. Never asked a thing of you. Make her snap so I can snap her. Kalaisa¡¯s broken arm still hurt, but she could swing it.


    ¡°Open!¡± a voice said from the other side, and Kalaisa entered, blinking from a sudden shock.


    The interior wasn¡¯t what she had expected. The wolf hags were given proper cabins, often too big for their belongings. Kalaisa herself had a couple blades made from the slit-like forelegs of insectoid warriors, a couple of bags filled with the junk she collected from the dead slavers, some trophies, including the skull of her first victim, and knives.


    Anji¡¯s room was brightly lit by a set of blue lamps placed on wooden posts; a sizeable wardrobe, that was once a crate, hid one wall; posters of the already familiar caped figure covered the other walls, depicting a white-haired woman surrounded by a yellow lightning halo. The unknown wench often flew alongside several colorfully dressed people or battled vicious monsters, blasting them back into gaping cosmic rifts. A rich leather jacket dotted by smiling badges lay over a made bed next to a similar skirt. On a bedside table was a photograph of a happy family. In it, a young, white-haired wolfkin girl pumped her fists to the sky, surrounded by cubs and her mother and father.


    Privileged bitch. Still-living parents. Caring sisters and brothers. Flawless. Why? Why never her, why always others¡­ Kalaisa brushed off the frustrations. Impossible to change, so why bother?


    Anji sat cross-legged on the floor, her tongue sticking out as she painted the top of her helmet white.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Kalaisa demanded to know. Did the fool fall for an Ice Fang?


    ¡°Wanna be as Lightning whip.¡± Anji pointed to a poster with a brush. There, the electric woman wore a black bodysuit and a cape of the same color, fastened by a jade pin, draped over her shoulders. The top of her helmet was broken, and a mane of white hair stuck skyward for some reason. ¡°She¡¯s a superhero who protects young and old and zaps the bad guys!¡±


    ¡°You believe in these delusions? In the fairy tales for cubs? Grow up,¡± Kalaisa sniggered. ¡°Superheroes do not exist.¡±


    ¡°Well, duh, or the world wouldn¡¯t suck so much still. Fictional or real, good ideals are worth adhering to.¡±


    ¡°What are you painting it white for, anyway? I saw you in battle; it was already that color!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the strange thing! Every time I return it to the armory, it comes back pitch black. No idea who keeps pranking me.¡± Anji put the brush aside. ¡°So what¡¯cha came for?¡±


    ¡°Iuargugh¡­.¡± It hurt to say the words; the cringe alone threatened to choke her out. Kalaisa controlled her rage and spat words into Anji¡¯s confused snout. ¡°I came to check up on you. You were weird in the med bay.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t know you cared,¡± Anji said slowly.


    ¡°Was it my fault?¡± Kalaisa stomped at another wave of surprise that coursed through Anji¡¯s muzzle. ¡°Just tell me! Have I fucked up everything again with my request for lives?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Anji softened and smiled. ¡°Your request was good! It whipped me into shape, and I murdered those bastards who dared to hurt innocents! Their bones cracking was like music to my ears!¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re talking!¡± Kalaisa cheered her on to keep going, encouraged by a flash of life that had scared her before by its disappearance. ¡°Don¡¯t know what is bothering you, but howl it out! Go on, roar to your heart¡¯s content! Howl your rage, and let the Spirits know of your victory! Rejoice in overcoming an obstacle and¡­¡± Anji smiled, and Kalaisa sulked at such a lack of bloodthirst. ¡°You¡¯re strange.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for caring, Kalaisa. I feel better. Truly.¡±


    She wanted to storm out. She hated, despised hearing these words from this weakling, from a rival destined to grovel at her feet. What could Anji know, anyway? But Kalaisa made a promise and let the Spirits rot her alive if she changed a set course.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Kalaisa narrowed her eyes. ¡°I¡­ I need a favor. You¡­ You¡¯ve been to cities before? Like Houstad?¡±


    ¡°Nothing like Houstad,¡± Anji answered. ¡°However, Da and Ma often took me, my bros and my little sisters to help in the settlements. You know, clean up a road, fix a broken leg¡­¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t know.¡± The corner of Kalaisa¡¯s mouth twitched. Asking, begging, pleading¡­ She wasn¡¯t cut out for it. She conquered, taking what she wanted! ¡°I¡¯ve never had much to do with the Normies. They¡¯re weak.¡± She paced nervously, and the room suddenly resembled a cage to her. ¡°Listen, there¡¯s something wrong about my temper, and it¡¯s ruining my pack. Martyshkina gave me an address of soothsayers¡­ therapists in Houstad. They can unfuck your brain or something. And I need it to become normal. Really. Or I¡¯ll keep failing the pack. But I have no idea how to approach them, what to wear, what to say¡­¡±


    ¡°I see, I see.¡± Anji smiled. ¡°You want my expertise. It¡¯ll cost you.¡±


    ¡°Name your price.¡±


    ¡°Let me paint your claws.¡± Anji pressed her paws together. ¡°A girl must look lovely.¡±


    Kalaisa had half a mind to kick into this serene face and shatter the mocking features. But something¡ªshe wasn¡¯t certain what¡ªheld her leg. Happy¡­ Am I happy? The granny¡¯s spiel kept pestering her at nights. What does it mean to be happy? Is there anything better than to see another female prostrate herself to your mercy and hear the loser¡¯s lamentations?


    And yet¡­ The worthless Kirk never dominated anyone; the fool was too weak; he wouldn¡¯t have survived this long if not for her. He looked different, helping the granny¡¯s whelps. Stronger. If cooperation could transcend an individual¡¯s limits, then it was a sacrifice she had to make.


    She stretched a paw towards Anji and released her claws.


    ¡°Do it.¡±


    ¡°Wow, you really are serious,¡± Anji whistled. ¡°Well, it¡¯s only fair to warn you what you are signing up for.¡±


    She raised a finger, and Kalaisa recoiled in horror. The¡­ thing that slipped from the pocket of the wolf hag¡¯s finger hardly resembled a claw. Dirt or gore did not cover the noble white of the bone, but a radioactive hue did. Orange, green, purple, yellow, soft reds and blues, and shades of brown flickered into view as the finger turned.


    ¡°What the fuck is this?¡± Kalaisa yelled.


    ¡°Not my fault! I did everything according to the manual!¡± Anji shouted back in panic.


    ¡°I never painted claws, and even I am aware you aren¡¯t supposed to use this many colors! Spirits, I have a headache from mere looking at it!¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know it?! It¡¯s the nail polish, it must be spoiled or something! My hairspray never caused such a mess!¡±


    ¡°You dyed your hair?!¡±


    ¡°What, you thought I turned ashen this young?!¡± Anji touched her braids and took a breath. ¡°Okay, so we are in agreement. This is the pits. Listen, I was yanking your chain; you don¡¯t owe me anything. Marco is soon about to drop by for our pet project; how about you stay and we¡¯ll talk? I promise not to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°As if a weakling like you ever could!¡± Kalaisa bared her fangs.


    ¡°Who is being delusional now?¡± Anji asked playfully.


    Kalaisa wanted to leave and slam the door so hard that the metal would bend. But that would be an admission of cowardice. And there was nothing left in the world to scare her. She decided to change and let the Spirits curse and rage, change she will or die trying.


    ¡°I¡¯m game. Have anything to drink?¡±


    ****


    ¡°I thank you for graciously accepting my invitation,¡± said Sword Saint Camelia.


    ¡°It was proper,¡± replied Impatient One.


    They were in the private dining room of the sage supreme, who served the Wintersong household. The sword saints had donated their residences on the crawler to house the little ones brought aboard, and Camelia apologized for the inappropriate meeting place. Upon examining the room, the shaman failed to understand the hidden meaning of her words.


    White marble slabs covered the floor, utterly hiding the metal. Above them lay heavy carpets to prevent guests¡¯ legs from feeling any discomfort, and a rich tapestry woven into them told of various episodes in the life of the Wintersongs, from their founding to the rise of Camelia as a matriarch. Magnificent jade statues of the Twins and a smaller Ravager holding a rising sun stood guard over a soft-looking bed hidden by a dark canopy that fell from four posts. Impatient One never met the Twins, but the unknown artist somehow managed to breathe life into the green stone, and the rubies that served them for eyes shone like the morning sun.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The room unnerved the shaman a little, but not because of needless opulence in the form of pictures and statues that barely fit in the requisitioned den. There were no scent marks, nothing reminding of the sage supreme, and nothing coming from the items that belonged to the sword saint. Camelia and a line of her servants, initiates who were trained to learn obedience and diligence, smelled of strong and soft perfumes, pleasing to the nose, but utterly void in terms of telling a character. There was something portentous about seeing a reflection of a Wolfkin, different in fur color and alien in habits.


    Their physical differences ran even deeper. The Wolfkins of the Wolf Tribe had mouths full of fangs, but the Ice Fang Order¡¯s Wolfkins had front canines and the rest of their teeth resembled those of normal humans. Weaker claws, a clumsy walk on all fours, a lack of scent¡­ Impatient One did not share her sister¡¯s concerns about a potential betrayal of the Order, as Lacerated One herself had conveyed Ravager¡¯s desire to preserve the Ice Fangs to the newest shamans. Nor did she hold a grudge over the lesser representation of the Blessed Mother in the Ice Fangs sculptures. It was a miracle that the two groups even accepted each other as relatives; small differences were of no consequence.


    But she was wary and suspicious of them. Bertruda took a clear advantage by stealing a title in a most dishonorable manner. The Wolf Tribe was the one bleeding in wars while the Order was building its strength. Their denial of information led to deaths during the evacuation from Techno-Queen¡¯s domain. An accident could be a simple coincidence. Several was a pattern.


    At a snap of the sword saint¡¯s fingers, a youth in a black tuxedo approached and poured drinks into their glasses.


    ¡°Are you comfortable in these?¡± Impatient One asked, pointing to his black shoes.


    The youth glanced at the sword saint, who nodded elegantly, not once ringing the jewelry woven into her fur. ¡°Of course, lady. The material is not rigid, it is flexible enough that I can easily grasp a feather with my index and big toes.¡± He lifted his leg, showing how the leather of his shoe moved to accommodate the movements of his fingers. ¡°I can demonstrate¡­¡± Camelia¡¯s cough led to him changing in face and retreating in a bow.


    ¡°Pardon the excitement of the youth.¡± Camelia sniffed her wine, savoring its aroma, and took a sip. ¡°I fear the wartime has left our manners somewhat lacking. I will endeavor to address this shortcoming.¡±


    ¡°I asked a question, and the cub answered. You obstruct his growth.¡±


    ¡°You do not approve the servitude?¡± Camelia clarified.


    ¡°Manual labor breeds cooperation and obedience. Healthy traits for anyone. It is your useless melodramatics over changing the permitted limits on a whim that irritates me,¡± Impatient One said bluntly. ¡°If you gave him permission to speak freely, let him talk and learn instead of crippling himself by pointlessly guessing your intentions.¡±


    ¡°A little hesitation can help learn restraint.¡±


    ¡°Hesitation is fatal on a battlefield. It is deadly in an area surrounded by wildlife. Be a better teacher and clearly explain the boundaries to the wards to eliminate guesswork.¡± The shaman clinked glasses with the sword saint and drank in full. ¡°Why have you summoned me?¡±


    Two women sat at a table with exotic dishes. Impatient One was dressed in the finest garments permitted by her rank: a sturdy brown jacket and patched lizard-skin pants. Unfamiliar pieces of meat, soaked in a sweet, pale sauce, floated in bowls before her, and thin steam drifted from the dishes. She snatched at the meat with the tips of her claws, drawing surprised gasps from the attending personnel as she ignored knives and forks. She paid no mind to their curiosity and indulged herself, remembering the pleasant taste against the palate and the lack of nourishment in those chopped pieces. Treats for cubs and little else. Waste of efforts to prepare.


    Camelia dressed herself in a long, smoky gray dress that left her neck and shoulders bare and had a slice that left one leg open. Her sword was sheathed and securely fastened at her side, and the sword saint curiously examined a baked cake the shaman had brought. It wasn¡¯t required, but Impatient One thought it justly for both sides to share food. A silver fork poked through the soft crust, and Camelia cut a piece of the delicacy and closed her eyes, chewing on the meat and bread.


    ¡°Rough and soft, the crust is tender yet crisp, and me, oh my, just the right amount of spice is used to season the meat. It¡¯s like the flame of a campfire, warm and comforting.¡± She opened her eyes. ¡°My sincere gratitude for the unusual sensation. You have a gift for cooking, Lady Impatient One.¡±


    ¡°The credit goes to Colt. His recipe, his teaching,¡± Impatient One replied in between licking a bowl clean of liquid. Unusual. Sour, but rich in vitamins.


    ¡°Lady, you shouldn¡¯t eat from this bowl!¡± exclaimed a young initiate. ¡°The lemon bowl is for washing your fingers.¡±


    ¡°Silly cub, everyone knows you use your tongue for that.¡± Impatient One rolled her eyes at her interlocutor¡¯s ringing laughter. Bunch of weirdos.


    Colt. Yennifer missed him. Impatient One wasn¡¯t a hypocrite, and she acknowledged that she still harbored a part of Yennifer, a part of her psyche responsible for coddling her brothers and providing allowances to the lower ranks. There was a long way to go before she could truly be a dispassionate judge worthy of the tribe¡¯s trust.


    So many duties she had performed, and yet the simplest hurt the worst. On the nights before the culling, she and Nissi had begged him to leave the tribe and find happiness elsewhere, but the stupid male had refused. Colt¡¯s stubbornness was part of his charm and a trait she inherited from him. He laughed at his first botched cooking attempt, telling Mother that he hadn¡¯t failed; he¡¯d just found a way that didn¡¯t work. Colt never stopped halfway; when he decided to master something, he studied it thoroughly and wasn¡¯t afraid to ask for help. On the night when Mother grieved about the lost cubs of her latest litter and cradled the barely alive Marco, Impatient One lost to Yennifer, and they cooked dinner together for the family.


    This was the last time they felt truly at home. Colt was old then, but he tried his best to hide it to ease Nissi¡¯s and Yennifer¡¯s worries. Soon after, he was gone, and there was a hole in the family. A hole left by her paw.


    Dad. Why did you have to grow older? Why did you have to decide to stay? Haven¡¯t you done enough? Didn¡¯t you and Mom deserve a rest? Impatient One and Yennifer shook their head, regaining composure. Colt was a shining example of how the lowest of the low in the tribe¡¯s social hierarchy performed his duty flawlessly. She had no right to let him down. Too sweet. The food was rich in vitamins, but its sweetness brought unwanted thoughts. Fine for grieving.


    ¡°There is much we can learn from each other.¡± Camelia raised a glass of wine. ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered why our cousins can take bites and scratches easier than I.¡±


    ¡°Even cubs know the answer to this question!¡± Impatient One laughed. She turned to the initiates and spotted the girl who played with Marco the most. The cub stood so uncharacteristically quiet, putting her paws over the long black skirt. Almost a different person compared to all the times the two cubs rolled around in the dirt. ¡°You there! Answer the question.¡±


    ¡°Yes, lady,¡± the initiate answered at Camelia¡¯s nod. ¡°Our cousins¡¯ skin is loose and baggy. It is also rather thick, almost like they¡¯re wearing a suit, and when you close your fangs on their necks, they squirm and bite back¡­¡±


    ¡°Bite back?¡± Camelia gently inquired, and the girl fell silent. ¡°Correct me if I am incorrect, Cordelia, but there is only one playmate from whom you could have gleaned this knowledge in such an unladylike manner, and he is far younger than you and is unwell¡­¡±


    ¡°Let the cubs play and explore!¡± Impatient One slammed a palm over the table, drawing attention back to herself. ¡°Perhaps they¡¯ll form a real team, unfettered by the distrust plaguing certain elders.¡±


    ¡°A fair notion.¡± Camelia took a jab about Leonidas¡¯ and Macarius¡¯ headlong charge rather well. ¡°I was even wilder in my innocent days. So many rightfully called me a brutish ruffian.¡± She placed a paw to her mouth. ¡°Ah, I feel a tingle of inadequacy after hearing the explanation.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Impatient One grumbled. ¡°Ice Fangs¡¯ muscles are amazingly elastic.¡±


    ¡°And how did you learn it? A secret lover, by any chance?¡±


    ¡°There is a boy from your tribe. A sage. Challenged me to full contact, no weapons duel, and I spent a good two minutes trying to break his arm.¡± The shaman chewed on meat and continued sourly. ¡°Never managed it. Flexible, ear-stabbing snake.¡±


    ¡°Why am I not surprised?¡± sighed Camelia. ¡°Impatient One. I¡¯ll be frank. I know that you have eaten human flesh.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± The shaman didn¡¯t refute the accusation. She had already reported it to the officers and received a formal reprimand.


    ¡°May I ask why? Is the flavor really so tempting?¡±


    ¡°You tell me. What do you think is in the cake?¡±


    Impatient One kept eating, pretending not to hear the horrified gasps of the initiates. The bloodlust filling the room was almost palpable; it was as if a great avalanche of stones had slammed into the shaman¡¯s body. Veins and muscles bulged on the Ice Fang¡¯s elegant body; she had set aside a fork, and a bright crimson light engulfed Impatient One, promising an imminent and inevitable demise. A vapor trail left the sword saint¡¯s lips. The sensation was pleasant and familiar, a genuine emotion unencumbered by the veneer of false civility. Marco was in good paws. The shaman ignored the paw that grasped the sword hilt until the last moment and then said: ¡°It was a jest.¡±


    ¡°It is fortunate, lady,¡± Camelia said icily. The crimson light in her eyes faded. She gestured for the initiates, and the male refilled their glasses. ¡°I would have slayed you otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I know. I wanted to see the real you,¡± the shaman grinned.


    Camelia ran a paw over her snout, calmed herself, and said: ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that the shamans are permitted to lie.¡±


    ¡°We are not. But nothing human is alien to us, so shamans are allowed to make jokes as long as they are directed at friends and do not leave them in the dark.¡±


    ¡°You count me as a friend, then?¡± Camelia asked.


    ¡°Foolish question,¡± the shaman grumbled. ¡°You fought beside us, saved a male¡¯s life, and treated him later. Who can you be, if not kin and a friend to our entire tribe, Sword Saint?¡±


    ¡°Sometimes I forget how different my distant family is,¡± Camelia said warmly, placing a palm over her heart. ¡°You honor me. But do tell, what sort of meat did you use?¡±


    Impatient One knew that this question would come, and it was still humiliating. But what could she do? Attending a peace parley empty-handed and not exchanging and sharing food would be an insult, a gesture of mistrust, and that was the best she could afford. She shrank back and admitted: ¡°Cusack leg.¡±


    ¡°Cusack?¡± The sword saint lifted a piece of a cake and touched the meat, tasting it again. ¡°But lady, surely I am a victim of your jest anew. It is too soft.¡±


    ¡°Tenderizing. Intense tenderizing,¡± Impatient One forced the words out. It was an understatement. Cusack meat was highly nutritious but notoriously known for its hardness, and Normies bred lizards as it was physically too hard for their children to chew on cusack steak. Impatient One applied a special technique Colt had taught her to soften it up.


    She had prepared a gift for Camelia, one of the wealthiest individuals in the Reclamation Army, using the cheapest and poorest quality ingredients available in the state. The ignominy of such a gesture was obvious. If Camelia wanted to incur a blood debt for such an insult, the shaman would pay it.


    The sword saint smiled brightly and kept eating: ¡°You simply must share the recipe. If we can mass-replicate the tenderizing method in factories, it has the potential to boost the sales of cusack rations. My nose and tongue don¡¯t lie; there¡¯s a profit to be made. For both of our groups. Speaking of which,¡± she said off-handedly, ¡°the matter of strained relationships incurred by an act of rash misunderstanding remains. Tell me, what is the procedure for transferring a title from one warlord to another in the Wolf Tribe? My knowledge of that matter is somewhat lacking.¡±


    Ah, so that is the reason for the invitation. Impatient One understood. Soulless One was right. The Ice Fangs liked to dance around an issue, never revealing their true intentions. Camelia did not invite her here to talk about her cannibalism or to build rapport; it was because of that cheater, Bertruda Mountaintop. She didn¡¯t want to help Janine, the Wolf Tribe, or Impatient One.


    The realization saddened her mood. What a fool she was, thinking that the Ice Fang wanted to bridge the relationships between the two groups. In her arrogance, she imagined herself as someone who could mend a chasm, so maybe their cousins could visit their villages and compete in dominations, and the Wolf Tribe could do the same. Idiot. All the Ice Fangs cared for were themselves and no one else. They can be trusted on a battlefield, no matter the superstitions of the older shamans. But in times of peace¡­ They didn¡¯t care about Janine; they cared that one of their own had sullied her honor and brought shame to the household by attacking the wounded. That is what they wanted to fix¡ªto be perfect in the eyes of others.


    ¡°Nothing can be done,¡± Impatient One said sternly. ¡°Warlord Janine lost fair and square and was stripped of her rank by the Blessed Mother. An honorable name is not a toy to be passed around. It is a thing of honor, a mark of achievement, and Sword Saint Bertruda has earned it tenfold for her actions. No one disputes her success.¡± The food no longer piqued her interest, and the shaman stood. ¡°I have had my fill. There is a penance for me to do.¡±


    ¡°Have I offended you in any way, Lady Impatient One¡­¡± Camelia asked, startled. Or pretending to be startled.


    ¡°You have not,¡± Impatient One assured her. ¡°You are a generous host, a staunch ally, and I wish your den and your bloodline peace and happiness. I was led astray by immaturity. I apologize for the unworthy joke, and I will send you the recipe. Consider it a gift from the Wolf Tribe.¡±


    She said her farewells to the initiates and thanked them for the food and service. There will be no understanding in this generation. But change is inevitable. What is impossible today may be an everyday reality tomorrow. Patience. She must have patience and do her duties.

 Chapter 41: A Blast from the Past, Part 1

    Tancred closed his eyes and listened to the deceptively dangerous silence of the desert. An intense tapping of needles against the stone and the cracking of pebbles signaled the beginning of an insectoid migration to better pastures. It was easy enough to paint a picture: a host of drones carrying the swollen, oversized body of their queen; nimble warriors serving as scouts, cutting down any failing to escape wildlife; and feeders sucking every ounce of flesh from the bones and carrying it to feed the queen.


    The wind rolled bleached bones across the sand; an occasional faint shriek marked the demise of a random beast, suffocated in quicksand pits or in the jaws of predators. He expanded his senses, straining his hearing to listen to the teeming desert. Caravanners, be they mercenaries or traders, exchanged jokes, relaxing after the day¡¯s heat. Workers performed maintenance, guards checked their gear, and cusacks snored, entrusting their survival to the group.


    Then he heard it. Erratic beeping of sensors coming from the canyon ahead and the swirl of sand flowing into it. Tancred opened his eyes; his enhanced vision pierced the night, the crimson light hidden by the lenses. A stretched hole in the ground, situated in the middle of the busy trading routes, connecting many settlements and villagers.


    He nodded to Zero, heaving his bardiche, the Judge, over his shoulder. Zero took the lead; her cloak tightly clung to her body, and armored boots stepped with the lightness of a fallen feather, avoiding announcing their approach by breaking a dried-up branch or a skull. Tancred followed, and they made their way through the jagged ruins of a long-dead civilization.


    Metropolises once spanned the area; below the immense coverage of sand were buried parks, hospitals, factories, apartments, research facilities, and bodies, of course. An entire nation died here, there, and over the mountain. The planet became a necropolis of sorts, where a weary traveler could not hope to find a spot bereft of tragedy and suffering.


    It wasn¡¯t all doom and gloom. The process of unearthing the lost knowledge continued. Researchers dusted off ashes from the rediscovered terminals, learning about lost technology, lost culture, or the last minutes of a terrifying population. Excavation crews opened bunker doors, uncovering cemeteries and occasionally trapped societies within. The Old World¡¯s technology was remarkable, and even after being diminished in knowledge over the course of their prolonged isolation and radiation- or glow-induced mutations, individuals remained human, and reunions occurred.


    But the sight of ruins and death served as a stark reminder of the price paid by the weak when their rulers failed to uphold their duty to serve as protectors. Never will I be found lacking when those bequeathed to my protection are in peril. Tancred swore to himself.


    The Ironwills had a long and rich history in the Order, albeit an uneasy one. They had lost three sword saints in rapid succession to poison and in a scramble against invaders. Tancred was twice elevated from the ranks of sages to the rank of Sword Saint against his will, and accepted the Judge in place of a gunhalberd. The relic seemed to hunger for him even when he passed it to a far-worthier candidate. He mourned and missed his lost liege, a young noble who died underneath Blood Graf¡¯s axe. Despite the gentle age, the former sword saint always knew the best course of action for the household and excelled in everything.


    He joined Lady Zero out of obligation and guilt. Deaths and injuries in duels between the Tribe and the Order were not uncommon, as brash hot-bloods sought to prove the superiority of their ways. But the wrinkle done by Bertruda and, by proxy, First was insulting. The grandmaster was supposed to mediate a delay to the duel. The Blessed Mother was as much a parent to the Order as the Twins were. They owed it to help their inferior cousins ascend and stand equal to the Ice Fangs.


    Tancred was bedecked in the modernized familial battle plate. Its overlapped plates, compact servomotors, and noise suppressors provided excellent agility, and the camouflage cloak hid him from prying eyes. The lenses of his helmet entered infiltration mode, no longer shining. He danced after Zero, evading collision with anything capable of emitting sound.


    Zero surprised and intrigued him. The Wolf Tribe favored a more direct approach, and yet she moved as if her suit was a second skin to her, neither creaking nor slipping to reveal her whereabouts. The elegance of her movements carried her easily over treacherous potholes or unstable ground, and not a single light reflected from the round shape of her helmet.


    She also didn¡¯t lead him. The warlord marked traps and indicated the approximate radius of the sensors¡¯ detection and placement, but she never guided him. Zero did not act maliciously; she had no soldiers to serve her, no servants to dress her in battle gear, and yet she maintained her position as supreme warlord. She never visited a medical bay for rejuvenation or did so in secret, never removing her helmet.


    Such an enigma perplexed the sword saint. Could she have horrifying scars on her snout? A missing nose, perhaps? Was she another victim of the Blessed Mother¡¯s poor mental state?


    Together, they weaved their way to the edge of the canyon, avoiding tripwire traps and motion sensors. Tancred¡¯s suspicions were proven correct. The unknown inhabitants had bored caves into the side of the canyon, and electric lights scared away the hesitant night predators. Automatic turrets, rusted and in various states of disrepair, waited to greet the larger beasts. Figures wearing sandy-colored cloaks led patrols, and Tancred¡¯s finger twitched as the light of a passing patrol revealed a familiar four-wheeler in a cave below.


    Tancred reserved himself for overseeing the martial and diplomatic duties of his household, entrusting his children to lead the economic part. His children prospered, becoming the owners of an influential company known for supplying light all-terrain vehicles to the nation and anyone willing to purchase them. The smugglers had a product bearing his crest.


    Zero leaped in, saying nothing, and Tancred slipped off the side of the canyon where the criminals had flattened it, covering the side with concrete to reinforce the ground¡¯s natural roof. The warlord was clearly aware of this location; she silently landed near the crates, circled around them, and concealed herself in the CCTV¡¯s blind spots. The sword saint held back his wrath and obliged the unspoken request. He crept after Zero, dodging the guards, partly disappointed by their inadequacy. Traders chatted in the open, eagerly commenting on the delivery of rare mechanical parts to excavation organizations, ways to smuggle highly dangerous prescribed medical drugs from the Core Lands, and the sale of art to private collections.


    Together, the two Wolfkins scaled to the canyon¡¯s bottom, evading detection. In places where it was impossible to pass the guards unnoticed, they used a cave to descend a level down. Each cave was connected to others through a network of tunnels. Many were far too small for a person in power armor to enter, and undoubtedly there were larger passages to evacuate some goods to safety in the event of an earthquake or attack. The builders used reinforced concrete to protect the place from invasion of underground predators, and Tancred sniffed the acrid stench of a ¡®scarecrow¡¯ concoction, a mixture of mass-produced animal secretions. Insectoids believed a rival hive inhabited this place, while regular monsters imagined their natural predators.


    Someone had constructed a nice complex here.


    Four ancient APCs stood at the bottom of the canyon, bearing the marks of patchwork repairs and what slavers called a flesh wagon, but as Tancred examined them, he understood that the cages for holding prisoners had been replaced by crates for additional goods, ready to be slid down into secret compartments to be hidden during an inspection.


    Zero slipped under the wagon easily, like a water flow underneath a rock. On the other side of the wagon, she and Tancred got out and stepped past fifteen guards patrolling around a cave that looked more like a stone house. Its walls were smooth, carpets covered the main entrance and windows, and industrial air conditioning worked in full force.


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    The warlord and the sword saint leapt into a window, barely encumbered by their weapons and gear. They rolled briefly across the floor, and Zero suddenly straightened and stretched. Her armor turned off the sound absorption, and a series of loud pops filled the room, rousing a man sitting behind a wooden desk, writing in a ledger instead of using a proper terminal.


    ¡°Zero, the sweetest sight for weary eyes!¡± The lanky man rose. The heat had removed any excess moisture he ever had, but his muscular frame remained despite the gray beard. A thin network of scars and a broken nose ruined his face. He wore a roomy dark robe and an anti-heat suit underneath. ¡°Welcome to my humble abode. What¡¯s mine is yours, the priceless pearl of the sands, but pray, do not enter like a sand-sea urchin. You risk giving me a heart attack. The arrival of a princess is more befitting your breathtaking excellence!¡±


    Tancred ignored the platitudes, alerted by the guards¡¯ worries outside. The man was no fool; he wasn¡¯t just trying to save face, but he had also informed his bodyguards that guests had arrived. The sword saint walked around the room, examining wooden shelves littered with the broken remains of artifacts of old. A brand new plasma rifle, powerful enough to damage even his armor, stood in a weapons rack. Such a tool was rare, even in the army, and cost a small fortune on the market. Zero wasn¡¯t wrong in bringing him here.


    ¡°Tancred Ironwill, meet Darazdast Siroosi, peddler of exotic goods.¡± Zero leaned on Darazdast¡¯s shoulder, and the man sat back in his chair to bear such a weight.


    ¡°A fabled sword saint has deemed it worthy to grace me with his presence!¡± The smile on the wizened, wrinkled face never wavered.


    ¡°The honor is all yours.¡± Taking the criminal up on his previous offer, Tancred snatched the ledger from the table and flipped through the pages, accelerating his perception of time to read and absorb information faster. Deals, bargains, debts to collect, no sudden influx of funds, just steady growth as the Wastes naturally turned more civilized¡­ ¡°The use of cancer treatment injections and anti-radiation drugs is mandated by the government or private clinics in the Core Lands. People can die from using them.¡±


    ¡°Those who purchase them have no other choice, oh illustrious icicle. They can either end their lives, die in excruciating agony, or take their chances by using the medicine. We merely provide the said chance to the unfortunate souls, my lord,¡± Darazdast said.


    ¡°And profiting from their suffering,¡± Tancred said, disgusted at the need to listen to such a creature. He heard noises outside and pulled aside a carpet from the front entrance to face dozens of weapons aimed at him. Most of them lowered their weapons at his sight, but two¡ªa terrified bear of a man carrying a shotgun and a steely-eyed, crimson-haired woman wielding a sonic pistol¡ªheld him at gunpoint. ¡°We are having a conversation. Do you mind?¡±


    ¡°Everything is fine, friends.¡± Darazdast smiled broadly and put his hands on his chest. ¡°Our unexpected but welcome guests and I are engaging in a civilized discussion. Aibeka and Jack, please be sweeties and bring us refreshments. Lumi¨¨re du matin to brighten up the occasion would do wonderfully.¡±


    Tancred took off his helmet, hiding the annoyance. This specific brand of wine was sold in the vineyards of his household. An irritant, but a well-informed one. Zero still clung to the smuggler, chatting and asking about various gang members like a long-lost friend, but he sat at a table away, hearing the chair creak under his weight. He sipped the wine and read through the ledger and documents he had found in a safe.


    Darazdast was a busy little fly. His organization smuggled goods in and out of Iterna, and the Oathtakers, a group of patrons who owed him favors, provided discounts on bulk purchases of vehicles and equipment. Later, his crews dismantled them and exploited their customers by charging exorbitant prices for the common goods of the Core Lands, which required a license to sell beyond the borders. Officially, Mr. Siroosi owned four brothels and donated heavily to orphanages.


    I hope he doesn¡¯t pick himself workers from them. Tancred took a long swig from the bottle. The man¡¯s presence sickened him to the bone.


    ¡°While your presence overjoys me to no end, forgive me, dear Zero, if I shamelessly inquire about your and the esteemed gentleman¡¯s presence here,¡± asked Darazdast. ¡°The news told of the Third¡¯s journey to the Core Lands.¡±


    ¡°Unexpected developments demanded a change¡ªa temporary change, of course.¡± Zero lowered her head, mirroring the contrabandist¡¯s face in her helmet. ¡°A settlement was attacked.¡±


    ¡°Just Peachy, I am aware; it was all over the news.¡± Darazdast nodded. ¡°Terrible thing; its people have my utmost condolences, and in a gesture of goodwill, I have written off the debts of my clients from there. But I¡¯ve yet to know anything specific, the beautiful flower of my heart.¡±


    ¡°See, I don¡¯t believe in it.¡± Zero spun and landed her butt on his lap, drawing a gasp from the man. She pressed a finger to his neck and rubbed some dirt away. ¡°We turn a blind eye to your little operations because you know everything that goes on around here.¡±


    ¡°And if you know nothing about the biggest raid in recent times, what good are you?¡± Tancred said.


    ¡°Straight to the point, but this is what Ivar will ask. You know Ivar, right, dear Darazdast? He¡¯ll rip the information from your mind.¡± Zero tapped on the man¡¯s forehead. ¡°Me and my friend don¡¯t want it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t want to miss it,¡± Tancred clarified.


    ¡°Joker as ever,¡± Zero laughed. ¡°So help us help you escape this nasty thing.¡±


    ¡°I fear I¡¯ll have to endure the mindscape discussion regardless, peerless star,¡± Darazdast sighed and punched a wall next to him. It folded inside, revealing a secret compartment containing several portable data banks and a terminal. As Zero slipped from his knees, the smuggler placed them on the table. ¡°The first thing I did after hearing of the attack was to ensure the safety of my men, and then I checked these, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Rumors, under-the-table deals, people plotting to overthrow me, those who refused my friendship and tried to work in my territory¡­ There is nothing out of the ordinary.¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all?¡± Tancred joined Zero in reading through the hidden materials.


    ¡°The strangest thing to happen in Just Peachy in the last month was a traveling pilgrim who asked if anyone knew of a deity called the One True God, oh fearless praetorian.¡± Darazdast drank some wine and tapped at his temple with a trembling hand. ¡°You know the kind, lost souls whose brains have been dried by the sun. I wasn¡¯t aware of the attack. It does sound incredible, and Captain Ivar is free to unravel my brain, but I really wouldn¡¯t tolerate something so vile directed at children. I¡¯m a changed man. Since the ravenous Alpha spared my life, I have never again been involved in slavery. Please, dear Zero, even if you came to collect my life, spare my men. I am clean, I swear!¡±


    ¡°How can I say no to such honesty?¡± Zero patted him on the shoulder.


    ¡°Easily,¡± Tancred said, burrowing into the man with his gaze and hoping to spot any sign of him lying.


    ¡°I¡¯ll ask Big Sis,¡± Zero promised. ¡°Wyrm Lord will check you; the touch of his mind should be gentler. Stay in touch, stick to moving goods, or you¡¯ll wake up no more, Darazdi!¡±


    ¡°About goods!¡± As she prepared to leave, Darazdast caught Zero by her vambrace. ¡°Beautified image of a saint who has descended upon our unworthy world to awe and inspire us! I have a confession to make¡­¡±


    Tancred reached for the bardiche.


    ¡°Stay your hand, good and merciful lord; my immaturity had misled you of the meaning of my words! I implied nothing incriminating.¡± Darazdast pleaded and smiled, confident and relaxed, enjoying the game. ¡°Greatest of warlords, bearer of the divine blood, there is a matter of unresolved delivery.¡±


    ¡°Elaborate,¡± Tancred ordered, not taking his paw too far from the Judge¡¯s shaft.


    ¡°You see, crimson-eyed defender, the soldiers of the Third often employ the services of your humble servant. Nights are long, and whether they be men or women, the soldier¡¯s lot is arduous. The unexpected shift in the army¡¯s movement had made the usual deliveries impossible, but the transaction had already happened, and it would be bad for my character and reputation¡­¡±


    ¡°Redundant wordplay, since reputation stems from a character. Get to the point,¡± Tancred interrupted the contrabandist. The man was getting on his nerves. Thief. Slaver. Scum. Liar, no doubt. He longed for a chance to bury his blade in the blasted neck, but alas, the man was technically innocent. The police, not the military, must solve Darazdast¡¯s mischief.


    Calmness. Peace and calmness. We can¡¯t instantly rectify every injustice. It is best to focus on preventing the sale of the Ironwills¡¯ trade goods to this parrot and his apish band of lunatics.


    ¡°Our host requests us to deliver the goods, Tancred.¡± Zero put her paws behind her head.


    ¡°As long as you can promise anonymity, oh sweetest fruit of our desolate plains,¡± Darazdast said with a bow.


    ¡°Delivering contraband?¡± Tancred thundered. ¡°I ought to¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll do it,¡± Zero agreed. ¡°But a favor for a favor.¡±


    ¡°I had planned to do it anyway, regardless, my kindliest and shrewdest friend, as a part of my eternal loyalty to the Wolf Tribe,¡± the contrabandist stated. ¡°I will contact my former friends and pester my colleagues in the Core Lands. Information is worth tokens, and doubtlessly, they are busy conducting their own investigations. The mystery of our invaders should be uncovered soon. It is in everyone¡¯s interest for us to keep living and thriving in peace.¡±


    ¡°See that desire doesn¡¯t change, or you¡¯ll taste the Judge¡¯s edge yet, slaver,¡± Tancred told him.


    ¡°Former slave trader, noble night! I have served my sentence, fifteen years, in full!¡± the contrabandist protested. ¡°And I¡¯ll sooner die than let war return to our lands!¡±


    The sword saint remained silent, put on his helmet, and walked past the curious, scrutinizing eyes of the red-haired woman. He waited outside until the crate of unknown goods was brought to Zero, and then silently joined her as they left the canyon.

 Chapter 42: A Blast from the Past, Part 2

    ¡°Well, this lead led to nowhere!¡± Zero said as they left the canyon.


    There was no more need for hiding, and the two Wolfkins walked in the open, steering clear of the traps. Zero carried the crate containing smuggling goods in the crook of her arm. When the smuggler¡¯s complex was left behind, she motioned Tancred to stop among the broken columns of the buried buildings and checked her vambraces, then began a meticulous inspection of his armor.


    ¡°Lead?¡± he asked, spreading his arms and trusting her judgment.


    ¡°The agents identified Darazdast¡¯s men among the fallen in the settlement; so, ya know, I thought he knew something. Clear!¡± Zero slapped Tancred on the shoulder and opened the crate, rummaging through its contents in search of any tracking devices. ¡°Now, I never believed in Darazdi¡¯s betrayal, but the man does like tokens a bit much.¡±


    ¡°He is scum,¡± Tancred said.


    ¡°Aw, come on, he ain¡¯t that bad.¡±


    ¡°That thing exploits people suffering from diseases. He preys on the weak and vulnerable.¡± Tancred spat. ¡°There can be no honor in permitting crimes to exist.¡±


    ¡°Honor has no place on the battlefield, Tancred.¡± Zero stopped investigating the crate and turned her helmet to him. ¡°Fight honorably, fight honestly, and you¡¯ll die, and your friends will be sad. Me including. Don¡¯t be mistaken; we are waging war even during peace. A war to civilize society, to build a nation where slavery will be forgotten and tyrants will be crushed under the Dynast¡¯s heel.¡±


    ¡°And how does criminality further the pursuit of this goal?¡± Tancred asked, sitting beside Zero.


    ¡°Easy! We¡¯ve turned an unrestricted, disorganized crime into a controllable, organized crime. When a girl goes missing from a settlement, Darazdast points us to the nearest slavers¡¯ camp on a border or buys her freedom himself, and we compensate him for it. And torch the camp later, just for fun and to return our tokens. Can¡¯t go into deficit!¡± She elbowed him. ¡°Know about the blood price for killing a Wolfkin, right?¡± Zero asked, and Tancred nodded.


    The blood price extended not just to the Wolfkins of the tribe. Two months ago, an Ironwill had been gutted on a routine mission to deliver care packages to a plague-stricken village. Later, the mercenaries responsible for the attack fluttered from the gates of the nearest settlement; cruel claws had eviscerated the bodies, and the corpses resembled more unfurled, bloody rags. Be it a Wolfkin, an Ice Fang, or a friend to the tribe, the Wolkins never failed to collect a life from the culprit. A life for a life. A limb for a limb.


    ¡°We like to pretend as if we are aware of everything occurring in the Wastes or the Ravaged Lands because it frightens potential bad guys into compliance, but in reality, we need agents to pull it off. Darazdast helps by gathering rumors, so we don¡¯t have to spend weeks searching for a murderer. Unlike the previous psychos, his gang does not resort to violence, murder, or kidnapping in order to collect debts; they provide us with information about potential criminal organizations, such as the Cartel, which is making its first attempt to establish itself to the far east of Pearl. But since those morons ended up falling apart due to feuds three times already, I think Darazdi and Ivar are being paranoid as usual. This Cartel idea will never get off the ground.¡±


    ¡°His gang sells art, Lady Zero,¡± Tancred said quietly. ¡°I overheard them. There is so little left of the Old World, and it is agonizing to imagine a precious picture hoarded in a private collection somewhere.¡±


    ¡°Fuck the art,¡± Zero said sharply. She put a paw on his shoulder. ¡°Listen, I know it like, sucks, to lose a statue or a painting or a sculpture, but you know what we get in exchange? Terminals. Journals. Information about actual people who lived in the Old World or who met the Extinction. Their dreams, their hopes, their fears, their lives... This is what fucking matters. They don¡¯t deserve to be forgotten. Big Sis told me that no artist would value their work over the life of an outsider, and even if there were some who would, do we really need their art?¡±


    ¡°How is he not dead?¡± Tancred asked, unconvinced by the equivalence of handing over a magnificent masterpiece for a short video of a panicked man recording his final moments in the Extinction.


    The latter was superfluous, the former an eternal source of inspiration for future generations. The breathtaking sight of the statue of the Lady of Mercy in the capital¡¯s Church of the Planet has helped many depressed souls cling to the light during the hardest times of their lives. Inspirational stories of valorous retainers down through the ages helped shape generations of incorruptible officers. Art transcended mere aesthetics: it served as a catalyst for the betterment of both the individual and society.


    ¡°I admit my inexperience in the matter, as the criminals tend to die on my blade, but I imagine it¡¯s challenging to conceal his occasional involvement with the regional Reclamation Army¡¯s forces.¡±


    ¡°Remember the controlled part?¡± Zero said. ¡°Ivar keeps him in a perpetually trapped state. Everyone knows Darazdi runs this area; if anyone were to muscle in, his head would roll. He¡¯s also too entrenched with us to form an alliance with another criminal. He¡¯s pissed off too many people. In order to survive, he has to thwart potential rivals, which he does by keeping us informed about pesky maggots too big for him to stamp out. So we do the pest control. Not for free, of course. Case in point: Iterna.¡± Her voice trailed off, and Tancred heard the notes of pure animal hatred and longing in it. ¡°They often cry about how some technology is too dangerous to be sold, the greedy bastards. But thanks to our friend, we often receive interesting samples through¡­ shall we say, non-warranty channels. It is a win-win situation and helps us keep up with the times.¡±


    ¡°And in return, it exposes us to Iterna¡¯s infiltration,¡± Tancred said, examining the lunar disk above. There was a flash on it. It was barely visible, but it happened. Iterna¡¯s influence had reached the satellite, but no one knew what they were doing on the white surface. The most popular theory was the weapons testing facility.


    ¡°Noticed her, did you!¡± Zero laughed.


    ¡°A sonic gun, prying eyes, while the rest of the rabble trembled in their boots¡­¡± Tancred glanced at the warlord. ¡°Have I missed something?¡±


    ¡°Sweat.¡± Zero tapped her helmet. ¡°Can¡¯t be in the desert and not drop some. Her fake tan doesn¡¯t fool me; her hide is way too dry. Eh, they never learn¡­ Not to worry. If there is something an explorator wants to get their grubby hands on, we can live without it. We have no need for nuclear codes or life-wiping plagues. We need to learn how to cooperate and cohabit.¡± Zero softened her tone. ¡°No matter the desire for revenge, no matter the grudges of the past that keep us awake at night. Oh, that is cute!¡± she said, fiddling with something in the crate.


    ¡°If it is drugs, dispose of them immediately.¡±


    ¡°Nope, just porn magazines. Never knew Wolfkins were into Orais and Normies.¡±


    ¡°We share the same blood, and yet the decadence of the Wolf Tribe never ceases to amaze me, Lady Zero,¡± Tancred sighed.


    ¡°If you say so, but we better deliver these to their recipients in the Ice Fang Order¡­¡±


    ¡°What? Warlord, I demand to know what psychotic, ungrateful simpletons have dared to tarnish the noble name of the hallowed Order by ordering these disgusting pamphlets full of sin and debauchery¡­¡± Tancred stood, but Zero raised her paw.


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    ¡°Don¡¯t dream of it, Sword Saint,¡± Zero said. ¡°Let¡¯s not bother kiddies, none of us is a saint¡­ Well, you get my drift, right? So¡­¡±


    She stopped, looking up, and Tancred followed, forgetting the contraband and the disrespectful soldiers at once. There was an unfamiliar noise in the night¡ªa loud, soft flapping of leather, barely audible but undoubtedly increasing in intensity as something approached. His lenses caught a dot that flickered for a split second against the white of the moon, and he sent it to Zero, who nodded, noticing the target as well. The thing flew in their direction, lowering its altitude.


    ¡°A predator?¡± Tancred took the Judge in both paws.


    ¡°What predator ignores a fatty insectoid queen or cusacks in favor of two hunks of steel?¡± Zero asked. Her paw found a rifle underneath her cloak, and she aimed its long barrel at the distant target. ¡°Five clicks. Closing fast.¡±


    ¡°No chances. Bring it down,¡± Tancred said. Zero was right. Their battleplates prevented any smell or heat from escaping. The creature should be unaware of their presence.


    He heard a series of faint snaps and the sound of breaking bones. It didn¡¯t come from the ground, but from the sky, from this large dark shape flapping its wings as it hurried toward them. Zero pulled the trigger, sending a lance of pure void streaking toward its target. In response, the flying monster unleashed a concentrated gust of wind, much like a hurricane, at the Wolfkins. The antimatter beam pierced the focused air, drawing a loud screech, and the unleashed air bomb was about to slam into them.


    Tancred shoved Zero aside, not caring for his own safety. He tried to dive to safety, but the strange projectile hit him, pushing him into the ground with enough force to make it shake. Rocks and shards of metal flew from the tops of the ruined buildings; massive cracks appeared in their walls; Tancred¡¯s ears rang; the impact reached his body despite his plate. It confused him; the HUD confirmed the full integrity of his armor, but the impact hurt; it bypassed every system designed to protect the soldier from concussion.


    Above, the thing spewed streams of pale liquid from its back and drew closer. It had a bulbous appearance¡ªa leather ball connected to two rectangular wings. A second later, legs and arms sprouted from the body¡¯s pitch-black surface. Intense cracking accompanied the transformation, forming sinews and bones in a flash as the creature sped toward Tancred with the speed of a missile, propelled by its peculiar biological jets.


    He rolled to the side, and the ground shook as the thing landed like an artillery shell, sending an eruption of sand and stone skyward. The impact¡¯s force pushed a large slab of rock up and panicked insects and spiders scurried to escape the catastrophe. The veil of destruction shrouded the attacker, but the royal blood of the Twins, albeit running thin in someone like him, gifted the sword saint with the ability to spot motion. The grains of sand slowed to a crawl, the veil of stone dust stopped moving, and the black figure appeared on the other side. Small fountains sprang up on the sand wall, and he raised the Judge.


    Black tendrils shot out, whipping against his weapon. The tips of the black tendrils were white, but the throbbing, clammy surface of the creature¡¯s skin clung to the shaft of his weapon. Tancred had to jerk it free. He brought the bardiche blade down on the tendrils, and it bounced off the bones. The creature inside the veil chirped, angered at the edge cutting its skin, and retracted his tendrils. These biological whips arched, and white cilia grew on the pitch-black surface, expanding and thickening until a forest of bone scythes met the sword saint.


    He didn¡¯t panic. Such emotion was drilled out of him by thousands of hours of muscle-racking training and the careful conditioning of his psyche by his superiors. He was an Ice Fang, a champion of the Twins, and he wielded a weapon gifted by the Order¡¯s best artisans, his very progenitors. Failure was impossible, unthinkable when he had a cousin¡¯s life to protect. The scythes came at him, and the sword saint parried, blocked, and deflected the incoming rain of slashes. Cuts and gashes appeared on his armor; a blow from the bone scythe had cleaved through a boulder, but Tancred still refused to retreat.


    It wasn¡¯t out of pride. His blade clanked, unable to break these strange bones; the camouflage cloak was torn asunder; a long tear appeared in the side of his helmet; his vision was still blurred; and his breathing was uneasy from the initial damage. Dozens of biological weapons tried to cut him at the joints of his legs and arms, where the armor was thinner. Several scythes even splintered into three during the attack, seeking to catch him off guard. Tancred waited patiently, defending himself. The calm and stubborn resistance infuriated the creature, and the scythes converged on a single point, closing in on him like jaws. Only now did he take a step back and press the activation button on the shaft of his weapon.


    The Judge was no mere sharp blade. His cousins wielded weapons found in ancient laboratories or created by the state. The Ice Fangs were not much different, and the sword saints also carried the ultimate tools to face unparalleled opposition. The sword saints inherited the legendary relics forged by the Twins, two intellects second only to the Blessed Mother. While one forged the unbreakable foundation in the smithy, the other toiled in the laboratory, envisioning intricate engineering marvels for a weapon. If First possessed a piece of the sun itself, then Tancred wielded the polar opposite.


    As he raised the bardiche for an overhead strike, a blue field flashed to life around the blade¡¯s edge. Midway through his swing, that cooling field could turn water to ice with a touch. And as the Judge sentenced the bone forest of scythes, its blade became a breath of winter itself, an absolute stillness that robbed molecules and atoms of their energy and set them adrift, rendering them to be the slaves to their original course and the natural forces.


    The absolute zero struck unopposed, shattering the scythes, and the fiend howled, experiencing the excruciating cold coursing through its veins, feeling the touch of the cosmos itself against its flesh, and losing his twisting appendages. They fell, writhing and steaming in the sand, disappearing into nothingness. Tancred stepped through the sand and faced his opponent at last.


    It had a roughly humanoid appearance, standing as tall as a warlord. An unhealed hole left by Zero¡¯s beam still smoked in its shoulder. The creature¡¯s skin resembled viscous oil, and before his surprised eyes, it shot up a head from the smooth surface of its torso. Thunderous cracks of broken and rearranged bones accompanied the transformation. There were no longer any wings; they got broken down into the tendrils that had assailed him before. Milky white eyes encircled the torso, keeping track of everything. The creature turned its eyeless head toward Tancred and opened a small mouth, exposing the pure, almost shining whiteness of its insides. It smiled, and the sword saint lunged.


    He had been had. The creature stood stooped, its arms pressed to the ground like a sprinter preparing for a marathon. The creature¡¯s dark flesh flowed freely from its legs and arms, forming a soft foot more suited to a slime than a humanoid. Despite the cold, the edges of the wounds left by his blade tried to reach each other, and new, sharp points appeared on the shortened tendrils. Tancred lifted his weapon over his head, and another leg slipped from a ribcage. Multi-jointed, twisting and contracting at impossible angles, it had a long, hooked bone talon at the end. Blindingly fast, it struck the sword saint across the elbow, cartwheeling him into the vast slab of falling stone that had bulged from the creature¡¯s landing. He crashed into it and lost his footing, buried under tons of debris.


    That thing never chased him. It was not unhinged, nor did it lash out blindly. The eyes followed Warlord Zero, whose foot was stuck in an open crack. Zero tried to reach for her rifle, and the creature spat another ball of air. It exploded near the rifle, sending it far away. The torso slurped up the tendrils and remains of the broken scythes, growing in size.


    The creature moved so quickly that even Tancred¡¯s eyes could not keep up. It was as if time itself skipped several moments; the creature simply disappeared from one place, leaving the rapidly widening crater in its wake, and reappeared in another, zigzagging toward Zero. Panicked, the warlord reached for her belt and hurled several knives at the looming threat, but they merely sailed past the afterimages as the creature closed the distance, its back opening to reveal semi-transparent membrane wings, its surface decorated with blood vessels. The skin and bones of the flesh opened outward, forming a bony cage ready to swallow the warlord. The creature pushed its arms free from the fat, pulsing foot and raised a fist for a brutal blow as Zero shielded her head with her own arm.


    Terror for his cousin¡¯s life gripped Tancred¡¯s heart, and he pushed the stones away, rushing to the scene. Too slow. He could never reach his ally in time to rescue her¡­


    The fist punched Zero under the armpit, and suddenly it came apart. Tancred blinked, seeing three glittering threads wrapped around Zero¡¯s wrist and the ankle of her pinned leg. She rode the blow to escape the trap, but the threads cut deep into the alien flesh, easily separating the sinews and bones inside. The creature chirped and mewed. It used its remaining hand to grab Zero by the throat, and the chirping turned into a crescendo of pain as another thread woven into the collar of Zero¡¯s cloak severed the fingers.


    ¡°You¡¯re not very bright, eh, bitch?¡± Zero laughed brightly and happily. She spread her arms wide, as if to welcome the flap of wings that would push her into the open cage of bone and muscle. ¡°Hunt me down? Who do you take me for?¡±

 Chapter 43: A Blast from the Past, Part 3

    The wings flapped, hitting the ground and missing the warlord. Zero moved far faster than a bullet, a blurred streak circling the beast. She willingly approached the bone cage, ignoring the pulsing organs and tendrils reaching out to grab her. Two paws slammed into the creature¡¯s sides, and the warlord¡¯s vambraces glowed, unleashing plasma explosions, fired from the concealed launchers. Two newborn suns shone in the desert, burning holes in the thing¡¯s hide, turning ribs to ash and sand to glass. The wings ignited, and the creature began to reform its legs into separate limbs, trying to free them from the molten glass. Standing in this hellfire. Standing in this hellfire, Zero¡¯s cloak and armor endured, and she was far from done.


    Two objects shot up from her belt and quickly lengthened into full-sized rods, similar in shape to the stun batons used by the police. The warlord caught them and stabbed, the tips landing in the open mouth, and the creature thrashed, convulsing madly as a surge of electricity went through it, bursting its eyes and rocking its brain. It lashed out clumsily because of the unhealed hands, elbowing Zero twice with enough force to draw pathways in the glass with her heels. Ignoring the deep, sparkling dents in her breastplate and helmet, the warlord slashed, her rods landing on the closing wounds on the creature¡¯s side.


    High voltage discharges were a tried-and-true method against regenerators. Not only did they cause burns, a bane of many self-healing New Breeds, but even against a being capable of healing through the scorched flesh, like this creature, the side effect of an electric current circulating through your system caused intense shaking, often liquidating organs, as some regenerators who could heal by absorbing energy learned to their peril. The discharge itself damaged cells throughout the body.


    The chirping of pain reached a crescendo, and the creature arched back, snapping its spine. This was not a sign of agony, however, but rather a deliberate attempt to flee. Its body shed broken bones and spat the burned organs into Zero¡¯s face, enveloping her in the viscous gore that restricted her movements. The creature¡¯s body went limp and jumped away, ignoring the rods¡¯ burning edges. It resembled a stream of water splashing against the sand some distance away, but then it gathered itself, glancing with newly formed eyes at the ruined hands and the gaping wound in the shoulder. Mewing a curse or a threat, it turned and ran.


    ¡°Fleeing the combat?¡± Tancred asked, hurrying to Zero. The bardiche blade narrowly missed the creature¡¯s belly as it twisted, and the ice field split the skin on its hip. Ignoring his challenge, it charged past him. ¡°Cowardly fiend! Stand and perish!¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t trying to run, Tancred!¡± Zero huffed, breaking free of the biological bonds. ¡°Spiders! Watch the spiders!¡±


    What?! Tancred struggled to understand his cousin¡¯s meaning. The creature trampled the fleeing insect, reducing its body to mush. And the carcass clung to the sticky surface of the black leg, slowly disappearing beneath the skin. The eyeless head bit at the ruined hands, chewing on the broken bones, and claws grew from the bloody stumps. It didn¡¯t retreat. The damned fiend sought to recover nutrients and rebuild for round two!


    The sword saint abandoned thoughts of Zero and pursued the escapee. His bardiche swung through the air, slicing the creature near its reconstructed spine, driving it away from the largest gathering of insects. Though the edge of his weapon hadn¡¯t reached the bone, the cold field had, causing it to snap back into two smaller spines. The creature hissed in anger. Tendrils broke from the scorched remains of its wings and whipped at Tancred, attempting to trip him.


    He withstood the piercing stabs of bone daggers that found cracks in his armor. A knight never shrinks from his duty, a sage never wavers in his principles, and a sword saint never lets an ally down. Tancred lived by these simple rules. He simply gritted his fangs, pushing closer to the beast to deliver a mortal blow. It searched for them; it hungered for Zero¡¯s flesh, and as her cousin, he would not tolerate the creature¡¯s existence. Tonight it dies, by his paws or Zero¡¯s.


    Cut off from its food source, the thing still refused to turn and face him in battle. Its tendrils rooted into the ground, pushing up slabs of stone, trying to bury him once more beneath the rubble. The sword saint broke through the slabs, fully in control of his footing this time. The artificial muscles of his armor gave him the strength and speed, and the metal shell preserved him from the jagged rocks. The creature dove to the side, evading the absolute zero field and a dark beam.


    Even though they¡¯d crossed a dune, and despite the destruction wrought by the lashing tendrils, Zero¡¯s shot would have pierced its midsection had the creature not dodged. Tancred silently praised his cousin¡¯s skills, even if she used his lenses to see the target. It wasn¡¯t simply a natural talent; it took extensive knowledge and practice to perfectly adjust her aim and time a shot so that it wouldn¡¯t accidentally wound him in that chaos of flying debris and floating veils of sand.


    The creature covered meters in a single leap, but Tancred was always on its heels, cutting at the tendrils, slowly withering it away layer by layer, and wondering where it could be moving. A realization came to him as the bullets rattled against his armor.


    This was no chase after a desperate, doomed animal. The creature had already determined the exact location from which it could escape Tancred¡¯s pursuit and replenish its lost energy to continue the battle. And it quickened its pace, pushing itself beyond the limits to reach the contrabandists¡¯ hideout. The black hide slurped bullets and spat them at Tancred. Energy beams licked harmlessly at the thing¡¯s body, doing no damage. It galloped across the minefield on all fours, setting off chain explosions, and Tancred¡¯s armor systems struggled to keep track of such erratic movements.


    But he knew its destination and its intention to leap off the canyon¡¯s side and disappear into the complicated cavern system. Explosions and missing dark beams kept Tancred aware of the opponent¡¯s location.


    ¡°We can¡¯t let it get away,¡± Zero¡¯s voice said in his helmet. She climbed a ruined building and fired from a distance. ¡°The DM radiation and poison will soon be filtered from the bastard¡¯s body. If it gets to the smugglers...¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± Tancred vowed. ¡°Warlord, I¡¯ll open the way. At your discretion.¡±


    ¡°No problem. Just don¡¯t do anything crazy.¡±


    There was a commotion ahead. The smugglers were gathering, hastily donning their battle gear, breaking open crates of weapons as a line of explosions approached. It would be in vain; the creature was too fast for the untrained Normies to use their numbers to bring it down. But the sword saint had no intention of letting things go to this point. He leapt and hooked the creature on the Judge as it was about to bounce off the edge of the canyon and wrap the terrified humans in its tentacles. Tancred used the absolute zero field to ensure that the bardiche¡¯s blade would deeply enter the body, and he turned it off, dragging the struggling beast back and ripping its insides apart. Two tendrils were stopped mere centimeters from snatching Darazdast¡¯s right-hand man and a trader.


    It chirped at the top of its lungs, turning its eyeless head like an owl. The jaws opened to the chest, the white inside gathered on the tip of the tongue, and the creature moved its head, lining the tongue to point at Zero. Tancred rammed a shoulder into the beast, knocking it to the ground. He tried to roll away as the beast roared, unleashing a concentrated stream of glittering venom at him instead of Zero.


    He never experienced anything like it. The stream pierced his armor plates with sheer pressure, and when it hit his thigh, a sense of emptiness washed over him. His mind was stripped bare, thoughts fading, desires vanishing from his body. Tancred¡¯s drowsiness overcame him, the confusion relaxing his muscles and wiping out any dreams or desire to fight. The toxin didn¡¯t just knock him into a coma; it stole the very desire of resistance, rendering him a helpless wreck.


    The creature turned at the edge, bringing its claws to his gorget, and the sword saint understood he didn¡¯t care. What was there to fight for? If not today, he¡¯ll die tomorrow or a day after and there won¡¯t be any difference. Best to end it here, cleanly, and face the Twins¡¯ judgment...


    A beam of darkness left a hole in the creature¡¯s chest, and another appeared next to it, and then another. It toppled over the sword saint. Before unconsciousness claimed him, the last thing he heard was the hiss of the creature¡¯s body melting into caustic water.


    ****


    ¡°A thousand thanks I lay at your feet, oh, most benevolent of lords.¡± Darazdast gestured to a scantily dressed woman to refill the sword saint¡¯s glass. ¡°If there is anything in my power that I can do to repay such a daring rescue, such noble boldness¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop selling anti-cancer treatments.¡± Tancred, his wounded leg braced, shifted to sit more comfortably on a rug-covered bed.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    What the ¡®local medical enthusiasts¡¯ lacked in knowledge, they compensated for with the unusually advanced medical equipment at hand. His immune system and anti-venoms flushed out the poison, but the process left him feeble and his skin dry. A tube connected his arm to an intravenous drip, and the sword saint followed the prescriptions and drank as much wine as his stomach could handle. The weakness of his body caused the sword saint to envy his cousins. Unlike him, they developed a partial immunity to any poison they had ever experienced, and he longed never to feel the effects of this filth again. The Judge stood beside the headboard.


    ¡°I said if it was within my power, my crimson-eyed friend.¡± Darazdast smiled.


    ¡°How can you do it?¡± Tancred asked. The smuggler raised a brow, and the sword saint clarified. ¡°The life of crime: why pursue it?¡±


    Darazdast snapped his finger, and the servants left the room. The smuggler sat in a chair, groaning from a cramp in his strained back.


    ¡°Not everyone can change immediately, Sword Saint Tancred,¡± Darazdast said plainly. ¡°I remember you; you were the one who stopped the blood sacrifice to the Dynast thirty-five years ago and saved those kids. There wasn¡¯t a week without an accident like that in the west.¡±


    Tancred nodded. Some tribes regarded the Dynast as a god and tried to make human sacrifices to appease and show respect to the distant deity. His Excellency would not tolerate such games, and the army troops were often called upon to prevent tragedy.


    ¡°How often have you had to do this in recent years?¡±


    ¡°Less and less. I see your point.¡± Tancred¡¯s lips formed a flat line. ¡°It is not a valid reason. Clearly, you yourself are not bound by superstition and are capable of change. The Reclamation Army has opened free training courses in every major settlement to teach people a new trade. The Ironwill household is among those who pay taxes so the nation can hire willing educators.¡±


    ¡°And where will live those who are not as flexible as I?¡± Darazdast poured wine for himself and Tancred. ¡°I do not besmirch the Reclamation Army; I am its citizen, Sword Saint. But let us see the truth. It costs tokens to stay in a hotel. The former gang members, the broken slavers, the retired mercenaries, the bodyguards of fallen oppressors... They often fall on hard times. There are never enough jobs for mechanics, even when they learn the craft; the mines are dangerous, and traveling through the desert is perilous.¡±


    ¡°Is this your excuse for permeating crime?¡±


    ¡°Do I seem to be looking for excuses? I am explaining the situation, Tancred! You can¡¯t expect people to give up their old ways so easily. They don¡¯t want to serve and die in the army; what else can they do? Even if they initially have tokens to live by, they can¡¯t instantly absorb knowledge, can they? Free education only helps so much. Why do you think I own brothels?¡± Darazdast waved a hand in the air. ¡°I don¡¯t just employ people who have nowhere to go; there are legitimate former sex slaves who don¡¯t envision any other way of life and who might be mistreated under another employer.¡± He pointed a finger at the Ice Fang. ¡°But every year, dozens of them leave, and members of my crew settle down, having either saved enough tokens, been rehabilitated by contact with civilization, or simply found an opportunity for a new life in a settlement. I see myself as someone who helps build society. I can¡¯t exactly grab a rifle and hop across the dunes, but as someone who was led astray, who harmed and enslaved, I can at least do my part to prevent future tragedies. Abyss, I myself plan to retire and become an honest mayor one day. We are on the same side, Tancred. We just can¡¯t change immediately. There isn¡¯t enough place for everyone,¡± the smuggler added quietly.


    ¡°Not yet, Darazdast,¡± the sword saint sighed, agreeing. ¡°But one day it will be, and if I¡¯m still alive then, I¡¯ll hold you to your promise. A fifth.¡±


    ¡°Beg your pardon?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play coy; I read your ledger and saw the prices. You are ripping people off.¡± Tancred burrowed his gaze into Darazdast¡¯s face. ¡°Our vehicles do not cost as much as you charge for them. Reduce your prices by twenty percent. It should still make you a profit and ease the burden on the commoners.¡±


    ¡°And increase their interest in buying Ironwills goods.¡± The smuggler smiled. ¡°My, one could take you for a shrewd seller interested in expanding your market¡­¡±


    Darazdast rose and withdrew under Tancred¡¯s heavy gaze, never once breaking his smile. Once the room was empty, Tancred admired the wine in the dirty glass. Even all the roughness of the Wastes and the transportation here had not robbed it of its pleasant taste. Necessary evil¡­ Not many sword saints listened to the Blessed Mother¡¯s sermons, but he always agreed with her on one point. There is no gradation of evil; when one begins to do it, it becomes tempting to ally oneself with the least.


    But what was the alternative? Just a few decades ago, hundreds of guides escorted individual traders across the treacherous terrain, delivering messages between settlements. But as the nation established stable trade routes, the profession slowly died out. The guides themselves, however, lived on. The Dynast in his infinite wisdom, was aware of the problems and even rebellions that modernization could cause. He laid the groundwork for universal education for both young and old, forcing the corporations and wealthy of the state to fund it. If universal health care could not be implemented in the Outer Lands, he brought another gift. Tancred thought it would be enough.


    Was he wrong? Was it truly right to permit certain liberties and turn a blind eye to the violation of the law if it saved lives? Tancred freely admitted his ignorance in various areas. He consistently advocated the outlawing of brothels throughout the Reclamation Army, a stance that even his own sons and daughters found peculiar. Tancred was once a sage, not the one charged with raising the young. He traveled alone to the ruins, carefully unpicking locks and disarming traps, traversing the narrow passages in solitude to locate a precious cache of knowledge or a lost artifact. For him, the duty of a sword saint and the worries of common folk were difficult to understand.


    There was much for him to ponder, and when he returned to the Core Lands and sealed his union by marrying a noble lady of the Voidrunner household, he intended to consider ways to improve local society. Cheap, free housing, perhaps?


    ¡°How are you, champ?¡± asked Zero. She stepped inside in her battle armor and unpinned her cloak, taking a seat next to the sword saint. ¡°Teamwork isn¡¯t my forte, but you weren¡¯t half bad. I rate you as Dragena¡¯s two-thirds. High praise, by the way.¡±


    ¡°I am well, and the honor of victory goes to you, Lady Zero.¡± Tancred raised a toast. ¡°What was it?¡±


    ¡°No idea.¡± Zero shrugged. ¡°A bioweapon, and the one that targeted us. It¡¯s up to the investigators to find out what hole it crawled from. They¡¯ll be here in an hour to pick us up. All I know for sure is that it¡¯s going to fuel Big Sis¡¯ paranoia.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by it?¡±


    ¡°Remember Brur?¡± Zero asked, and Tancred nodded. Brur was the first known Apocalypse Class, the first New Breed, who forced the Great Nation to set aside their arms and discuss the Containment Act. ¡°There were a bunch of bastards who tried to murder both Iterna and Janine¡¯s forces on that mission. Typical stuff, the same as with Techno-Queen, some lunatics looking for a weapon of mass destruction. Ever since Ravager slaughtered her, she has been plagued by paranoia about some Weavers in the Dark, as she calls them. She believes that there are creeps scheming in the shadows.¡±


    ¡°Does the Commander have any proof?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! I love my sister.¡± Zero put a paw over the dent in her armor. ¡°Truly. Will give my life for her any day of the week. But she is such a psychotic, wolfish sibling of a cusack sometimes! Gah! She claims she heard a wicked offering about humanity¡¯s destruction in exchange for sanity. One problem. I was with her all day; it was the day Outsider knocked the meteor out of the sky. If some weirdo had spoken to her, I would¡¯ve known, I think. Ivar investigated. The Dynast and Devourer investigated. No proof. Zero!¡± she giggled. ¡°Just random, unconnected murders and kidnappings¡ªa common occurrence¡ªbut because of them, Big Sis reorganized the tribe so that intruders would have to fight an entire village to steal our cubs. She¡¯s weird, I¡¯ll tell you, and both Outsider and Dominator believe in her fairy tales. Great, I¡¯ve been trying to get her interested in something for years, hoping to help her get over the trauma, and what has she done? Organized a conspiracy club!¡±


    Infuriated, Zero reached for her helmet and pressed a series of buttons on its side. White streaks emerged from the opened seals, and the helmet gathered itself into the warlord¡¯s gorget. She grabbed a bottle of wine, ignoring the stunned Tancred, and drank it in two gulps, then reached for another, ignoring the food. Tancred¡¯s eyes widened.


    It wasn¡¯t because of the tasteless manners. Light¡ªpure, yellow light¡ªfilled the room. She styled her hair into an elegant crimson crest and trimmed the hair at her temples. The perfection of her features, the shape of her eyes and snout, the famous white fangs, and the lush, soft fur of the darkest color¡­


    ¡°Blessed Mother,¡± Tancred whispered. He fell to one knee. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware; forgive any insult I have said in your presence; forgive any disrespect I may have unwittingly caused¡­¡±


    Ravager stopped drinking and looked at him, surprised. She tasted the wine more carefully, and something clicked in her eyes, and she pressed the buttons of her neck guard, returning the helmet to cover the top of her head.


    ¡°Always!¡± she roared, hefting Tancred back onto the bed. ¡°Always the same! I am Zero! Ravy is Ravy, and Zero is Zero!¡± She pushed her armored paws to his eyes. ¡°See? I wear a battle suit, I wear clothes, I use weapons, I dye my hair, and I know how to sing and play guitar and ball in my spare time. I am not her; I am me, dammit! My own person!¡±


    ¡°I am sorry,¡± said the shocked Tancred.


    Yet now, when the helmet was partially hiding her, he could see the differences. Zero walked comfortably on two feet, and was smaller, more elegant in her movements, though she had a ruder vocabulary and manners. She was also smaller in size. But there was something in her eyes¡ªa divine spark that was so similar to the Twins.


    Tancred smiled. The Wolf Tribe has Twins of their own! He imagined his progenitors also had their own outbursts of annoyance at being addressed as a singular being.


    ¡°I¡¯ve made a mistake and insulted you, Lady Zero.¡±


    ¡°Eh, beat it; everyone does it. It¡¯s why I wear the bucket all the time.¡± Zero laughed and belched ungracefully. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ It¡¯s raking my soul, okay? I¡¯ve done bad things and hurt my sisters in the past, but I¡¯m really trying to be good, to be a sister worthy of Ravy¡¯s respect and a loyal kin and defender of the tribe. I learn and study, work as hard as I can, and people deny me my identity by taking me for Big Sis. Hate it.¡±


    ¡°I still feel guilty for mistaking your radiant beauty for another person. Would you happen to give me a chance to make amends? I am about to remarry, and a celebratory ceremony is planned to mark the occasion.¡± He spotted a shift in her posture. ¡°There will be dances and songs aplenty. And Zero is welcomed in my house for saving my life.¡±


    ¡°A party, huh?¡± Zero grinned.


    ¡°A party full of passionate young scions who had never met the Blessed Mother in person,¡± Tancred tempted.


    ¡°Tell me more.¡±

 Chapter 44: A Blast from the Past, Final Part

    Purple Valkyrie stormed down the corridor, maintaining an unreadable expression. Never show emotion, never give in to irritation, no matter what the situation. The Organization¡¯s facility was a sprawling mass of corridors connecting laboratories, armories, test halls, personnel quarters, and many other rooms. Their elder¡¯s quirkiness often rearranged the entire place to create test sites, and today she had to take a detour when drones hollowed out part of a mountain range in the usual corridors. This gave her ample opportunity to reevaluate every insult and resentment she felt at the blatant waste of resources, and ultimately reject them in the name of professionalism.


    Doors leading to the elder¡¯s quarters opened, illuminating the room with the light from the corridor. The elder sat in a comfortable armchair, his back to the entrance. A series of displays covered the wall, showing parts of the complex. One display showcased a vast hall filled with ever-growing, ever-moving vines, encased in human-sized zit-shaped sacks containing future foot soldiers of the organization. Snarls and growls emanated from the dynamics of another display, where the scientists vivisected failed products and improved the biology of existing ones by grafting limbs and organs onto their frames.


    Scenes of horror repeated themselves on most screens. Creatures fought for the right to exist, and the terminals carefully recorded their limits and the performance of their innate abilities. A bone sword was plunged into the torso of a thin and lean product, and a chitin-covered beast raised its victim, bellowing its victory to the ceiling. The dying stickman smiled, grabbed the sword, and veins bulged across his parchment skin, billowing his limbs. An explosion followed, and the beast recoiled as pieces of the stickman tried to enter its open jaws, clogging the windpipe and growing a new body in its belly. The beast growled, its voice weak with asphyxiation. It vomited a stream of acid, burning a hole in the training hall¡¯s floor. The acid caught the separated stickman and burned him to the scientist¡¯s clapping.


    The elder snapped his fingers, and the beast screamed in agony, thrashing under a surge of electricity, while the scientists stood at attention.


    ¡°Do not get familiar with the tools, John,¡± the elder said. ¡°Fine work, team; you have proven me wrong. Secure the subject and on to celebrate.¡±


    Purple waited patiently as the elder¡¯s head swung to glance at the soldier teams waging their own battle in the dark corridor, firing at the clanking robotic forms or retreating from under clawed monstrosities bred in the great days of the Old World. The elder clicked his tongue, and their own monsters surged ahead of the soldiers, turning the tide of battle. Another display simply showed thousands of biological soldiers¡ªmass-produced units bred for war. They slumbered in cold storage near the planet¡¯s core. Purple permitted herself a smile at a sight on a display showing the successful retrieval of a mutation gene from Iterna¡¯s storage facility. The group moved in, located the sample smoothly, and extracted themselves before even Artificer or Lada could spot them. Professionalism at its finest and no unnecessary deaths. She herself had spent months planning this operation.


    On another display, sentient servants, fresh from clone vats, were undergoing indoctrination. It was a sickening process devised by the elder¡¯s perverted brain. Literal children were subjected to physical and mental torture from several months to several years, ending up being husks of their former potential, whimpering and ready to serve at the first word of their masters. Careful flashing of lights, drugs to prevent regeneration, psychological torture of letting them form bonds just to shatter them at a snap of fingers, regular breaking of bones, and medical incisions... Such pointless ruination of potential agents.


    ¡°Agents, Purple?¡± He deemed it fit to notice her at last. The elder grabbed a steaming cup of coffee from an old-fashioned heater and drank it. His mind delved into her thoughts, unabashedly reading them. ¡°The role of the genetic freaks is to fight in our wars and die in droves. We create monsters to end inhuman oppression. Advanced thought processes and independence are mankind¡¯s privileges; we¡¯re merely bringing our servants into line to eliminate any delusions the implanted knowledge might have given them. What brought you here?¡±


    ¡°The product is dead, sir.¡± Purple tossed him an information drive, and the elder plugged it into his terminal. An organic satellite in high orbit recorded every second of the operative¡¯s battle. Everything, down to the most insignificant emotion, was sent through a shared link between the satellite and the subject¡¯s brain. ¡°The retrieval operation is a complete failure.¡±


    ¡°Think you so?¡± the elder asked as the sight of the B-1 battling the Sword Saint and the escapee filled the screens.


    Purple waited until the end of the recording and said: ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter what I think. It is the result, sir. Six months of the B-1¡¯s developments were wasted.¡±


    ¡°Premature dismissal of a useful but hard-to-wield tool is a sign of an immature mind, Purple.¡± The elder wagged a finger. ¡°B-1 didn¡¯t fail. It defeated a sword saint. I cannot, in good conscience, call this result a failure. The field test has shed light on the reconstruction capabilities, validated the effectiveness of the created survival instincts, and provided valuable insights into the effects of DM radiation on the enhanced flesh. The knowledge gained from its existence will be used to create future combat models.¡±


    ¡°Nothing a simulation couldn¡¯t have told us, sir,¡± Purple said plainly. ¡°The thing was a waste of resources, Academician. It failed to achieve its objective.¡±


    The elder¡¯s armchair turned. Academician had a well-built physique hidden underneath a white lab coat. When he wasn¡¯t spending time in the laboratory or reviewing records, he trained day and night, often forgetting to sleep or eat. Some unknown genetic manipulation, or perhaps one of his myriad quirks, had turned his sclera pitch black, and two green globes of his enhanced pupils floated in the pool of darkness. His ruffled hair formed a widow¡¯s peak across his forehead. His skin was pale from a lack of sun.


    ¡°We can modulate theories on terminals for years, but science feeds on practice and progress through observation. A brain is a fickle thing, prone to change, and when we add biological mutations into the mix, who¡¯s to say our emergency protocols will work outside of the carefully curated environment? By witnessing the flaws and benefits of the prototype firsthand, we can improve upon the formula.¡± A metallic tendril, thicker than a normal arm, slid from beneath his coat, holding a vial of the orange concoction at its tip. ¡°The capture of my insubordinate daughter was never B-1¡¯s goal. Ravager¡¯s destruction and Zero¡¯s subjugation are still decades beyond our capabilities. But now we can move on to testing the formula on willing, sentient candidates. And the lack of spatial anomalies near the battlefield has proven that our quarry is not anywhere close to the Wolf Tribe. The coming chaos will play in our favor as well.¡±


    ¡°You are playing with fire, sir,¡± Purple warned him. ¡°The Core Lands are under Elder Spaniad supervision. He won¡¯t take kindly to your meddling, and worse, it may lead to the Horde¡¯s victory, which will further Mad Hatter¡¯s evolution to the point where¡­¡±


    ¡°That point will remain theoretical.¡± Academician slammed a pam over an armrest. ¡°Purple, my daughter is not that weak. Ravager is the pinnacle of ancient bioengineering, a perfect blend of genetic enhancement and the glow, her evolution is limited by the nature of her power; no mutated freak born by sheer accident can hope to stand against her. When it¡¯s time for her to die, it¡¯ll be my hand that smears her.¡± Academician smiled. ¡°Since the beginning of time, mankind has exterminated threatening beasts and tamed nature through scientific progress and self-improvement. And this time will be no different! No monster can stand up to humans. I¡¯ll improve and bring her down, and through this, we gain the knowledge to ensure humanity¡¯s liberation and our revenge for the near extinction of our species!¡±


    ¡°And what if you are wrong, sir?¡± Purple asked, ignoring his speech. On Academician¡¯s orders, she had provided a group of mercenaries with the equipment to get a drop on the Khan. They had failed spectacularly. ¡°What if the Gilded Horde wins and Mad Hatter ascends?¡±


    ¡°The Horde is not a threat to humanity¡¯s continual existence; they are merely another regional force, not unlike the Reclamation Army. As for Mad Hatter¡­ Should she win, I¡¯ll handle the situation personally. It won¡¯t involve you or Spaniad,¡± Academician said, returning his attention to the displays.


    ¡°Then I am leaving, sir.¡± Purple bowed. ¡°The perils ahead of us open up opportunities for several operations to gather rare genetic material from the Core Lands.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of perils.¡± The chair turned in a blur, and Academician stood, offering her a full cup of coffee. The same he drank from himself, the bastard. ¡°A flaw in the eastern containment center has come to my attention. A malfunctioning electronic system was at risk of implementing security protocols and bathing the entire room in acid. The incident roughly coincided with my plans to pick up my sparring partner from the designated location.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunate,¡± Purple replied. Academician power bit into her mind, furiously reading her surface thoughts. A correct word often triggered memories of a past crime or event, and the elder exploited this psychological flaw. The agent merely smiled, accepting the cup. Because she really knew nothing. Damn, the coffee tasted wonderful, and it wasn¡¯t even poisoned. ¡°But I must remind you that our complex undergoes remodeling at your insistence and against my persistent warnings. Skinwalker aside, we¡¯ve never had an accident. If anything goes awry, it is not my fault, sir.¡±


    ¡°How sad. I was half hoping for a battle of wits and a game of cat and mouse to sharpen my wit! Perhaps you can play the part, nevertheless?¡±


    ¡°Sir, I have no intention of harming you today,¡± Purple said, growing annoyed at this constant teasing. If you want to risk your life, go on a field mission, filthy weirdo! I have a job to do! She didn¡¯t care if he read her thoughts.


    ¡°Of course, of course.¡± Academician nodded and sat back. ¡°It¡¯s homemade coffee. I can send you a recipe.¡±


    ¡°I would be much obliged, sir.¡±


    ¡°Dismissed.¡±


    Purple Valkyrie left the room, thinking about future possibilities. She hadn¡¯t changed her mind; the whole escapade had been a dangerous gamble, and one that was bound to anger Spaniad. But it opened up possibilities to further the Organization¡¯s goals. The Dynast would have to¡­


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    Memories flooded into her brain as she stepped into the elevator, leaving the range of Academician¡¯s power. It nearly buckled her legs, but she warmly smiled, enduring the turmoil of the lost memories and plans returning. Whole again. The elevator descended, and two minutes later, exactly on schedule, the lights went out in the entire research wing and it stopped. Her eyes immediately adjusted to the darkness, giving her night vision.


    The first phase of her plan was underway. At this juncture, a test subject, chemically induced into a state of violent rage, had escaped from its holding cell, a potential risk of which Purple Valkyrie had written a report to Academician, betting on his carefree attitude to ignore it. He had every right to disregard it; the creature, on its own, was too submissive to attempt escape, but a construction drone had seemingly accidentally damaged a feeding system and mixed combat stimulants with the creature¡¯s food. Wreathed in a coat of pure lightning, the thing overloaded the energy grid enough for automatic systems to shut it down and for Orange Valkyrie to lead the evacuation efforts, earning herself, and by extension Purple, personnel¡¯s loyalty. A static buzzed from a compact device in her ear, caused by another escapee, who wielded the ability to disrupt any communications.


    It was all calculated. There was never a plan to assassinate the elder using an acid; the incident served to plant a seed for her current success, and her position here was meant to give her a plausible deniability.


    Purple Valkyrie reached for the top of the elevator and opened it, exiting into its shaft and then traversing through a narrow ventilation corridor. It wasn¡¯t an unordinary decision; she can¡¯t exactly be expected to sit tight and be trapped, right? Not when a battle raged in the facility. There was no reason for suspicion to arise. By now, Academician should¡¯ve left his office and gone to face the rowdy creatures. There was nothing else he could do; hiding from a nonhuman was not in his nature.


    She was loyal to the Organization. Part of her loyalty stemmed from Elder Sovereign¡¯s loyalty program, but overall, she firmly believed in the concept. Non-humans ruled the planet. Devourer, Outsider, Mad Hatter, Wyrm Lord, Ravager, Dominator, Lord Steward, Hive, and so many more! Even the Dynast¡¯s himself could hardly be called human anymore when he elevated mutated filth to positions of authority over the true owners of this world and the cosmos. A betrayal, the most foul attack, had nearly robbed humanity of its destiny.


    The mutant scum must not stand in their path. There could be no coexistence. It was only a matter of time before they overran Iterna, and where would humanity go then? The mutants were naturally stronger, faster, and often smarter than humans, and if the situation continued as it was, the Extinction could one day be completed by the species it created. No, the Organization¡¯s mission was noble.


    But she disagreed about the methods used for executing their plan. Academician didn¡¯t deserve his rank! The original Academician was a sexual predator. Purple Valkyrie read his file and compared his habits to those of this failed clone, who surrounded himself with female agents but never made any advances and enjoyed inflicting misery and pain on others. A corrupt inhuman, an arrogant, posturing mocker who had wormed his way into the position of elder through genius. But he wasted his talents at creating and breaking monstrosities, on manufacturing a formula to win his pointless feud with Ravager on fair terms instead of preparing a virus capable of bringing low the genetic garbage today.


    The Organization aimed to bring non-humans under their rule, carefully curating their numbers and limiting their intelligence. Purple had another idea. Mutants, clones¡ªeverything inhuman must die. Sure, she¡¯ll keep a few specimens alive and sterile to satisfy sentimental fools like Spaniad, but a global purge was in order.


    Academician had to go. She¡¯ll reign in his future clone, rehabilitate the broken husks of the creatures so they could be of use, and focus the complex on producing human clones and robots, proving to General Secretary once and for all that they didn¡¯t need to rely on a psycho to further the cause. And as she takes Academician¡¯s place as an elder, humanity¡¯s salvation will be one step closer. As long as only Academician dies, there should be no complications. The elders are expected to show competency by earning loyalty or being able to protect themselves. Regrettably, Green¡¯s misguided loyalty to the man prevented her from being included in Purple¡¯s plans, unlike Orange. Things could be so much easier with her on their side¡­ In time, Green will come around.


    Purple Valkyrie reached a corner and pushed the ventilation grate aside. Pulling her knees closer, Purple jumped into the room, another holding cell, now empty of personnel. Loud tremors shook the walls, announcing the titanic struggle of the test subject against the elder. Academician won¡¯t lose, but he¡¯ll waste time, and the bug she planted will divert the end point of a teleportation device responsible for sending the remains of the products to a disposal facility to a new destination. Not forever, but long enough.


    She walked past an elongated, vat-shaped growth capsule, labeled ¡®Project G-0.1¡¯. Another failure was growing inside, a combination of Wolfkins, Trolls and Insectones. Academician was curious about the result and ignored her complaints not to waste the glow on a thing requiring decades to even be born. She considered turning off the life-support system, but decided against it.


    Another creature was her objective today. He sat in a remote cell, the closest to the door, his face hidden in his knees, which were covered in thick scar tissue. Not a single patch of his orange skin was free of scars or fresh cuts; a constant lack of opportunity to earn food by winning duels left his wounds poorly healed. He lifted his goober-like head and licked his lips in horror. His eyes glowed, reflecting a lithe woman in a purple business suit, several knives at her belt, glasses, and a pair of mechanical gloves.


    ¡°Hello, Corbo,¡± Purple said softly, giving him a treat. She dropped to her knees and patted the boy. ¡°Ready to leave this place?¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll never be hurt again?¡± the mutant asked.


    ¡°Of course!¡± Purple assured him. ¡°Mama will keep her precious baby safe and sound.¡±


    ¡°Promise?¡±


    ¡°Promise!¡± she laughed, taking him by the nose and feeding him another candy.


    This was another danger of the genetic freaks. She pitied the small creature, developing a mild affection for him, and decided to spare Corbo from the impending purge, provided he lived long enough. Purple thought of him as a human baby, and a team of therapists and medical workers stood ready to nurse him back to health in the small house she had built for him.


    But he was anything but a human. Stronger, faster than normal humans, Corbo¡¯s biology allowed him to survive the most grievous wounds and withstand poisons, and he possessed a key power to further her plans. His mind could seal memories, erasing entire episodes from a human brain for a time. His ability allowed him to survive here for over a year, but even a blind man could see that his days were numbered unless she took action to save this perfect tool. She instructed her team to keep him on a permanent power-suppression drug.


    Purple would be lying if she hadn¡¯t enjoyed picking colors for the house, preparing a room, toys, video games, books, a bed, stuffing a fridge full of treats for Corbo. The house was in Pearl, a place known for its anti-mutant views, so the naturally shy Corbo would have little incentive to leave. Humans have often experienced love for different species, so she herself accepted her feelings. Hate it or not, she has a son.


    But the mutants will breed them out or conquer them if the Organization fails. To save humanity, the non-humans must be eliminated. Not contained. Eternal servitude leaves a chance for rebellion, and there is no price high enough to pay for the salvation of humanity.


    ¡°Do you remember what you must do? The exact dates and times of the days you need to take away for a week?¡± Purple Valkyrie asked.


    ¡°I do,¡± Corbo mumbled, gnawing on a candy. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to hurt Mama.¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t,¡± Purple promised, steeling her heart. Corbo is not human. He is a tool, a pet to be kept and cared for, not her equal. ¡°Be prepared. Mama won¡¯t be herself for a little while, and it¡¯ll hurt, badly¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay!¡± He nodded eagerly. ¡°One last pain, and then we¡¯ll be together! Forever and ever!¡±


    ¡°Forever and ever,¡± Purple promised, standing up and gripping her knife. ¡°Take the exact dates we spoke about.¡±


    This is it. The final part of phase one. Academician can¡¯t read what does not exist. Corbo played a crucial role in his downfall. But to remove him from here, everything must look natural. Her bowie knife was coated in a special poison that would render him indistinguishable from a corpse, and then one of her allies will drop the boy into the teleporter, and he¡¯ll wake up later to a new life, healed and ready to assist her. Throat, heart, lungs¡ªanything but the brain was fine. If she strikes the brain, however¡­


    Purple calmed herself. She was a genius! She had never failed to create psychological profiles to predict her targets, and she would make no mistakes in assessing herself. Given enough information to build a profile, there was no being alive whose actions she couldn¡¯t predict.


    Memories were fascinating things. Remove several or whole swaths of certain days and the brain would adapt, even leaving the personality relatively intact, but the person¡¯s goals could change wildly. What she planned to use Cordo for was very similar to a sleeping agent, pretending to be a loyal servant until a signal is given and the memories of mission and indoctrination flood in, compelling an agent into action. Only her pretense will be absolute and impossible to detect.


    A wave hit her, like a cold tongue licking her brain, and Purple Valkyrie recoiled in terror, not understanding how she had ended up in this holding cell or why everything was so dark. A figure leapt out of the cell, three-fingered hands ending in claws aimed at her face. Filth! Academician¡¯s pet used his power on me! She thought furiously, recognizing the beast in front of her.


    Purple kicked, shattering the small jaw of the creature and sending its head first into the ceiling. Muddled head or not, the Organization¡¯s doctors enhanced her body; muscles were strengthened and compressed to help her maintain a vulnerable appearance to the last. The mechanical glove covering her arm flared, stealing heat directly from the thing¡¯s heart, and she slashed with her knife, the edge scraping against the bones of the thin neck. The disgusting mutant slumped and fell on the floor almost too easily, and she retreated, cautiously examining its body. Dead, or close to it.


    ¡°Damnation, what is going on? Why is it dark, and why was the cell opened?¡± she wondered aloud as the lights flickered. ¡°Guards, report the situation.¡± She tapped on her communicator.


    What? What exactly had she lost? Purple feverishly tried to recall her life, remembering a simple family living in a radioactive region, until the Organization saved them and offered her a job. She remembered friends and teachers, her first missions, and trials that tested her loyalty and dedication to the cause. The elders, knowledge of how to wield weaponry, her own research projects, Academician, Orange and Green Valkyries, passwords and monikers, her true name¡­ Everything seemed to be in place. Only recent memories were affected.


    ¡°There¡¯s been a power failure in the area, ma¡¯am!¡± an operator replied. ¡°A freak got loose, and then another, but Elder Academician took them apart. Drones are clearing the corridor of the gore as we speak. No casualties. We¡¯re investigating why it could use its power, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°Report to the elder that another of his freaks messed up my memories and attacked me.¡± Purple kicked the dead body. ¡°I¡¯m heading to Medbay to get checked out; Orange is to take over in my absence.¡± She kicked the dead filth again, angered at its sudden demise. It stole her memories! Who knows what exactly it had ripped from her head? ¡°And toss this junk into disposal. Also, pass a message to the elder. Tell him: I told you so, sir.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean, Ma¡¯am?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s about his constant renovations; he¡¯ll understand. I am compromised and will go on medical leave.¡± Purple slapped the side of her head, annoyed at the gaping holes in her memory.


    Who knew exactly what she had lost, either temporarily or permanently, due to Academician¡¯s negligence? Worse, she wasn¡¯t sure what would happen to her personality or if she could continue her duties. She repeatedly warned him not to rush the construction. She inhaled and tried to understand how she had ended up here. There was a conversation with Academician and she headed to the elevator, then¡­ Blank. But she could hazard a guess; she was probably trying to find her way to the battle when this creature attacked her. She also planned to do something about the Dynast being distracted¡­ But what?


    Her elder really started getting on her nerves.

 Chapter 45: Marcos Worries

    ¡°Sisters, brothers, the ice boys fucked us over,¡± Bogdan announced to a small gathering. Dressed in the overall of an armory worker, he stood on a crate, his paws dramatically raised above his head. ¡°An honorable name had been stolen! Sword Saint Bertruda keeps souring Warlord Janine¡¯s mood! Shaman Impatient One whipped her back to the bone after talking to Sword Saint Camelia Wintersong! Injured! Stinky bombs! Insults! These grievances cannot stand unchallenged, I say!¡± He slammed his fist into the wall, causing the metal to vibrate. ¡°The ice bastards must be repelled!¡±


    The present crowd cramping the corridor included both males and females in it. In the Wolf Tribe, it was frowned upon to permit a male to lead any public speech, as it implied incompetence on the part of a female for not initiating the discussion of the troubling topic earlier, and the speaker often found himself bitten afterwards. There were some exceptions. If a male revealed the truth about forced copulation, about a wolf hag, or even about a warlord embezzling food or neglecting her duties, shamans and warlords formed ranks around the male, watching hawkishly to ensure his safety afterward. Truth, even bitter truth, was a cost of survival, and a slight had to be corrected.


    But this gathering had nothing to do with such serious matters, and Bogdan treaded a fine line. He smoothed the situation by inviting females to a discussion rather than demanding their presence. He also postured to maintain a non-formal appearance to avoid a situation where scouts and wolf hags would not be tempted to assert their dominance, and females returned the favor by letting males speak freely.


    ¡°What can we do?¡± Anissa asked, leaning against a wall. She released her claws and examined them through the aiming scope of her artificial eye. ¡°We tried fighting them, they refused to back down. We tried ignoring them and faced the same result.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and if we so much as lay a finger on them, Warlord Alpha will rip it off. No thanks,¡± Elzada stated, checking her mechanical leg.


    ¡°Have we tried talking to them?¡± Kirk asked, shrinking and trying to retreat into the shadows as the entire gathering¡¯s surprised amber eyes focused on him.


    ¡°How would that help?¡± Zlata inquired. The wolf hag ignored the male¡¯s weakness and the fact that his family closed ranks to calm him.


    ¡°Well, they are reasonable beings, right? If we explain everything¡­¡±


    ¡°Kirk, buddy, you don¡¯t speak to the ice boys,¡± Bogdan said. ¡°They¡¯ll drag you down to their level and trap you with their superior experience in wordplay. Remember the duel.¡±


    ¡°So we are stuck,¡± Anissa growled.


    ¡°Sis, don¡¯t sweat about a problem when finding a solution is so much funnier!¡± Ignacy said enthusiastically. Like Bogdan, he wore an engineer¡¯s overall. Ignoring his older sister¡¯s angry clanking of fangs, he used his backpack to push Bodan off the crate, then rummaged in it and spread a map over the rusty surface. ¡°Behold! The crawler¡¯s schematics.¡±


    ¡°Where in the Spirits¡¯ names did you get those?¡± Anissa raised her brow, calming at once.


    ¡°Who do you think assists with repairs?¡± Ignacy smugly pointed a thumb at his chest, then gestured at the intricate web of pipes spreading from the compartments owned by the Ice Fangs. ¡°Our crawler is far from being the stunning beauty she once was¡­¡±


    ¡°He,¡± Elzada corrected him. ¡°The Inevitable is a boy. Everyone knows it.¡±


    ¡°Believe me, when you hear the song of working gears, the groaning of wondrous circuits, gears, engines, pipes carrying waste, energy flow coming from the engine, you¡¯ll agree that this is her and that she has a beautiful voice despite her age.¡± Ignacy dreamily glanced at the ceiling.


    ¡°Maybe you could prove it to me, Ignacy.¡± The scout leaned on his shoulder, nibbled at his ear, and whispered: ¡°Just you and me, exploring the machine world to our hearts¡¯ content.¡±


    ¡°Sure, we can go tonight if you want to,¡± the Wolfkin said, and Elzada clenched her fist in triumph. ¡°Anyway, see the pipes leading to the septic tanks? Both they and the tanks are running on fumes from disrepair. Normally, such a situation should not have occurred, as the waste would have been recycled immediately, but our baby is overcrowded, overworked, and the lack of maintenance has finally bitten us in the ass. Theoretically, if something were to happen to the tanks, the automatic system would flush their contents in both directions, and the Ice Fangs will find their precious dens leisuring in a thick layer of feces and piss.¡±


    ¡°The stench alone will be the stuff of legends!¡± exclaimed Melina, closing her snout to the schematics. ¡°That¡¯s bound to cause quite a conniption!¡± She slapped Ignacy on the back. ¡°It wasn¡¯t half-bad to let males learn from the Normies!¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t we be punished?¡± Kirk asked. The often nervous-looking Wolfkin licked his lips and looked around, as if afraid that Kalaisa would materialize out of nowhere and beat him up.


    ¡°Planning to scurry away?¡± Anissa grinned, her eye shining like a young star.


    ¡°No way.¡± The youngster shook his head stubbornly, holding his left paw to keep it from shaking. ¡°They called our pack a bunch of dirty barbarians¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, they ain¡¯t wrong,¡± Kirk¡¯s sister giggled, and Elzada lightly elbowed her. ¡°We are dirty. And barbarians.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself!¡± Elzada tugged on her sleeveless t-shirt. ¡°I clean myself and wash my clothes regularly.¡±


    ¡°Elzada, you wash them in sand.¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± The scout blinked and pricked up her ears. ¡°Where else am I supposed to do it?¡±


    ¡°The Ice Fangs could¡¯ve been less of an ass about delivering that statement,¡± Kirk insisted.


    ¡°Then it is settled!¡± Bogdan announced and walked before the gathering, meeting the eyes of the males and bowing to the females. ¡°My kin from different packs and from different parents! We are bound by saltiness and grief!¡± He clenched his fist, raising it high above his head. ¡°Time to get even! We¡­¡±


    ¡°And why should I not send you directly to the shamans for punishment?¡± Janine¡¯s voice boomed from the corridor¡¯s dynamics. Her calm tone froze everyone present in place. ¡°Warlord Alpha has made her will clear. No fighting outside the arena.¡±


    Janine sat in a small operations center, surrounded by displays that showed her everything important inside the crawler. The rejuvenation shot had left her refreshed and full of fresh energy, and the warlord eagerly joined her sisters in carrying out the duties, even if it meant trying to fit her oversized body into a small armchair meant for the Normies.


    The short moment of unity after the recent battle was short-lived. Hundreds of Wolfkins from both groups had begged permission to join Onyxia on her scouting mission, and as the number of volunteers grew, heated insults flew back and forth as the Wolfkins and Ice Fangs tried to prove their superiority. Eventually, Onyxia chose First to accompany her, claiming that he alone could restrain her if she went too far in questioning the slavers and, if the rumors were true, at Alpha¡¯s direct behest.


    Tens of thousands of able-bodied Wolfkins were trapped inside the crawler for weeks on end. To combat boredom, they competed for the right to escort refugees from the ruined settlement to safety, as the claustrophobic corridors of the giant machine took a toll on the morale of the soldiers. The Blessed Mother herself stood as an unmoving statue on the hull of the Inevitable, panting and clutching her head. Warlords and dozens of lesser ranks often joined her, sometimes returning proudly bearing new scars as the Spirits tested the progenitor¡¯s sanity, and she lashed out, clawing at those near her.


    Fears of enclosed spaces could be overcome. The hardest thing to deal with was boredom.


    There wasn¡¯t a warlord of her rank who would let her subordinates fool around for too long. In the Wastes, Wolfkins always had an abundance of duties to perform: recon missions, raising young, training, or hunting. A period of peace always led to dominations. And now, with so many packs sharing one den, the arena was never idle.


    It was Dragena¡¯s idea, and Janine kept kicking herself for not suggesting it first. The warlord requested a sealed hangar bay for the ritual sparring procedures, and Captain Cristobo obliged. Engineers removed the broken machinery, workbenches, assembly lines, and everything else from the hangar and constructed four pits for individual sparring. To the north was a larger platform where entire groups could let loose and hone their skills in free-for-alls or team competitions. Later, workers added bleachers and rudimentary balconies for spectators and judges.


    Blood, torn fur, broken fangs, and the remains of claws littered the arena floor. Day and night, scores of Wolfkins fought, biting, snarling, losing, and immediately seeking a rematch. Their cousins joined in the gruesome spectacle. Knight captains engaged wolf hags in individual combat, and an orderly wall of defenders and knights tried to withstand a black tide of warriors and scouts pouring at them. Sages and shamans walked along the edge of the arena, often saving lives by breaking up the fiercest clashes to the dissatisfaction of both sides, as neither was ready to give up.


    Wolfkins fought with claws and fangs, closing distances quickly, unleashing a flurry of stabs intending to rupture an artery or deflecting an incoming blow to open their opponent for a bite, and willingly ceding ground to avoid danger. Their ice-blooded cousins used martial weapons. They fought measuredly, trying to adapt to their opponents¡¯ nonexistent strategy, and proudly held their ground, masterfully weaving patterns of death in the air. The fighters agreed on one unspoken rule: never maim or aim for the eyes.


    Knight captains viewed this situation as madness and pleaded the Wolf Tribe to at least bring in battle knives to the battle. But it was not in the tribe¡¯s nature. They seldom relied on melee in a battle, preferring to leave it to the shamans and warlords and use shardguns. It was all the more humiliating for the Ice Fangs to see so many of their own being wheeled into the emergency room with horrific wounds. Not that the Wolf Tribe was without its share of wounded and near-dead.


    Warlords Ashbringer and Dragena found the Wolf Tribe¡¯s performance lacking. From the opposite side, Leonidas Summerspring and Camilia Wintersong echoed these sentiments, expressing their dissatisfaction at the inability of their proud troops to achieve total victory. The bloody tie pleased Janine. She found joy in witnessing white furs express their familial fury in melee combat, plowing through incoming stabs and bites to render the Wolfkins¡¯ bodies immobile with a single swing of their great blades. Earned scars united the warriors. Ravager was the Blessed Mother of the Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fang Order. Neither side was superior to the other. They merely had different roles assigned to them by the Spirits, but at their core, the two groups remained one family.


    The arena became a favorite spot for the Normies¡¯ regulars and working personnel to unwind and place bets after working hours, as they cheered on their favorite teams. Priests, doctors, and the Iternian clamored for an immediate ban on the violent sport. In a brief show of unity, the Ice Fangs and the Wolfkins failed to understand the reasoning behind such a weird request.


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    Soldiers eagerly seized any opportunity to assist the crew, and many males, motivated by Ignacy¡¯s example, labored in workshops, preparing mobile artillery and repairing combat armor for upcoming battles. Elzada soon joined them, bringing in warriors and scouts from various packs.


    Lacerated One happily reported that one hundred fifty-two females were carrying lives, with newly formed soulmates eagerly mating in every corner of the crawler. Unlike Normies, who often gave birth to a single cub, Wolfkin females¡¯ litters ranged from four to eight cubs. Even if it was the first or second litter for the life-bearers, it still meant six hundred cubs at worst and a thousand at best. Meaning two hundred potential fighters could be expected to live to adulthood. A very blessed sign.


    Desperate at these news, Janine considered crushing her own head, but instead, she accompanied Alpha and Dragena to Ravager. By the progenitor¡¯s will, the future mothers were to eat exclusively officer¡¯s rations, highly nutritious packages of canned meat and vegetables rich in vitamins. They paled compared to the succulence of a cusack, but Janine ignored the grumbling and cursing directed at her. The bland food could help unborn cubs be born alive, and that was all that mattered. She refused to let anyone repeat her mistakes in carrying the malnourished cubs, and Cristobo and Ravager agreed to her request to send the life-bearers back to the villages, where they could eat and rest in peace. Ashbringer grumbled, unsatisfied that the packs were losing numbers, and claimed the solution to be pointless, but Dragena and Alpha firmly supported Janine¡¯s initiative, shutting down any opposition.


    To Janine, it didn¡¯t matter whether or not Ashbringer was correct. Cubs of the first litter had a better chance of surviving in a stable environment, and she was willing to do whatever it took to give them that chance.


    This left the Ice Fangs and the problems they brought. The arena helped bridge the gap between the groups, but outside of it, the distrust persisted. The accident involving Impatient One¡¯s self-flagellation, persistent demands for ¡®truce¡¯ from the Mountaintops, and the outrageous demands of several Sword Saints for Janine to meet with Bertruda enraged the packs. Tancred¡¯s wound and persistent rumors of the Ice Fangs deliberately hiding in the rear during the war infuriated the Order. Wolfkins of the tribe were baffled that their cousins permitted males to lead, and the Ice Fangs found their black-furred kin¡¯s lifestyle abhorrent.


    Insults flew back and forth, and soon Bogdan found a stinky grenade by his door that left him smelling of urine for days. Tancred Ironwill discovered the culprits, personally apologized for their childish behavior, and demoted a knight captain and several other knights who were responsible for the peculiar joke. Bogdan hated he hadn¡¯t thought of this prank first, more than the smell.


    The situation could deteriorate, and the warlords had implemented drastic measures. An open insult aimed at an Ice Fang was worth twenty lashes by a shaman arm. Alpha dealt with anyone who dared assault or bite their cousins outside of the arena. The warlords took turns in the operations centers, monitoring their packs¡¯ behavior, and groups of shamans stood ready to stop any troublemakers.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Bogdan straightened up, looking around for the hidden camera. ¡°There is no need for commendation! We seek no laurels for fixing the drainage system in the Order¡¯s dens. The sight of their irritated snouts when they realize who solved their problem is reward enough for us to strive for greatness!¡±


    ¡°Is that so? And you haven¡¯t even considered flooding them with the former contents of their bowels?¡± Janine asked skeptically.


    ¡°Perish the thought, Warlord!¡± Bogdan faked terror. ¡°Your orders are absolute. And we are very obedient soldiers!¡± The others agreed, and Janine¡¯s booming laughter raced through the corridor.


    ¡°Fine, fine. If that¡¯s the case, go for it. I expect a full report of your splendid success within the hour. And after you¡¯ve done that, you¡¯ll do the same for every other drainage system in our crawler. We can¡¯t let them break down on us, can we?¡± Janine smiled and switched the screen¡¯s image.


    Ah, the wonders of being young and reckless. If Bogdan had been a girl, she would have encouraged him to pursue a career as a scout. As weak as he was, the boy had a knack for gathering crowds for his mischiefs. And unlike her and Martyshkina¡¯s pranks, Bogdan rarely left anyone broken. Still smiling, Janine pressed a button that toggled the display.


    In the medical bay, white-furred and black-furred Wolfkins worked together, scrubbing the floor. Aside from friendly banter and the occasional encouragement from the little ones who had recently awakened from their injuries, everything seemed in order here. She switched screens. Arruda was asking Osiris to let her try out his sword gun in his den. Weird, but it seemed innocent enough. Next. Impatient One led a prayer. Several white-furred attended the prayer, kneeling next to the believers and listening to the sermons. No harm in this either, but the absence of Soulless One saddened Janine.


    The elder shaman explained that her distrust toward the Ice Fangs was the reason for her absence. She didn¡¯t want to offend the spirits with half-hearted prayers, so instead she taught the healthy little ones and several settlers new languages. Soulless One even invited the Iternian, asking him to confirm if her pronunciation of certain words was correct. Janine watched their lessons for a while, finding contentment in the fact that her friend had regained her vigor and spoke in a clear voice, enjoying putting her hobby to use. Next screen.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it.¡± The display showed Kalaisa and Anji sitting alone in a dining hall. Kalaisa tossed a bent needle in a trash can. ¡°Why is that night still bothering you? And don¡¯t lie! I heard you smashing the mirror.¡±


    Kalaisa had fully recovered after the beating; her scapula had regained its shape, and fresh neuro-link implants replaced the ruined ones. The recovery period burned through her internal reserves; her ribs protruded from her skin, and the implants protruded from her fur like overgrown ticks. The wolf hag still visited Janine for advice, but lately she spent more time beside her rival, no longer trying to dominate Anji. The two women were busy sewing the remnants of Kalaisa¡¯s several torn garments, spread across the long table, into something resembling a skort and a jacket. Kalaisa cursed as a tremor in her formerly broken arm prevented her from pushing a thread into the ring of a needle, and her finger bent the metal instead.


    ¡°Patience,¡± Anji said. She leaned in, helping Kalaisa push the thread in. ¡°We are in no rush. Take it slowly. The spasms will soon be gone. As for your question, I keep wondering if I¡¯d done things differently, if I could have saved more people. And when an idea comes to me, I react,¡± she easily admitted.


    ¡°We¡¯re killers. Not saviors. Death is what we do,¡± Kalaisa insisted. She released a claw and drew a line in the air, struggling to articulate her thoughts. Then she shrugged, drank a glass of nutrition drink, and returned to the sewing. ¡°Like¡­ You¡¯re older than me. Surely you have been involved in a few conquests by now. People die. Get used to it. We¡¯ll all die, eventually. Don¡¯t overthink it; train, Anji! If your brain is slow, let your physical speed carry you. Concentrate on keeping a tally of dead bastards so the Normies can one day build their peace.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for worrying, Kalaisa.¡± Anji smiled, ignoring the bristling. ¡°When I see a dead cub, I keep remembering those rascals I played with when Dad and Mom brought our family to help.¡±


    ¡°Tch. Mother, father, brothers, sisters¡­ A princess to the core. Bet they tucked you into a blanket, too.¡± Kalaisa clenched her fist, took a breath, and her shoulders slumped as she relaxed. ¡°Sorry. Was rude.¡±


    ¡°Oh, they did. In fact, they still try to do that when I visit home.¡± Anji laughed. ¡°Mom is weird.¡±


    ¡°Not weird, good,¡± Kalaisa grumbled. ¡°It was nice, right?¡±


    ¡°It was awesome,¡± Anji admitted, putting her paws over Kalaisa¡¯s. ¡°Stop tensing so much. You can do it. Here, let me help. See, this way the pattern will look nice¡­¡±


    Janine turned off the sound out of respect for privacy. Kalaisa looked a bit more stable than usual¡­ But Janine remembered the look on Kirk¡¯s face and the way Kalaisa had treated her family. There was a long way ahead before the gifted fool could be a true pillar for the tribe. Janine tapped her claws together and called Marco to herself.


    ¡°M¡­ Warlord!¡± Marco saluted her.


    The events of the past days had left her little time to spend with her son, but her little boy wasn¡¯t a slacker, scampering up and down the crawler to help Zero deliver packages from local traders. But a worry kept boring into the warlord¡¯s mind. The sight of dead little ones back in the settlement lured her back to the memories of her stillborn daughters and her little cubs, who had perished in the pits. Overwhelmed by her worries, she asked Till Ingo for a particular gift.


    It was a modified tracking device used by the Investigation Bureau. Not many things could suppress its signal; even Iternian technology had failed several times to silence the emergency signal when they kidnapped agents for questioning. Janine had to call in owed favors from both the Investigators and Till Ingo to get the device, which was safely encased in a sturdy casing and could be activated at the touch of a button.


    ¡°At ease.¡± Janine placed the device in his paw. ¡°Marco, Houstad is a big city, and your family might not be around all the time. If anyone tries to dominate or claw you, press this button. And I will come, no matter what.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need protection,¡± Marco said, looking down. ¡°I¡¯ve survived the pits just fine.¡±


    Janine left the seat and knelt, taking her son by the shoulders. Traditions and rules called for severe punishment to be meted out to a male who dared to speak back to a female. But she simply hugged him, letting go of the discipline and trying to be a mother.


    ¡°We both know it isn¡¯t true,¡± she said softly. ¡°Marco, the reason your knees hurt is because of me. It is my fault for ruining your future, for failing your sisters and your brother, for not giving you and them enough vitality to thrive.¡± He tried to speak, and she pressed a finger to his lips. ¡°Colt has asked me to watch over you and your siblings. Permit me this one weakness. If things get scary, call me immediately.¡±


    ¡°I am not weak!¡± Marco shouted. ¡°I understand precisely why you are giving this to me! You think me weak, worthless! Everyone thinks the same! ¡®Oh, poor Marco, how are your knees? Can you walk today? Why do they make you carry these greaves? They are too heavy for you. Do you need help to carry this box? No, I don¡¯t; no, it¡¯s not too heavy; and no, I don¡¯t need to be pitied or reminded of how useless I am! I... I¡¯m going to be as mighty as you, Ani, and Y...¡± He gurgled, gasping for air, when Janine closed her paw around his throat.


    She rose to her full height, lifting her boy to eye level. A low growl ignited a spark of fear in his gentle eyes. Marco clenched the remote and tried to bare his neck in submission when Janine closed her snout to his, baring her fangs.


    ¡°You are not like me or your sisters,¡± Janine said mercilessly. It hurt her heart, but the boy must learn. Either he accepts his harsh place in the tribe, or he makes the right choice and agrees to be exiled and become happy. Janine loosened her grip so that Marco could breathe freely. ¡°No male in our tribe will ever be equal to a female. Such is the will of the Spirits. Do you think we care for you and offer to help because you are weak? Is that it? Because we pity you? We care because we love you. We help because we are a family. And you will always be our family, regardless of whether you are stronger or weaker than your living brothers. Sit.¡± She dropped him and summoned Martyshkina.


    Marco obeyed Janine, found himself a place in the corner, and sat quietly, massaging his neck as Janine observed the packs, no longer glancing at him. The warlord paid no heed even to the hilarious chaos happening on the display as the ¡®repair¡¯ team faced unexpected difficulties.


    Was that what Marco was thinking? Did he truly believe that his siblings stood by him out of pity for his illness? Spirits, no wonder he thought that; she had taken him from the pits! Her actions were the reason her boy drank richly from the cup of misery. She used him as a glorified delivery boy and failed to emphasize his value as a soldier for the nation. No, Janine had made enough mistakes. She had failed Marco¡¯s siblings; she would not hope for the best again. The mistake will be corrected tonight. A lesson was in order¡ªa lesson every cub passed in the pits. It was her responsibility to show Marco just how capable he was, and that the path to soldiering was not barred to him.


    ¡°Called?¡± Martyshkina showed up, pressing two fingers to her temple in a mocking salute. When Janine turned in the chair to meet her, the warlord raised her brows at the sight on the screens. ¡°Jani, mind telling me why our boys and girls are standing knee-deep in shit?¡±


    ¡°By the Spirits, it¡¯s everywhere! What the Abyss are they even eating!?¡± Anissa cried in disgust. ¡°Ignacy, you bastard! You¡¯ve told us that the pipe will hold!¡±


    ¡°How is this my fault? The ice bastards understated the severity of the situation in the latest report!¡± Ignacy snapped back.


    ¡°Clearly by a lot,¡± Kirk said as he assisted his brother, who had been thrown to the ground by a torrent of brown mass, to get to his feet.


    ¡°Ignacy, if I die drowning in this, I swear I will get your ass in the Great Beyond!¡± growled Zlata.


    ¡°Why am I at fault? It was Bogdan¡¯s plan!¡±


    ¡°It was a horrible idea to let males learn! They ruined everything as usual!¡± Melina lamented.


    ¡°For once, I agree!¡± Anissa dug her claws into the wall to keep from slipping into the brown mire.


    ¡°Alright, folks, we¡¯re facing a literal shitstorm. Gotta work fast before the system flushes the pipes! If we hope to salvage the situation, we can¡¯t afford to look bad in the eyes of the Ice Fangs,¡± Bogdan said.


    ¡°Not sure about the looks, but we sure as shit smell like... shit,¡± Elzada chuckled.


    ¡°Practicing in performing emergency repairs,¡± Janine quickly replied to Martyshkina, standing up and picking Marco up. ¡°Listen, could you take over the watch? I¡¯ll owe you one. I have an emergency on my paws, too.¡±


    ¡°No problem here.¡± Martyshkina gracefully leapt over Janine and landed heavily in her seat. She put both paws behind her head and watched the displays with a grin. ¡°Is this Zlata trying to clog a pipe over there? For such a show, I am willing to do it for free.¡±

 Chapter 46: Into the Core Lands

    Massive bastions separated the Core Lands from the Outer Lands. Manned by Provincial Army soldiers and led by retired veterans, these vast, sprawling rivers of reinforced concrete and steel housed every weapon imaginable. Surface-to-air missiles, concealed artillery installations, sniper positions, and even chemical launchers slumbered within the titanic wall.


    Not a single scorched mark marred the proud surface. Troops in bunkers scattered across the rocky terrain before the wall repelled any occasional assault. Recon teams regularly ventured into the wildness to alert the defenders should arrays of radars and sensors be fooled. Seismic stations worked tirelessly inside the wall, tracking sand reapers¡¯ migrations.


    The dividing line between the two regions jarred Janine as the crawler approached the ancient gates, which opened, inviting the troops into the heartland. Bleached sand and rock stretched northward, and a weary traveler would have to find shelter in the shadow of great mountains or have an advanced anti-heat suit to survive more than a day. The rare settlements were built near the mines to reduce the area that the local defense force had to protect.


    Ruins of the Old World could be found throughout the Wastes: skyscrapers leaned against mountains, debris from spaceships and space stations was buried underground, and abandoned cities, stripped of everything of value, created an eerie atmosphere for anyone traveling through their wrecked streets and collapsed buildings.


    Merchants led long caravans through shortcuts, finding respite in occasional oases where, in the shadows, trees touched by radiation or the glow stubbornly fought to survive. Priests and shamans of many faiths often built their sanctuaries there, safeguarding the new life with words and shotguns.


    Villagers often earned tokens by working on farms, places that no longer grew vegetables but produced far more valuable resources. Meat, milk, and hides. Each farm had hundreds of smelly and docile cusacks kept safely within its walls. Cusacks, animals created in the laboratory of the Old World, were omnivorous beasts; their immune systems easily fought off diseases carried by parasites; their tough hides made excellent heat-resistant clothing, and these hides were one of the primary materials used to make survival suits. They bred fast, gave milk in abundance, and survived even severe wounds. When an occasional natural disaster temporarily cut off a part of the Wastes, its inhabitants relied on the farms to survive.


    Years of peace softened the population, and the wounded trader or lost traveler no longer faced the shut doors of a settlement. But perils still lurked in these lands. A careless press of a palm against a heated stone or metal resulted in a burn. At night, skinwalkers, the Wolfkins claimed by the Spirit of Rage, prowled the lands, bringing woe to anyone who attracted the attention of these superhuman psychopaths. They often spoke in eloquent languages, only to break into gibberish to surprise their playthings. Driven by pure desires, they could save and damn in equal measure.


    Janine once visited a village that worshipped such a fallen sister. The skinwalker fixed a water supply system, unearthed an ancient laboratory, and developed a cure for diseases that plagued the locals. Despite Janine¡¯s warnings, the foolish Normies and mutants refused to believe her and worshipped their savior, allowing her to play with her young. A week later, the skinwalker grew tired of playing the benevolent role and nearly massacred the entire village in less than a minute, only to be stopped by the warlord¡¯s late intervention. The two fought for hours, but Janine never won this battle; the transformed scout had her fill of brawling and left, regrowing the missing parts of her head.


    Madmen, insectoids, predators, monsters, and slave traders¡¯ crews hunted in the sands, often attacking settlements or engaging in fierce combat against the state¡¯s troops. Quicksand, radiation fields, anomalies, and the Old World¡¯s automated defenses waited to claim their share of lives. Sandstorms hurled boulders the size of a full-grown Normie that could spear a house from kilometers away, and occasionally toppled tall buildings that had survived the Extinction. Every little one in villages learned how to treat wounds, stay safe from the sun, and wield a firearm before learning how to write or speak properly. In settlements, the cubs received their first handgun at fourteen.


    Every day, long lines of trucks streamed out of the gates, bringing water, prosthetics, fresh soldiers, and medicine to the Outer Lands. And from the Outer Lands, similar caravans moved in, delivering ore and relics found by highly protected excavation facilities, looming citadels that provided the highest paying jobs in the region. The army also escorted doctors from the Core Lands when the need arose.


    Such was the Wastes, the most civilized region in the Outer Lands. Further north was the Ravaged Lands, a cesspool of constant infighting and war amongst myriad countries and tribes. The Blood Court warred against the Malformed; hundreds were burned alive monthly to satisfy cruel deities in the lands of the slave nation known as the Soultakers, and rumors abounded of Iron Men, aberrations who willingly shed their bodies to search for the wonders of old under the cover of the fiercest sandstorms. The Dynast¡¯s heel had yet to grind these maniacs underneath, and the Reclamation Army focused on subduing the rest of the Wastes and securing the ancient stronghold in the Ravaged Lands.


    To the east of the Ravaged Lands lay the borders of Pearl, a fast-growing city-state that thrived under the energetic and cunning leadership of its council, which sold armaments into the Ravaged Lands. Iterna¡¯s lands were far to the northwest of the war-torn region, and these mysterious people expanded at a snail¡¯s pace. The region known as the Desolation was in the distant north, and somewhere there was the facility from which the Dynast had rescued the tribe.


    The Land of the Oath was to the west of the Wastes and the Ravaged Lands, behind an enormously long mountain range. Several heavily fortified mountain passes connected the regions. The Oathtakers and the Reclaimers reluctantly accepted the reality that they could not triumph by the force of arms. Lyudochka, the adopted daughter of Martyshkina and Janine, had foolishly chosen to live there. The two warlords wrote old-fashioned letters to this unique woman, inquiring about her well-being and offering advice.


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    And beyond the gates, there was another world. Fields of green grass, heavily modified to survive the harsh climate, rolled over the hills to the horizon to the south. Well-maintained paved roads were like blood vessels, teeming with civilian vehicles, unafraid of the monsters lurking behind the wall. Police officers formed a cordon to keep gapers away, but Janine and Marco spotted rare Insectones, mutants, Normies and even Orais in the field, none of them carrying a weapon. These people lived in the town closest to the border, and yet their skins lacked the usual tan.


    Night drew close and heavy clouds swirled overhead, and as Janine and Marco jumped from the crawler into the soft grass, they experienced the greatest change. Air. Its breeze didn¡¯t carry sand and rock; it was cool, even gentle, so unlike the overheated, lung-choking air of the north. Mother and son crossed the field on all fours, shocked at the lack of parasites amidst the green.


    ¡°Mom!¡± Marco hushed, and Janine stopped. He pointed to drops of water on the stems. ¡°Did someone spill a bucket¡­¡±


    ¡°No, Marco. Here, water is plentiful.¡± She ruffled his hair and sniffed the air. ¡°Look! There, on a tree!¡±


    ¡°What is it?¡± Marco asked eagerly, releasing his claws. A small body waved its fluffy tail, attempting to blend in with the tall branches. ¡°A rat?¡±


    ¡°A squirrel, I think,¡± Janine replied, trying to remember what she had learned from the educational materials.


    ¡°It has such tiny claws and is so loud, Mom!¡± Marco laughed incredulously as the squirrel climbed up. ¡°I can hear its breathing from here! How did it survive for so long?¡±


    ¡°The Terraformation Institute had recreated many creatures and released them into the wild,¡± Janine explained. She and Marco walked over to the tree, and with her permission, he placed a paw on its bark, opening his eyes wide as he examined unknown things. ¡°Visual similarities and behavior aside, these animals have little in common with their extinct relatives.¡± Janine raised her arm and caught the leaping animal, ignoring its furious chirping and scratching of feeble paws against her fur. She showed the animal to Marco and threw it back into the tree. ¡°Their muscles are tougher, and their immune system is better, so they won¡¯t keel over when a passing wind brings radiation from beyond the wall. The grass and trees have undergone similar changes. Iterna wants to return the world to its original state, but that is no longer possible.¡±


    ¡°Why is that, Mom?¡± Marco asked, touching a flower with a claw and putting the tip in his mouth to taste the dew and scents.


    ¡°Marco, you have seen the sand reapers,¡± she laughed and patted him. ¡°There is no return to normalcy after it. The Reclamation Army has embraced the inevitable change, and brave women and men with ingenious minds have improved upon the outdated designs to bring the animals of the Old World to the New. Should the folly of mankind... Our folly cause another extinction; they may yet survive instead of dying out again.¡±


    ¡°Why are we here?¡± Marco asked. ¡°The scenery is awesome, honest! But it is cold here¡­¡±


    ¡°Endure,¡± Janine ordered him, sniffing the air, taking in countless foreign scents, discarding the unimportant in seconds and concentrating on the serious matter at paw. ¡°Dangers exist even in these parts. And it is your duty to put an end to what threatens tonight.¡±


    On the ridge of a large hill, a trio of Normies prepared their equipment to film the passing crawler. Two more approached the Normies from the south. And in the crevices behind the hill, something stirred¡ªsomething that had burrowed its way from the Outer Lands.


    Five bodies appeared in the open, shaking off the rocks and sand from their carapaces and leaving drops of slime to navigate their way back. These were insectoid drones¡ªcreatures that stood on six stork legs. Their limbs were deceptively thin, but their sharp points splintered rock; a bullet could ricochet off the chitin covering their bodies, and protruding mandibles could bite off the arm of even a female Wolfkin. The drones reached a meter in length.


    Back in the pits, the drones served as practice targets for the cubs. Under the supervision of warriors and shamans, the little black-furred rascals hunted down the drones, scoring their first kill and earning a blessed reward from the power. The exercise served more than a simple show of strength; the weak and the feeble learned to work together, and the strong learned to be shields.


    Janine played the role of a protector tonight. She wore simple cargo pants and was shivering from the cold of the Core Lands. Marco crept to the edge of a canyon, donned in the pantlegs of a basic suit that completely encased his legs and extended up to his waist. Bundles of artificial muscles tightly overlapped the fur on his legs, like a second skin. Janine had no luck finding gear so small in the armory, so she visited Sword Saint Camelia for help, who gladly obliged by calling the girl Marco often played with, who had a similar physique. Parts of Cordelia¡¯s initiate suit adorned Marco¡¯s legs.


    Janine rarely had to treat wounds herself. She knew the basics, of course: how to stop bleeding and clean a stomach from poison, what medicine to use against venom, and how to set a dislocated bone. She no longer trusted herself to operate on a wounded or sick person unless the situation demanded it. It wasn¡¯t just a lack of practice. When her fingers grew so big enough that she risked accidentally tearing her daughters¡¯ mouths apart during the removal of a bad fang¡­ She understood she should shut up, swallow her pride, and ask for help.


    But Janine still browsed medical tutorials and learned about how mechanical exoskeletons provided relief in cases involving broken or brittle bones. Unfortunately, the constant over-reliance on the machines will cause Marco¡¯s condition to deteriorate gradually, but she hadn¡¯t planned on forcing him to wear the metal for months. When set to power save mode, the pantlegs did not give Marco an unfair advantage, but kept his knees and joints from bothering him too much.


    ¡°Five,¡± Marco gulped nervously, grasping the knives¡¯ handles, and Janine nodded in approval. Male Wolfkins had weaker claws and fangs, so they were permitted to use weapons during the Rite of Passage. Many forgot or were too ashamed to use this privilege, earning themselves pain and humiliation. Marco was wiser. ¡°Isn¡¯t it a bit too much?¡±


    ¡°If you fail, the people on the ridge will die,¡± Janine said cruelly, holding both paws behind her back. ¡°You can do it. Marco,¡± she reassured him calmly as he nervously stepped to the edge. ¡°Take a deep breath. You have plenty of time; this is not a race. Your opponents are insects; they have a rudimentary intelligence, but in the end they are ruled by instinct. They are prey, lacking creativity, and you are a hunter, trained since birth. Start with a distraction. Plan for what you are going to do afterwards. There are many tools around us, ready to be wielded by our bodies. Aim your blows at their vulnerable parts.¡± Janine smiled when she saw a flash of understanding in Marco¡¯s eyes. She avoided giving him any direct hints about the upcoming hunt to preserve his pride. Spirits were her witnesses; her and Marty¡¯s process had been a messy one, but they had learned to be better over the years. ¡°Good. Believe in yourself and stay cautious. Now feast to save the vulnerable, male of the Wolf Tribe.¡±

 Chapter 47: A Trial

    Marco rose to his full height, biding his time as he sniffed the air. Janine watched with pride as his eyes scanned the battlefield, measuring the width of the crevice, noting unstable rocks and the position of his prey. He twirled the knives, exhaled, and waited for the critters above to pass a bit further, so one of the risky stones would be over the last one. Panic washed out of his eyes, replaced by a deep, unsatiated hunger.


    He leaped forward, unbothered to conceal the sound. Janine tilted her head, fully focused on being ready to come to his aid. The claws on her legs dug into the ground, dragging up rocky parts. Five could be a tad difficult for the first hunt, even though the entire family had trained Marco in their own unique ways.


    The drones stopped in their tracks, turning to face the source of the sound. Marco¡¯s feet crashed into the opposite wall, causing another loud boom and dislodging the unstable stone. In a somersault, he landed ahead of the confused drones, burying his knives under the head of the front one, right into the joint where the chitin armor left a slit to permit the neck¡¯s mobility. Twisting his weapons, the Wolfkin severed nerves and tore them out, retreating just in time to evade scything blows. One fell.


    Stones and earth thundered from above, smashing against the carapace. The drones halted their attack, believing they were under attack from more than one foe, and a knife flew from Marco¡¯s paw, landing directly in the round, black cluster of an eye. The insectoid let out a shriek as it tried to reach for the jammed weapon, and Marco closed the distance, kicking at the handle to send it even deeper. He grabbed the handle of the knife with his toes and dove to the left, falling so that the stabs aimed at him would pierce the stone. His quick movement wrenched the knife from the dying drone.


    Stone and dust unleashed briefly hid Marco, but Janine¡¯s hearing helped her to visualize what happened in this chaos. Two drones continued to lurk behind, searching for the non-existent assailant. Meanwhile, the last drone tried to spear Marco and then mount him, misinterpreting his fall as a mistake. However, it missed its first attack and three of its legs slammed into the wall above the boy¡¯s head. Marco punched with his free arm, lifting the drone before the long mandibles could close on his snout.


    Clever. Janine wanted to clap but held herself back. Her son didn¡¯t panic, not even when the sharp debris hit him or when the drone pushed him to the ground. All too often, little ones would mindlessly lash out in situations like this and get bogged down in their inability to pierce the chitin armor. But in throwing his opponent off himself, he not only gave himself enough time to pick up the knife from his leg, but also exposed the vulnerable underbelly.


    Both blades slipped between the armor joints, and Marco pushed his arms further, rupturing the organs. Ripping his weapons free, he stabbed again and again, throwing the convulsing body onto its back, mercilessly slashing and rending the insectoid, cutting off its legs until the thing was dead. He raised his head, alerted by the tapping of needles against the ground, and rushed away, escaping the incoming stabs that pierced the veil of sand.


    What a wonderful boy. Janine admired his planned retreat as he led his pursuers to the wall best suited for scaling up. Thirty seconds, three dead bodies. Sure, most girls would have slaughtered a dozen by now, but only Bogdan and Ignacy had surpassed Marco¡¯s record, and his older brothers had cheated by abusing their right to bear arms. The two idiots had brought a crate of explosives to the training session, cratering the field and laughing like maniacs.


    ¡°Correct, Marco,¡± Janine quietly praised him for not getting disoriented. Marco had planned his escape to achieve more than one goal. Even now, the drones had moved away from the Normies. Marco gained the distance, sheathed his knives, and climbed up, groaning from the pain in his knees.


    The drones followed. Tiny, barely visible sticky hairs covered their stalk-like legs, allowing the creatures to traverse up even over the flat surface. The crevice¡¯s uneven surface was child¡¯s game for them, and soon they gained on Marco, their black clusters fixated on his legs. The mandibles opened to bite him¡­


    Marco springboarded off the wall, screaming from the pain that shot through his knees while simultaneously laughing, pleased to be in control of the situation. In free fall, he flew past the first bug and mounted the second, landing his knives in its eyes and killing it instantly. The drone above him jumped down and crashed into the falling bodies of its comrade and Marco, who blocked two slices aimed at his neck. The three bodies hit the ground with a thud and Marco rolled to the side, preparing for the onslaught of the charging drone.


    His leg buckled, his knee no longer could support him despite the medication and relief provided by the mechanical exoskeleton. Marco clenched his teeth, realizing he couldn¡¯t evade the stab targeting his right eye.


    The ground exploded beneath the warlord as she sprang to the fighters, taking the blow to her own wrist. The sharp blades didn¡¯t even penetrate her hide, and Marco counterattacked, cutting the drone¡¯s neck. Janine calmly stood aside, waiting for her joyously shouting boy to circle around the wounded bug. He constantly pestered the thing with feints, and when the drone tried to retreat back into the tunnels, he cut one of its long legs. The wounded creature made one last attack but missed, and the knives ended its life in a violent rain of stabs.


    ¡°Mom, I¡¯ve made it!¡± Marco gasped, breathing hard from excitement.


    ¡°Of course you did. You are a descendant of the Blessed Mother, a son of the Wolf Tribe. Murder is in your blood. The thought of you failing has never crossed my mind. Five at the cost of an eye is rather good for the first time.¡± Janine picked up the most intact corpse. ¡°Tell me, what were your mistakes?¡±


    ¡°I forgot that they could leap off the walls, forgot how heavy they are, and overestimated my limits,¡± Marco replied, and Janine broke a corpse over his head in two, showering her son in a white ichor. Her son opened his arms and basked in the waters of acceptance, a smile never leaving his lips. Then he whined a little and tried to massage his legs through the artificial fiber muscles.


    Janine knelt down to help. They pushed aside the tight bundles of fibers to reveal his swollen skin, thankfully devoid of any cracks. Janine tore off a piece of the insectoid and gave it to Marco to feed on, using the gel Maxence had given her to ease the cramps and reduce the swelling.


    ¡°I feel weird.¡± Marco blinked away tears and grabbed his sides. ¡°As if I am about to pop.¡±


    ¡°It is normal.¡± Janine pressed two fingers against his neck, sensing his expanding carotid artery. ¡°Ravager¡¯s gift has been activated in you, son. The power has rewarded you, and your body is undergoing a bit of reconstruction, growing stronger and tougher. It¡¯s scary the first time, but don¡¯t resist it; the doctors will check you up later.¡±


    Doctors¡­ Janine tasted the idea in her mouth. Wolfkins didn¡¯t like to ask the medical staff for help, but didn¡¯t the doctors cure Janine¡¯s condition? Surely, there must be an abundance of medical clinics in Houstad. If cloned limbs and even rudimentary genetic enhancements are now available for the wealthy, there had to be a cure for Marco¡¯s underdeveloped condition. But what will the shamans say?


    Who gives a crap? Her inner voice replied in a mocking Terrific tone. Not like they¡¯ll kill me or Marco. Clearly, the Spirits themselves put the idea into the shit pot you call the head. Act and repent later, idiot.


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    ¡°Well done. Congratulations on passing your initialization, Marco. No, hold back your howl,¡± she told him. ¡°Let¡¯s go meet the people. Keep your right eye closed for a day to remember the mistake.¡±


    She gave Marco a little more time to rest his knees while he cleaned his weapons to prevent rust from settling in. Once the deed was done, the family climbed from the crevice together and for the ridge, where they came face to face with a group of scared Normies.


    They looked unusual by the standards of the Outer Lands. Two men and a woman, dressed in simple white linen shirts, pants, and bright jackets that simply screamed for the attention of predators, set up a camera set and filmed the passing crawler and the columns of the Third Army. They all wore yellow armbands identifying them as press, and one man held a microphone. Upon spotting the Wolfkins, the people instinctively froze in place, their noses wrinkling in response to Marco¡¯s odor.


    ¡°Peace.¡± Janine raised her paws, showing that she meant no harm. ¡°What are you doing here at such a late hour?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re from the Sights Unseen!¡± The man showed Janine a press pass with a trembling hand. ¡°We came here to report about the army¡¯s movement. You guys...¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m female¡­¡± Janine interrupted.


    ¡°Figure of speech, lady, sorry,¡± the man said. ¡°You people made quite a splash! Won a war! Saved a settlement on the way to vacation! Care for a private interview?¡±


    ¡°Sights Unseen?¡± Marco stood on his toes, looking curiously at the people, forgetting the pain in his knees. ¡°What¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Press. Journalists. Very evil people who want to make the Blessed Mother and us look bad. These psychos risk their lives to film things, and then they lie and twist the truth for views. They also have strange morals, like that Iternian who rides in our crawler. Don¡¯t talk to them, or they¡¯ll portray you as a monster in a news report,¡± Janine cautioned him, positioning herself in front of her son to shield him from the camera. ¡°You should¡¯ve been more careful. There were insectoids in the cracks leading up to this hill.¡±


    ¡°Iternian?¡± The man blinked. ¡°I take it he is a reporter too? Can you ask him¡­¡±


    ¡°She is lying!¡± The woman snapped angrily.


    ¡°Ask for a dialog, Lizzy,¡± another man said, licking his lips nervously.


    ¡°But she is bullshitting him! Kid, we have no intention of harming your image or anything else. We bring the truth to the people.¡± The woman smiled kindly. ¡°If it won¡¯t be too much, would you answer a few¡­¡±


    ¡°Truth comes in many forms.¡± Janine snorted. ¡°Wolfkins are kidnapping people in the middle of the ritual for unknown reasons. Locals fear the worst,¡± she recited a headline from one of the most humiliating episodes in her career.


    Janine was young and foolish then, and she had no idea how wicked the reporters could be. So she had revealed herself and chatted with the strange people who were filming the aftermath of Wolfkin¡¯s escort of the freed prisoners to safety. The police and army units then took action to peacefully subdue the cultists, completing the two-stage operation. A few days later, the newspaper spread far and wide, suggesting cannibalism on the wolf hag¡¯s part. Martyshkina and even Terrific never let her live this one down, and she had worked twice as hard to convince the locals that she didn¡¯t take civilians away to devour. It had been harder back then, since she had regularly enjoyed a healthy diet of torn raiders¡¯ limbs.


    ¡°That¡­¡± The woman bit her lip. ¡°Okay, fair. But Sights Unseen issued an official apology for the misleading article and fired the asses of the bastards responsible for it. You can¡¯t hold it against us forever...¡±


    ¡°Try me,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°It was decades ago! I wasn¡¯t even in a project back then! Woman, what is your problem... Wait, what was it about the insectoids?¡± The reporter stuttered. ¡°You are joking, right? Here, of all places?¡±


    ¡°I am afraid they are not!¡± A cheerful voice spoke. ¡°You can check the crack; the corpses are still warm.¡±


    Two men came up the hill. One was tall and muscular, a clear New Breed from his height alone. The business suit and bulletproof vest underneath didn¡¯t restrict his movement at all, and his face was scarless. He had rough features, as if someone had carved him out of a slab of stone, but he kept his gaze fixed on Janine, deducing her as the main threat. A bodyguard. She relaxed, respecting his concern for his employer.


    The other man was a head shorter than his companion; he carried an archaic laser shotgun slung over his leather jacket. He was dressed for the weather, in thick pants and a turtleneck. His keen, gray eyes looked over Janine, and the warlord returned the gesture. She had seen this person before, but where? Because of her long life, her memory sometimes played tricks on her, and now it was doubly annoying. The stooped posture, a head slightly forward... A traveling merchant, perhaps?


    ¡°Sir¡­¡± The journalist choked on her words, while her colleagues quickly turned the camera to film the man. ¡°D¡­ D¡­¡±


    ¡°No need to be official. Just call me Daniel.¡± The man waved his hand, and his bodyguard put a hand over the camera lens, covering a distance of thirty paces in a single movement. His legs did not tear the grass; the man had precision and excellent speed. No, a traveling merchant could hardly afford such a quality servant. ¡°I¡­ somewhat own property in these parts and came to meet a friend tonight when my bodyguards warned about an intrusion. We wanted to settle it like in the miserable old days, but thank the Planet, you¡¯ve already done it.¡± He bowed to Janine, and she relaxed. There wasn¡¯t even a hint of aggression emanating from the man¡¯s scent.


    ¡°Marco did it, not I.¡± Janine nodded at her son, never once letting her gaze leave the man. ¡°Have you been to the Outer Lands recently, by any chance, sir?¡±


    ¡°My line of work carries me everywhere. But for the past few decades, I have regrettably remained in the Core Lands.¡± Daniel glanced at the wall. ¡°How bad is it there?¡±


    ¡°Could be worse.¡± Janine shrugged. ¡°Life improves, step by step. A bakery has opened. At least we blood sacrifices are no longer such a nuisance.¡± She wanted to pin the female reporter to the ground with a hard stare, but the woman ignored her, concentrating fully on Daniel.


    Probably a famous farm owner or has some kind of criminal connections. Janine decided.


    ¡°Sir, we better clear the area.¡± The bodyguard spoke for the first time. ¡°We are exposed here.¡±


    ¡°Exposed? Where else can we be safer than in the presence of a warlord?¡±


    ¡°Know about the tribe, I gather?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Duty demands no less of me.¡± Daniel put a hand to his chest and addressed Marco. ¡°I know nearby farmers if you want to take a shower. And have them check your eye.¡±


    ¡°No need. The eyes are fine, and this is an honor.¡± Marco smiled and slapped a soaked white paw across his chest. ¡°I became a real man tonight, mister!¡±


    ¡°A smelly man.¡± The farm owner pitched his nose, but then flashed a smile and came closer, bowing gracefully to the boy. ¡°Congratulations, Marco! May you see many joyful years!¡± He turned his head to look at the crawler. The massive machine moved steadily on the widest road, reserved specifically for military transport. Its many projectors created pillars of light amidst the dark clouds overhead. ¡°It¡¯s a beautiful sight, isn¡¯t it? Soldiers are coming home, and weapons are moving to rest. A glimpse of the future to come.¡±


    ¡°Worth dying for,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Worth fighting and living for, Janine,¡± Daniel corrected her.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember giving you my name, sir.¡± Janine narrowed her eyes. That she knew this man but couldn¡¯t remember him infuriated her to no end. A former enemy who had changed his ways? An allied mercenary?


    ¡°Oh, but you did. Several times, in fact.¡± Daniel shook her wrist. ¡°I wish you peace and happiness, Warlord Janine. Welcome to the Core Lands, I hope you will like it here.¡±


    ¡°Thank you¡­ Daniel,¡± Janine forced herself to say his name. Her instincts were running wild inside her body. She sensed no threat from the man; instead, she saw him as a long-lost tribal member who had stopped by to say hello. At the same time, something inside her urged her to remain professional with him. Leaving the questions for later, she placed her hand on Marco¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Everyone is safe. Howl to your heart¡¯s content.¡±


    And so he did. With his fiercest howl yet, Marco threw his head up, filling the skies with a sound of happiness, gratitude for acceptance, and a promise to protect and serve. His voice trembled a little, but Janine was proud of him. Females always practiced their howls in secret; that was why they sounded so bombastic when they passed the test. There is beauty in honesty. And she gave birth to this honesty.


    A bone-chilling howl erupted from seemingly everywhere around them, causing the journalists to fall to their knees and cover their ears. The bodyguard jumped in front of Daniel, suspiciously scanning the plains and hills. Janine¡¯s ears heard the stomping of two dozen more legs closing in on the hill. More bodyguards fast approached from afar.


    Marco¡¯s howl sounded like a trickle of water, whereas the newcomer¡¯s howl was an avalanche, a wrath of nature personified, so terrible and divine that it shook the nearby trees, bending them under the force of the unleashed air. Before the camera could fly away and hit the rocks, Janine caught it.


    Blessed, truly. The Blessed Mother accepted Marco in person. Janine did not know why Ravager wasn¡¯t in the crawler, and she didn¡¯t care. She hugged her son, thanking the Spirits for this gift. When she stood up, she saw that a part of her white ichor and gore had been licked off Marco¡¯s shoulder, and wet drool covered his black fur in its place. And on the ground behind him were four gigantic footprints.

 Chapter 48: The Young of the Tribe and the Order

    ¡°Feeling better?¡± Janine asked as Daniel led the reporters to the main road.


    ¡°Yes, Mom.¡± Marco answered, proudly throwing glances at his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯ll never clean myself again.¡±


    ¡°Just try it, and I¡¯ll kick your ass.¡± They stood side by side for a while, enjoying the night¡¯s air and the surrounding calmness. When they went back to the crawler, Janine seated her son on her shoulders. ¡°Marco, you are not weak or useless. You are simply weaker than me and can¡¯t do everything on your own. And that is okay. I, too, don¡¯t know half of what Ignacy knows. Nor can I crack vulgar jokes like Bogdan can, and frankly, I don¡¯t regret it. There are tons of Normies who are weaker than you. Do you believe they should feel bad about us protecting them? Do you consider them worthless?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Marco replied quietly, hugging her neck.


    ¡°You are not a loser. A loser is someone who never tries to do anything out of fear of failure. You are trying your best. Just because you can¡¯t become as strong as Anissa or me does not devalue you as a person. I trusted Colt with my back, even though he was weaker than me. And he never failed, always protecting those close to him with a well-placed shot.¡± Janine blinked away the memories. ¡°You will grow stronger in time. But strength alone won¡¯t bring you calm. Stop fixating on what you can¡¯t do. Socialize, party, find a mate, stand by your comrades, learn, hone your skills, and live happily. Then you will truly bury your fears. And¡­ The offer still stands if you want to¡­ you know, live a normal life.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Marco replied quietly. ¡°I want to serve and protect the people.¡±


    ¡°The police in the Core Lands serve and protect. Or so I heard,¡± Janine remarked. ¡°And the regulars are full of brave women and men. They sacrificed their lives to protect Just Peachy and its people. Do you think less of them?


    ¡°No. But they are not like us. They wait for the bad guys to come while we go into the wild lands, overthrow the oppressors, and hunt down the bastards who have harmed our people. We prevent future tragedies, and this is who I want to be,¡± the boy whispered.


    ¡°Then I shall speak no more of it, Marco.¡± Janine dropped the subject. ¡°You are a male of the tribe.¡±


    A droplet of water hit her temple, and she looked up, facing the pouring water from the clouds above. Janine opened her jaws wide, ignoring being viewed as silly, and stuck out her tongue, tasting the pleasantly clean water, free of radiation and toxins.


    ¡°What¡¯s this, Mom?¡± Marco asked, standing on her shoulders. ¡°Why is the sky crying? Is one of the terraforming facilities nearby damaged or something?¡±


    ¡°I believe it¡¯s called rain, Marco.¡± Janine smiled, raising her paw.


    It boggled the mind and defied imagination. Once, nothing but sand, rocks, ruins, and corpses covered this place. Cruel sandstorms reigned supreme, fearlessly fighting to topple emptied cities and reduce everything to dust and ash. Yet life returned¡ªwater from the skies; animals, plants and insects populated the once-desolate regions; and humans too were here! Their sacrifices were not in vain. Her sons and daughters¡­ They gave their lives for the right cause; Janine was sure of it.


    ¡°Marco.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Ignore the punishment. Use both eyes. Watch and remember.¡±


    The rain was cold, and the mother raced in full haste to the crawler, carrying Marco atop her shoulders and joining her laughter to his as they sought to reach the cover. Janine briefly begged the Spirits to leave some deserts in the world to come. Normies might like it, but Wolfkin preferred the heat.


    ****


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re okay?¡± Cordelia asked him.


    Marco gave her a sideways glance, and she tapped his jacket. The two cubs sat beneath a cannon¡¯s barrel, shielding themselves from the rain. The rain drummed over the steel, but puddles and streaks of water flowed down from the crawler¡¯s edge without soaking them.


    Cordelia wore a lightweight, not fully zipped underarmor that left her paws and feet exposed to the night air. The silver and gold amulet of her house was visible through the opening in the chest of her suit. After she helped him take off his ¡°crutch,¡± he was forced to take a shower. Cordi also wanted to force him to take a bath, but Marco never trusted a body of liquid that could completely submerge him. He dressed himself in double jackets, two sets of thick pants, heavy boots, and gloves, and pulled a hoodie over his head. Open pizza boxes purchased from the cooks separated them, and the two dangled their legs over the edge, unbothered by a lack of guardrails, enjoying the wonders of the Core Lands.


    ¡°Course I am!¡± Marco tossed a knife in the air and caught it, sending the weapon into a spin. He moved the still spinning blade between his palms, increasing the speed until he could see only a blur, then suddenly hid it in the sleeve of his jacket and raised his arms.


    Yenni gave him his first knife: a hooked blade fashioned from a dead insectoid warrior¡¯s leg. His big sister taught him to respect and not be afraid of the impeccably sharp edge, and later Ignacy, Anissa, and Bogdan gifted him a full set of brand-new daggers for his birthday.


    Weapons were cool. Short-range cold weapons, long-range rifles and pistols, explosives, wires, gases... They helped negate the handicap he was born with, and unlike his useless legs, they moved exactly as he wanted them to and never failed him.


    ¡°Left!¡± Cordelia smiled smugly, and Marco sighed, sheathing the knife. It was impossible to fool her.


    ¡°See? Fine! Why do you ask?¡± Marco swallowed a slice of pizza.


    ¡°Try chewing first, dummy!¡± Cordelia laughed.


    ¡°No time!¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Cuz I want to eat a larger share!¡± He wasn¡¯t lying. The crust of the pizza baked in the Core Lands was soft, smooth, and the spices and sauce made his head spin with pleasure, as did the meat and olives! He had never tasted anything like it!


    ¡°You¡¯re weird,¡± she accused him. ¡°Layers of layers of clothing¡­ Are you genuinely not sweating in there? If this is some manly act of defiance, then I suggest dropping it at once. I am impressed.¡±


    ¡°Nope, no act. Are you not freezing your ass out here?¡± Marco asked, dumbfounded, how Cordelia could ignore the chilly wind and such a low temperature.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    He lied a little. The cold was annoying and unusual, but he had pulled on such large pants to hide his swollen, bandaged knees, ashamed of being afraid that his friend would pity him or, worse, find him weak.


    ¡°The weather is awesome!¡± Cordelia stretched herself and untied a ribbon to loosen her gorgeous white hair, accentuated by occasional darkly dyed strands. ¡°I thought I was going to roast alive in this hell in the north. There wasn¡¯t a night in the field when I didn¡¯t wake up drenched in sweat.¡±


    ¡°Ah, so that is why you were so good at wrestling out of a hold, Icicle,¡± Marco teased.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t been sweating all day, Dusty!¡± she argued.


    ¡°Sure, sure.¡± He grinned. ¡°It is cool if you like bitter cold. I am glad that you enjoy being here.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, and it¡¯s not bitter. You¡¯ll get used to it, softie!¡± She tugged at his ear, and he returned the favor. The two stopped fighting, grabbing the dangerously shaking pizzas before they could fly down. ¡°You¡¯ve grown. A little. How was it?¡± Cordelia¡¯s crimson eyes flashed. ¡°Taking a life? Was it scary?¡±


    ¡°Not sure.¡± Marco scratched furiously at his temple, trying to find words. ¡°It should be scary. I was scared when I saw those bugs. I forgot half of everything I was taught about combat or what I learned from our spars, but then¡­ It clicked. All I thought about was not my safety, not my fear, but concern for people who couldn¡¯t protect themselves.¡± He looked down at his paws, moving his fingers, and wondered where the knowledge of how to strike had come from. ¡°It was as if I had become a machine, going through the motions.¡±


    ¡°Experience! Sometimes I block a blow from an incoming flurry of blows before I can even see it. I just somehow know it¡¯s coming.¡± Cordelia snapped her fingers. ¡°Thank the Planet you¡¯re safe.¡±


    ¡°Can I tell you something super weird?¡± Marco asked, and Cordelia nodded. ¡°Promise not to laugh!¡± The girl moved an imaginary key to her lips, locked the invisible lock, and tossed it away. ¡°I did good tonight. I know it, and Ignacy and Yenny confirmed it. But I still think Mom thinks I should go into exile.¡±


    Cordelia¡¯s fingers formed a question mark, and Marco nodded, confirming that she could speak. The girl made a show of prying her jaws free from the invisible chains, drawing a chuckle from Marco. They bumped into each other by chance, and their friendship grew out of a heated argument about who should apologize to whom. Cordi was from the Sunblade family, the most influential household in the Order, and she was a direct descendant of First¡¯s grandchildren. However, Cordi¡¯s sclera lacked palest gold, and she explained that her mother had mixed her Wintersong heritage into the Sunblade line, resulting in a less pure bloodline than other scions. She was the one who pulled him by the ear to introduce him to the initiates, after learning that he had no friends his age. When they sparred, she ate his punches with a fortitude worthy of a Wolfkin, not a lady.


    ¡°You totally should get exiled,¡± Cordelia said, tossing aside the imaginary restraints. ¡°I can ask Grandmaster First. I¡¯m sure he¡¯d welcome you.¡±


    ¡°Will your household really accept a Wolfkin?¡± Marco asked.


    ¡°Sure!¡± Cordelia rolled her eyes at the doubt in his eyes, jumped to her feet, and walked around the edge. Suddenly, her legs intertwined, and the girl stumbled.


    Marco forgot about the pain in his knees or the tasty pizza in his paw. He leapt to his feet faster than ever, grabbed the girl¡¯s wrist and arrested her fall before she could tumble down. A slice of pizza fell, splashing first against a lower deck, and then the wind and rain swept it onto the tread, turning the food to mush.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you afraid of falling to your death?¡± Marco snapped into the calm and mischievous crimson eyes.


    ¡°Why should I be afraid when my distant ''cousin'' is ready to catch me?¡± A cheeky grin appeared on Cordi¡¯s snout; her hair blowing in the wind, and then he saw she was holding on to the edge of the platform with her toes. Cordi accepted Marco¡¯s help to get back on the deck and took him by the paw, raising it above her head: ¡°See? Reliable! Of noble birth. Knows how to fight. A gentleman. What more could the grandmaster want?¡± She gracefully spun around, as if she and he were dancers at a ball, and the two sat down again. Cordelia began curling her fingers. ¡°We have video games, soft beds, beauty parlors, TVs, smart teachers, treats, parties, comfortable clothes, and cool swords!¡± The girl elbowed him. ¡°Join the decadent side, Marco; we have pizzas and equality.¡±


    ¡°Equality? Is that why you have to dress as a maid and serve refreshments to the sword saint?¡± Marco asked innocently.


    ¡°That¡¯s to show respect and learn the manners of a high society! To be able to command, you must first know how to obey! You never know when you¡¯ll need the knowledge of how to clean dishes, discern a high-quality wine from a cheap beverage, or how to keep your mouth shut during negotiations¡­¡±


    ¡°Excuses,¡± Marco stretched the word and dodged a smack.


    ¡°Marco, I swear, if you make fun of my attire, I¡¯ll bite you!¡± Cordelia pouted.


    ¡°You look adorable and pretty in a long skirt. Dark and white suits you.¡± Marco blushed from embarrassment the moment the words left his mouth. In truth, he was jealous. A little. Cordi somehow managed to be splendid no matter the outfit, and he felt dirty and clumsy in his tattered jackets and patched pants. ¡°I am not lying!¡± he added hastily. ¡°You are cute even in that funny dress of yours!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called a gown, silly.¡± Cordelia slipped a paw underneath his arm. ¡°Oh, Marco. You have seen nothing truly glorious yet! But we¡¯ll fix that! As soon as Warlord Janine gives her permission, I will take you on a tour of Houstad! Ice cream, parks, game clubs, fast food, fishing, fencing, boxing, comic shops¡­ Swimming! You know how to swim, right? No? Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll learn right away!¡±


    ¡°Cordi, please no, I¡¯ll drown!¡± Marco begged desperately.


    ¡°Silly, we, and the instructors, will be nearby. Nobody sends unprepared kids into danger alone.¡± Her crimson eyes briefly sparked, unnaturally bright, and then regained their usual color. ¡°I¡¯m going to introduce you and the initiates to all my friends! We¡¯ll have so much fun!¡±


    ¡°Sure, but¡­¡± he shrugged, looking down at the caterpillar track. Cordi kept her questioning gaze locked on him, and the boy admitted it in a hushed voice. ¡°I don¡¯t have any tokens left. I gave my last ones to pay for my share of pizzas tonight. Had to move crates to earn them, and there¡¯s no more work to be done to earn more.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you get pocket tokens from your mother?¡±


    ¡°We really don¡¯t get anything like that. Sure, my family gives me treats, but the tribe expects the cubs to earn their own tokens to spend on entertainment.¡±


    ¡°Then why did you insist on splitting the pizza fee?¡±


    ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be fair if you had to pay for them alone!¡±


    Cordelia froze; her eyes widened and her pupils dilated. Then she narrowed her left eye, and a tick appeared in the corner. Marco imagined her brain as a cogwheel and saw it grinding to a halt, jerking, twitching, unable to turn. It frightened him and he was about to call someone when she sighed and said: ¡°Braindead mule¡­ Eh, it¡¯s my fault; I should¡¯ve thought of it when I heard your shamans were refusing payment. Still stupid, Cordi, still too stupid¡­ Relax, will you?¡± She slapped him on the back. ¡°I¡¯ll ask Mother and Miss Camelia for a credit card. What¡¯s the point of being noble if you don¡¯t unwind occasionally?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t let you or my mom be in debt ¡­¡±


    ¡°Not listening! We are going to buy you clothes, a game console¡­¡±


    ¡°I have a beret!¡±


    ¡°And it is a very nice beret, Marco,¡± she agreed in a honeyed voice. ¡°But a proper cap will let your lovely ears stand straight. Then a brand new terminal, boxing gloves, no offense, but your right hook hurts, and I prefer something softer to connect with my poor cheeks¡­¡±


    ¡°Cordi, I am serious; I¡¯ll never be able to repay¡­¡±


    ¡°La-la-la, I¡¯m spoiling Marco, and that¡¯s final!¡± Cordelia laughed and pointed to the horizon. ¡°Look! The town¡¯s outskirts!¡±


    Marco followed her finger and gasped. Ahead, on the slope of several hills, light shone. It came from buildings, cars on the streets, lampposts, and working stores. Multicolored lights, yellow, red, and green, blended into a faint halo that formed a rainbow over a town, banishing the dark despite a late hour. He could see figures walking unafraid, dressed in casual clothes, untroubled by the threat of the sun.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± Unable to find the words, he rose to his toes and pressed his fingers to his chest, feeling so small, so insignificant, and yet so happy. This was the Dynast¡¯s will, the reason why the Wolf Tribe fought, and the answer to every life lost. The restored glory of the Old World, a shadow of the dawn of the united world, where no family would ever go hungry again. ¡°¡­ so amazing,¡± he finished his thought, understanding that he couldn¡¯t do justice to the scene. ¡°Is Houstad the same?¡±


    ¡°The same?¡± Cordelia stood beside him, placing a paw on his shoulder. ¡°Houstad is a metropolis, Marco. If this boondock is what counts as amazing to you, then prepare to be awestruck, my friend.¡±

 Chapter 49: A Counterplay

    ¡°Here are our birdies,¡± mused Hryhorij, peering from behind a steel beam.


    Piam pressed two fingers to her lips, saying nothing. The magnifying lens of her artificial eye pierced the darkness, catching distant cars approaching the construction site. A lone guard on the night shift jumped to his feet, hastily opened the gates, and then had to leap away to avoid being hit by the gate as the front vehicle accelerated and smashed it open.


    Pompous idiots. Piam calmly concluded, observing no dent on the six-wheeler. If one knew where to look, one could glean information from anything, and the agents of the Investigation Bureau weren¡¯t known for their laxity. The civilian vehicle had a bulletproof alloy coating, and the flames painted on its side, surrounded by golden shapes, revealed the newcomers as members of the Benguigui family, useful rats who benefited from Houstad¡¯s thriving industry in exchange for keeping the underworld clean. For a long time, the Bureau had turned a blind eye to their little business.


    A kindness that might be withdrawn tonight.


    ¡°Raffy boy,¡± Hryhorij stated the obvious, as a yawning man in a light-toned brown business suit stepped out of the middle car.


    Raffy Benguigui, Tony¡¯s current eldest son, had lost his handsome looks. The skin around his eyes sagged, the corners of his lips turned downward despite his attempt at a contemptuous smirk as he snapped to send the guard away. Long years of unrestricted alcoholic and narcotic addiction had taken their toll, staining his once yellowish skin. But he moved easily, unaided by any augments.


    A larger shape clung to the man from behind, an Orais brute dressed in a studded leather biker suit that left his tattooed forearms exposed. His head was hidden by a helmet, and the man knuckle-walked on his four-fingered hands. Fiery streaks flew from between his knuckles, and Piam nodded, satisfied with the quality of the report. Tony¡¯s enforcer, able to wield flames thanks to his power. Arrived illegally, responsible for four assaults; his latest victim is in the hospital, horribly burned.


    ¡°The Benguiguis need to be trimmed,¡± she stated. Tony Benguigui swore he had no idea about his goon¡¯s whereabouts. A lie. Who knew how many others he had told?


    ¡°Eighteen.¡± Hryhorij clicked his tongue, counting the number of guards who left the opulent vehicles. ¡°And I don¡¯t even know half of them.¡±


    ¡°Neither do they,¡± Piam replied. Most of the rabble carried shotguns and automatic pistols. They formed a circle around the entrance into the unfinished parking lot, standing guard as Raffy, the Orais, and two of his minions stole inside. ¡°They don¡¯t want them to see what¡¯s going to happen. Your hunch was right.¡±


    The Investigation Bureau was on full alert in preparation for the Third¡¯s arrival. Recovery was the official reason. In reality, the Dynast and Commander Devourer wished to also civilize the Wolf Tribe. The best way to do this was to introduce their younger generations to the goods of civilization to stimulate a gradual and controllable change. The Bureau¡¯s civil specialists had great expertise in introducing the Orais tribe into the nation¡¯s life, and they were ready to repeat that feat, smoothing out the rough edges and misunderstandings that will inevitably arise between the locals and the Wolfkins.


    The field agents spread around the city, infiltrating every den, forcing every snitch to spill the beans. Sixteen would-be shooters, young fools hungry for fame, were arrested. Four were burned alive as examples, two were recruited, and the rest were sent to prison. Twenty cases of police corruption were reported and solved; the Bureau spared several idiots who now served as double agents, informing the agency of the families¡¯ actions. Terrorists tried to prepare bombings; there was a rapid spark in violent crime and the delivery of highly addictive drugs¡­ Too many people thought that the massive event would distract the Bureau.


    Houstad had a long history of tolerating petty crimes for the sake of preventing tragedies. Anti-mutant and anti-immigrant movements, bigots who stirred up troubles by rallying fools against the New Breeds, rowdy criminals, drug dealers, flesh trade¡ªthe head criminal syndicates reported it, and in exchange, the mayor kept his eyes and ears closed to illegal contraband and occasional snatched construction bids.


    But Hryhorij, Planet bless him, had spotted a curious pattern. The Benguigui family acted queer. Their thugs stumbled around, photographing the northern power plant, streets, and even the city¡¯s hall. Rather than peddling soft drugs or harassing their debtors, they joined a guided tour of the plant. Next, they discovered an unusual contraband: two all-terrain vehicles plated with pure gold alloy and encrusted with gems, capable of achieving the speed of a high-powered racing car, despite their remarkable weight. And the last piece of the puzzle was at this construction site.


    The families cried and whined to the mayor about Murzaliev Construction, Sunblade Corporation, Ironwills Restoration, and Wintersong Renovation¡¯s aggressive expansion into the Core Lands construction business. Usual methods didn¡¯t work; Ice Fangs stomped out any attempts to intimidate their workers, and Ivar Murzaliev¡¯s corporate security put those who dared damage the company¡¯s equipment straight into hospital beds. The message was clear: stay away.


    Hryhorij called Piam and shared his concerns, pointing out the construction site for a new shopping mall and how far behind schedule Tony¡¯s workers were. Why should his family risk losing such a luxurious contract by missing the deadline? Piam compiled a very long and messy list of facts gathered by her colleague into an orderly file and came to the same conclusion. There was something in here¡ªsomething so big that Tony was willing to risk losing tokens just to keep from showing it to anyone.


    ¡°But right about what?¡± Hryhorij said. ¡°There is nothing below; we checked everything. I don¡¯t see any threats or traps. Is this some elaborate misdirection operation? Are we being had, and there is a huge contraband shipment coming in somewhere else?¡±


    The two agents wore camouflage and positioned themselves in the middle of the unfinished first floor of the mall, at the far edge of the construction site. A few days earlier, they had gone through the standard procedure of forging identification and posing as construction workers. They searched for everything, ranging from drugs to experimental weapons, and found nothing. Piam even began to doubt herself because the security was so lax. Could it be that the family had nothing to hide and had simply gone senile from overdosing? Doubtful, since two years ago Raffy had murdered his older sister and usurped her position in the family after she had briefly sunk into a drug-induced bliss. The Benguiguis were cutthroats and opportunists, easy to predict thanks to their gluttonous ambition.


    Until today, when shift supervisors suddenly announced a paid day off for all workers. Piam contacted the Provincial Army and received a detailed report about Benguiguis¡¯ cars making their way here. Something was fishy, and the agent intended to learn what. She didn¡¯t care about the so-called guard; four squads of the Provincial Army stood ready, not recently enlisted recruits, but veterans who had experience subduing hostile New Breeds. At a snap of her fingers, they would swoop in, ending any resistance.


    Maybe Hryhorij was right. Maybe the family knew of their presence. Perhaps it would be wiser to go in, guns blazing. But Piam favored a tip-of-the-needle approach to any situation, which involved crippling hostile leadership and keeping the organization intact for the Bureau¡¯s future use, rather than leaving a power vacuum that could lead to a bloodbath.


    She also trusted in Hryhorij. Messy, unrepresentative, and overly reliant on his intuition he may be, the burly man rarely made mistakes in uncovering crimes against the Reclamation Army and the righteous Dynast.


    ¡°Tony doesn¡¯t have the manpower to pull it off,¡± Piam said. ¡°We stick to the original plan.¡±


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    They pulled on the cowls of their gray camouflage suits, and a rumbling jolt passed over their skin as servomotors activated, filling the two agents with newfound strength. Neither of them was a New Breed; the brown-skinned Hryhorij enlisted in the Bureau from a cozy mountain village in the west, and the wheat-skinned Piam was born in Houstad. But both had years of experience dealing with a dangerous opposition, their responses enhanced by the mechanical augments and drugs their suits injected into their bloodstreams.


    Quietly, the agents slipped out of the unfinished building and signaled the troopers to stand by. Piam led her partner behind the currently empty workers¡¯ barracks, keeping their distance from the hired thugs. There was not enough information to say if any of them had power, so there was no reason to risk detection. They proceeded to the barred entrance of an emergency exit corridor, where a locksmith on Piam¡¯s wrist activated, bypassed the electrical system to disable the alarm, and then burned a small, round hole in the door. A manipulator slipped in and pushed the bar aside. The two agents entered cautiously, throwing one last glance at Houstad.


    As expected, there was no presence in the narrow corridor created to let the masses out in case a collapse buried the main entrance. Hryhorij and Piam readied their standard modular SMGs and turned their suits¡¯ sound detectors to maximum, hearing distant footsteps heading toward the lowest level.


    The agents were familiar with the location; they had not only done a sweep with the portable scanners but also worked to secure the western walls. Piam rolled her eyes at the instruments left in the hardened concrete. Someone¡¯s ass was going to be grilled tomorrow, but that was none of her business.


    Their quarry passed four levels and stopped at the very bottom of the unfinished parking lot. Raffy reached for a cigar, and his Orais bodyguard snapped his fingers, creating a ball of flame lingering in the air for his master to light his cigar. Then the Benguigui paced back and forth, tapping at his belt, and the agents glanced at each other as his Normie minions placed four light bulbs around him to illuminate the place.


    This was weird. There was nothing but settled dust, rubble, instruments, and trash here. Gray dust had already dirtied Raffy¡¯s pants to his knees; his loud kick sent an empty can against a wall, but there was no answer why he was here. Raffy wasn¡¯t an errand boy; when he wasn¡¯t wasting his time in brothels, drinking, partying, and overdosing on drugs, he mercilessly investigated his brothers and sisters, seeking to subjugate the weakest and kill those above him to secure his position as Tony¡¯s heir. Why was he here? A new kink of solitude? Madness.


    Piam calmly sent a silent report to the soldiers, warning them to alert the headquarters and begin the storm the moment communications were cut or jammed. No risk. She and Hryhorij nestled themselves in the unfinished elevator, each pressed tightly against the wall, and the optical camouflage adjusted the colors of their suits to make them indistinguishable from the gray walls.


    Then the sensors caught something. A ripping sound came from an empty space in front of Raffy, accompanied by a faint electric surge in the air. A louder crack followed, and a thin finger protruded from the empty space. The finger moved down, bisecting the space and leaving a faint blue light in its wake. The line reached the floor, then the finger disappeared into the blue, and then the line expanded, unleashing a billowing window inside the parking lot.


    Music, guttural singing, laughter, and clanking sounded from the opening. Bright lights flashed, quickly banishing the darkness. The other side was filled with a murky mist that even the agents¡¯ lenses struggled to see through. Their suits detected a rapid rise in temperature as heat poured in, and the vapor trails carried traces of hallucinogenic narcotics. Raffy inhaled a full breath and grinned, maintaining perfect composure as his Normie bodyguards strapped on rebreathers.


    Figures danced in the mist: beautiful women, completely naked except for gold bracelets and jewelry. They leapt and pirouetted, landing gracefully and never breaking their dance - not even to glance at the criminals. Piam¡¯s eyes saw burning braziers, incrusted with jade, standing in what appeared to be a gigantic tent. Soft carpets, richly trimmed with real gold, covered the floor.


    In the distance, shrouded in the thickest mist, a figure sat on a throne composed of dozens of women. They weren¡¯t stitched or fused together; these were living, breathing women doing their best to form the armrests, back, and base of the throne. Covered in sweat and groaning from exertion, they tried their best to maintain a comfortable seat for their cruel overload.


    ¡°Raffy, my friend!¡± the figure boomed in a deep, pleasant baritone. ¡°How¡¯s life been treating you? Have you found my modest gifts to your liking?¡±


    ¡°They are beautiful,¡± Raffy replied, his voice trembling. ¡°A single door costs enough to buy a villa.¡±


    ¡°Is it possible to do any less for your friends? Stick around, and more good things will inevitably follow!¡± Piam thought that she saw a pincer briefly appear from the smoke, but it could¡¯ve been her imagination. Irrelevant. She¡¯ll review the recorded footage later. ¡°A new dawn fast approaches Houstad, my dear friend. Our alliance promises a bright future for us both.¡±


    ¡°I am sure my father will appreciate it,¡± Raffy said.


    ¡°Father? Raffy, let us not speak of Tony; let us speak of you. You are a shrewd man, so drop beating around the bush,¡± the speaker laughed inside the mists. ¡°You want to be in charge. And why shouldn¡¯t you? Your genius saw the potential in my offer; it is your diligence that delivered the required photos and intel, securing the wellbeing of your khaganate¡­¡±


    ¡°Family,¡± Raffy interrupted him. ¡°We prefer the word family.¡± The man walked around the spatial window, examining it from every angle. ¡°Your words are pleasing to the ear, but you have made me wait, and I have the impression that you are forgetting my father on purpose. How do I know you won¡¯t be discarding me like him the moment I outlive my usefulness?¡±


    ¡°Raffy, you are a smart man¡ªthe smartest man I¡¯ve met lately.¡± Honeyed words flowed from inside the mists. ¡°Discarding you? And who will replace you? Tony? Your father may believe you are expendable, which is why he sent you instead of coming himself, but is it not the fate of every father to fade into obscurity eventually? It would be foolish to sacrifice a rising star for a fading one. You know the locals; you understand what makes them tick. Why should I replace you? Why would Khatun not want you? My boy, we want you to rise and take the seat of this freak in the City Hall. Just imagine it: Raffy Benguigui, Taluqdar of Houstad. It has a lovely ring to it, does it not?¡± the voice softened. ¡°Women, drugs, gold, respect and authority could all be yours if you but reach out and take them.¡±


    ¡°And what price would I have to pay for it?¡± Raffy asked carefully.


    ¡°A little less than a bauble. A simple, paltry sip of airag to show respect and devotion to our cause. No risks or dangers involved,¡± the deep voice purred from the other side of the spatial window. ¡°You have already provided the images we requested¡ªsplendid pictures¡ªthe best photos ever. We will ask for more of the same, detailed photos of public squares, sewers, streets, and such. And if you drop in photos of the mayor¡¯s office, we¡¯ll be much obliged. We also dislike the freak.¡±


    ¡°How much time do I have?¡± Raffy inquired. ¡°And why do you even need these photos? Couldn¡¯t you take them off the Net?¡±


    ¡°A month, no less, my friend. We have our own morsel to devour; an ignorant dolt had refused the Khatun¡¯s generous offer of submission. The next step is for our forces to reach the wall. It is a tedious, grueling, mundane task, so I leave it to Iron Lord. Let him play at conventional warfare,¡± the speaker chuckled, and his living throne groaned as the poor slaves struggled to bear the immense weight. ¡°As for your question, we need recent pictures; anything over two months old won¡¯t do. We wouldn¡¯t want to open a hole into a brick wall, am I right? And the trustworthiness of the information found on the Net is overrated.¡±


    ¡°The Third Army will be in Houstad,¡± the criminal warned the shrouded figure. ¡°And I heard something about your people dying in the north¡­¡±


    ¡°Sky Lord Khan had failed? Ha, that¡¯s what you get when you act on your own.¡± The swirling mists of drugs elicited a booming laughter, and the throne shook. The slaves¡¯ eyes bulged from their efforts. ¡°That¡¯s what you get for ignoring allies and living in solitude. You and I are different, Raffy. We are men of vision; we seek to rise high and thrive. Dying on a battlefield is such a bore. Decapitations are coming, my friend. We will show the people that they can¡¯t rely on their precious armies, laws, or civilization to protect them. The ensuing chaos will cause the families¡¯ leaders to meet in person to assess the situation. And if you, my wonderful, loyal, clever friend, take the helm, it¡¯ll be grand.¡±


    Piam kept her cool, absorbing the information. These were the scum who attacked the Reclamation Army¡¯s territory. Their fate is sealed, their armies will be crushed, and their lands will know prosperity and peace under the Dynast¡¯s rule. But she didn¡¯t let her loyalty training cloud her judgment. The Net. The leader of those fat bastards knows it, and he doesn¡¯t seem to care about losing a New Breed equal to a warlord. They also know about the Third, which means they know about the noble Commander Ravager, the Dynast¡¯s trusted sword, and the Tamer of Wilderness.


    She sent the recordings to the soldiers outside, disregarding the possibility of detection, along with a strict command to relay them to headquarters immediately and storm the place.


    Sky Lord. Not Mad Hatter, as Warlord Janine had assumed. Sky Lord was a servant.


    A potential equal to the commander was leading the Horde¡­ If Piam was right in her suspicions, such a being cannot be allowed to enter the Core Lands.


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Raffy said and crumbled his cigar. ¡°Tell me the details.¡±


    ¡°Raffy¡¯s lives, the rest die,¡± Piam ordered, and she and Hryhorij took aim and fired.

 Chapter 50: A Counterplay to a Counterplay

    The burst from Piam¡¯s SMG exploded the back of a Normie thug¡¯s head, and the man fell face down, his brain spilling onto the stone. Hryhorij fired at the Orais, and the massive thug shook and growled in pain as a series of crimson dots appeared on his forearm and his helmet cracked.


    Hryhorij shouldered Piam to the side as a wall of flame rolled toward them, engulfing the unfinished elevator. The two agents rolled to safety from the fiery hell that reddened the metal beams and melted them in places. Before Piam could get to her feet, Hryhorij had already landed a shot into the knee of the remaining Normie thug.


    The woman wailed, and the Orais grabbed her and Raffy. The New Breed¡¯s helmet cracked, revealing a face with deep-set eyes and a flat nose. A tap sent another wall of flame racing toward the agents, and then the Orais jumped. His back slammed into the ceiling, hammering out a path on the floor above for the escapees to take refuge. Piam didn¡¯t fire, too worried that her bullets would ricochet off the falling debris and accidentally kill Raffy. The setback was irrelevant; the provincial army¡­


    She stopped, frowning. Three life signs went black. But how? Civilian-grade shotguns wielded by the rabble at the entrance should not be able to penetrate the soldiers¡¯ armor! Her partner stiffened, concerned by the same question, but the years of training snapped them out of their confusion.


    Ultimately, it changed nothing; Raffy still wouldn¡¯t escape. The flames devoured light bulbs, exploding them and melting parts of the floor. Only the bright lights of the window and dying fires kept the room lit, and Piam hesitated. Slaves continued to dance on the other side; she could see burly men and women sitting behind tables, partying and paying little attention to the chaos. Should they fire at the leader and his living throne? The Investigation Bureau did not shy away from collateral damage, but neither did they encourage unnecessary casualties. There were more factors to consider. What would happen if their bullets connected with the spatial anomaly?


    A figure stopped their worries. A black-haired woman in a green trench coat filled the window and stepped into the underground parking lot. Gunfire met her, spearing her clavicles and knees. The agents fired, intending to incapacitate her and taking her into custody for further interrogation.


    A moment later, they switched to the lethal fire, and the woman didn¡¯t even halt her steps. The fabric of her leather trench coat and pants absorbed the bullets, sinking them beneath the surface as if the bullets had hit water. As the woman raised her hand, her fingers spread wide. The flesh flowed back into the sleeve, and the bone structure changed, accompanied by a loud crack as the finger bones joined together to form a bone fan to block the bullets aimed at her face.


    ¡°I recommend immediate surrender,¡± the intruder said in a calm tone. ¡°It is the only way I can guarantee your survival.¡±


    Piam and Hryhorij didn¡¯t panic. They had seen stranger things. Their hands grabbed black cylinders from their belts and mounted them on the barrels of the SMGs. Iterna¡¯s military favored modular weapons, transforming a short-range shotgun into a long-range rifle in the midst of battle, or unleashing searing flames to overcome regeneration. The Reclamation Army¡¯s modular weapons were cruder and less effective in many areas, but when the agents heard the clicks, they squeezed the triggers.


    A burst of sound, potent enough to explode eyes, struck the assailant, followed by the hiss of an electric streak that forced her to twist and contort in pain. A network of bloody veins spread behind the New Breed¡¯s irises, and then her head turned quickly to focus her gaze on the agents. Her leg stepped into the pool of blood left by the first goon, and the crimson flowed up her boot, soaking the leg.


    Not soaking. Being absorbed. Piam gulped as the remains of brain, muscle, skin, and even bone disappeared into the leg. The woman¡¯s legs splintered into six needle-like appendages, her torso stretched so that her upper body could mount the centipede¡¯s lower half. She scampered out of their sight, ignoring bursts of sound and forks of electricity.


    Piam elbowed Hryhorij back, screaming in pain, as a bone scythe cleaved across her shoulder. The incredibly sharp edge bisected through her suit and cut away a round slice of her flesh, narrowly missing the humerus. Blood, her blood, was trailing after the scythe into which the woman¡¯s arm twisted, clinging to the bone, and Piam sprang away, fleeing from the six legs that descended, confused by the lack of pain in her shoulder.


    Wires of flesh connected her gaping wound to the transformed woman. Barely visible, these wires spread a soothing, numbing sensation that almost bucked her legs. Biting her tongue, Piam pressed a button that disconnected the sound emitter from her SMG. Then she fired at her own wound, screaming in agony as her bone cracked, and ran, free from the strange confinement as the bone scythe slammed into the floor.


    This woman¡¯s speed was incredible! Accelerated by the combat drugs and amplified by the lenses of the artificial eye and the suit, Piam failed to detect the New Breed¡¯s movements. It was as if she disappeared from reality and reappeared in another place, perfectly poised to strike. Only the stone explosions left in the transformer¡¯s wake proved she wasn¡¯t teleporting.


    Hryhorij rose, but before he could fire, a flick of the wrist sent the bone fan into his weapon. The spinning ring of bone had cut through the center of the SMG. Hryhorij dropped the weapon and drew his knife, glancing briefly at Piam. She was the one closer to the exit, and he lunged at the New Breed, trying to stall the opponent.


    She didn¡¯t nod. She sprinted toward the exit, intent on warning the soldiers and alerting the command. The instructors mercilessly drilled the need for sacrifice into their minds. No agent was irreplaceable. Death in the field, though uncommon in modern times, was an eventually they all had to live with. She¡¯ll mourn her friend later.


    Piam had almost reached the road leading to the third floor when she encountered several soldiers of the Provincial Army coming down, fully clad in their dark camouflage armor. The bleeding agent was about to scream in warning when a shot struck her in the chest, knocking her backward.


    A shot that came from her allies. She slammed into the ground, ignoring even the pain in her punctured lung. Another shot hit her right in the middle of her body and her legs went cold.


    ¡°Greetings, greetings, my dear friend,¡± laughed the man on the other side of the window. Neither the shooting nor the battle made him leave the throne. ¡°Ignore the mess; we had a minor interruption.¡±


    ¡°This is what you get for involving laymen,¡± the officer in charge said. The heavy boot slammed into Piam¡¯s chest, right into her wound, and she tried in vain to arch her back. But it wasn¡¯t the realization that she was paralyzed that made her eyes widen. She knew that voice.


    If the rot had reached so high¡­ I need to crawl out; I must warn the Bureau. In her panic, Piam attempted to use all the emergency channels within her suit, but the system indicated that they were jammed.


    ¡°Is everyone on board?¡± the voice from the fog asked mockingly. ¡°No complications, I hope?¡±


    ¡°Not anymore,¡± the officer replied. ¡°Raffy and his rats are on the run. I doubt they¡¯ll dare meet you again, so tell me what message I should give them. What do you need to destroy the Reclamation Army?¡±


    ¡°Destroy?¡± the speaker asked. ¡°My friend, you misunderstand us! We seek to conquer, not destroy. There will be certain amounts of ruin and some not-insignificant murders, but we do not seek to desolate the land we intend to rule over. Is this acceptable to you, or should we amend the terms of our cooperation?¡± The voice dropped low, and Piam heard the tapping of bone needles against the stone as the New Breed approached, carrying the pierced Hryhorij on her bone-scythe arm. ¡°I would hate to mislead your expectations.¡±


    ¡°I am satisfied with our deal,¡± the officer stated.


    ¡°Are you certain?¡±


    ¡°As long as they pay for what they¡¯ve done to my homeland. As long as the Second and Devourer perish in the war, as long as the Reclamation Army is unable to destroy another country, and as long as the Dynast is dragged from his capital and flogged to death for everyone to see and laugh¡­¡± the officer stopped and aimed the energy pistol at Piam¡¯s head. ¡°Our goals are aligned.¡±


    ¡°T-t-tra¡­¡± Piam tried to say.


    ¡°There is no need to kill her,¡± the New Breed said. ¡°I can safely contain¡­¡±


    The officer snapped, ¡°Death and fall to the Reclamation Army,¡± and a bright blast shaved off the top of Piam¡¯s head.


    ****


    Hryhorij should have been dead. He awoke to find himself impaled on the bone blade. He craned his neck, calmly seeing that it entered his body lower than his left hip, and the blade¡¯s tip exited his body around his right shoulder. The heart, the digestive tract, parts of the intestines, the spine, the liver... He should be dead.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    But there was no pain¡ªnot even irritation¡ªas she carried him on a bone tail that connected to her spine. Aside from that, the woman regained her humanoid shape and her fake trench coat. He breathed normally even if his lungs felt weird, and when the agent opened his mouth to ask a question, no sound left his lips. His limbs were unresponsive.


    They were on the other side of the spatial window. He didn¡¯t know Piam¡¯s fate, but judging by the calmness around his captor, she didn¡¯t make it. Hryhorij calmed himself. Even if the ambush failed and the soldiers were all killed, Houstad would be alerted. His diligent partner ensured it by passing the message to the soldiers prior to the battle. And there was no way for forty soldiers to disappear unnoticed.


    He focused on the tent, burning the images of the feasting people into his memory. They bore a striking resemblance to the burly bastards who had attacked Just Peachy earlier. Some were more muscular, but the girth and protective fat were unmistakable. He noticed the slaves. While many of them were Normies and mutants, there were women of the same build as the invaders, dancing and delivering food to their masters.


    ¡°You promised me free access to the people of Houstad.¡± The female New Breed who had captured him stopped before the swirling narcotic mists. The agent was surprised to hear her speaking in the Common. ¡°How do you plan to deliver it if you hand the city over to Raffy?¡±


    ¡°Trace, don¡¯t be silly,¡± the person answered in a pleasant baritone. ¡°Raffy is a cowardly plague rodent. A pest to be unleashed to wreak havoc. His role is to help us cripple Houstad¡¯s official leadership while he weakens the illegal one. And when the dust of our conquest settles, yours truly will decide who will rule Houstad and its riches. We are people of vision¡­¡±


    ¡°Your cheap manipulations won¡¯t work on me,¡± Trace replied. The music stopped, and the dancers froze in place. No one was pouring drinks or scraping meat off bones. Every eye in the tent was focused on the woman. Hands moved to weapons on belts; armored guards stepped inside; and the slaves retreated. But the woman stood undaunted.


    ¡°Careful, my dear.¡± A crustacean pincer broke through the wall of smoke and closed around the slender neck. Black chitin carapace covered the entire limb, aside from the sharp edges. Trace didn¡¯t move to dodge, but the coat on her shoulders bulged, and two bone spikes formed, pointing into the mist. ¡°You are the Khatun¡¯s curiosity. But interest tends to wane over time, and you are alone with no one by your side. Learn the virtue of silence, lest you want to alienate your trusted ally.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep it in mind when I meet one,¡± Trace replied. ¡°We are conspirators, not allies, Brood Lord. Go ahead, close the pincer, explain the insult to Mad Hatter, and also try to find another infiltrator. Or stop wasting my time and act like an adult.¡±


    Hryhorij fully expected to see the woman¡¯s head roll. He was still unsure of who was hiding in the fumes, but the light tremble that passed over the hardened bone gave him a clue about the infuriation that was overtaking the speaker. Whoever this Brood Lord might be, the agent had concluded that he expected obedience and delighted in manipulating his servants, raising and lowering them as he deemed appropriate. Trace took it from him.


    The pincer retracted. A snap followed, and the music resumed. The guests feasted anew, attended by the women, and the guards left the hall as if nothing had happened.


    ¡°Right you are, my friend!¡± Six legs emerged from the smoke¡ªsix massive columns covered by chitin so thickly that even their joints were shielded by scutes. They touched the ground, and the slaves who made up the throne breathed a sigh of relief as the owner rose to his feet, lifting his four-armed body over Trace. ¡°Let¡¯s drink, eat, and forget these sour words! Trace is a welcomed guest of Brood Lord and his khaganate! Bring airag, bring wine, bring vodka, carry in thunder bull legs, grapes, and apples; my guest is hungry!¡±


    Hryhorij held on to the last thought as something was throwing him into a state of unconsciousness. Brood Lord wasn¡¯t like the attackers. There were obvious similarities¡ªbelly and chubbiness¡ªbut he was undoubtedly a Malformed.


    ****


    The agent opened his eyes, finding himself lying on an examination table in a cramped room. Glass containers stood everywhere, holding floating organs. These containers filled every corner of this brightly lit place, every shelf and every bench. The nutrient solution was light green and semi-transparent, indicating that the organs were well preserved and belonged to humans of various sizes and origins. Here were the compound eyes of an Insectone, an oversized Troll¡¯s lungs, a Normie¡¯s heart.


    Hryhorij tried to stand up, panicking at the realization of what this entailed for him. But his body refused to listen. He couldn¡¯t even move a finger. His eyelids worked, and after an immense effort, he moved his neck, wondering about a wide, already healed scar that covered his shoulder. How long have I been here?


    ¡°Two hours.¡± He heard Trace¡¯s voice. The woman sat close to the entrance, holding a vial containing gray fibers and typing into a terminal. ¡°Relax. Breathe clearly. Your damaged vital organs were restored. The Bio-Tinkers don¡¯t kill their prisoners.¡±


    ¡°Now here¡¯s a laugh.¡± Hryhorij forced a smile. ¡°They just buy organs and slaves to cut them up and kill them. Nothing evil, sure¡­¡±


    The agent was completely naked, and his vision was slightly blurred. It took him several seconds to realize that he no longer had his artificial eye. The device itself and the socket were gone, and in their place he now had another eye, simple and normal. He blinked twice, incredulous at such a quick implantation, and recognized the disassembled artificial eye lying on a table nearby. The tracking device inside it was broken.


    ¡°We do not kill our patients.¡± Trace turned on her stool and understood that it originated from her pelvis. ¡°It is not our fault that raiders and slavers murder their prisoners to deliver valuable organs to us. It would be a waste not to buy the organs and let them spoil. As for living prisoners, we purchase and release the oldest, examine and collect samples from the curious, and educate the youngest to become adepts. We hold very few geniuses against their will for the betterment of everyone.¡±


    ¡°What category am I in?¡± Hryhorij asked. ¡°Clearly not the oldest, so I guess I count as a genius?¡±


    ¡°You are a curious type,¡± Trace corrected him. They weren¡¯t in the tent anymore; the walls of this place were made of solid steel. Not a single surgical instrument was in sight. ¡°We¡¯ve never examined a person born in the Core Lands. It is time to rectify it. My condolences about your friend.¡±


    ¡°Why did the Bio-Tinkers choose to become enemies of the Reclamation Army?¡± He ignored a pang of sadness when Piam¡¯s death was confirmed. She would want him to honor her memory and remain professional. ¡°Last I checked, you had a beef with the Oathtakers.¡±


    ¡°We have no enemies.¡± Trace stood up. The stool broke, gathered itself, and disappeared into the fabric of her slightly moving coat. ¡°We don¡¯t even wish to kill anyone. Those who oppose us are ignorant of our true purpose. To seek humanity¡¯s salvation through artificial evolution. A perfection of flesh and mind for humanity, regardless of race or mutation. It is the Oathtakers who foolishly force us to breed war creatures, misguidedly perceiving our noble work as evil. Once our task is complete, we shall be vindicated.¡±


    ¡°Eradicated, you mean.¡± Hryhorij nodded toward the containers. ¡°How many people did you kill to gather this collection of horrors?¡±


    ¡°Zero.¡± Trace cracked her neck and spread her arms. ¡°I have treated hundreds of patients here; the Gilded Horde had abused some to the brink of death, while others were merely captives. None were crippled; none died. They were given adequate replacements and freedom.¡±


    ¡°And how many families have you torn apart to secure interesting mutations? How many children were kidnapped on your orders, their families shot by the slavers?¡± Hryhorij asked dryly.


    ¡°Too many,¡± the bio-tinker admitted. ¡°I will not lie or shirk responsibility. Nor will I be judged by you, Reclaimer. The Extinction wiped out countless cultures and civilizations, and now your war machine is doing the same, molding everyone into a monolith to serve the ever-growing expansion led by your emperor.¡±


    ¡°The Dynast offers home and prosperity to the desolated Wastes; his will reigns in cruel tyrannies,¡± Hryhorij recited a memorized mantra. ¡°Why weep over lost cultures? It is the people who matter. Let traditions, art, and languages disappear if it means that no child will go hungry and be eaten alive. In time, people will create new culture and art.¡±


    ¡°And what about those who simply wanted to live their lives? Will these people thank you for conquering them, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°A strange question coming from someone who works with the slavers.¡± Hryhorij scowled. ¡°The bitterness and sadness of the individuals are irrelevant. The few must sacrifice for the many.¡±


    Trace laughed in a clear and melodious tone, ¡°Child. The cruelty and atrocities committed by our nations are despicable, even if they are necessary. The Bio-Tinkers kidnap individuals, while the Reclamation Army steals entire countries. The differences between our countries are merely the end goal and the scope.¡±


    ¡°Lies. We provide a home and a future for everyone under our rule. You claim your prisoners are given freedom. How many of them survive the journey home? How many even find their way home? Don¡¯t lump us together, criminal. The difference between our nations is that yours pursue an impossible ideal, hypocritically making excuses about serving the greater good while committing every crime imaginable,¡± Hryhorij snarled. ¡°The Reclamation Army has a realistic end goal that benefits everyone, and we could achieve it sooner if people like you could overcome their illusions of grandeur.¡±


    ¡°This discussion is unproductive.¡±


    Trace¡¯s coat ballooned at her shoulders and arms, expanding and expanding, forming spheres. It took the agent a few moments to comprehend the merging of her skin and clothing before it finally dawned on him. The woman wore no clothes. She was fashioning her clothing out of her own body. Trace¡¯s arms and spheres came apart, morphing into dozens of thin appendages that ended up in saws, pincers, scalpels, or flesh ropes holding grievous talons. Her bones reshaped, splintering into bone drills. The appendages and bones protruded smoothly from the altered coat.


    ¡°Once you cease to pose a threat to the Horde¡¯s plans, we will release you. Would you like to endure your vivisection in a conscious or unconscious state?¡± A talon moved to Hryhorij¡¯s neck, stopping over the vein. ¡°It matters not; there is no threat to your life, nor will you experience pain. Any taken organs will be replaced. But some patients find it less stressful to sleep during the procedure.¡±


    ¡°Some?¡± Hryhorij asked weakly. ¡°Awake. Answer me this before you start. Why side against us?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter to us who will rule. Originally, the Conclave planned to use the Horde¡¯s invasion to secure an important person. But after meeting Mad Hatter, we understood our short-sightedness. In this world, she is unbeatable, invincible,¡± Trace answered dispassionately. Her many limbs moved down, making incisions in his flesh. The woman¡¯s neck lengthened, and her head hovered over the agents, like a snake over a hypnotized rabbit. ¡°A quirk of evolution, mutation, or power gave her an unrivaled body. Left unchecked, she will first conquer the Reclamation Army, then the Oathtakers, and finally us. But once we unlock the secret of her biology and improve upon it, we will make humanity invincible. Slavery will be obsolete. No Extinction will ever threaten the creators.¡± The head leaned closer, and Hryhorij experienced a push and rubbing as his body was being pried open. ¡°My apologies. I¡¯m going to have to temporarily disable your vocal cords. The removal of your lungs will cause minor breathing difficulties.¡±

 Chapter 51: Delusions and a Shower

    ¡°Explain yourself,¡± Till Ingo demanded while working on the unconscious patient in a circular-shaped medical dome of his private transport.


    The object of his indignation shrank on the video screen, trying his best to become one with a wall while holding a helmet in his hands. Keon, an enlistee from the conquered lands of Techno-Queen, had attracted Ingo¡¯s attention for a long while. The boy quickly understood the method behind the working of the seized drones; he eagerly trained to become a full operator on the Inevitable, occasionally assisting with manual tasks, always brimming with energy.


    The rejection of his offer to take Keon under his wing surprised Till. He had used the crawler¡¯s cameras to locate the youth, then sent a repurposed Techno-Queen drone through a network of air tunnels. Keon, who gained weight and proudly wore an official uniform, had nestled himself in a ventilation shaft, painting the Wolfkin¡¯s helmet black.


    ¡°Please be quiet, or they¡¯ll hear you, Mr. Ingo,¡± Keon whispered to the buzzing drone. ¡°I don¡¯t want to get punched like the wolf hag.¡±


    ¡°The Wolfkins were aware of your presence from the beginning, Keon.¡±


    The vent looked at a small warehouse that housed a very unusual gathering. Warlord Eled, still blindfolded to ease the strain on her cloned eyes, stood atop the crates, dressed in a flowing, slightly glittering gown of black silk that left her shoulders open. She played a simple harp for Arruda, Ashbringer, Melina, and Macarius Voidrunner, filling the hangar with a pleasant melody reminiscent of a long-lost home.


    Ingo wasn¡¯t a sentimental man, but something in this slow, methodical play reminded him of his own apartment, family, and the dried tree outside, the most precious artifact of their village. It took him back to the days when his family exchanged gifts and his sisters encouraged him not to get frustrated over a small technical problem. What a time it was; he was younger, foolish, more closed in, and his older sisters were never afraid to barge into his private laboratory to get him to eat or carry him into his bed.


    Have I lived to your expectations? Ingo shrugged his shoulders and hit the record button. If Eled¡¯s piece had such an effect on him, it should make a killing on the market. No doubt the warlord wouldn¡¯t worry about losing the rights to the music. His brain¡¯s microprocessors offered to slow the flow of time and enhance his memory so he could relive his past in perfect clarity, but the scientist declined the offer.


    Some things had to be treasured in a natural way.


    The last member of the assembly, Wolf Hag Sarkeesian, glanced at the vent, holding a paw over a swollen dark eye. Ashbringer, without opening her eyes, raised a fist, and the wolf hag quickly sat down, pretending to enjoy the concert.


    ¡°Why are you painting the helmet? Have you been drafted for maintenance too?¡± Ingo demanded to know.


    ¡°No, but yes, a little.¡± Keon smiled cheerfully. ¡°Warlord Onyxia had asked me for a favor. She said that someone was pranking her wolf hag by painting her helmet white all the time. The warlord didn¡¯t want the girl to be distressed or sad, so she asked me to fix the vandalism while she was away and keep an eye on who it might be.¡±


    ¡°Keon, you must learn how to say no, my boy, or the people will walk all over you. The warlord has her own soldiers,¡± Ingo grumbled. ¡°Why have you refused my offer? If tokens are the problem, just tell me and I¡¯ll solve everything.¡±


    A mutilated body lay on the medical table in front of him. A girl, approximately nine years old, extracted from the cruel harnesses of Techno-Queen. Prior to the first four operations, pus had oozed from every open wound, a blood clot completely covered her remaining eye, and her trachea suffered from severe inflammation and tissue necrosis. Every time the poor thing regained consciousness, she tried to scream, her voice cracking and barely audible.


    The microprocessors redesigned Tecno-Queen¡¯s emotional transmitter, recording and transmitting the calm and happiness taken from several eager volunteers into the patients¡¯ brains. It could hardly help with the mental state problem, but Till Ingo wasn¡¯t a therapist, and this was the best he could do to combat the constant nightmares that his patients experienced. They slept better, under the effects of the drugs that blocked dreams, and no longer wanted to die.


    That left the problems of the body. Leaving the patients in such a tortured and partially rotting state was unacceptable, no matter what Ravager might say, and Ingo worked day and night, keeping himself awake with medication. He replaced hearts, lungs, treated the deliberate sensory overload that kept the victims in a state of perpetual hellish agony. Currently, the mechanical manipulators have completed the task of severing and extracting the trachea. An additional set of clean mechanical arms lowered the artificial replacement so that the child could breathe on her own. Pus no longer plagued the girl¡¯s body, but her kidneys still needed treatment.


    Frankly, the surgeries went much better than he expected. Partly, and it pained him to admit it, the success of the operations was thanks to his Iternian colleagues. He had paid them a visit, explaining the situation when they came to pick up the wounded, and for the past several days, their doctors had repeatedly joined him during the medical sessions, providing invaluable insight into the treatment and berating outdated equipment.


    Naturally, he recorded it all. Information should never be wasted, and medical colleges and universities can use it.


    The other victims of Techno-Queen madness had slumbered in their capsules positioned on the walls, each bearing their own cybernetic augmentations: chrome engines replaced hearts, elastic rods in place of spines, new stomachs, bones coated in metal, and the like. There was little practical use in treating non-lethal damage, but Till Ingo considered himself a cautious man. After visiting Houstad, his private platform will take them on a week-long journey to his company¡¯s headquarters. The cybernetics will only ensure that the trip will not be unpleasant if they somehow wake up and reduce the potential risk to their lives in the event of a sudden power outage.


    ¡°Sorry, sir.¡± Keon bowed. ¡°I¡­ I was a coward¡­¡±


    ¡°You were a young slave who never tasted freedom,¡± Ingo interrupted him. ¡°It¡¯s hard to call someone a coward when they have been bred to be submissive.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Keon set the helmet aside. ¡°I never was a part of anything. I was a cog¡­¡±


    ¡°Still are.¡±


    ¡°But this time I have friends and people who care about me! I have comrades-in-arms, teachers, mentors, and even¡­¡± he blushed.


    ¡°Fast boy,¡± Ingo whistled approvingly. ¡°Never miss anything, live to the fullest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing serious, not yet! Regardless, I have a chance to save lives, to help break chains that hold people like me as slaves¡­¡±


    ¡°There are many ways of saving lives,¡± Till made the last attempt. ¡°A soldier fights, a soldier kills, but a skilled programmer can create wonders capable of both preserving soldiers¡¯ lives and aiding in everyday life. And I am sure that many of your countrymen are upset about the deaths wrought by the Third.¡±


    The Reclamation Army experienced rapid expansion and grew excessively dependent on individuals. Numerous intelligent and youthful men pursued careers in construction, the army, field medicine, or mechanics to earn easy tokens, as well as because of the generational trauma that shaped them.


    Those who survived the extinction were resilient individuals. They had to become so to ensure the survival of their families. They had to learn when to cut their losses and let an infirm die so the rest of their children could survive. Unconsciously, their beliefs were passed on to their sons and daughters, and rather than ¡°wasting¡± time in university, they sought to learn the craft on-site, helping scavengers and technicians learn how to assemble equipment, or helping hunters learn the skills necessary to join an army. The idea of mastering a skill that would require years of study seemed like pure folly to many. If you didn¡¯t earn your keep right away, you weren¡¯t pulling your weight.


    Till Ingo never blamed people for the views that helped them survive, but a thriving modern society could not function without microsurgeons, scientists, programmers, engineers. Every profession had its value; automated medicine and knowledge stored in vaults could only take them so far. A janitor or a sewer worker are theoretically simple jobs, requiring little complexity. But they are hard, and the manual labor takes a toll on the body, and these professions are invaluable to society.


    The problem of simplicity and complexity remained. Experts in intricate fields such as genetic cloning or surgery frequently joined the Army. War was no longer simple; it involved the complexity of making sure your fighting force remained capable, recovered from PTSD, stayed healthy, and used the latest war gear.


    Had the Dynast hadn¡¯t been so hell-bent on expansion, an equal distribution of personnel would have allowed for the creation of universal free healthcare even in the Outer Regions, but as it was, even in the Core Lands, there was a shortage of qualified medical and civilian personnel. Private clinics helped, but it was harder to find automotive designers, programmers, or engineers for new power plants, since most of them served in the military.


    No one could be irreplaceable, so Till Ingo made it one of his life¡¯s goals to find bright lads and lasses and send them off to study or take them under his wing. After graduating, his students had their own students, and the process of preserving, spreading, and accumulating knowledge continued and will continue far beyond his expiration date.


    As it should be. No one should die from a lack of heart surgeons, as his dear father did.


    ¡°Sorry, but no, Mr. Ingo.¡± Keon shook his head. ¡°Yeah, there are a lot of angry people. How could there not be? Almost every family has lost a member or a friend, and some still hold on to the illusion that we could have lived in utopia if we hadn¡¯t been conquered. It¡¯s hard. It¡¯s hard to accept that I worked my entire life to bring the end to the people I love. I thought I was helping people! I thought the rebels were crazy. I was cheering their deaths beside my dad, but instead I was poisoning the air and ruining children¡¯s lives¡­¡±


    ¡°You did nothing of the sort,¡± Ingo interrupted the usual melodrama. ¡°The fault lies with the one who committed the sin, you moron. Have you ever intentionally harmed another person? No? Then shut up; otherwise, by your logic, every victim of a theft is indirectly responsible for the thieves¡¯ lavish lifestyle and subsequent thefts. Self-blame is nonsense; snap out of it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, mister.¡± Keon smiled. ¡°I just pray every night so my people can move on and live their lives free of anger. But I¡¯ll be a crawler operator. Maybe a part-time assistant in the arsenal. It is the way I want to live and how I set things right. To¡­ if not undo what I did, then to do something right now.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    There it is. Another! Ignacy, Keon, and twenty others declined, leaving him with only two students to send to the UNU.


    ¡°Will you shut up!¡± Arruda snapped from below, and a knife landed near the vent. ¡°Get down there, Normie, and stop your chatting! We are trying to listen to the concert here!¡±


    ¡°Live well, Keon,¡± Till Ingo said to the panicked young man, shutting off the communication and setting the drone to return in automatic mode.


    His hands operated the console, sewing the girl¡¯s horrid wound, but Ingo¡¯s thoughts were elsewhere. How many people denied themselves the future because of self-guilt or family traditions? Geneticists, nuclear engineers, robotics specialists, augmentation surgeons, potential creators of artificial intelligence. So many bright minds, all of them not exactly wasted, but rather lost to the annals of history, their breakthroughs denied, their glorious aid not realized because of the never-ending conquests¡­


    ¡°You will stay away from war and danger, young lady,¡± Till Ingo said to his unconscious patient, performing the final checks to make sure the new trachea was working nicely. ¡°No excitement, no traumatic events, a simple, quiet and boring life in the Core Lands, a proper education¡­¡± He gritted his teeth at a sudden din in his brain.


    ¡®DANGER! DANGER! IMMEDIATE EVACUATION IS REQUIRED! FAILURE TO LOCATE AN ESCAPE ROUTE! ACTIVATION OF THE DEFENSE SYSTEM¡® A din of voices erupted in his head. The microprocessors had adopted some human habits, but in their panic, they filled his skull with screams more befitting frightened children.


    ¡°You lied¡­¡± A predatory whisper reached the researcher¡¯s ears, but he didn¡¯t turn too focused on completing the task at hand.


    Mechanical tendrils slid from the ceiling of the dome in response to the unauthorized intrusion, preparing to wrap around and stun the unexpected guest with electricity. Should the guest be resistant to conventional tasing, the tendrils also bore sharp molecular needles around their edges to pump in sedative drugs. Most of the time, that did the trick.


    The floor trembled as Ravager grasped the tendrils, disregarding the surges of rapidly escalating electricity strikes and the needles scratching at her hide. She ripped them and the mechanism in the ceiling free and stomped on the shattered debris, growling lightly.


    Emergency lights flickered briefly in the room, and the pods holding the wounded sank into the open passageways in the walls. The honeycomb structure of Ingo¡¯s private flying saucer allowed entire levels to be moved up and down in response to changing circumstances or to prevent unexpected artillery fire from destroying valuable artifacts. Even the control room was interchangeable, and as Ravager continued to destroy his medical center, the sleeping people were safely moved to the safety of the storage area, whose walls could withstand even a point-blank nuclear explosion.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Till Ingo said as a crack in the floor reached the patient¡¯s platform. He turned, a small child compared to the rapidly approaching black shape wrapped in metal tendrils and flashing her fangs. His instincts called him to dodge aside, but he refused to expose a child to the danger. ¡°I said enough! There is a patient here! Cease, Ravager!¡±


    Her claw stopped a centimeter away from his eye. The mad rage in her amber suns faded, replaced by some kind of recognition, and Ravager looked around in confusion, twitching nervously at the sight of empty medical tables and the still-twisting tendrils on the floor.


    ¡°I am not in the Room; I am not the Room.¡± Ravager pressed her forearms to the sides of her head, squeezing with all her might. ¡°It¡¯s gone; he wasn¡¯t here; he wasn¡¯t there; I am too strong; nothing can happen; I am in control; it wasn¡¯t there¡­¡± she kicked the broken flying vehicle of the raider¡¯s leader, who had assaulted Just Peachy. Ravager never told Ingo what she did to the man himself, as she brought it to him as a gift. ¡°It¡­ It¡­ Why is it always this shit?¡± Her eyes stopped at the tendrils.


    ¡°It¡¯s the most effective non-lethal method to stop an intruder,¡± Till Ingo stated. Today¡¯s outburst ended better than the last time, when her tantrum had forced him to undergo a knee replacement.


    Drones appeared from the open recesses in the floor and walls. Skittering over the ground, they cleared the dust that Ravager had brought in, removed the broken equipment, and scanned the room for structural damage. Given enough time, they will fix the dome back into its original form. Several of the smart machines climbed over the sleeping girl, checking her connection to the life-support system. Then they wheeled her away, and Ravager glanced over at the girl, softening her expression.


    ¡°Y-you promised,¡± the commander said accusingly.


    ¡°Biological parts, yes.¡± Ingo rolled his eyes as Ravager slashed the dome¡¯s side. She shook, drooled, and then stormed out.


    Before his friend could cause a ruckus and wake Banshee, who was sleeping for the first time in weeks, Ingo followed her, obeying the silent order. Besides, the idea of teasing his creation for completely failing in her bodyguard duties was amusing.


    Ravager clenched a paw to her chest, her heart pounding so loud Till could hear it from several paces away. She stumbled out of his flying lab, punching in access codes she shouldn¡¯t have known. Once outside, she reached the crawler¡¯s edge and sat, nervously breathing. The researcher joined her.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you ask the Iternians for help when they picked up the injured?¡± Till Ingo inquired after a period of silence. Small talk wasn¡¯t something he had mastered, and the sight of green fields and working engines was boring him.


    ¡°Because it would¡¯ve caused a political shitstorm,¡± Ravager said, hiding her face in the knees. ¡°By healing them, they would be indirectly siding with our conquests.¡±


    ¡°Unexpected restraint. I would have thought you, of all people, would enjoy setting Iterna up like this for what they¡¯ve done in the past.¡±


    ¡°You sound like Ivar. What¡¯s the point?¡± Ravager raised her head. ¡°Revenge, hatred, murder, mutilation, lies¡­ Against whom? The guilty are in prison; there is no one left for me to punish; there is nothing left to set right, and they had offered their help out of the goodness of their hearts.¡±


    ¡°And to prove to those around them they no longer harbor genocidal intentions towards New Breeds,¡± Ingo remarked.


    ¡°Yeah. Politics. So what if the end result is positive? Us, them, these religious freaks... If the little ones are fed, I am satisfied.¡± Ravager shrugged and looked at him. The light in her eyes intensified. ¡°You¡¯re dancing around the argument, Till. You promised.¡±


    ¡°The promise will be kept,¡± he assured her. ¡°Ravager, you saw the girl. First, we will deliver them to Houstad. But we can¡¯t treat them there, so my ship will leave for Stormfiend, where the main laboratory will perform this act of charity. The implants are merely temporary band aid.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Ravager was silent for a bit and then asked. ¡°Did the board give you any troubles?¡±


    ¡°The usual whining,¡± Ingo sighed. ¡°The costs are too high; can¡¯t we use the emotional technology in war¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡­¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t,¡± he finished for her. ¡°We¡¯ll be tiptoeing too damn close to breaking the treaty and giving Iterna a chance to use their holograms in the next scuffle. No, it¡¯ll remain strictly for civilian use. But Techno-Queen¡¯s stored knowledge is enough to finalize the prototype of the prediction engine and to manufacture the disruptor cannons and mechanical suits for the soldiers. I will stay in Houstad and begin research immediately.¡± He patted Ravager on the back. ¡°Get ready to see our own mechs in combat in a few years. I bet your girls will love the support. And they will soon receive a very special gift to help them survive on a battlefield.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯d be better off loving peace,¡± Ravager growled. She noticed the twitch of his eyes and continued: ¡°I am not blind, Till. But it won¡¯t work. My children¡­ they are as wretched as I. Monsters. Butchers. This is all we are good for. Almost killing each other all the time, even though there is no enemy here. I hear them roaring, growling, dishing out pain and receiving it in return. No nobility, no future, unlike the Ice Fangs. War is our home.¡±


    ¡°Such a melodramatic gloom and doom.¡± Till clicked his tongue.


    He didn¡¯t bother to argue against the obvious bullshit. What was the point? Ravager lived in her own made-up world, stuck in childish naivete. The Orais, as a whole, had become more civilized. The Ice Fangs, having risen above their incestuous heritage, strictly avoided repeating such disgusting practices. Many of their descendants subsequently founded businesses and corporations.


    As for the Wolf Tribe¡­ Eled¡¯s music touched his heart; Soulless One proved herself to be more than a rigid priest, and their younger generation was caught reading inappropriate magazines or eagerly helping in the arsenal. Monsters do not behave this way, nor do they perform for the entertainment of children; they subjugate, not collaborate. Even the blind could see that the Wolf Tribe was fully capable of integrating into a functioning society.


    ¡°Your meeting with the mayor is scheduled for today,¡± Till said. ¡°Want me to stick around for moral support?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ravager responded. She deeply inhaled and stood up on two legs, straightening to her full height, the fear and anger of the cornered prey disappearing from her eyes. For a second, Ingo thought that his heart had skipped a beat. The commander looked an entirely different person¡ªmajestic, in control, all-knowing, and commanding. ¡°For my sins, for my sons, for my daughters and my troops, I will keep holding on. I can do it. Little Sis believes in me.¡±


    ¡°And I believe, too,¡± Till said against his will. He had to stand on his toes to reach and grab her knee. ¡°Stay well, Ravager. Live. You never know how life will turn out. Don¡¯t give up.¡±


    ¡°Same to you, Till,¡± Ravager smiled. The corners of her lips quivered nervously, but her eyes were calm, and that scared him to the bone.


    She was normal. Ravager had, by some inhuman extension of will, had gotten a grip on her madness.


    ****


    ¡°So,¡± Janine said slowly. ¡°We meet at last, thing.¡±


    The Ice Fangs¡¯ chambers weren¡¯t like their desert cousins. White marble tiles covered the walls and ceiling, so pristine that Janine¡¯s eyes hurt from the sheer brightness. This place was devoid of any scent marks or dropped fur, and separate booths covered about three-quarters of the spacious room. Each booth had a stone floor and a sink that smelled wet. On the opposite side of the booth entrance was a panel full of various buttons, and above it was that thing. A long metal-encased hose connected the decadent, diabolical, and devious circular hole capable of pouring water.


    ¡°You are fooling me,¡± Bertruda accused her. The sword saint left her spear outside of the bathroom; her black brows were raised high in disbelief. ¡°You can¡¯t not know how it works. I thought you dragged me here to talk!¡±


    ¡°If you want to mock me, go ahead.¡± Janine gritted her fangs, pissed off at her own inadequacy. In desperation, she approached the woman and asked for aid, petitioning for permission to enter the Order¡¯s territory. ¡°Otherwise, uphold your promise and explain to me which button makes the water the hottest.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t not know how it works!¡± Bertruda exclaimed again, giving Janine the impression that she was panicking. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s a prank, right? A humor beyond my understanding? It¡¯s impossible to operate a combat armor and not know how a damn shower works.¡±


    ¡°I have never seen this device before. Normies used a hose to clean us of gore prior to the Dynast¡¯s commendations¡­¡±


    A Wintersong sage peered from the entrance. Camelia had assigned her own private guard to prevent any possible conflict between the two rivals. Janine accepted this precaution and maintained a relaxed posture, holding her head high to expose her neck in a show of harmlessness.


    ¡°Please¡­ No, please. Twins, have mercy,¡± Bertruda begged. ¡°It¡¯s a joke; yes, I¡¯ll just play along, and then we will have a laugh.¡±


    Janine said nothing, but listened intently to the explanations of the purpose of each button. The Blessed Mother visited the dens in person, accompanied by Zero and Alpha. It was rare to see her walking on two feet so casually, and it was doubly unusual to hear the command of getting presentable before the official meeting. Most warlords followed the standard protocol and enforced compulsory self-licking in their packs. But in the absence of sand to clean the fur, the best Janine did the unthinkable. She asked her rival for help.


    ¡°This is the hottest, got it.¡± Janine pressed on the yellow button, and numbers appeared on a small display, rapidly increasing as mildly warm water poured onto her head.


    ¡°Stop pressing it!¡± As the numbers tripled, Bertruda jerked her arm back. ¡°Only First takes baths at that temperature! You¡¯ll boil yourself alive, Janine!¡±


    ¡°Perfect¡­¡± Janine muttered as the numbers stopped rising.


    She could actually feel the heat of her home in the water. It wasn¡¯t the bitterly chilly waters that the regular army had used to purify them decades ago in preparation for the Dynast¡¯s arrival. This water¡­ It was awesome! It got hotter and hotter; streaks ran down her limbs, warming her bones; steam rose, hiding the confused Bertruda from view; and Janine spread her arms, enjoying the divine stream, wanting nothing more than to soak in it a little longer.


    It wasn¡¯t bad. It was divine.


    ¡°Use a gel, barbarian!¡± Janine blinked and caught a bottle that the sword saint threw at her from outside the booth.


    ¡°Is this a snack?¡± She asked, examining the bottle. ¡°Thanks for the offer. I¡¯m not hungry.¡±


    ¡°Stop! Stop pissing me off! You cannot¡­ It¡¯s to make your fur cleaner! Rub it in! Not the whole thing!¡± Bertruda slapped a paw across her muzzle. ¡°Not in the same spot, either!¡±


    Janine ignored her rival hysterics and followed the instructions. She would tolerate this rude behavior for as long as it took, for the entire pack needed to look their best for the meeting, and Janine was only the first volunteer to test the Ice Fangs¡¯ contraption and confirm its safety.

 Chapter 52: Meeting on the Road

    ¡°Form up!¡± Alpha snapped, stepping onto the crawler¡¯s deck.


    Janine straightened herself, paws at her sides. Today, she and the other leaders gathered in front of the main elevator. The sword saints, along with their knight captains and warlords, and their wolf hags, stood in two equal opposite lines, without any weapons or armor. The Ice Fangs wore their finest doublets and elegant capes, while the Wolfkins donned the sturdy officers¡¯ coats. Together, they formed a welcoming committee to greet Houstad¡¯s mayor, a man named Jaquan Kruger, and the local commander of the Provincial Army.


    The elevator doors opened, and the Blessed Mother strode outside, flanked by Captain Cristobo, who was little more than a cub compared to her massive bulk. Ravager moved on all fours, sniffing the air and glancing at the assembled Wolfkins, looking more like a caged beast than an honorable leader. Where Cristobo¡¯s steps produced a metallic thud upon the surface, Ravager traversed in complete silence, occasionally licking her lips and blinking slowly.


    ¡°Why are you shaking?¡± In a burst of speed, Ravager appeared near Anissa and Melina. The light from her eyes illuminated the women, and they gave up a scent of fear and submission as the giant fangs neared them.


    Anissa gulped and said: ¡°It¡¯s cold here, Blessed Mother.¡± Ravager tilted her head, observing the speaker as if she were just a gnat. Her amber lights had completely erased the tiny crimson of Anissa¡¯s artificial eye.


    ¡°We don¡¯t enjoy being around here,¡± Melina supported her. ¡°The weather is cool; water comes from the sky, and there is no prey or danger in sight.¡±


    Ravager lifted her paw and released a single claw from her index finger. Janine broke ranks, positioning her body to shield her officers, and bravely faced the amber eyes.


    ¡°If my pack has caused you any displeasure, take it on me, Blessed Mother,¡± Janine said. The floor shook as Alpha and Ashbringer joined her, forming a wall.


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Ravager stretched out the last word; her claw twitched.


    ¡°Yes, Blessed Mother. You had taught us to respect the military command. I am responsible for the well-being of my pack.¡± The claw came down, and Janine thought her soul was about to leave her body. But instead of cutting, the claw merely tapped her chest, unfolding the folds of the official uniform.


    ¡°Good girl,¡± Ravager said nonchalantly, standing on two legs. There was a honeyed edge to her voice. ¡°I¡¯d be a liar if I said I didn¡¯t hate our situation, too. We were born for war, slaughter, and feasting upon tyrants, for finding warmth in the guts of our foes as we cleave them open. I find calm in the shattering stockages and facing incoming fire head-on. The glory of felling a prey is energizing, the sight of liberated people is intoxicating. My heart sings with joy when I see my brave girls bleeding out an arrogant enemy leader or tearing a fortification apart. Bullets flying past our ears, claws weaving the deadly melody, sisterhood and comradeship on the battlefield... These things are known to us, ingrained in our souls. Spirits, I almost wet myself when I heard about our vacation. No wonder we all feel uncomfortable, stuck in the crawler like food in a refrigerator.¡±


    Chuckles met Ravager¡¯s words, and even Leonidas Summerspring smiled, nodding in agreement.


    ¡°But the joy of battle is finite!¡± Ravager raised her voice. ¡°Every battle, every war ends. Change is inevitable. The age of turmoil is nearing its end. Mighty is the Reclamation Army, and few dare to challenge us anymore. But what do we know of the peace we fight for? Little, my warriors. But love a life without war we must, for we claim to fight and die for it. And we are not liars! The Dynast, in his wisdom, has decided that it is time for us to know peace. So heed my orders. Partake in civilian activities; read these¡­¡± She moved her paws, struggling to find words.


    ¡°Books?¡± Zero offered.


    ¡°Newspapers?¡± suggested Macarius Voidrunner.


    ¡°Yes! Both!¡± Ravager nodded in thanks. ¡°Visit what places you can afford. Play games, eat food, speak to the people, learn of their customs, fears and hopes, cooperate¡­¡± She trailed off, inhaling to stop. ¡°Live. Live, my soldiers. It is time for the Ice Fangs to take the lead for once and help us adapt.¡±


    ¡°We will obey your wish, oh Blessed Mother.¡± Leonidas fell to a knee, but a huge black paw raised him and gave him a friendly pat.


    ¡°I rely on you, sword saints, as I ever relied on the Twins.¡± Ravager said. ¡°As for the cold, the blood of my blood, you¡¯ll get used to it in a year or two. Alpha and Zero can attest to that. Don¡¯t worry, we won¡¯t be here that long, so I recommend wearing warm clothes. At attention!¡±


    Proudly snapping her fingers, Ravager left to join Cristobo, and Alpha, along with Janine, returned to their posts. The column was nearing Houtstad¡¯s outskirts, moving along the specially constructed road that had been built to accommodate the military forces. Despite this, cracks ruined the smooth surface, for the Inevitable¡¯s weight was so great that even the reinforced concrete could barely support it. The cracks widened even further as the Ice Fangs¡¯ smaller mobile bastions followed the massive machine. Behind them trailed artillery units, infantry trucks, and at the far end, tanks moved in to secure the rear. Their long journey was nearing its end.


    All around them, a land of wonders was unfolding. Rich fields, teeming with wheat, shared borders with vast pastures where livestock grazed. And not just any livestock! Cows¡ªactual, living, breathing cows, restored by genetics¡ªgrazed the grass, their tails lazily slapped at swarms of flies. Janine licked her lips, eager to taste their white milk, so supposedly soft compared to the tough green of the cusacks.


    There were no lizard hens anywhere, but thousands of trees, carrying heavy harvests of apples, grew within sight. Far beyond them were greenhouses of the Oakster family, the largest food suppliers in the entire Reclamation Army. Colorful and nice barracks for migrant workers stood near the greenhouses where exotic bananas, lemons, and oranges were grown. Dozens of smaller trucks stood ready to take the workers to the distant slaughterhouses and tanneries, but for some strange reason they stood empty as the workers and several Oaksters on six-legged horses shouted greetings and waved their hats at the soldiers.


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    Rivers appeared on the horizon, surrounding Houstad like trenches. Only instead of being filled with sand, sharp iron spikes, and mines, cubs of various ages filled the calm waters or swam to shores, fighting over binoculars to survey the approaching mountain of steel. Janine¡¯s eyes weren¡¯t as sharp as her cousins¡¯, but she spotted people in green uniforms herding families away from the main bridge as the growing crowds flashed their terminals.


    Above them, a plane, proudly flying Iterna¡¯s celestial blue colors, descended to an airport in the city. Janine noticed Zero clenching and unclenching her fists, trying to stay calm. She sympathized with her sister. The Reclamation Army had almost no aviation, and the last time they had seen Iternian planes was when they had bombed them.


    ¡°Is this a delivery of sorts?¡± Predaig inquired, focusing her gaze on the plane.


    ¡°Nah,¡± Martyshkina whispered to her. ¡°Iternian goods come by land. These are tourists.¡±


    ¡°The who?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°My fellow citizens who travel to another countries seeking thrills, recreation, or for business,¡± said Jacob Makarevich. The obnoxious Iternian dressed in the simple clothes of a Reclaimer infantryman, but cut off all military insignia. His camera hovered nearby, filming the commander. ¡°The Great Nations have signed many treaties, including treaties on the treatment of tourists, and Houstad has even reopened and rebuilt the ancient airport to accommodate planes. It works both ways, by the way. Drop by Iterna; it¡¯s not that hard to get a tourist visa for our country.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but no thanks, pal,¡± Zero hissed.


    ¡°The world truly becomes a less savage place¡­¡± Janine said proudly. It seemed that just yesterday, they were dragging Iternian prisoners from the downed planes. And now they welcome them as guests.


    ¡°It sure is.¡± Jacob nodded. ¡°Anyway, if you change your mind, our embassy is in the south, close to the Oathtakers¡¯. There aren¡®t even queues compared to the lines to get a visa into the lands of your neighbor.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine why,¡± Zero mused, checking her helmet.


    ¡°The Oathtakers have an embassy here?¡± Martyshkina asked. ¡°Jani, think Lyudochka ¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be ridiculous, Marty,¡± Janine replied. ¡°We haven¡¯t had a letter from her in a long time. She probably moved on and is working in a lab somewhere.¡±


    Janine could sense the curious eyes of her daughter and others burrowing into the back of her head. Let them guess¡ªthis secret didn¡¯t belong to them.


    A sound of a limousine racing from the city attracted her attention. The car stopped briefly beside the crawler to unload two passengers, then moved aside as the soldiers led the new arrivals to one of the outer elevators. The first to step onto the upper deck was a dark-skinned elderly gentleman in a stern gray business suit and a small gold key emblem on his lapel, marking him as mayor. He hurried toward Ravager; his scarless face flashed a broad smile to everyone.


    His companion had a more serious and dignified look. She was a tall woman clad in a standard gray field uniform. A similar gray overcoat hid the carapace body armor; on her chest was a golden medal earned for bravery. Her skin had an unnatural pale hue, the result of a painstakingly long healing process from extreme burns. The top left corner of her head was hairless, briefly revealing ugly scars before the woman donned an officer¡¯s cap.


    ¡°Commander Ravager, what an honor!¡± The mayor said in a confident voice. ¡°Jaquan Kruger at your service.¡±


    ¡°The honor is all mine, Jaquan,¡± Ravager said pleasantly, and Janine almost bit her tongue in surprise. The Blessed Mother¡¯s voice differed from her usual self; she kept a paw behind her back and extended another for a fingershaking, as Jaquan could fit in her palm. As he touched her, Ravager¡¯s left pupil collapsed into a dot and the lips parted, revealing fangs and drool. ¡°My apologies,¡± Ravager said in a strained voice. ¡°A headache. Still acclimating. Troops! Greet our guests!¡±


    ¡°No! No need for ceremonies, my friends. I will have none of that from the brave defenders of our safety.¡± Jaquan quickly spoke, preventing the Wolfkins from kneeling. ¡°It is I and the people of Houstad who owe you and the founder a debt of honor for our city¡¯s very existence!¡±


    ¡°I founded nothing!¡± Ravager snapped suddenly, stopping her fangs just short of the man¡¯s face. His smile never wavered, and he put on his glasses to shield his eyes from the light. ¡°I am jumpy today, Jaquan. My deepest apologies for the scene, but we had very little to contribute to the creation of this magnificent den.¡±


    ¡°Then only the brave defenders. You can¡¯t dispute that,¡± the officer said cautiously, coming closer. She nodded to Ravager and saluted to the captain. ¡°Captain Cristobo! I have heard much about your accomplishments in the reclamation efforts. It is an honor to meet you in person, sir. We have received word of an attack on a settlement in the Outer Lands. Do we know anything more about the invaders?¡±


    ¡°Negative, Lieutenant.¡± Cristobo shook her hand. ¡°The raiding party was completely wiped out. Warlord Onyxia is currently trying to find any clues about the whereabouts of the attackers.¡±


    ¡°Jacomie, give it a rest. I am sure our guests will tell us everything later, after they have had a well-deserved rest.¡± Jaquan placed a hand on the lieutenant¡¯s shoulder. ¡°How about we all concentrate on the incoming parade instead? Ah, I can already see it! The Wolfkins of both groups marching side by side, with Commander Ravager at the head, giving a speech¡­¡±


    ¡°Not interested,¡± Ravager said in a hoarse voice. ¡°Hail to you and all that, kind mayor, but just tell me where our dens are, and I¡¯ll leave the city for a nap.¡±


    ¡°But this just won¡¯t do!¡± Jaquan protested. ¡°Some of your soldiers have families in Houstad, and the brave Ice Fangs own several enterprises. No doubt everyone would like to see the Third arrive in full glory, and this is also a perfect opportunity to show solidarity and unity among the people of our nation.¡±


    ¡°You have a point,¡± Ravager said, gently touching his back, drawing the mayor to the elevator. ¡°But the Wolf Tribe seldom parades, and I myself will spoil the beautiful day. How about I meet you halfway? I¡¯ll thank the citizens of Houstad for having us, and we¡¯ll cut down on the parade.¡±


    ¡°Cut it short?¡± asked Jacomie. ¡°Commander Ravager, this is a joyous occasion, and the mayor, the provincial army, the police, and the Investigation Bureau have spent considerable resources to secure the avenue leading to the base. If you respect our efforts in the slightest, then the least you can do to repay our efforts is to comply with the mayor¡¯s idea¡­¡±


    ¡°Please, Jacomie¡­¡± the mayor started.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ¡®please¡¯ me, Jaquan!¡± the lieutenant snapped back and stepped closer to Ravager. ¡°Commander, despite our differences, we respect the Third. Your soldiers have just returned from this foolish endeavor; they are weary; the ghosts of the fruitless war no doubt still haunt them. Let them join in the celebration. No one even demands perfect footwork from your soldiers; just be yourself¡­¡±


    Foolish? Fruitless? The fur rose at the back of Janine¡¯s neck, but she said nothing, suppressing the desire to bite the impertinent female. Is this how the people of the Core Lands feel about their conquests? Thunder Emperor, Blood Graf, Techno-Queen¡­ did they believe these threats would not reach them once they had finished playing with the Outer Lands? There could be no negotiation, no reasoning with someone planning to claim you, only an immediate response to prevent a future calamity from happening in the civilized lands.


    She was honored to see the flash of indignation in the eyes of Macarius and Leonidas. But Ravager, surprisingly, reacted kindly, wrapping her second paw around the lieutenant¡¯s back and nodding for the Iternian to follow.


    ¡°You won¡¯t like it, believe me,¡± Ravager mused cheerfully.


    ¡°Commander, a show of force will instill a sense of safety¡­¡± Jacomie insisted.


    ¡°Mayor Jaquan, Lieutenant Jacomie, call me Ravager, please. I am open to negotiations,¡± Ravager sighed. ¡°I appreciate your efforts to give us a warm welcome. We have something prepared on our side as well. Camelia! Cristobo!¡±

 Chapter 53: Preparing for Rest

    Janine breathed a sigh of relief as the group entered the elevator. Rather than waiting for it to return, she jumped off the upper deck, enjoying the cool breeze ruffling her hair. The crawler was an enormous piece of ever-shifting machinery, and it was dangerous for regulars to operate on the outer hull without being secured by ropes or harnesses. A sudden turn of a turret could¡¯ve sent a person tumbling down on the massive tracks.


    For Wolfkins, it was a second home. Trained since birth to scale the treacherous jagged mountains and ruins of their homeland using only their nimble and strong toes and fingers, they traversed up and down, mocking the caution of their cousins. Janine used the cannons as stairs and made her way to the lower observation deck, the closest point to her pack¡¯s dens.


    The Wolfkins had manned the observation decks, examining distant fields and civilian cars. Whereas the lower ranks had an air of childish naivete about them and were genuinely shocked about the lack of personal weapons among civilians, the wolf hags and scouts surveyed for perfect locations to plant mines, prepare ambushes, or orchestrate organized retreats. It wasn¡¯t done out of malice; years of dedicated service had kept them on edge.


    Joining her pack, Janine narrowed her eyes as she spotted Marco on the road below. He begged and asked relentlessly to be permitted to witness the arrival in Houstad, and she had granted him this small boon, cancelling the lessons after her precious buffoons, including even trying to look impartial, Impatient One, had given scents of support. What harm could one day do?


    A lot, it seemed, she concluded as her boy dodged the tracks of an APC below..


    ¡°Confess, what have you got Marco up to this time?¡± Janine yanked Bogdan by the ear.


    ¡°Nothing, Warlord!¡± Her son smiled innocently at a clan of fangs near his neck. ¡°Marco is brilliantly performing a community service.¡±


    Like most of her soldiers, the boy wore a long-collared buttoned jacket, thick pants, boots, and his beret. He hurried toward the railing separating the road from the field. After a brief moment of confusion, Janine noticed a terrified filly, pounding her hooves on the concrete, leaning against the iron railing, and calling to her mother, who was on the other side of the railing, trying to free herself from the workers¡¯ arms. Upon realizing that the young Wolfkin neared them, both six-legged horses squealed in panic, and the filly stood on her hind legs, ready to defend herself.


    ¡°He¡¯ll get hit!¡± Ignacy prepared to jump down, but Soulless One grabbed him by the neck and pulled him back.


    ¡°Trust in your brother, male,¡± the shaman said. ¡°He isn¡¯t half as dumb as you.¡±


    Marco evaded the clumsy kicks aimed at his snout and circled around the filly, wrapping his arms around her torso. He tried to lift her over the railing, but his knees gave way. Clenching his fangs, the cub trembled and stood up, refusing to let go of the panicked animal. Janine wondered why he bothered. If it had been her, she would have snapped the horse¡¯s neck and thrown the meat back to the farmer. No livestock lacking common sense was tolerated in the Outer Lands; all disobedience and coarseness were forcibly wiped out of them, making the animals easily manageable and docile.


    ¡°What are you doing standing around here like mouth-breathers?¡± A voice snapped above Janine¡¯s ears, addressing the Wolfkins on a deck below them. ¡°Help the cub!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warlord!¡± Kalaisa answered faster than anyone else, and, like a black streak, she leapt off the deck, weaving her way past the vehicles to reach Marco.


    Janine found Warlord Ygrite¡¯s ugly snout beside her and let go of Bogdan, guessing the intent. The woman was panting, but not from rage. Fangs, countless fangs, the blessing of the Spirits, covered her entire upper and lower palate, trapping her tongue. They descended into her throat, turning every breath into a struggle. Ygrite unbuttoned her collar and scratched at her neck, where more fangs grew, their cruel red tips poking through strands of fur.


    ¡°What are they yapping about?¡± Ygrite demanded to know, her words accompanied by the loud sucking and clanking of her fangs; the very act of speaking was torturous for her.


    Janine heard the distant cries of ¡®Nerisk¨¥, z¨¥ns!¡¯ and ¡®V?lkommen hem!¡¯ mixed in it, but they told her nothing.


    ¡°They implore Marco to back off from danger¡­¡±


    ¡°My son is not that fragile,¡± Janine bristled.


    ¡°And are greeting us,¡± Soulless One continued. She put Ignacy down, deciding against discipling him in public. ¡°Seems they are happy to see us.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Janine asked. The migrant workers had lost some of their tan, but she recognized the physiques and heaps of blonde hair of several people. ¡°We crushed their homeland sixty years ago.¡±


    ¡°Half a century is a long time, Warlord,¡± Bogdan said. ¡°I wasn¡¯t born there. Chances are, these people weren¡¯t born then, either. And I doubt they¡¯d be content dwelling underground like those insane shamans demanded. Religious freaks are such a bore sometimes.¡± He raised his paws. ¡°No offense intended, Shaman!¡±


    ¡°Naturally.¡± Soulless One locked her eyes with his until Bogdan blinked in submission. Then she pulled out a notepad and began scribbling words.


    ¡°Sorry to startle you, Janine,¡± Ygrite said. ¡°But you and Ashbringer treated my girl pretty nasty, I¡¯d say.¡±


    ¡°She was the one who started it.¡± Janine placed her paws on the guardrail.


    ¡°Oh, I am not overly caring about that.¡± Ygrite¡¯s glare caused the rest of the pack to retreat to free them space. ¡°If she is foolish enough to challenge a warlord and die, that¡¯s on her. This is what I have a problem with!¡±


    Ygrite¡¯s crooked finger pointed at the Wolfkins below. The wolf hag had easily lifted the struggling boy, helping him to push over the struggling filly to reunite the horses. The scared mare still kicked, but Kalaisa blocked the hooves and seated the boy on her shoulder. Before either of them could leave, a farmer rode up to them, apologizing for the incident and thanking them for their help. Kalaisa unhappily tried to wave him away, but Marco kept talking to the smiling farmer, forcing the wolf hag to stay.


    ¡°Just a few months ago, she wouldn¡¯t bat an eye if the horse had hit the boy. Or better yet, she would¡¯ve added a kick of her own. And now she is the first to help anyone with anything, has stopped rampant dominations, and comes to talk to you every night.¡± Ygrite sucked in air, furiously tearing off fangs from her neck. ¡°Freaky. Gives the impression that a certain warlord thinks her pack is too small and is propping up a dumb puppet to get rid of a rival.¡±


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    ¡°More like she¡¯s growing up.¡± Janine ignored the accusation. ¡°Feeling paranoid? Good. It means you understand your shortcomings. Try solving problems in your pack. Fewer worries that way.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I will.¡± Ygrite flashed an ugly grin and licked her torn lips. ¡°But I ain¡¯t the one who screwed up the girl. It was her parents¡¯ and shamans¡¯ fault. None of them explained to her it is ok to ask for help or food, even if you are a motherless cur. I was given a flawed tool.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Janine arched a brow. ¡°Ygrite, how the Abyss is this matter? You have an unstable soldier of high rank in your pack. A gift to the tribe, a jewel to be polished. Would the knowledge that you are right sustain you when Kalaisa drives her family to death and leads her pack to ruin? As warlords, everything in our pack is our responsibility. If a male kills himself, it is a failure. If a female dies of her wounds in the field, it reeks of incompetence on our part. If there is a disruptive element that breeds hatred at the expense of unity, it is our job to set things right. Discipline and morale are just as important as martial knowledge. Get on with being a leader, lead by example, educate, or step down and let others do the job. Even Kalaisa is more mature than you are right now, and she is a bitch. But at least she is trying to be better.¡±


    She smelled the seething anger in Ygrite¡¯s scent, but made no effort to defend herself. If the fool dared to try to dominate her, so be it. Ygrite was a member of Ravager¡¯s private circle far earlier than Janine. The woman had first opened her eyes in the laboratory, or so she claimed. Even Janine was nothing more than a youngster compared to her. But she didn¡¯t care about the veneration of the elderly. If the old gives in to paranoia and overly clings to their authority, then the old is a threat. She fought and bled to get where she is today, and she¡¯ll be damned if she¡¯s going to lie to spare the feelings of a senile idiot.


    ¡°Truth be told, I had a thought of opening your throat out for a sec here. But ya have a point; the pointless bickering makes us weaker. I¡¯m not really feeling like doing you or Ashbringer in anymore,¡± Ygrite laughed and stood next to Janine; her hostility fading. A hooked dagger the length of her forearm slid from a coat sleeve, and the warlord spun it in her paw. ¡°I¡¯ll try to set the girl straight, but I¡¯d appreciate it if you¡¯d stick to your lessons. It used to be so easy. Ensure that everyone is fed, lead the troops into battle, forget the weaklings who died and live to fight another day... Where has all that gone? Laws, ranks, emotions, technology¡­ Why does everything have to be so complex now?¡±


    ¡°Change is inevitable. Few know it better than we,¡± Janine said quietly, examining her oversized paws. ¡°I remember the days of fighting without power armor, when we feasted on the still hot insides of our enemies. And I remember how many died needlessly before Alpha and Lacerated One changed it, forcing us to use weapons instead of relying on trusty claws and hides. We have benefited from change. True, change breeds complexity, but it also breeds life. I can live with it. And so can you.¡±


    ¡°Gosh, I remember young Janine, shy and fragile, hiding behind Terrific¡¯s back, eyes to the ground. What turned ya into a philosopher?¡± Ygrite elbowed her.


    ¡°Death,¡± Janine replied, rejoining her soldiers.


    The farmer gave Marco a large bag, and the boy had to stand up on Kalaisa¡¯s shoulder to look inside. Kalaisa took Marco under her arm and held the bag in her mouth. For several breaths, she watched the APCs pass by. And then she darted, passing them like water, avoiding a collision at the last moment and controlling her run perfectly to show off. She jumped at the APC closest to the crawler, stepped over its turret, and soared through the air like a bird. She landed just above the moving tracks and used her only free paw to climb up. Her thumb slipped, but Anji grabbed the woman¡¯s paw and helped both adventurers back down to the deck.


    ¡°It was kind of you to help the cub, Kali,¡± Anji sang in a honeyed tone.


    ¡°Shut your trap, Bootlicker.¡± Kalaisa spat the bag into Marco¡¯s paws. ¡°I didn¡¯t need your help. I had everything under control!¡±


    ¡°No, you didn¡¯t, but it was still cool. Way to go! I¡¯m rooting for you!¡± Anissa said as she stepped out of the corridor. Shortly after, she had to duck to avoid a swing that was aimed at her nose while maintaining a smug smile on her face.


    The swing dented a wall, and Anissa countered by slamming her elbow into Kalaisa¡¯s ribs, throwing the woman face up against the wall. Her claws flashed, eager to lacerate the exposed back, but they only struck the steel. Kalaisa disappeared. Her speed and agility, worthy of a warlord, allowed her to slip off the incoming stabs at the small cost of having her clothes torn.


    A back kick sent Anissa crashing into the wall. She tried to break free, but an elbow pushed into the scruff of her neck, cratering her head into the steel, despite the wolf hag¡¯s desperate efforts to break free. The two women simply occupied different social levels in the tribe. Where Nissa had already reached her peak, Kalaisa¡¯s growth continued. Janine¡¯s little girl will never be her equal; that was Anji¡¯s privilege.


    Bogdan¡¯s paw moved to a pocket of her jacket, Ignacy¡¯s arm transformed, Elzada dropped low, Impatient One bared her fangs, Melina prepared to lunge, and Soulless One released her claws. The sight of unity pleased Janine, but she growled, stopping the struggle. Kalaisa could¡¯ve easily maimed her girl by now. She didn¡¯t. The fool had not yet fully grasped the idea of restraint, but she no longer was a menace.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Marco checked his beret was in place, saluted Janine, and showed her the bag containing six glass jars of white milk. ¡°Look what the mister gave to us! Cows¡¯ milk! Real stuff! He even invited me later to get a ride, and¡­¡±


    ¡°And you will never again risk your hide without my permission.¡± Janine¡¯s finger lightly smacked Marco on the forehead. Technically, she should have also punished Kalaisa for leaving the crawler, but just for today, Janine had decided to ignore minor lapses of insubordination. ¡°You won¡¯t be hoarding it for yourself. Three pots go to Ygrite¡¯s pack for Kalaisa¡¯s help.¡±


    ¡°As if I want this piss,¡± Kalaisa mumbled, taking backward steps into the corridor.


    ¡°Wait, don¡¯t go anywhere!¡± Marco set aside the bag and hurried into the crawler. He returned from his den, beaming and carrying leather sacks with their names written on them. ¡°Because of the cold, Anji, Kalaisa, and I have made something for you all!¡±


    Intrigued, Janine picked up a sack meant for her. She unfolded it and found a black sweater¡ªmore of a turtleneck, really¡ªinside. The sweater was a little rough around the edges, but it was real, proper cloth, and it even had the emblem of her pack, the Taleteller buried in a Wolfkin¡¯s skull, on the chest. Bogdan, Ignacy, Elzada, Impatient One, Anissa, Melina, and Soulless One received the same sweaters; Anji got a much more elegantly made sweater with an emblem of a paw wrapped in shadows, crushing a bone in its grip. Kalaisa blinked in confusion when Marco handed her a sack.


    ¡°When in the Abyss did you make it?¡± she growled, tearing the leather asunder to find a coarse-looking sweater with Ygrite¡¯s pack emblem, an exploding house.


    ¡°Since you agreed to help us, I thought it would be fair if you¡¯d get one, too.¡± Marco shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve been working on it in my spare time, so¡­¡±


    ¡°I like it,¡± Kalaisa declared, taking off her coat and dressing into the sweater. ¡°I nominate you as my favorite pipsqueak. If you need someone to beat up, just call me.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Marco.¡± Janine patted him on the head. ¡°You too, Anji, Kalaisa. In gratitude, I authorize you to accompany Marco to this farm if he accepts the farmer¡¯s offer.¡±


    ¡°Great, more busywork.¡± Kalaisa¡¯s shoulders slumped.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Soulless One asked quietly.


    ¡°I said, ready and able, ma¡¯am!¡±


    ¡°Excellent,¡± Janine said, heading toward the corridor. ¡°Now back to your posts; we arrive in Houstad in less than an hour. Make yourselves presentable. Bogdan! You are responsible for making sure our pack does not cause any tension with the locals. If any of the females grumble, call me and I¡¯ll break her skull.¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am! It will be done, Warlord!¡± Her boy stood at attention.


    ¡°And no more fighting or dominating! Anyone who spills a drop of an ally¡¯s blood will join Lacerated One in the storage bay.¡±

 Chapter 54: Entering Houstad

    They marched! Janine¡¯s heartbeat quickened against her will; her mood lifted at the sounds of horns and music playing. The national anthem was so intense that it had almost matched the usual chaos of battle, but rather than announcing an impending doom to those resisting the Reclamation Army, it now sang of reunion through life. Adoration and cheers met the weary army, and even the grimmest of veterans found no heart to sour such an occasion.


    The Inevitable shone in the sunlight. Dedicated worker teams from Houstad meticulously cleaned every plate, every cannon, and even the tracks themselves. Dirt was scrubbed from the vehicles, flags and banners flowed on the wind from the sides of the crawler and the mobile bastions. Ice Fangs, clad in their parade uniforms, marched across the bridge leading into the city, accompanied by the thunderous cheers of the local populace and fireworks forming the country¡¯s colors overhead.


    Camelia Wintersong led the parade. She wore a long, light blue overcoat over her power armor, while two initiates held up her dark blue cloak to prevent it from touching the ground. She transformed her weapon into a marshal¡¯s staff adorned with a snarling Wolfkin¡¯s head, symbolizing a blend of the Blessed Mother¡¯s savagery and the Twins¡¯ restrained wisdom. On this occasion, she used a special suit of combat armor, a pristine white suit once used by the female Twin, and on her head was the male¡¯s helmet. First himself authorized the use of this treasured ancient equipment.


    To her left were Zero, Dragena, and Ashbringer, the only warlords who joined the parade. Zero waltzed, rather than walking formally; the light highlighted the gold she had painted over the edges of her armor and reflected from precious gems set into her breastplate. There was little formality in her behavior; the woman basked in welcoming cheers and responded in kind, throwing up her paws and giving thumbs up. She even scooped up three cubs and piggybacked them a few steps before the Blessed Mother snapped her back to reality.


    Ashbringer and Dragena were her polar opposites. One clad in the heaviest crimson armor and the other in a lighter dark blue version. Their march was in perfect official unison with the steps of the sword saints. Sages, banner-bearing knights, knights captains in their gleaming battle plates, eighteen selected wolf hags, one from each warlord present in the army, and other soldiers of the Third advanced in their wake.


    Senior officers and elite Normie and New Breeds units flanked this gathering. Ravager insisted on it, disregarding the mayor¡¯s and the captain¡¯s offers to put the regular humans back. By stationing these brave souls on the flanks, she ensured their visibility, for the Wolfkins towered over them. Chak rode atop the APC, his body coiled around its turret, and the chief quartermaster dozed off, ignoring the greeting. His presence here was to show solidarity with the civilized Malformed, and the man¡¯s poor eyesight didn¡¯t allow him to enjoy the wonders of the city.


    Or so the bastard claims. Janine thought icily, biting down on the urge to tell Anissa to stop glancing at Chak. The two had already scheduled their plans to explore the city.


    They crossed the bridge, waving and howling in response to the cubs¡¯ greetings. The little ones flocked to the riverbanks. A long shadow cast by a statue of the Dynast welcomed the newcomers; their liege stood tall above the gates leading into the inner city; his features and armor were of white. In one hand the statue held a copy of the universal laws, and in the other a mace, the silent warning to anyone who thought of disobeying the law.


    Statues of fallen and living heroes dotted the outer perimeter of Houstad, and Janine cringed when she saw a white-furred Ravager smiling happily next to the Twins. Clearly, someone didn¡¯t know them very well.


    The procession spilled onto the main street, and Janine, overwhelmed with emotion, grabbed Martyshkina¡¯s paw. Her friend reacted even more openly: her jaws opened wide. In preparation for their arrival, the mayor had announced a surprise celebration, and the state had promised to compensate businesses for lost profits. Freed from work, the people gathered to pay their respects.


    Paradise wouldn¡¯t describe this place. The sheer size of the city awed Janine. Light danced and reflected off the countless windows and cars; fresh smells of bread, meat, oil and perfume wafted from the stone streets and small shops. People! So many of them standing on the sidewalks, waving flags, waving their hands, or simply laughing. Orais cheered beside Normies. A family of mutants discussed something with the goat-headed Malformed couple over hotdogs that they purchased from the darting back and forth youths. Policemen in green uniforms maintained iron vigilance. The hem of one of their coats flapped in the wind, revealing an advanced exoskeleton to Janine. The sound of sniper rifles moving on the rooftops caught her attention.


    She disregarded the precautions and focused on the city. Coming from the north, they now entered what was known as the Priests¡¯ Quarter. His excellency Devourer and the Dynast had a long and distrustful history with religions, seeing them as little more than pleasant lies. However, the diligence of small monastic communities and the selflessness of individual believers in aiding the Restoration had proven otherwise, and the two relented, accepting the necessity of spirituality in society.


    Bells tolled from the green gardens surrounding the stone cathedrals of the Church of the Planet, the biggest and fastest-growing religion in Iterna, the Oathtakers, and the Reclamation Army. The training grounds of the Champion, a martial religion that originated from the Orais, remained empty and bloodless. Sweaty trainees and muscular challengers, their bones broken and reforged in sparring, shared space with young and innocent-looking nuns, priests, and rugged ordinands.


    The last group caught Janine¡¯s interest. All ordinands shared their share of scars; some even had artificial limbs. This bellicose wing of the church was responsible for delivering humanitarian aid to the world¡¯s most remote corners. They often used their weapons to stop the lawless and the threatening, to protect their flock and the helpless. Former soldiers and retired mercenaries seeking redemption formed the core of their ranks.


    Martyshkina had other tastes, and Janine swallowed a giggle at her friend¡¯s intense focus on the Orais challenger, an analog of a priest among the Champion¡¯s faithful. There was no high clergy and barely any order in this religion; its members welcomed anyone seeking self-improvement, whether biological or partially mechanical. The Orais themselves rarely reached the size of a wolf hag, but the one that caught Marty¡¯s attention seemed capable of folding a shaman in half.


    ¡°Planning to convert?¡± Janine whispered.


    ¡°What?¡± Martyshkina gasped. ¡°No! Jani, look at his muscles. I am telling you, the bastard is showing off. I¡¯ll see him eat dirt, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know, he seemed hospitable to me.¡± Janine waved to the Orais, and the five-fingered challenger grinned, showing his impeccable, even, square teeth.


    ¡°You dummy, that¡¯s how you repay the hospitality! A fair, no-holds-barred match is the greatest gesture of trust you can give to a championian.¡±


    ¡°No match against a warlord could be considered fair.¡± Janine shouldered the pouting Martyshkina. ¡°I am joking! Don¡¯t hurt him too much.¡±


    ¡°I hope to learn something.¡± Martyshkina wrapped an arm around Janine¡¯s shoulders. ¡°The news has been reporting about her perfect grappling techniques.¡±


    ¡°Good luck with that,¡± Janine said doubtfully and returned her eyes to the crowds. Her head spun a little. ¡°Normies, mutants, everyone, event religions¡­ They coexist together. I¡­ It¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter, the Blessed Mother got your tongue?¡± Martyshkina teased. ¡°That peace must be a real tough bitch if it can almost knock out Jani so effortlessly.¡±


    ¡°Tough,¡± Janine agreed. ¡°But also the best by right. If it counts as a loss, I don¡¯t mind. The food smells make me drool.¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re talking my language! My stomach rumbles and demands fresh sacrifices!¡±


    They fell silent as the Inevitable reached the first square. Janine had to blink trice to believe her eyes. So many people. There had to be thousands, or tens of thousands, of civilians standing to the left and right; their roar of greeting had shocked the warlord to her core. An army¡­ No several armies on their own! And many of them had never even seen war or the cruelty of the Outer Lands, thanks to the genius of the Dynast.


    And their own modest efforts.


    Reporters filmed the column; fast-food stands were overflowing; acrobats danced, leaped, and juggled in the crowds, earning themselves tokens; singers performed songs of the Outer Lands; priests blessed the returning soldiers; families whimpered in happiness as they spotted a familiar face among the troops; young white-furred cubs were throwing flowers, and painters toiled to mark this occasion.


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Welcome back! Welcome back! No more wars! Let our children stay!¡± Janine tilted her head, confused, as she picked up a clearly orderly chant in the torrent of cheers, but she decided to ignore it.


    There was no threat in these words. Worry yes, but no fear or anger.


    Elder Ice Fangs, dressed in expensive dresses or strict business suits, occupied rich rooftop terraces, toasting their passing relatives and greeting everyone in unison. The nation¡¯s economic system deeply ingrained these male and female Ice Fangs, who chose civilian lives and held shares in or outright owned firms and stores. All Ice Fangs had been trained in martial arts since birth, but if rumors were to be believed, these ice boys had long since forgotten how to hold a sword properly. Several white-furred Wolfkins, mostly squires and knights, saluted from the ranks of the police. These guards helped keep the cities of the Core Lands safe, fulfilling a role not too dissimilar from that of roaming packs who kept settlements and villages safe.


    But they are more gorgeous by far. Janine caught herself smiling, noticing Ignacy¡¯s envious expression at the advanced power armor types below. Her boy was too easily distracted by the shiny things. Who cared if their cousins had more advanced and elegant types of armor? Their plating was too thin, unsuitable for rapid advancement, and not large enough to accommodate enough servomotors. The Wolf Tribe¡¯s soldiers filled multiple roles in combat: grenadier, shock trooper, melee fighter¡ªyou name it, they¡¯ve done it. When one died, the remaining soldiers seamlessly filled the void.


    Their cousins relied on a strict delegation of responsibilities between the troops. Defenders shielded the knights¡¯ assaults, while the knights sliced through the main battle lines, allowing the sages to bring in sword saints and sever an enemy¡¯s throat. Meanwhile, the hunters reaped their toll from a distance, using their sniper rifles. Idiocy. Instead of focusing on simple standardization, there were too many individual battle plates. War was all about mass warfare; strike fast and end the fight fast to limit the casualties.


    The procession reached the terraforming complex, an enormous, square-shaped series of facilities close to the city¡¯s edge. Janine did not know many things, but she recognized the heart of the city at once. New Breeds blessed with passive abilities of preventing precognition in an area and those who wielded powers capable of blocking teleportation were stationed here. Houstad was still undergoing the terraforming process. Should these facilities be destroyed or taken offline for weeks, the entire southern region risked suffering an ecological catastrophe or even reverting to a barren wasteland.


    A walled encampment was built roughly eight hundred meters away from the complex, a place more fitting to be barracks or a command post. And yet it was the famous orphanage, ¡°No one is unneeded,¡± as Devourer called it. Initially funded from his private coffers, this place and its mirror sisters in other cities had dozens of buildings inside its walls and housed several thousand motherless victims of conquests, raids, or simply natural disasters.


    Normies and New Breeds alike were welcomed here, protected, cared for, and educated by the state. A bronze statue of an unknown girl was erected in the courtyard. Her posture betrayed fear and uncertainty: one hand raised to protect the lacerated face against an unseen whip, but her back firmly shielded the entrance to the main building.


    ¡°In memory of those we couldn¡¯t save,¡± Melina read the inscription on the statue¡¯s pedestal. ¡°Well, that¡¯s a morbid reminder to the cubs who lost their parents. And why is the statue so ugly? Wounds, scars, skin missing from the ribs, the cut robe. Who? Which freak decided to create¡­¡±


    ¡°Melina.¡± Every soldier on the observation deck froze when they heard Ravager¡¯s voice from above.


    ¡°Y-yes, Blessed Mother?¡± Melina squeaked.


    ¡°It was Devourer¡¯s decision. A sin or a remembrance of his failure. Or maybe a demand to be better? Even I don¡¯t know. Even I didn¡¯t reach her in time. But he did. He tried. Shut up and accept it,¡± Ravager maintained her silence and then chuckled. ¡°Teachers regularly petition for the removal of these statues so the little ones won¡¯t be traumatized or scared.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ a question, Blessed Mother,¡± Melina said.


    ¡°You try my patience, wolf hag. Do you not need your tongue? Shall I pull it out?¡± Ravager growled, and they heard a clanking of fangs.


    Janine¡¯s claws bit into her paw from worries over her son. The Blessed Mother was sane. She had to be! Spirits, just one day! A day without madness! Give her a day of rest!


    ¡°Ask your question, child,¡± Ravager said wearily.


    ¡°They welcome volunteers.¡± Melina pointed to a sign near the orphanage¡¯s main gates. ¡°Can I¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course, girl.¡±


    Drones, operated by the reporters, swooped down from the buildings. They filmed proud Order warriors up close and tried to get better pictures of their black-furred kin. Bogdan had to grab Ignacy¡¯s belt as the soldier swung over the railings to get a better look at the flying machines.


    ¡°They are amazing,¡± Ignacy whispered. ¡°Imagine the usefulness! They could deliver small loads to a mountain village, drop grenades onto secured positions, or fire small caliber weapons.¡±


    ¡°Or mapping the area.¡± Janine nodded and hugged him. ¡°The First Army already used them extensively, and the Second followed suit. We can¡¯t lag behind. A first batch of combat drones is waiting for us at the base. I volunteered our pack to test their synergy with our soldiers.¡± She smiled at her son¡¯s awed eyes. ¡°We have received both scanners and weapon models. On Alpha¡¯s orders, at least one member of a scout¡¯s pack is to learn how to become a field drone operator.¡±


    ¡°Really? I mean, that is excellent news, Warlord!¡± Ignacy beamed and stood at attention.


    ¡°I expect you and Elzada to show initiative and pave the way for the rest of our pack to master the control of such devices. We will not lose to the Alpha or Ashbringer packs. Am I clear?¡±


    ¡°Crystal clear, ma¡¯am!¡± Her sons replied in unison.


    She caught Bogdan grinning. Whatever. Just because she could accept Ignacy¡¯s desire to possibly remain a loner didn¡¯t mean she should stop trying to make him and Elzada soulmates. She wanted more granddaughters. Or grandsons. Either will do at this point. No cub of hers should stay alone in their tent at night.


    ¡°People of the Reclamation Army!¡± The Blessed Mother¡¯s voice stopped any mischief on the crawler.


    The procession came to a halt in the middle of the city, stopping at the largest square, from which could be seen several large skyscrapers and a modest city hall. A kilometer-tall skyscraper had a large display mounted on its side. The display¡¯s screen showed the Blessed Mother, a stunning and glorious sight for everyone to witness.


    She refused to put on the military coat; her own fur covered her fully, its void somehow darkened the area near her. But the mayor insisted on regalia, and she obliged to the request. A metal diadem, resembling an olive branch, adorned her brow, encircling her head. Bone totems and amulets of the Wolf Tribe, bones of those who perished in the wars, dangled from her neck, sharing space with the exquisitely crafted golden talismans and necklaces of the Ice Fang Order. She spread her arms wide, greeting the assembling crowds.


    Jaquan was by her side, while Jacomie and Cristobo remained in the control center. Despite warnings about the commander¡¯s temper and wild outbursts, the mayor declined the offer of safety, insisting that it was ultimately his decision to allow the Third to remain in the city. He had no intention of hiding or protecting himself from the person he had brought in.


    Marco and an Ice Fang cub, the initiate who asked Janine to give her young son a message about a pizza, stood on the platforms to the left and right of the Blessed Mother, waving and smiling at the crowds. The initiates found suitable official clothes for Marco in their closets and dyed them dark so that he would have the official colors of his tribe. The Ice Fang girl chose a long, flowing dress, and diamonds glittered in her hair.


    Janine noticed the mayor¡¯s smile as Ravager veered off the script from the beginning. She was supposed to address the citizens of Houstad, but she chose to address the entire Reclamation Army. Perhaps she had already forgotten the speech and was improvising. Alpha, Lacerated One and Leonidas Summerspring stood close to the cubs, weapons ready. Should madness come upon the progenitor, it would be their duty to halt her. But so far, everything seemed in order.


    ¡°My heart sings in joy at hearing your warm and sincere greetings,¡± Ravager continued in a calm and clear voice. The mayor put on a headset to protect his eardrums, and the Blessed Mother¡¯s words propelled air that moved the hem of the Ice Fang¡¯s girl dress. ¡°Yet I also hear your thanks. My compatriots! Guests from the faraway lands! You need not thank us! It is we who should thank you!¡± The cheers subsided a little as people whispered questions, trying to guess the meaning of her words. ¡°It is true!¡± Ravager insisted. ¡°When I left Houstad the last time, it was a miserable place, where people had to claw another day out of life to survive. Look at it now!¡± She pointed to the buildings, cars, shops, billboards, signs, a hospital on a distant street, a small charity run by priests. ¡°You rose above barbarism; you built not just something, but a life worth living! You did it, not us! Be proud! Your achievements are just as important, nay! They are even more important than any war we have ever won! People of the Reclamation Army, you build your children a beautiful home worth coming back to! The Wolf Tribe could¡¯ve never created it. We were born to conquer, and when we came to you as terrifying monsters, you reached out to us and help us integrate into normal life. What else can I say, but thank you? Thank you, young and old, for believing in us, for giving us a chance¡­¡±


    The Blessed Mother continued to speak, praising the implementation of civil rights and the acceptance of people from different backgrounds. Janine grinned after Cristobo shared a worried look with Jacomie, Alpha, and his officers. The Dynast and his cabinet had sent a very specific speech for Ravager to deliver, one that emphasized the continuing dangers in the world and the need for a strong guiding hand to control every person born with power.


    Ravager had ignored it, clearly enjoying admiring two street performers during her speech, a man and a woman. One of them conjured flaming dragons that danced above the crowd, and his friend turned the fiery flames into ice sculptures. But before they could fall on the tourists and people, the first artist quickly melted them into drops of water to thunderous applause.


    Janine clapped to it too. She didn¡¯t wish to think of war on this wonderful day. Peace, however brief, had to be enjoyed and treasured¡­


    ¡°Go back to your deserts, you murderers!¡± A voice boomed from loudspeakers, and a mixed crowd of people broke through the line of police and stormed the main road.


    Aggression coming from their progenitor whipped every Wolfkin on the crawler and below. And the Ravager¡¯s face on the display changed into a bloodthirsty frown.

 Chapter 55: Deeds and Sins

    A section of the larger crowd blocking a street parted as several vans drove by. Janine narrowed her eyes upon noticing that it wasn¡¯t a sporadic event; whoever was in charge ensured that no one would accidentally ended up under the wheels. A group of Orais, seemingly by accident, pushed people out of the way of the protesters.


    The protesters who drove and marched on the road carried signs: ¡®Stop needless wars!¡¯ and ¡®Bring our children home!¡¯. A rotten fruit splattered on Camelia¡¯s battle plate. The woman ignored the defacement of the precious relic, examining the demonstrators as if they were annoying gnats, while the police closed in on them. Several New Breeds, including a six-armed Malformed, formed a line, not using their claws, blades, or muscles against the law enforcers, but neither did they let them approach a speaker on the leading van.


    No. Janine clenched her fangs, sensing Ravager¡¯s aimless focus on the people. The Wolf Tribe could instinctively feel their mother¡¯s emotions when she was close. When she was in anguish, violent turmoil engulfed the tribe, and artisans of the Order produced the most horrific paintings. When the Blessed Mother paid attention to a domination match, it often ended in death. When she was angry, the tribe sallied out, destroying everything in their path.


    ¡°They call themselves monsters!¡± A tall, tanned man stood atop the van and shouted into a microphone. Reporters captured his face, allowing the man to appear on street displays. ¡°And I¡¯m forced to agree! These glory-seeking, war-mongering parasites speak of peace, but decade after decade, our nation¡¯s resources are drained into war so that fiends like Ravager can parade their triumphs before us and bask in the gold stolen from the crushed lands! Does it seem just to anyone?!¡± He glanced around, and as the police brandished maces and tasers, he hurried. ¡°See how they try to silence us, afraid of the truth! Why is there still no free healthcare in the Outer Lands? Why must our brave boys and girls sacrifice their lives in distant lands while our own remains underdeveloped? Every year the government lures young people to join the army and they come back shell-shocked, traumatized, missing limbs or not at all. Is this a fair exchange? Do we not have problems at home? Imagine if we had put our efforts into civilian industry instead of building these behemoths!¡± He pointed at the crawler. ¡°Other countries would have joined us on their own! Our citizens starve and die from thirst, while these creatures¡­¡±


    ¡°You dare?¡± Ravager¡¯s voice silenced the man, and he suddenly found himself in her shadow. Janine was shocked. She could bet her life that no one, not even their cousins, had seen the Blessed Mother move and land with the grace of a falling feather.


    Her arms swung to block the tasers, ignoring the electric currents that disappeared in her body. Her fingers took on the policemen¡¯s maces. She didn¡¯t strike at them, but the reverberation from facing impregnable objects in their path nearly caused the cops to lose their maces. A growl stopped Zero and Camelia from advancing.


    ¡°You misconstrue our deeds and seek flaws instead of honoring the necessary sacrifices.¡± Ravager¡¯s voice vacillated between calm and fury; her pupils shrank and dilated, and blood spurted from her nose. ¡°There are true monsters lurking behind the walls. Fort Uglo! Ravines of Desolation! Crimson Citadel! Houstad Itself! Remember them well!¡± Her trembling finger pointed to a family in the crowd. ¡°I smell it, even after generations. Your ancestors were chemically marked, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lady Ravager,¡± answered a pale man, standing ahead of a snow-white little girl and a tanned woman. ¡°My grandparents underwent a procedure that caused letters of ownership to appear on their children¡¯s bodies and made them more susceptible to servitude. It ended with my father.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t. It permeates you and your daughter to a lesser degree, but no longer affects the psyche,¡± Ravager told him, never taking her eyes off the orator. ¡°The men who did it to his ancestors kept slaves in cages. When the time came, they gave an order, and the poor souls walked to a slaughterhouse of their own volition, one after another.¡± Her fur rose and drool spilled onto the man¡¯s face. ¡°How would you stop a filth like that? Do you think they listened to your words? Do you think they will be awed and humbled by your wealth? They¡¯ll raid to claim those riches! We murder, so you didn¡¯t have to! You named us parasites, but we are a barbarian horde that protects and avenges the helpless! We slaughter so that people may live! So that you may know peace and happiness! Our armies conquer to free others from the horrors of servitude, from the terror of being eaten alive! We bleed and die to protect you! We are the chain breakers, the monster slayers, and you dare to call us creatures, you ignorant, petulant child¡­¡±


    ¡°Does culling us protect us, monster?¡± A calm voice inquired.


    Ravager froze and turned to face an elderly woman, who held up a sign and used a cane to walk around. An eye patch was placed over her left eye. She tossed the sign aside and hobbled over to Ravager, who sniffed the air.


    ¡°I remember, I remember, must remember.¡± More blood spurted from her nostrils. The Blessed Mother shook and slid her own claws under the skin of her temple. ¡°During the subjugation of Mincemeat, right?¡± she asked, as if nothing had happened.


    Mincemeat. Janine tensed. A conquest that happened decades ago. A brutal mutant held nearly half a million people in his thrall, controlling their bodies with his mind. When diplomats of the Reclamation Army delivered the ultimatum, he laughed and made them skin themselves alive before the Dynast¡¯s eyes. Even the Wolfkins weren¡¯t safe, and several of them stepped into the tyrant¡¯s mind control zone and became his willing slaves.


    This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The Dynast then unleashed the Blessed Mother. And the kingdom didn¡¯t even last an hour.


    ¡°Yes.¡± The woman spat at Ravager. ¡°He controlled us like puppets, our limbs moved against our will; we toiled and danced to his amusement, screaming inside. Men and women breed for him, birthing fresh slaves. More died building statues in his honor. And then he threw us at you. We could never have harmed you.¡± The woman raised a trembling fist. ¡°Did you recognize this, beast? I cracked my knuckles against your hide as you devoured my entire family! I remember your mad laughter and giggles to this day; the crimson sand haunts my dreams. And the stench!¡±


    ¡°I am sorry,¡± Ravager said. She didn¡¯t move; she did nothing when a cane struck her leg.


    ¡°What good to me your apologies!¡± The woman shrieked; her feeble voice somehow rose to a tornado. ¡°Ravines of Desolation? You demand us to remember them? You remember them! Over forty thousand lives you ended that day¡ªmore than Mincemeat killed in a month! What sin, what unforgivable crime did they commit to perish in your claws? You want forgiveness? Give me back my family!¡±


    ¡°Why is the Blessed Mother tolerating it?¡± Janine growled. ¡°Why does she allow these unjust accusations to be piled at her feet?¡±


    ¡°Jani, don¡¯t do anything reckless.¡± Martyshkina took her by the shoulders, forcing her friend to stay where she was. ¡°This is the progenitor¡¯s will¡­¡±


    ¡°Screw the progenitor¡¯s will!¡± Eled roared.


    The warlord pushed from the crowd. Predaig tried to grab her arm, and Eled struck, breaking her fingers. Eled breathed hard; a red gleam danced in her new amber eyes. The Blessed Mother¡¯s mood dawned on them; it demanded submission and silence, but the raging fury in Eled¡¯s soul took over, and she jumped from the crawler, the concrete exploding under the weight of her body, sending a web of cracks in every direction.


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± She roared to the sky and advanced toward the woman, snarling at Ravager¡¯s gaze. ¡°People died. My condolences. Death happens in war. You dare call the Blessed Mother a monster? After Mincemeat¡¯s death, we had a hundred thousand slaves who never tasted freedom. Children who never had a chance to grow up and live, trapped in adult bodies. Was it your wish to see them enslaved until their last day? Do you know how to prosecute a war so that no innocent soul dies?¡±


    ¡°Commander Ravager saved them.¡± Camelia interrupted her silence. The sword saint joined Eled and glared icily at the Normie woman. ¡°She paid for their rehabilitation and their integration into society.¡±


    ¡°She saved us!¡± shouted an older man from the crowd. ¡°It was Mincemeat who took our minds! If it weren¡¯t for the Blessed Mother, we would all have died in his thrall!¡± More voices joined him, telling of their misfortunes or the misery of their ancestors before the Third delivered them.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there!¡± The woman shouted, and Ravager raised her arm, silencing everyone so that she could speak. ¡°You know, you just saw how fast that bitch is. Bullets bounced off her hide, laser beams splashed across her fur. What danger were we to her? She could¡¯ve easily evaded us, but she chose to stay and carve a bloody path out of our bodies!¡± Tears streamed down her face as she pounded her cane and fist against the black fur. A younger man, who bore a resemblance to the old woman, took her arm and tried to lead her away. ¡°Here! Use your claws, render me asunder, show your true nature, beast; I don¡¯t care! Give me back my family, or send me to them, but end this accused nightmare!¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Ravager stopped the police from arresting the protesters, keeping her eyes on the woman. ¡°There will be no violence today, save for one directed at the guilty. Their grievances are fair. They are not to be arrested or harmed. I am sorry,¡± Ravager told the crowd, bowing her head. ¡°I would like to offer some recompense and some measure of satisfaction for what I have caused you¡­¡±


    ¡°But you did!¡± Shouted people. ¡°The soldiers of the Third rescued us from Blood Graf, and you gutted the bastard for what he did to our families¡­¡±


    ¡°What does it matter?¡± Ravager stood at her full height, looking left and right. ¡°Does a noble deed excuse the evil? What can I possibly do to atone for the sea of dead left in my wake? No. I am a monster, fully and truly. Say your piece, good people; shout your anger and inflict a token of pain on me I have brought upon you. I owe you this much. I would¡¯ve given my life to pay for what I did, but this coin is not mine to give.¡± She waited a moment and addressed the elderly woman. ¡°Hate me if you must. There is nothing wrong with spite or hatred, not when they are honest. But direct your ire at the guilty! My kin share similarity in visage, but they do not share my crimes.¡±


    Ravager knelt on one knee, and Janine was surprised to see the crowd gather around her. There were no more insults; the police removed most of the demonstrators, but on the commander¡¯s order, they left their leader, a man with long blond hair. He asked the Blessed Mother about her views for the future of the country, and she answered they were in alignment with the Dynast¡¯s vision. Build a nation worth living in. Reunite the planet to prevent even a chance of another Extinction. Eliminate racism. Multiple cultures, different people, one nation.


    After hearing her speak so calmly, more people approached. The Blessed Mother smiled at the pale family, whose daughter no longer feared her. A giant paw patted the little one gently, wishing her well. Ravager answered questions about life in the Outer Lands, not shying away from exposing savagery, cruelty, or her own approval of harsh laws. She honestly admitted to not remembering a fallen soldier who died serving in the ranks of the Third to his parents. And she laughed at a question about the wound on her head, pointing out that it didn¡¯t bleed anymore. After learning that he was a medic, she bristled and waved the man away.


    ¡°Eled.¡± Ravager distracted herself from talking to the crowd to keep the warlord from climbing back into the crawler.


    ¡°Yes, Mother.¡± Eled bowed, putting on sunglasses to ease the strain on her eyes. ¡°I am ready to accept punishment¡­¡±


    ¡°Good. You have damaged a section of the road. You will help the workers to repair it.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t¡­¡± Eled licked her lips. ¡°Can¡¯t you rip off my arm and call it even as usual? Fixing stuff is not my forte.¡±


    ¡°Then it is a perfect punishment,¡± Ravager laughed melodiously, then returned to addressing the crowd as the soldiers marched past and the parade resumed.


    The mayor joined the commander and took her by the arm, guiding her to a sidewalk where they, the reporters, and ordinary people sat in a caf¨¦ near a shop that piqued Janine¡¯s curiosity. It sold ice cream.


    An ice cream cone. Janine reminded herself. She will learn what it is, and Spirits help Anissa if she lied to her.

 Chapter 56: Janines Attempt to Enter Politics

    Leaving the Blessed Mother to entertain the crowd, the column reached Southaven Base, an old military outpost from the early days of the conquest. Once large enough to house the three armies, nowadays it barely had enough space for a single one. The crawler opened its main door, and thousands of legs thundered across the landing ramp, bringing out supplies, weapons, armors, exchanging greetings with the Provincial Army¡¯s soldiers, and setting up sentry posts.


    ¡°Welcome to Houstad!¡± A soldier grasped Janine¡¯s paw as she pushed ahead of Martyshkina, her eyes blazing, to secure the finest den for her pack. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite a splash. Schalk Morrow, a humble sergeant at your service, warlord¡­¡±


    ¡°Janine. No second name.¡± She returned the handshake. The provincial army guard had skin as dark as coal and lush sideburns, but no mustache. His brown eyes, while keen, betrayed more warmth than Jacomie¡¯s.


    ¡°An honor!¡± The man pressed a fist over his heart. ¡°The songs of your brave battle against Blood Graf¡­¡±


    ¡°Schalk, you can kiss the warlord¡¯s ass later,¡± Jacomie snapped, stepping out of the vehicle. There was an undeniable resemblance in their facial features, even though Schalk¡¯s nose had been broken and reforged in the past and his hair was gray compared to the lieutenant¡¯s pitch-black. ¡°Our guests are tired. Help them get stationed.¡±


    ¡°By your will!¡± Schalk led Janine inside the base. ¡°The structure is basic. The main armory is in the center, but your power armors can be stored in individual storages¡­¡±


    ¡°Are you and Jacomie related?¡± Janine interrupted him.


    ¡°Hail from the same homeland! Pacified by the Second, no less. The lieutenant was badly injured during it, but she is fully capable.¡± Schalk glanced around and lowered his voice. ¡°Listen, I know my commander may seem grumpy at times, but she is completely loyal and means well. But she also likes to do things by the book. I don¡¯t know much of how the Third operates, fan of the Second, you understand. If you need to expedite a transfer or take any other action to bypass the official channels, contact me and I¡¯ll take care of it.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Tell me which barracks are the best.¡± Janine craned her neck, hearing Alpha¡¯s heavy footsteps. ¡°Hurry.¡±


    Thanks to Schalk¡¯s helpful advice, Janine had secured six barracks on the west side of the base, two for herself, one for Marty, and the rest for Predaig and Eled, making them the sole packs that didn¡¯t have to enter another warlord¡¯s territory to travel elsewhere. Alpha and Ashbringer glared and fumed but said nothing, respecting the right of the first pick.


    Cristobo oversaw the setting up of the command center and left Dragena in charge before leaving to watch the crawler move to the airport. While the Normies drove tanks to the armory and reignited flares in the maintenance bay, the Alpha Pack restored firing ranges and worked tirelessly to rebuild training grounds. The task of helping the medics settle in fell to Martyshkina.


    Janine gave her pack no time to marvel at the night city, and threw her pack into the firing range to sharpen their instincts, which had been dulled by the relaxing field trip. Her pack defeated Onyxia¡¯s girls and immediately found themselves outmatched by Dragena¡¯s troops. Janine grinned at the misfortune and whipped her pack into an ignominious run around the base, leading them as work was in full swing around them and shardguns continued to bark on the range.


    Soon evening came, and the first dominations began. Howls pierced the night sky, and warriors faced off against scouts trying to earn promotions. Immediately, the males yielded, and Bogdan secured a spot on a crate, meticulously cleaning the bloody mark a scout had left on his neck. As the woman faced off against Elzada for the rank of chief scout, Janine¡¯s boy began loudly cheering her on, describing her virtues in exaggerated colors. When the annoyed woman got distracted for a second, Elzada immediately elbowed her in the neck, sending her to the ground puking while the chief scout was busy breaking her ribs.


    Janine stopped the fight before it could get too far, but said nothing to Bogdan, who counted the tokens he won from his bet. The ability to keep her cool was essential for a scout. If anything, the loser should be grateful to her boy for the lesson.


    ¡°Bitches. All of you,¡± Maxence said. The doctor stepped inside the sand circle and fired a tranquilizer gun into Zlata¡¯s back. The wolf hag fell face down on her opponent, a young scout who left half of her face in Zlata¡¯s claws. At the doctor¡¯s command, his nurses quickly dragged them both away. ¡°A day. Is it so much to ask?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Alpha answered him. She picked up the man under her arm and carried him away from the field.


    Eled and Predaig protected their ranks and spent the rest of the match praising their opponents. Anissa caught a scout on her claws and raised the twitching in agony Wolfkin over her head, basking in the cheers of her pack. Rather than casting the scout down, Anissa gently set her down and patted her, sending the scout to the medic before taking on two more challengers at once. Not far from her, Elzada struggled to stand. Her back was open, and the gleaming and wet bones of her spinal column were visible, but she smiled through the pain and accepted Ignacy¡¯s help. An unconscious wolf hag lay on her legs, her tongue protruding. The mechanical leg kicked a deep dent in the woman¡¯s cranium, squeezing the eye out. It dangled from a string of nerves. Winner and loser were wheeled away to the medical field center, and Janine thought she heard Maxence¡¯s roar in the distance.


    Two weeks of recovery, if not more. Janine sorrowfully wished her new scout good health and praised Elzada for her ingenuity in adapting her style so soon.


    Normies cheered the victors or gasped at the gruesome wounds inflicted on their champions. Schalk lost a small fortune to Keon, but that didn¡¯t dampen his spirits, and the officer gesticulated wildly, telling the young man tales of the Second¡¯s heroic conquests and occasionally asking about his homeland.


    No one challenged Janine, and she, Martyshkina, and Ashbringer sat together. Ashbringer gnashed her fangs as she watched Kalaisa sweep a scout off her feet and slam the woman face down in the dirt. Kalaisa briefly bit her opponent¡¯s neck and stepped away, tauntingly inviting the next challenger.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you, Ash?¡± Martyshkina asked. A fist swung at her muzzle, but Martyshkina¡¯s palms caught it, and an elbow was directed at her neck. ¡°Rude. That¡¯ll leave a bruise. Ash, no one can sneak up on me.¡±


    ¡°Spill the beans, Ashbringer,¡± Janine said. ¡°You are on edge. If you feel unwell, visit a medic.¡±


    ¡°Tch.¡± Ashbringer spat on the ground. ¡°Sorry, Marty. Should¡¯ve challenged you first. It happens again. No one challenges me.¡±


    ¡°No one challenges Alpha either,¡± Martyshkina observed.


    ¡°Or us,¡± Janine added.


    ¡°Alpha is too strong, and you are too young,¡± Ashbringer panted, her claws tapping on her knee. ¡°Arruda is strong enough to try. It¡¯s plain as day. Why is she not challenging me? I haven¡¯t maimed anyone; why am I always singled out? What is there to be afraid of?¡±


    Forty paces away from them, Arruda desperately tried her best to save her skin from being brutally shredded by Sarkeesian¡¯s drills. The rival wolf hag abruptly broke off the fight with her opponent and went after the other woman, spreading her jaws wide and advancing on all four limbs. She tried to bait the smaller Wolfkin into attacking her, deliberately snapping her jaws in the air and exposing herself.


    Arruda wasn¡¯t dumb. Her leg kicked, but Sarkeesian¡¯s paws grasped the emptiness as Arruda halted her feint and planted her leg firmly on the ground. She struck with the second leg, sending the Alpha Pack¡¯s wolf hag back on her feet and shutting her mouth. Two thrusts aimed at the neck followed the attack. Sarkeesian swiftly withdrew, avoiding the worst, but the thrusts sliced through her breasts. Her first adversary lunged at her from behind, sinking her fangs into the wolf hag¡¯s neck, and Arruda quickly joined her.


    Sarkeesian grabbed the scout¡¯s wrist and pulled the limb into her mouth. The drills sliced through skin and muscle to the bone. The scout loosened her grip on the neck and screamed, trying to jerk her arm free. Sarkeesian showed mercy, sparing the bone. She backhanded the scout away and faced an incoming thrust to her forearm. A brutal elbow slammed Arruda against the chin, shattering two of her fangs.


    ¡°Maybe she stays as your second out of respect,¡± Janine suggested. She rose to her feet and hurried toward the fighters, ignoring the childish antics of the wolf hags. She picked up the mutilated scout as gently as she could and handed the loser to the medics.


    ¡°Then she is a fool,¡± Ashbringer growled upon her return. ¡°You cannot reach greatness without adversity. Failure is the best teacher on the path to strength. If my subordinates lack ambition, then I have failed them.¡±


    ¡°Is Arruda¡¯s potential future really what bothers you?¡± Martyshkina asked and leaned closer to Ashbringer, examining her snout.


    ¡°That is all you will learn,¡± the warlord stated.


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    ¡°Warlords.¡± Anji bowed and approached them.


    ¡°No one has challenged you?¡± Janine smiled and slapped at the bench.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Anji pouted. She joined them and began untying and retying her braids. ¡°My warlord disappeared, and everyone is having fun while I am being sidelined. Typical.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let it get you down, girl. Onyxia can¡¯t hide forever,¡± Martyshkina said. ¡°Oi, Alpha!¡± She shouted to the alabaster figure overseeing matches. ¡°No competitor, too? Join the Loser Club, not the worst company¡­¡±


    A wave of fear swept through the group. Janine frowned, reliving the panic of her first litter, the nervousness of her trembling paws, and the intense desire to gnaw at her fingers again. Ashbringer flipped a middle finger to Alpha, while Martyshkina coughed and wiped drool from her lips. Anji handled the tickling best. The young woman closed and opened her eyes, refusing to bulge.


    There wasn¡¯t a living soul in the tribe willing to challenge Alpha, and not because of the passive terror that surrounded the warlord. The woman never showed an ounce of restraint. Her claws tore through an opponent mercilessly, opening veins and ripping through bones. The massive bulk of her body slammed an unfortunate soul to the ground, rupturing internal organs by sheer force of impact. When a challenger could no longer move, the Alpha would methodically declaw them, devouring fangs and claws to teach them a lesson.


    The Alpha Pack was the strongest unit in the Wolf Tribe, excelling at everything thanks to the iron discipline instilled by such a merciless teacher. But it couldn¡¯t change, because its members couldn¡¯t hope to match their warlord. So as not to deprive the tribe of potential candidates, Alpha occasionally kicked her wolf hags and scouts into the lesser packs, where they inevitably rose through the ranks.


    ¡°Why are you irritating her?¡± Ashbringer asked.


    ¡°I like to tickle her nerves. Alpha is our big sister, and it isn¡¯t proper for her to be alone.¡± Martyshkina stretched. ¡°No idea what their deal is, but everyone should live up a little.¡±


    With howls, blood, infighting, and struggle, the Wolf Tribe has settled into their new den, scenting every inch of the place. Normies diligently reconnected upgraded ancient terminals to the main network and opened kitchens, serving Houstad food to the soldiers. An officers¡¯ club opened its doors, offering the finest beverages from Oaksters¡¯ Vineyards, approved even by the high standards of the Ice Fangs. Schalk, playing the role of welcoming host in the absence of his superior, bought several rounds for each officer, and Janine found the drinks sweet.


    Those among the winners of the domination were ¡®recruited¡¯ to help the work teams by keeping the toilets clean, and Ashbringer laughed mockingly as the realization of their task settled in Kalaisa¡¯s eyes.


    Warm clothing, including winter jackets, arrived at Chak¡¯s request. The Ice Fangs quietly asked the Normies if their cousins had lost their marbles yet. Upon witnessing Anissa joyfully don three turtlenecks and a coat, Janine heard them conclude that the Wolf Tribe had collectively gone insane and needed immediate psychiatric help. She let this insult go unchallenged.


    Janine had to physically drag Ignacy away from tinkering with the drones, so the boy could eat, visit Elzada in the infirmary, and sleep a little. After checking on the wounded, Janine cracked her knuckles and marched to the prayer den. The tribe had a problem, just not the one the ice boys were chatting about. Every problem had to be solved.


    *****


    Janine entered a spacious, dark den that Lacerated One and the shamans had prepared for their spiritual needs. In accordance with the traditions, the electric lights were turned off. Wolfkins used their eyes to orient themselves, and candles burned for the visitors. Five rough idols were erected from the stone, towering over the faithful from a distant wall. Each idol represented one of the great Spirits. The shamans had poured their skill and passion into four of them, giving them the closest resemblance to the Blessed Mother. The idol dedicated to the Spirit of Rage, a horrific creature with its mouth wide open, received the lightest touch and was placed farthest from the entrance.


    Two Ice Fangs sat in the dim light of the candles; one was Sword Saint Leonidas, and beside him was a smaller woman who had elegant metallic prosthetics for legs. Leonidas serenely surveyed the surroundings, while the young woman pressed her paws together in a humble prayer to the Spirit of Pride.


    Janine remained in the shadows until the two had finished, then nodded in respect to the sword saint, who returned the gesture. As the Ice Fang left, the shamans extinguished the candles and began laying wooden planks on the stone floor, preparing the den for the ritual prayers.


    ¡°Can you imagine? They said they believe in the Spirits!¡± A shaman whispered to Soulless One.


    ¡°One treats it as a joke, but another is serious.¡± Soulless One shook her head, wiping the floor clean. ¡°What could it mean? I¡¯ll pray for revelations.¡±


    ¡°Forgive my intrusion, sisters.¡± Janine clumsily put her paws together. ¡°May I speak to the supreme shaman?¡±


    ¡°Here, Janine.¡± Lacerated One said it in an icy tone.


    She sat in the far corner of the room, using her fingers to prepare bone idols. Flames embraced the soldiers who died in Just Peachy, and Lacerated One molded their remains like clay, creating toys for cubs or making decorated prayer beads the fallen could watch over the living even from the Great Beyond. Unlike the main idol, she gagged and blinded the Spirit of Rage on every image, safeguarding a faithful from the wrathful reaper¡¯s attention. An open book lay beside her, opened to a page of prayers for well-being and gratitude. The supreme shaman took off her armor and put on rags.


    ¡°Excuse me for disturbing you at this late hour.¡± Janine bowed.


    ¡°You visit us so rarely, Janine, that you seem to have forgotten much,¡± Lacerated One replied in the same indifferent tone. The warlord concluded her relative was still pissed off over the loss of the skinwalker. ¡°It is our duty to listen and counsel. Blessed be, Janine. Be at ease and tell me your concerns.¡±


    ¡°I want to have your support at the next Gathering,¡± Janine told her bluntly, earning a look for the first time. Gatherings were meetings of the tribe, a time when all violence was forbidden, except for ritual duels. Males and females sat as equals, voicing their ideas for the shamans and warlords to vote on.


    In reality, nothing was so simple. While some trifle changes, such as allowing treats for the cubs, happened accidentally, the most important changes went through the shamans first, who outnumbered the warlords by a lot. Alpha also cast her voice in favor of religious leaders, splitting the group even further. A tribe member who wanted to change something had to first pay a visit to Lacerated One, or another high-ranking shaman, and prove the value of their suggestion.


    ¡°For whatever cause, pray tell?¡± Lacerated One inquired.


    Janine bared her neck to the shaman¡¯s claws, exposing her vulnerability in order to justify her intentions. Lacerated One did not bite her, but she gave Janine a bone talisman for Marco.


    ¡°I¡¯ve met with a Wolf Hag recently. The name¡¯s Kalaisa. A motherless cur, like me...¡±


    ¡°I am aware.¡± Lacerated One frowned and left a deep cut on her own nostril. ¡°The investigation is concluded, confirming the shaman¡¯s undeniable guilt. Kalaisa¡¯s family is not at fault for their malnourishment. The shaman in charge of the village has already received her name back. Her penance is being discussed. No cub will ever suffer from being ignored there. This was our¡­ my failure,¡± the supreme shaman corrected herself. ¡°But you don¡¯t need to ask for my support to expose it. Such a situation should never have arisen, not in the days of plenty. Being motherless is a flaw, a sad event, but not a sin, and certainly not something that deserves scorn and neglect. We will come clean to everyone about our grievous wrong.¡± A bone medallion cracked in the shaman¡¯s paw, and Janine pitied the fool who had watched over Kalaisa¡¯s village. Shamans held themselves to the highest standards, even in punishment.


    ¡°I never intended to rub dirt in your faces.¡± Janine gulped, hating herself. Look at her¡ªnot even two hundred years old and already daring to think that she had the right to change the tribe! No wonder her own mother had rejected her. ¡°Warlords should be able to choose individual soldiers for themselves, regardless of kinship ties.¡± Lacerated One¡¯s face hardened, and Janine hastily continued. ¡°Yes, family is important. Abyss¡­ Forgive the profanity. I know it! But we can¡¯t just shove potential aces into mismatched packs and hope it all works out. That bitch... Kalaisa nearly drove her brother to death, believing that her family is holding her back.¡±


    ¡°She is wrong.¡± Distraught, Lacerated One swept a paw over her head. ¡°Females are given more, so they are expected to carry more on their shoulders. Duties come before benefits, sister.¡±


    ¡°Of course she is wrong; she is a stupid cub!¡± Janine inhaled and faced the unblinking eyes. ¡°But you saw her, didn¡¯t you? A potential warlord, brought low by her own hatred. Any sister would¡¯ve snatched her from the pits for her own pack. She should have been in Alpha¡¯s pack. Surrounded by respect, a subject of strict discipline, Kalaisa would¡¯ve never gone astray. Instead, we let her rot under ineffective leadership. It doesn¡¯t help anyone, it solves nothing. Her family has suffered. Are we not all kin? If yes, why should we cling to the outdated tradition, weakening ourselves?¡±


    ¡°Your suggestion could lead to an imbalance in the packs, as the strongest warlords would grow overly strong by depriving the rest of talented recruits.¡±


    ¡°Then let the shamans oversee the situation, having the final say and regulating the distribution as needed, but always ensuring the best growth for the greenhorns,¡± Janine insisted. ¡°Not every mentor can sharpen a flawed tool into an impeccable blade. It is your duty to ensure that no blade is wasted before it can drink its fill of the Dynast¡¯s enemies.¡±


    ¡°You ask me to share power with the warlords,¡± Lacerated One mused.


    ¡°I demand you to do what is best for the tribe.¡± Janine bared her fangs. ¡°If this situation happened once, it means it had happened in the past and it will happen in the future. Take the responsibility and act befitting the leader, Lacerated One. Correct the course.¡±


    She expected to meet aggression, a bite, or an assault, but the shaman forged more toys for a good five minutes, ignoring the warlord. Janine shifted her weight, unused to sitting on her legs for so long. She wondered if Lacerated One was expecting something else¡ªa promise of a favor, an oath of loyalty, or maybe a gift of respect? Dammit, this is the last time I ever get involved in the political life of my tribe! I am feeling like a dolt.


    ¡°Idiots.¡± he remembered Terrific¡¯s words as her mother dragged her and Martyshkina by the ear into a voting booth and forced them to read about a ballot measure that would give governors nearly the same authority as military captains. ¡°Politics is always interested in you, and you can¡¯t afford not to respond in kind. Now hurry and vote against it.¡±


    ¡°But I kinda like that suggestion,¡± Martyshkina argued back then. ¡°Captains can¡¯t possibly know everything that goes on in the settlements.¡±


    ¡°Yep, yep.¡± Young Janine nodded. ¡°It is logical to let the locals decide on the improvements. I¡¯ll vote in favor of it!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ll vote for it too!¡±


    ¡°Then you are not just idiots; you are full-on brain dead.¡± Terrific snarled. ¡°Give civilians any authority, and one day they¡¯ll forbid us to eat human flesh! These soft skins are cowards, incapable of seeing¡­¡±


    Bones and figurines, both finished and unfinished, rained into an iron bucket, rattling and clanking, and Janine returned to the present.


    ¡°Janine,¡± Lacerated One said, ¡°when was the last time we fought each other? To tell the truth, I don¡¯t recall us ever clashing.¡±


    ¡°A perfect occasion to remedy the mistake then, sister.¡± Janine nodded eagerly, catching on to the game. ¡°You and I, and let the Spirits decide.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, sister, indeed.¡± The Supreme Shaman smiled amiably. ¡°I challenge you to a domination match. Come, let our blood unite.¡±

 Chapter 57: Mimicking

    Families held the utmost importance in both the tribe and the state. The Dynast believed that a united society was less likely to succumb to tyranny, and propagandists worked tirelessly to create a positive image of the large family, even among same-sex couples. For them, it was the first link in a chain of unity. Couples found new meaning in life as they solved problems together and raised new lives, learning and befriending other parents. Some couples never wanted their children to experience the same hardships they had, while others simply learned or re-learned empathy and care for human life.


    The Wolf Tribe fully embraced this ideology. They traced their lineage from a single mother, even though the first of their number had grown out of her cells. Because of this, the shamans evaluated siblings as a whole, rather than as individuals, when deciding which pack to assign them to. The weak joined the weak, and the strong flocked to the strong.


    Janine intended to amend this rule. Even if she had to bend the shamans to her will. A family would remain a family, but it was undeniable that each individual possessed unique talents. No matter how much she loved Ignacy, her precious cub would probably be happier in the Onyxia or Ashbringer packs, since their warlords were less strict about permitting males to pursue their weird hobbies.


    Their fight would be held outside the base to preserve the training grounds. Serious sparring between warlords tended to be overly destructive to the environment. Lacerated One did not hold the highest military rank, but she was equal to most of her named sisters.


    They both stripped off their clothes, exposing their fur to the pleasant moonlight and the biting cold. The preparations for their battle attracted the people of Houstad, who hurried home after a busy day. Someone called for the press, and the Champion¡¯s followers swarmed in, eager to see the martial prowess of the other lands. Defenders slammed their great shield into the ground, creating a protective wall to shield the gathering crowd. The sword saints and warlords arrived to witness their kin.


    Janine ignored the murmurs among the Ice Fangs and Normies soldiers and reporters who planned to film the battle. They thought the fight would be one-sided; the warlord bullying a weak woman. Fools. Her sister had survived the fiercest wars and toughened through the harshest times.


    Janine was a mountain of muscles, her arms longer than her short legs; the scars earned in battles were little more than pale lines lost in the thickest fur. Her hide could endure both gunfire and flames. Half-turning, she brought her left arm forward to take the brunt of the claws and prepared to wield her right as a precise hammer, shattering her opponent¡¯s elongated muzzle and knocking her senseless. Her amber eyes watched the shaman, fishing for any sign of weakness. And by the Spirits, there were many.


    Lacerated One shared the combined visage of a male serving as a female¡¯s chew toy and a famine victim. The scar tissue, often reopened in several places and oozing red, covered her body, adjacent to enlarged, torn cuts that left pieces of wet flesh hanging. Her arms and legs were of proper length, but the skin clung tightly to the limbs and protruding ribs. She should have been dead, or at least in a healing coma, rather than walking bearing such wounds. Even her fur was sodden. But the woman stood strong, never fainting, breathing easily, and in her eyes blazed a flame of fury.


    ¡°Be careful, Jani!¡± Martyshkina yelled from the sidelines, flanked by the sword saints and warlords. ¡°Lacy is tricky!¡±


    Janine nodded in appreciation, silencing her friend. Martyshkina was a traditionalist who often committed devotional pilgrimages and saw the shaman fight in duels firsthand.


    Her eyes widened as the shaman repeated her stance down to the smallest details, even maintaining the same breathing as Janine. Her muscles bulged, growing to mirror the warlord¡¯s, and tendons and ligaments moved in the open wounds.


    ¡°Planning to beat me in my element?¡± Janine asked incredulously. ¡°If it¡¯s a joke, you won¡¯t enjoy it, sister.¡±


    ¡°Begin!¡± Alpha roared, and the two closed the distance in a single leap.


    Fist on fist. Their left arms moved, facing each other, and the wind blew into the faces of the shocked reporters and the cheering Wolfkins as they collided. The shaman¡¯s arm shook; her paw was the first to retreat, sparing her knuckles, and Janine smiled savagely. She was stronger. She didn¡¯t let the shaman escape unscathed; her arm was longer, and the warlord used it to the fullest, keeping up a hail of straight punches. Lacerated One dodged desperately, trying to return the favor, but soon found herself on the receiving end, as a first bludgeoned her on the cheek.


    ¡°It¡¯s amazing!¡± A Houstad bystander clapped his hands as a gust of wind propelled by the blows hit him in the face. ¡°It¡¯s like standing up to an industrial fan! Can you all flicker so fast?¡± he asked the warlords.


    ¡°This piss is nothing.¡± Ashbringer waved her paw. ¡°I¡¯m faster.¡±


    ¡°The large lass makes a passable boxer.¡± An Orais took himself by the chin. ¡°This fight is about to end. The differences in weight and size are far too great.¡±


    ¡°Moron,¡± Ygrite laughed. ¡°Watch closely. It¡¯s about to begin.¡±


    Janine kicked to the boos of the onlookers, drawing a long, torn line across Lacerated One¡¯s torso instead of disemboweling her as she had intended. Are they thinking this is a friendly spar? She ignored the distraction, focusing on the fact that her attack had done its job, forcing the shaman to step closer.


    Their fists were about to connect again, perplexing Janine as to why her named sister hadn¡¯t used her wonderful claws yet. Irrelevant. She decided, and adjusted her punch, planning to break Lacerated One¡¯s pinky and ring fingers. Her opponent spotted this and moved her arm to avoid the blow. As Janine¡¯s punch flew under the shaman¡¯s, Lacerated One suddenly elbowed her wrist.


    Here it is. The turning point. Janine got excited. She shaped her style around defense, using it to learn about her opponent, to bait them into an inevitable mistake, or to grind them down with sheer endurance. Lacerated One made such a mistake. By using her elbow to throw Janine off-balance, the shaman set her up for a powerful punch. And opened herself in turn, as Janine didn¡¯t miss this opportunity and brought down her own hammer, intending to shatter the jaw of her dear named sister.


    She frowned, experiencing pain in her eye. A spit. Lacerated One spat something into her eye. Janine¡¯s vision dimmed, and the shaman fell onto her back, surprising the warlord. Lacerated One landed on a paw, and her other paw whipped, almost landing a heavy blow against Janine¡¯s ankle joint.


    What is going on? The rivalry with Martyshkina saved Janine¡¯s butt. She lifted her leg in time to stomp on the shaman¡¯s arm, but her claws only cut the skin as Lacerated One jerked her paw back. This is Marty¡¯s style!


    In their many play fights and actual sparring sessions, Janine frequently dominated over her smaller friend. Her fingers were beams of unyielding iron, choking the light from Martyshkina¡¯s eyes; her skin was too rough to be torn by the desperate clawing. Marty fumed and raged, but giving up was not in her nature. She studied physiology under Dragena and Terrific and even helped loosen the tongues of most hardened criminals.


    From studying the workings of the human body, she learned the workings of her own, mastering the art of a highly mobile technique in which each move could flow smoothly into an unpredictable attack on an opponent¡¯s vitals or important joints. Her improvised, unexpected, and often barely possible whipping strikes brought many girls to their knees, opening them up for her arms to wrap around their necks and strangle them into submission. But it happened in their youth! Marty rarely participated in domination matches!


    There was no denying it. Lacerated One swung her whole body on the ground, her free paw pointing a non-existent revolver at Janine¡¯s muzzle. Then she sprang to her feet, releasing her claws for the first time.


    The shaman¡¯s claws were unusual; tiny veins of crimson covered them, but it wasn¡¯t what confused her opponent. A double upward thrust. Alpha¡¯s technique. Simple in its inevitability, when done by the shaman, the technique lacked in speed and strength. Janine grabbed the woman¡¯s wrists, stopping the stabs dead in their tracks.


    Pain engulfed her vision as the Lacerated One headbutted her, flowing elegantly from Alpha¡¯s style to Ashbringer¡¯s, never once losing momentum or hesitating, choosing the right technique at the right time. Janine¡¯s nose broke, and the trapped arms slipped from the not-quite-closed grip thanks to the wetness of the fur.


    ¡°Soft. Amateur,¡± Ashbringer grumbled, and Janine understood at last.


    The elbow strike. It wasn¡¯t a simple move; Fatima enjoyed using her elbows in combat, wielding them with the same effectiveness as claws. The spit of something resembling sharp hair or a needle was straight from Ygrite¡¯s dishonorable arsenal. Lacerated One switched warlord styles without lag, wielding them at her will!


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    Lacerated One stood on all fours, her fists buried in the ground. Her muscles tensed and blood spurted from open wounds as she prepared to lunge.


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s my technique!¡± Kalaisa laughed from among the ranks of wolf hags near the base. ¡°Does that mean she thinks I¡¯m a warlord? Anji, Lacerated One chose my move over yours!¡±


    The shaman disappeared, exploding the concrete and flying towards Janine at utmost speed. She had planned to ram the warlord in the exposed belly, wrap her arms around Janine¡¯s body, and hook the shoulder blades with her claws. A knee met her jaw, stopping the blindingly fast movement. Lacerated One threw her head up, spurting blood, but Janine wasn¡¯t finished. Her fists came down on the shaman¡¯s shoulders, slamming her deep into the concrete. But as she tried to grab the woman by the neck, the shaman slipped back, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Janine took the opportunity to set her broken nose and blow it clear.


    ¡°And it failed immediately.¡± Anji shook her shoulders.


    ¡°That¡­ she didn¡¯t do it right!¡± Kalaisa complained.


    ¡°And who did?¡± Ashbringer inquired, and a booming laughter erupted around the wolf hag.


    ¡°You are fighting against a mere shaman, Janine!¡± Alpha thundered. ¡°Crush her underfoot.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing mere about our sister!¡± Martyshkina argued. ¡°Go Jani! Break her snout, rip her claws out! Lacerated One, don¡¯t give up!¡±


    ¡°Whose side are you on?¡± Predaig asked.


    ¡°Both!¡±


    Janine briefly breathed through her nose, confirming it was still working. She blinked a sharp piece out of her eye, and an agony speared her side. Lacerated One had used the brief window of opportunity to race past her and tore at her side. Janine whirled around, taking relentless slashes at her claws.


    ¡°Was that a rapid motion just now?¡± Anji asked.


    ¡°The what?¡± Bogdan looked at her.


    ¡°Permit me,¡± said Sword Saint Leonidas. He was sitting in a comfy armchair, covered with a fur cloak, and swirling wine in a silver goblet. ¡°Warlord Onyxia had mastered a style based around hounding an opponent during a distraction. Imagine blinking, sneezing, or simply having a distracting thought, only to find your arteries severed by claws. It sounds simple in theory; what soldier would not take advantage of such an opportunity? But Onyxia has taken it to a whole new level; her divine musculature allows her to reach top speed from a standing position, and she somehow knows in advance when her enemy will be distracted. Twins only know how she finds an opening for her attacks when facing an armored opponent, but it works every time.¡± His servant poured him more wine.


    ¡°Uncle, please set aside the refreshment,¡± hushed the metal-legged Ice Fang clad in full battle gear. ¡°You are treating the sanctity of this duel too frivolously.¡±


    ¡°I am not the one rolling naked in the dirt and blood like a barbarian.¡± Leonidas sipped some wine. ¡°Precious Malerata, I give this sparring match the exact respect it deserves. But you are correct; we are in Houstad, and I treat my family far too coldly. Drinks for everyone, servants!¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I¡­¡±


    ¡°Now you speak my language, cousin!¡± Martyshkina snatched a bottle from his squire.


    ¡°See? Everyone¡¯s satisfied.¡± Leonidas flashed a smile to his niece and raised his goblet. ¡°Four hundred dynasts on the brave Lacerated One! The holy sister is feisty tonight.¡±


    ¡°Your childish behavior shames us, Summerspring,¡± hissed Bertruda.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s about time someone else did it for a change,¡± Leonidas replied unabashedly.


    ¡°Thirty tokens on Mom,¡± Ignacy said.


    ¡°Seventy dynasts on Janine to win,¡± Alpha declared.


    ¡°Twelve dynasts on the warlord¡¯s victory.¡± Bertruda rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Fifty tokens on Lacerated One!¡± Bogdan announced, picking up a glass. His sisters¡¯ shadows fell on him, and he smiled shyly. ¡°What?¡± He turned to Ignacy, who cracked the knuckles of his natural paw. ¡°I¡¯m just making sure we win one way or another. Ignacy, don¡¯t pull out the flamethrower; that¡¯s cheating!¡±


    Slash at slash, cut at cut. Their claws woven the deadly patterns facing each other. The ground shook, the concrete cracking from the stomps and the force of their pushes. Neither agreed to retreat. In Janine¡¯s mind, she was not facing a single opponent, but the entire swarm of her sisters, stepping in one by one to test her mettle. Here were Predaig¡¯s calm and precise strikes, Eled¡¯s brazen courage, Dragena¡¯s careful cuts, Onyxia¡¯s etherealness, Ashbringer¡¯s ferocity, Martyshkina¡¯s unorthodox movement, and many more. A martial arts chimera that incorporated the fighting styles of the living and the dead. A legacy of sorts.


    Lacerated One was not without flaws. Her movements lacked finesse, as if she had learned a general idea but never really honed it. Her imitation of Janine¡¯s punches, hooks, and swings felt more like pebbling than bouldering. She lacked the durability and power to match Alpha¡¯s brutal attacks. Still, the shaman deserved praise for her dedication to mastering such skills, and Janine¡¯s heart brimmed with happiness.


    She knew it to be wrong. The last time she had let go, she had murdered one of her dearest people, robbed the tribe of a valuable soldier, and it endangered her own cubs by proxy. Her duties tonight were too important. But as their blows collided, creating waves of air that tore at the guards¡¯ and civilians¡¯ clothes, as her heart pounded with adrenaline, as streaks of blood ran down her legs, Janine could not help but enjoy every second of this deadly dance.


    And dance it was! The shaman had reached her pure state, unleashing unparalleled aggression on Janine, aiming her blows not to maim but to slaughter. A cut nearly blinded Janine. The claw sliced through her ear, opening her cheek to the bone. Janine responded by kneeing her opponent in the stomach, and Lacerated One spewed blood into the warlord¡¯s face, clouding her vision.


    A blink left her growl in pain as her already slashed side exploded in fire anew. As Janine¡¯s eyes opened, her opponent shifted into Eled¡¯s feral style; fangs closing on Janine¡¯s trapezius, claws sinking deep into the warlord¡¯s arms, attempting to pin them to her torso. The warlord succumbed to her primal instincts and clamped her jaws on the shaman¡¯s shoulder, causing the woman to jerk her neck away to avoid any potential harm.


    The rich and supernatural blood of her sister sent a fresh surge of adrenaline through Janine¡¯s body; its taste was intoxicating, empowering, exquisite. She lived again. Her heart raced even faster, the entire life flashed before the amber eyes, and this saved Lacerated One¡¯s shoulder for Janine to loosen her grip on it, too caught up in the strange sensations. She barely noticed that Lacerated One had torn away a piece of her own flesh.


    Janine moved her right paw up slowly, as if in a dream, realizing too late that her sister had purposely let herself be bitten to gain an advantage through confusion. However, every dream had to end. The fingers locked around the tormented neck, choke-slamming the shaman into the concrete, cratering her so hard that jagged rocks rose around the fighters. Lacerated One gasped for air; her paws were already trying to close in on Janine¡¯s arm, forcing the warlord to release the shaman, or the woman would have sliced open her veins. Still on her back, the shaman planted her palms on the ground and sprang away with the agility of a cockroach.


    She came at her again, switching from Dragena to Ashbringer, then to Alpha, and finally to Martyshkina again to evade a swing of claws. The shaman¡¯s feet swiftly maneuvered around Janine, while her fists flickered in an attempt to bypass the warlord¡¯s calm defenses. They fought for the better part of an hour, painting the gray surface of the ground crimson. They bit and gnawed at each other¡¯s flesh, exchanging lacerations and cuts, elbowing and punching at the first opportunity.


    Years of restraint! Years of being afraid of killing another sister! Elated, Janine slammed her fist into Lacerated One¡¯s shoulder, exploding the ground beneath her legs. The shaman tried to retreat, and Janine stomped, kicking out a boulder and elbowing it into Lacerated One¡¯s face. But you can handle it, right, sister? She thought, she pleaded, as her own stab closed on the wide open chest.


    ¡°This was a passable warm-up,¡± Lacerated One said calmly, stone dust falling from her whiskers.


    An agony paralyzed Janine¡¯s body as Lacerated One¡¯s claws pierced four of Janine¡¯s teats. It was a dirty move, but an effective one, and many Ice Fangs and several Wolfkins shuddered and cringed at the thought of it happening to them. The excruciating pain had blinded Janine; she stood on her toes against her will, and Lacerated One gained the distance again, pulling the claw free. Her leg blurred, and the warlord gasped and vomited in equal measure.


    She was kicked. It tossed her off her feet, sending the warlord flying like a cannonball over the defenders and splattering her against the base¡¯s wall. The impact rocked her insides. She rolled off the wall like a ball, trembling from the reverberations in her bones. Her trembling fingers found the stone, and falling pieces of debris from above surprised her even further. The reinforced concrete of the base was supposed to withstand heavy artillery shells. Just how hard did the shaman launch Janine? She wobbled like a drunk and stood up, touching the pulsating hot spot on her side. Ribs cracked.


    The supreme shaman stood on one leg, the other still in the air, her snout calm and focused. A kick. A single kick swatted Janine away like a parasite. Seeing that she was still conscious, Lacerated One began walking towards her.


    You are joking, right? She just started using her kicks now? Janine grimaced at the thought.


    ¡°The rage behind your movements is genuine, sister.¡± Lacerated One tilted her head.


    ¡°You are too much¡­¡± Janine chuckled.


    ¡°Are you surrendering, Janine?¡± Lacerated One asked icily, all warmth gone from her voice.


    ¡°I like it! This is amazing! For the first time in years, I feel like I don¡¯t have to hold anything back!¡± Janine¡¯s laughter rose to the sky, and the shaman froze.


    ¡°Oh, sister.¡± Lacerated One touched her swollen lips. ¡°I understand. If I had known of your fear and hunger earlier. Trust me, you never have to hold back anything against us. We are tough girls.¡± A cheeky smile, unbecoming of the high-ranking shaman, appeared on her lips. ¡°But every match has a loser and a winner.¡±


    ¡°Right you are, sis,¡± Janine said, taking advantage of the time the defenders had to reposition themselves and form a semi-circle around them.


    Her ribs were cracked but not broken. She could breathe fine. The pain in her poor teats subsided to a manageable level. The skin around the gushing wounds twitched, but it wasn¡¯t fatal damage. Psychological warfare. A trick from Terrific¡¯s playbook. Yes, Lacerated One¡¯s kick was hard, but it was delivered when Janine was at her weakest, unable to block.


    It went further than that. The ruptured teats were on the same side as the slashes. The shaman had sheared off skin and damaged the exoskeleton underneath before immobilizing her and landing this excellent blow. Her sister carefully guided her through the fight, step by step, instilling fear and uncertainty through the use of different styles, shackling her moves through the fear instilled by the spit and out of worry of missing another slash from Onyxia¡¯s style. Everything to distract Janine from noticing the strategy. Even the exchange of bites worked to Lacerated One¡¯s advantage.


    The damage piled up, but the same was true for the shaman, and Janine saw the star of victory clearer than before. She persevered; she had studied her opponent. There would be no more mood swings or uncertainty for Lacerated One to capitalize on. Janine held her temper in an iron vise, embracing her inner beast to reach and accept her own pure state. There was one thing left in store: the ultimate dirty move, saved to the last to secure the victory. It should shock Janine to the core, but she was ready to face her past.


    She blinked. It was time for her strategy.

 Chapter 58: Union

    How do you stop an opponent who can effortlessly switch between fighting styles, always choosing the one that best suits the situation? There were ways. The most obvious solution was to shoot them or lure them into a trap and blow them up with explosives. These options were not available to Janine in this honorable duel.


    What did she know? She was physically stronger. Lacerated One stopped her attack and deliberately spoke to her. Like Janine, she was regaining her strength for the final assault. They were exhausted, almost gassed, their bodies suffering from the vicious battle. If her opponent used the right style in the right situation, all she had to do was create a favorable situation and turn it perilous.


    Janine¡¯s forearm rammed into Lacerated One¡¯s throat, hard enough to make her choke. The shoulder tackle knocked the shaman back, throwing her out of Onyxia¡¯s style, and the ensuing breathing problem disrupted her attempt to slip into Martyshkina¡¯s style. But that wasn¡¯t the end. Claws scraped the concrete, creating the indentations. The sheer force of the attack moved Lacerated One two paces away. Right into the incoming swing.


    ¡°So what if you know some crappy techniques?!¡± Janine roared and landed a heavy blow on the shaman¡¯s right arm, deeply denting in the flesh. The long-awaited loud crackling was the sweetest music to the warlord¡¯s ears. ¡°I¡¯ll overcome them all through sheer might!¡±


    ¡°Whose styles are you calling crappy?¡± Alpha¡¯s snout hardened.


    ¡°Let¡¯s bury Jani for it!¡± Martyshkina eagerly clapped her paws together.


    ¡°I won¡¯t die until I¡¯ve tasted an ice cream cone!¡± Janine snapped and struck at the stopped shaman.


    Lacerated One raised her paws, using Janine¡¯s own technique to shield herself, fully aware of the damage a well-aimed blow to the jaw could cause. Even Wolfkins, who were naturally resistant to concussion, would find themselves hard-pressed against bone-shattering attacks.


    The right technique at the right time. Janine used this rule against the shaman, limiting her options. Her knuckles connected with the shaman¡¯s wrists, damaging the bones. She put every ounce of her strength into the blow, and the air erupted; the wind blew stronger than before, flapping the capes of the knight-captains to the amazement of the crowd. Lacerated One was thrown back; the claws of her legs destroyed a vast swath of reinforced concrete, and she staggered, trying to inhale.


    ¡°An ice cream cone?¡± Predaig asked.


    ¡°Is she means¡­ You know, the Ice Fangs¡¯¡­¡± Eled¡¯s finger danced in the air.


    ¡°I saw her enter the prayer den and shortly after Leonidas left it,¡± said Ashbringer.


    ¡°Wait a sec¡­ Does it mean that Jani and he are¡­¡± Martyshkina¡¯s fingers formed a circle, and she slid an index finger through it. ¡°Way to go, Janie! Not the worst hunk of meat! I always knew you had a taste for the exotic. Name a cub after me! A white one!¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we should call her a lady now?¡± Ashbringer laughed.


    ¡°Warlords, I believe you are¡­¡±


    ¡°No, no, don¡¯t interrupt them; I am curious about where this is going.¡± Zero quickly put a paw over Anissa¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that the order¡¯s rules permitted concubines.¡± Camelia¡¯s shadow fell on the Summerspring.


    ¡°Uncle, if this is true¡­¡± Malerata shuddered. ¡°You disgust me.¡±


    ¡°Gossips and rumors! Fairy tales!¡± Sword Saint Leonidas spilled his wine back into the goblet and turned to Martyshkina. ¡°Lady Martyshkina, how could you even imply that I would besmirch the honor of Lady Janine in such an uncouth manner?¡±


    ¡°What, is she not good enough in bed for you?¡±


    ¡°I am married, you vulgar dolt! And what did you mean by calling me not the worst hunk of meat? Who, among this rabble, can even approach the physical and spiritual greatness that I am?!¡±


    Janine charged ahead, closing the distance to the shaman in a step. Shame burned her cheeks, and she embraced it, letting the emotion drive her movements. The teasing was to be expected; all warlords enjoyed having fun at the expense of contenders during official domination matches.


    Lacerated One reacted as Janine had expected. The most optimal strategy to face her would be Alpha¡¯s stabs, but the previous heavy blow to the upper part of her right arm left the shaman unsure of its mobility; she no longer believed she could jerk it in time to evade a grab if the warlord dodged the initial stab. The shaman used Janine¡¯s own style, flicking blindingly fast strikes, hoping to break the warlord¡¯s nose and knock her off course as she tested her right paw.


    Janine advanced through the hail of blows, shifting her torso slightly to avoid the worst of the blows and take the fist onto her cheeks. Her sliced ear ached as a glancing punch touched it, but the job was done. She closed the distance and then immediately stopped, leaning back as the shaman launched an upward thrust with her right paw. It scraped Janine¡¯s belly; her left paw rose to shield her neck. Her leg slammed down on the shaman¡¯s foot; the claw of her big toe sliced through the flesh.


    Even though she had expected this move, it still caught her off guard. The shaman did not follow up with a direct stab, knowing full well that she would not penetrate Janine¡¯s arm completely. The muscles were too thick, too sturdy for it to happen. What she did was more insidious. Lacerated One¡¯s fingers closed on Janine¡¯s forearm, and the claws¡¯ tips sank beneath the skin, not deeply, but just enough to pinch the nerves. Terrific¡¯s technique¡ªit wasn¡¯t much of an offensive play but rather an attempt to induce a sepulchral shock out of familiarity.


    The warlord didn¡¯t flinch. No ugly mug emerged from the darkness; no revenant lurked behind the crowd. Terrific was dead, buried, not forgotten, but gone. Her adoptive mother was in the Great Beyond, sent there by Janine¡¯s paw. The very paw she was now swinging, preparing for a wide sweep. Lacerated One stopped her attack; her shoulders slumped as if in acceptance of inevitable defeat.


    Ygrite¡¯s trick. Lacerated One sprang into action as the fist was about to touch her forehead. The blow merely grazed some of her fur as she slipped away, paying with the parted foot for her release. As she fled, the shaman changed her style to Martyshkina, weaving around Janine¡¯s arm to get to her back and grab the great neck in a lock.


    She knew it was coming. It was a perfect counterstrategy, as Marty had defeated Janine in a similar situation. The unconscious girl woke up wiser and received a bottle of beer from her friend. Today, Janine stopped her strike and dropped onto her back, using her full weight to ram her elbow into the shaman¡¯s abdomen.


    To her credit, Lacerated One barely gasped, whirling underneath Janine. But this time the warlord had no intention of letting her named sister flee. She turned and mounted the woman, pinning her legs to the ground as she sat on her waist. Their paws locked in the fight and their jaws opened wide, facing each other in a desperate struggle.


    Fangs scratched against Janine¡¯s fangs as the two fighters stood still in an ugly parody of a kiss, trying their best to overcome their opponent. Both growled; both tensed their muscles to the extreme, and Janine experienced a tingling pain in her fangs. Despite the disadvantage, Lacerated One possessed the sharper chompers. In a minute, Janine would lose most of her fangs to the bite, along with her gums.


    It was acceptable. Sometimes, for the sake of the many, an individual had to sacrifice something precious. Eight of Lacerated One¡¯s fingers spasmed when they found themselves in the semblance of caterpillar tracks grinding them down. Janine¡¯s blows had weakened the bones of the already exhausted shaman. The skin on her fingers swelled; more blood seeped through the opened cuts. She may have the warlord¡¯s jaw. In exchange, the shaman would lose her paws, as her fingers would burst like pimples under pressure.


    Janine¡¯s fang broke; a louder snap of the shaman¡¯s skin echoed its shattering.


    ¡°Enough.¡± A single word turned them into statues. The black paws grabbed the two by the napes, yanking them off each other. The shining amber orbs illuminated them.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Ravager was here, surrounded by the buzzing, hovering drones, constantly filmed by the reporters. She was drooling red. The Blessed Mother kept shaking her head, trying to control her emotions. Janine sensed it in the great body; she wanted to bite them; she desired to claw them to instill discipline and prove her superiority.


    ¡°No killing each other,¡± Ravager forced out the words and set them down. ¡°This is a civilized place. Be the good girls. Peace. Cooperate. Don¡¯t bicker.¡± She abruptly grabbed herself by both sides.


    ¡°Blessed Mother!¡± Janine and Lacerated One spoke in unison, but a swing of Ravager¡¯s paw kept them at bay.


    ¡°I¡­ I am fine. Need¡­ Need to feel gore. Must¡­ rip and tear. Zero. Take these baubles off me, please,¡± she said weakly, trembling, with her whole body shaking. Janine physically sensed the progenitor¡¯s suppressed aggression, rage, and desperate attempt to maintain control. It made her own body twitch against her will; the desire to savage and rend sparked in her chest, but even the thought of disobeying the command was unthinkable.


    Talons showed from Ravager¡¯s fingers, weapons of mass murder so large and deadly that not even a warlord could hope to withstand their full touch. The great paws closed, hungry for prey, but Zero approached her sister unafraid.


    ¡°Ingo called, Big Sis,¡± Zero said, taking off Ravager¡¯s jewelry and bracelets and ruffling her fur. Her fingers massaged the progenitor temples, and something cleared in the gigantic eyes. ¡°There was an accident. A patient woke up. They are in a bit of panic¡­¡±


    ¡°Let them panic.¡±


    ¡°Big Sis, it¡¯ll take a year to grow the needed amount of cloned organs and limbs¡­¡±


    ¡°No, Zero,¡± Ravager said sternly. ¡°I will not hear it. They are not to leave the facility. They are not to get used to this metal¡­ filth. Tell Ingo to turn on TVs for them or invite priests or soothsayers or keep them asleep, I don¡¯t care. He is supposed to be smart. It¡¯s disgusting and heartless to replace one¡¯s hot blood and insides with cold and uncaring metal, to forever lose the ability to experience touch. They deserve a proper life.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Big Sis,¡± Zero agreed.


    ¡°We must stay in Houstad for a month¡­ Two months, maximum. Outsider is bound to return from the west, eventually.¡± Ravager addressed the officers. ¡°Zero, I am heading to the snow peaks. There have been sightings of unbound bioweapons. Can you handle public relations?¡±


    ¡°A loner,¡± Zero said.


    ¡°When will you grow up?¡± Ravager sighed. ¡°Alpha?¡±


    ¡°I am better suited for military missions, Commander.¡± The warlord bowed.


    ¡°Dragena and Cristobo are in charge of our forces until my return. If anything happens to either of them, Alpha is to take over. When First comes back, he is to be their equal. Trust the Sunblade as if he were me; is that understood?¡± Ravager snarled at the Wolfkins, seeking for a hint of disobedience in their smells, but they all bared their necks in acknowledgement. ¡°Janine. Get healed. You and Camelia are to represent the Third to the mayor.¡±


    ¡°Blessed Mother?¡± Janine prostrated herself, and Ravager nodded, permitting the question. ¡°I do not understand. Predaig, Alpha, and Dragena are wiser and more competent than I. Surely they deserve this privilege more.¡±


    ¡°And what will we do when they pass? Learn and grow while you have the chance.¡± Ravager¡¯s eyes shot at Janine¡¯s sons. ¡°The little one¡­ Marco. He is permitted to enjoy Houstad, unhindered. It can be a positive experience. No Ice Fang or Wolfkin shall harm him. Males are to share the same privileges as females for the duration of our stay, as long as they maintain discipline. If they get mischievous, spank them, but that¡¯s it. I forbid losing body parts or lives in dominations. Lacerated One, you will see to it. If an anti-war demonstrator insults you on the street or throws a fruit at you, I expect you to stick your tongues up your collective assess and take it like a woman or a man of whom I can be proud of!¡±


    ¡°Commander Ravager.¡± A priest wearing the garments of the Church of the Planet stepped out of the crowd. ¡°Are you truly planning to leave so soon? Have we offended you in any way? Was it because of the demonstration earlier today?¡±


    ¡°No, holy father.¡± Ravager¡¯s chuckle reached every ear in the crowd. She laid a trembling finger on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I bear them no ill will, and neither should you. The Dynast has changed his policies in the past. The Houstad you know today is the result of one of those changes. No one is infallible, and we must never become so arrogant that we close our ears to different opinions.¡±


    ¡°Let us at least treat your wounds!¡± the priest pleaded.


    ¡°Stay in Houstad, Commander!¡± A group of civilians shouted. ¡°We wish to honor the Third and you for your heroic deeds!¡±


    ¡°Hear this, my soldiers?¡± Ravager asked. She whirled to face the base and spread her arms wide. ¡°Our beliefs differ from those who live in peace. Yet here are humble souls offering aid to a monster out of the goodness of their hearts. Do you need a further reason to love that which you protect? Do any of you still fear that there is no place for them in a world devoid of war?¡±


    ¡°No, Blessed Mother!¡± Janine roared, surprised to hear the Ice Fangs, Normies, New Breeds, and Mutants join in the Wolfkin¡¯s cries.


    ¡°It brings me joy to hear you speak true, my soldiers.¡± Ravager paced before their ranks. There was no hint of growl or bestiality in her voice. She sounded radiant, complete, and pure, and even standing naked, she exuded dignity and a commanding presence. Janine experienced a wave of assurance, a promise of a better tomorrow beaming from the Blessed Mother, and she smiled, thanking the Spirits for giving this small grace to a soul who so desperately needed it. ¡°Not always was I a leader worthy of your veneration. I lost those whom I could save and murdered those whom I could spare. Yet you chose to become my trusted claws, and for that I thank you from the bottom of my blackened heart. For me, peace is unattainable, but for you, the future is open. Choose wisely. Live, my troops. Rest, protect, and serve.¡±


    ¡°Protect and serve!¡± Janine and the others thundered.


    ¡°I thank you for your gentle offer, holy father,¡± Ravager addressed the priest. ¡°But it is unneeded. As the first life suffocates in my grasp, my madness will temporarily cease. I will bring ruin if I remain with you. That honest woman spoke true; I am a monster, fully and truly. Reclaimers. People. I despise delusions. I cannot take back what I¡¯ve done, nor can I stop fully what I will do in the future. But I will continue to try to protect you and pave the way to your happiness in the best way a monster can. I¡¯ll try to use my wickedness for good! I am the monster who devours monsters; I am the bane of the oppressors and the end of the nightmares! You desire to honor me? Then don¡¯t leave a single child to be abandoned or abused, no matter their origin!¡±


    Saying nothing else, Ravager let her arms fall and jumped, creating a loud boom somewhere high above. She lingered in place for a second, as if suspended on ropes, and then vanished to the gasps of surprised citizens trying to spot her in the air. Even the buzzing news drones looked lost; their cameras whirled, struggling to comprehend the disappearance. Janine smiled at hearing suggestions that the Blessed Mother had flown or teleported away. They weren¡¯t far off.


    Ravager was gone even before the first boom. What people saw was her afterimage.


    Under the right pressure, an unleashed jet of liquid could cut a steel plate in half. Slam a body against a pool of toxic sludge fast enough and its surface will momentarily solidify, perfectly replicating the purpose of the floor. Even a simple drop of blood can penetrate a head if it is flicked at incredible speed. To a lesser extent, the same was true of air; a powerful blow could propel it and cause another person to fall.


    Ravager transcended these limits. A swing of her claws was capable of unleashing doom, not through physical contact, but by channeling a shockwave. A slap could create a vacuum. Her divine muscles bounced off the emptiness above and carried the Blessed Mother over Houstad to a destination of her choosing.


    ¡°Cooperate¡­¡± Lacerated One stood and stretched herself, ignoring the pain in her sausage-sized fingers. ¡°Two went in, and two came out whole, spared the wrath. Spirits have spoken. The shamans will support your decision.¡±


    ¡°My thanks.¡± Janine rose to her feet and helped her sister limp to the base¡¯s entrance as their sisters and soldiers cheered on. ¡°You could¡¯ve gone for the eyes in Onyxia¡¯s style. That way, I¡¯d¡­ Wait.¡± She turned to Lacerated One. ¡°The Blessed Mother¡¯s arrival, her words¡­ Did you¡­¡±


    ¡°You are unwell, Janine.¡± The supreme shaman smiled. ¡°In need of healing. Visit me sometimes, and we¡¯ll talk to ease your burdens.¡±


    Janine frowned, trying to gauge if her suspicions were true. Lacerated One breathed heavily, pushed to the very limits of her endurance; her foot was split in two by the claw, and the edges of her broken bones scratched against each other as she walked. Bruises and cuts covered her, and it was a miracle she was conscious. Still, there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that the situation wasn¡¯t as simple as she believed.


    It is not a simple thing to surrender political power in the tribe. Even if the supreme shaman had demanded it, not everyone would fall in line behind her. But if she interpreted the Blessed Mother¡¯s words correctly¡­


    Oh, sister. You truly know how to play us.


    Janine let go of her worries and weakness, concentrating on the task. The shamans are with her. Technically, this should already win her the vote, but why stop here? She wasn¡¯t a politician, but strength in numbers was a valid strategy. Who among the warlords could she convince to join her?


    Eled and Predaig will support her out of friendship alone. Ygrite could be persuaded, or she can call in the debt. Alpha? Janine glanced at Alpha¡¯s back. The strongest warlord was regarded as the second mother by her pack. But the length of her claws led Janine to wonder morbidly if she could survive a round if Alpha decided to test her resolve like the shaman. Nah, I am worried about future cubs and the well-being of packs, but I also kind of want to live and see my granddaughters. This is a pointless risk, and¡­ I am scared shitless of Alpha.


    Marty was a staunch traditionalist. But it can¡¯t hurt to talk to her. Who else? Ashbringer. If she really was mentoring Janine, she might join her, but she won¡¯t push the woman. She owes her that much for Marco¡¯s well-being. Maybe Zero? Onyxia? In their last spar, Onyxia defeated Janine, but occasionally showed a softer side of her, stopping a male¡¯s beating. Next to no males ever offed themselves intentionally in hers or Ashbringer¡¯s packs. She¡¯ll see Janine¡¯s point. Fatima? No, too stubborn.


    A rumbling in her stomach distracted the warlord from her thoughts. She had done everything she could; the rest will have to wait. Janine ignored Maxence¡¯s berating and the needles¡¯ stings. She paid no attention to the fact that her ear was being stitched up and greedily grabbed the frozen cusack carcass that Impatient One had brought her. Janine thanked her and sunk her fangs into the meat, sharing it with the supreme shaman. The ice cracked on their bloodied gums; their stomachs were cold, but both ate their fill, confident that a little cold could not possibly harm them.

 Chapter 59: Cristobo and Daion

    ¡°Haven¡¯t seen you in years, Cristobo,¡± laughed Maxim Puchkov, a heavy man in his early sixties.


    Time hadn¡¯t left a single black strand in his formerly brown hair, and he¡¯d gained weight, tiptoeing closer to being called burly. However, years of proper medical care had faded his patchwork of scars; his typically reddish eye, which had suffered from exposure to a rare neurotoxin, had regained its pristine whiteness, and his keen eyes had scanned the captain.


    ¡°I¡¯d read the reports, but I had a hard time believing them. A commissioner, really? How did you get this rank?¡± Cristobo surveyed the office.


    For some reason, the former sergeant in charge of the anti-New Breeds unit had abandoned the sunny and cozy office at the top of the police building and retreated to a cramped, narrow room that had once been used to store ancient archives. On his orders, every case in here was pulled for a review, and the whipped into frenzy police force had found several hiding criminals and proved the innocence of a group of citizens, releasing them from prison against the advice of the Investigation Bureau. Maxim personally offered his earnest apologies to the falsely accused and instituted several Iterna and Oathtakers¡¯ practices to prevent such a travesty from occurring.


    The walls bore no marks of office or merit badges; instead, Maxim¡¯s hand casually pinned up letters of gratitude from citizens, photos of his old military buddies, and dragged a full set of riot gear into the corner of the small room. A gruesome shardgun with two notches left by a deceased warlord hung behind his table. The skull of the previous commissioner, a woman caught embezzling funds and tampering with evidence, had been bronze-plated and welded to the office¡¯s staff. Their gracious host didn¡¯t disappoint. He pushed a table into the middle of the room, and bottles of vodka, steaming cusack sausages, and fresh bread awaited the guests.


    ¡°You tell me.¡± Maxim shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m more suited to quelling riots and winning urban battles. I was thinking of spending my days toiling on the Oaksters farm and raising kids, but I wasn¡¯t foolish enough to refuse the gig when it was offered to me.¡± He twirled a finger at the temple. ¡°Lemme tell you, the Investigation Bureau is queer. They¡¯d petitioned me to assist in finding two missing agents¡­¡±


    ¡°We have missing people?¡± Jacomie slammed a bottle down on the table. ¡°Why wasn¡¯t I informed? Sir, do you need the aid of my troops to do a city¡¯s wide sweep?¡±


    ¡°Nah, one of the lost lambs had reported back. Apparently, they are on an undercover mission.¡± Maxim waved his arm and clicked glasses with the officers, gulping the alcohol down. ¡°Nice to see everyone again, in fine health. Shame about Terrific and Margery. Can¡¯t believe Duck didn¡¯t make it. Fuck, I¡¯m missing the old bugger. He saved my butt more times than I can count.¡± They held a moment of silence to honor the fallen. ¡°Truth be told, today was the first day I felt like I knew what I was doing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right.¡± Cristobo grinned.


    ¡°No, really!¡± Maxim insisted. ¡°Ensure safety, apprehend criminal elements¡­¡±


    ¡°Apprehend?¡± Cristobo raised his brow. ¡°I wasn¡¯t aware that any of the protesters were taken in.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t no one arrested them. The Dynast will have my ass grilled over blazing coals if I so much as infringe on free speech. Those bozos will be fined for public disorder, reckless driving, and littering.¡± The commissioner yawned, and red tin appeared on his cheeks. Maxim had never been much of a drinker, but Cristobo was happy to see his former soldier doing well. On his table was a carefully dusted family photograph. The photo featured two smiling women, six children trying desperately to look serious, and the overjoyed commissioner himself. ¡°We caught four shooters.¡±


    ¡°There will be immolations tomorrow, then,¡± Jacomie said.


    Whore. A voice uttered inside Cristobo¡¯s skull. His hand no longer even wavered when his ¡®passenger¡¯ offered her input. He first heard this voice after Ravager¡¯s ¡®lover¡¯ tap, which not only changed his lungs forever but also grew an extra organ near his heart. Little R, as he called this strange phantom that had taken up residence in his brain, paid her rent by offering advice and alerting the captain to potential dangers. When Bogdan and his crew bravely volunteered to repair the recycling system, she warned him about a pipe that was about to burst and spill digestive waste into the corridor.


    He came to tolerate her behavior and even visited the commander, requesting her to ensure that Little R would stay a permanent guest in his mind, after her voice began to fade. Ravager inquired if he was certain about this desire, and then she did something.


    Cristobo wasn¡¯t sure how to comprehend what he had experienced. It was as if the commander¡¯s chambers had suddenly turned hot and a cloud of storm had enveloped him. But these lightnings didn¡¯t scorch him; they imprinted something in his very DNA. Shortly thereafter, he visited Maxence, carefully avoiding telling him anything. After an electroencephalography, the shocked doctor checked Cristobo several times, worried that the man might be suffering from epilepsy. His bio-signals spiked, far exceeding beta waves. Little R was sour about it, claiming it was wicked to prolong a natural life span.


    She despised Jacomie ever since their first meeting, cursing the officer for being ugly, unpleasant, and brutish.


    Yeah, sure, have your fill, stinking drunkard. Little R growled in his head as he drank another glass of vodka. Maybe you¡¯ll learn manners when you pass out in your vomit, shitting and pissing.


    Pot calls kettle, lassie. Cristobo thought.


    What was that, dipshit?


    Then again, being disliked by Little R meant little. She hurled insults at everyone, not sparing even the Blessed Mother. But Cristobo was wise enough to know an asset when he heard one, and having a speck of the divinity in him was inspiring. He never shared the belief in the Spirits, not fully anyway. His occasional religious gestures and words were more of a slip of the tongue. He no longer doubted the shamans.


    That cowardly bitch is no god! Little R growled.


    Just a messenger of gods. Cristobo responded, enjoying the infuriation emanating from Little R. Why are you so rude to your mom, spirit?


    Because I am an aberration. I should not exist. My very presence may violate your freedom of will, fool. She, more than anyone, should know how horrible and disgusting it is to subject me to the constant temptation to take you over. Grumbled his inner angel.


    Well, I don¡¯t mind you existing. Cristobo told her. As for taking the helm, we might¡­


    We won¡¯t. Never. I have principles, shit for brains.


    ¡°Nah, nobody¡¯s going to burn,¡± said Maxim.


    ¡°Elaborate.¡± Jacomie¡¯s face hardened.


    ¡°I will not inform the Investigation Bureau.¡± The commissioner drank from the bottle and tapped on the bronze skull. ¡°They can flay me like that traitor, but I will not condemn minors to their deaths. I was put here to protect and serve, not to murder and torture. The teens made a bad decision, thinking to land a shot at the commander for clout. There will be a trial, free from the influence of the Bureau. Two-three years in a quarry will set them straight, and the whip will knock any foolish thoughts out of their heads. Gonna report me?¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    Cristobo tensed, preparing to order the lieutenant to ignore this oversight. The army and the Investigation Bureau had a long and strained history. Soldiers believed investigators to be bloodthirsty bastards who solved every inconvenience through excessive violence. The investigators not only set fire to the corrupt governors but also to their families. The captain, using the Blessed Mother¡¯s name as a shield, secretly rescued several infants and many children from such a fate.


    The Bureau believed the soldiers to be too soft and tolerating to the problems that risked turning a cut on a society into a festering wound that could risk them potentially seeing the horrors of the Extinction once more in the future if the rot reached high enough. Even if it was true, Cristobo opposed taking part in culling children for the crimes of their parents and regularly voted to repeal these antique laws. The time of barbarism had come and gone. They had to be better than this.


    ¡°No.¡± Jacomie touched the sagging skin on her cheek and frowned. Her skin was loose in many places and the color of wax. ¡°It isn¡¯t pretty, being engulfed in flames. Guess you found yourself an accomplice, sir.¡±


    ¡°Accomplices,¡± Cristobo corrected her, raising his glass. ¡°Cheers to a common conspiracy and to reunification!¡±


    ¡°To serve the state!¡± Jacomie flashed a rare, shy smile.


    Not a total bastard. Little R grumbled.


    Is that an approval in your voice? Cristobo asked slyly.


    Go die in a ditch!


    ¡°True that!¡± Maxim joined them. ¡°Jacomie, I don¡¯t mean to be a dick, but have you ever considered visiting a surgeon to have your skin repaired? I know several; they helped me get rid of the scaly patches on my back.¡±


    ¡°The language and culture of my people are gone, and they don¡¯t seem to care.¡± Scowled Jacomie. ¡°The Second can have my hide as a bonus. I am functional and live still.¡±


    Bitterness. Mood shifts. Don¡¯t trust her. Little R warned.


    The vodka speaks in her. Cristobo dismissed the worries.


    Why drink it if it turns you into a babbling clown?


    Alcohol has been man¡¯s companion for thousands of years. Cristobo raised his glass, catching electric rays on its surface. In shared times of unity, it bridges gaps between us and helps subordinates speak truthfully to their superiors. It lets us mourn and rejoice alike. It truly is a friend, if taken in moderation. How can I abandon a friend?


    Self-deceiving alcoholic. Little R accused him. You itch to suckle from the bottle like a cub from a mother¡¯s breast.


    ¡°Irrelevant.¡± Jacomie shook away the memories. ¡°Sirs, we need to talk seriously. Commander Ravager has left, leaving a bored, wild army at our hands. I mean no disrespect,¡± she addressed Cristobo, who nodded amiably, ¡°but we must formulate a strategy to prevent incidents. I am particularly concerned about the protesters. If they annoy a Wolfkin enough and blood is spilled....¡± She rubbed her head. ¡°What a mess. There are also those Horde bastards. I refuse to believe that no one has heard of them; you don¡¯t get to show from nowhere, wielding top-of-the-line weaponry and assaulting our settlements¡­¡±


    ****


    Welp. I am officially no longer the ugliest person on the ship. Decided Sergeant Daion, a heavily augmented member of the First Army. Till Ingo requested a New Breed test subject for a stress run of a new type of power armor, and his Excellency Outsider commanded Daion to arrive in Houstad and participate in the trials. The Sergeant took the humiliating assignment in stride. Yeah, he¡¯d miss the glories of the current conquest, but if the new battleplates are as hot shit as Ingo sold them to be, they might help him stick around for longer.


    In front of him stood a young girl who moved her mechanical fingers uncertainly, as if struggling to believe that she had arms. Prosthetic limbs had replaced her arms and legs and were attached directly to her spine. There were no longer any pelvis or clavicles in her worth speaking about; the surgery had removed most of her internal organs, going so far as to replace her trachea. She sat on an examination table, her head bald and every inch of her skin covered in a thick layer of scars and freshly healed incisions. Daion gave her his coat to wear.


    He saw her frightened eyes as she floated in a healing tank, and instinctively he reached into the green liquid and pulled the girl out. She thrashed and pleaded not to be seared anymore in a broken language of some crushed country, and Daion held her steady until his old translator adjusted to her speech, then he seated her so the child could relax.


    ¡°Commander Ravager won¡¯t like it.¡± A man in a white lab coat licked his lips nervously. ¡°She insisted for every wounded to remain asleep¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, I don¡¯t see her or Till Ingo on board, and as the highest ranking officer, I have personally decided to remove the restraints from the completely healthy individual to facilitate her further integration into civilized society. Commander Ravager is free to direct her ire at Commander Outsider, so he can slap her across a field again. Okay? Great. Glad we reached an understanding. Now hop-hop away and bring the girl food and you,¡± he pointed at a female doctor, ¡°towels, now. Why the hesitation, egghead? Haven¡¯t you matured to motherhood yet?¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re not overripe for it, loudmouth?¡± the woman snapped and hurried to the girl, gently helping her to clean herself of the sticky liquid.


    ¡°Nope.¡± Daion¡¯s bombastic laughter filled the medical bay, echoing off the wall. ¡°Raised sixteen orphans. Let¡¯s see if your womb ever matches that number, girlie.¡±


    Whether it was his comrades, commanders of the Dynast himself, he wasn¡¯t afraid to speak his mind and never minced his words. New Breeds of his abilities and closeness to the superiors had access to the rejuvenation injections, and this led them to become tamer as a potential eternity stretched before them. But Daion was finite. Acrid mucus gathered in his mouth, clogging his windpipe and overwhelming his filtering system. Patches of sickly yellow hue covered his skin; he was losing hair, and his joints ached. Short of a miracle cure to heal his poisoned brain, his time was finite. The sergeant came to terms that he¡¯d shamble and break at some point. What¡¯s the point of crying over a natural order? His life hadn¡¯t been that bad, and he still had decades ahead of him.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Daion asked the kid, and the translator repeated his words with a slightly snarling, feminine accent. Soulless One from the Third had taken on the task of recording the language and storing it in the databases, and no real linguist had yet corrected her mispronunciations.


    ¡°Weird,¡± the girl said. She pressed a metal finger against the table and gasped. ¡°Is this a dream? I have fingers, but I don¡¯t feel them.¡±


    ¡°You will,¡± Daion promised, and the girl shrank in terror. ¡°Not like that!¡± For the first time in his life, he yearned to be a member of another army, to have a go on the bitch who did this to these poor souls. He knelt and took the girl by the jaw. ¡°Listen, the nightmare is over. Hard to believe, I know, but there will be no more pain.¡±


    ¡°P-promise?¡± the girl whispered. Her face lacked color, and there were no eyebrows over her gray eyes. She clenched her hands over her chest, clutching the coat closer.


    ¡°I swear.¡± Daion put a hand over his heart. ¡°Feel scared or threatened? Call me, and I¡¯ll arrange a meeting between the face and the ass of a creep who does it to you. How about we read a book while we wait for a late breakfast?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know how to read,¡± the girl admitted. ¡°Techno-Queen took me¡­ She took me.¡±


    ¡°About time to learn, then.¡± He didn¡¯t tell her to forget. There were things impossible to be banished from the memory. The creaking of rusty metal cages, the stench of rotting flesh, and the moans of dying slaves haunted his dreams to this day. Daion used his traumatic past to spite himself into living the best life he could. In time, the little one would learn to do the same, but for now, she needed other memories, and fast. ¡°We have a road ahead of us.¡± Daion let go of her and gave her a pat before addressing the doctor. ¡°Wake up the rest of the kiddies, sweetheart; the kindergarten is open. And where is the food, dammit!?¡±


    ¡°Will¡­¡± Daion halted his commands and turned to face the girl, who swallowed and asked, ¡°Will I see the night queen? The one who toppled the mistress!¡± She clarified, noticing the confusion in the sergeant¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°Ah, you mean that stinking animal¡­¡± A flash of anger appeared in the doctor¡¯s eyes, and Daion conceded he was being too rude. ¡°The great Commander Ravager is not here. Doubt you¡¯ll ever see her again; she tends to go places.¡±


    ¡°She spoke to me,¡± the girl stated. ¡°The mistress tormented us, never showing mercy, and then it ended. And there was a voice that sang a beautiful but so sad song to me while someone freed me from the metal. It somehow took away the pain and gave me hope.¡±


    ¡°Okay, time to learn new words,¡± Daion snapped his fingers, ignoring the girl¡¯s obviously muddy memories. There was no way she could hear the commander. Every patient was put into a coma. ¡°No mistress. Say bitch instead.¡±

 Chapter 60: Restrained and Unrestrained Madness

    Kalaisa scrubbed at the toilet seat and sink, trying to clean up the piss and brown mess. Her paws trembled with barely contained rage. Shit! Everything, everything is covered in shit! A mixture of bones clogged a toilet, and she had to fix it, choking on the disgusting smell. Bastards! What did they eat to make such a mess? And how come there were undigested bones?!


    Why did you hurt your family? She remembered Janine¡¯s question.


    Kalaisa wasn¡¯t sure why the bitch kept pestering her by asking the same question during every visit. Tonight, like usual, she went to the wounded warlord for guidance. The lessons weren¡¯t half bad. Janine imparted the wisdom of trench warfare to the wolf hag, explaining how to prevent a pack from wasting time by forcing them to construct an extensive tunnel system. This system could be useful for surviving an artillery barrage or launching a surprise attack on the enemy. In hindsight, it made sense; the Wolfkins preferred deep underground dens, and Kalaisa eagerly shared the information with the lesser females in Ygrite¡¯s pack, earning a begrudging thanks.


    She expected the granny, who bled like a cusack, to kick her out, but Janine kept her word, and her doors were open.


    Because it is their fault that I am in this situation. Kalaisa answered then and paced back and forth across the room, trying not to look into these bored amber eyes. Had they only been strong, had they only had the dignity to not hold me back after everything that I have done for them, then everything would be normal!


    Liar. Janine sneezed. Kalaisa. You can keep making amends and pretending to change all you want. But you can¡¯t really get better and move on until you answer this simple question. Why?


    Fuck off, old bitch. Rage made her shake, and the automatic pump fell from her paw. The damn device shattered, scattering pieces across the floor. What does Janine think she knows? Lying, as if! Kalaisa was the reason her useless siblings survived. She guarded them in the pits, fed them, cleaned them, and stood guard when those useless sacks of shit whimpered in their sleep, calling Mommy and Daddy! The bastards that abandoned them! No one ever called her! She took care of them, and there was always fear in their eyes! Even before she started... started¡­


    Storming out of the toilet booth, Kalaisa sat on the floor. Besides, what does it matter? Her brothers were males, her sister was weak. They deserved to be dominated; she had done nothing wrong! They were the ones who held her back and stole her happiness! Happy... With trembling fingers, Kalaisa started reassembling the pump, putting the chords back into sockets, and mounting the rubber tube back on.


    Kalaisa could have been normal. If¡­ If only she were admitted into Alpha¡¯s pack. The respect she so richly deserved, the good pay, and plenty of free time on her paws! She¡¯d served a warlord who stood up for their own, who taught and guided! Had she been in Alpha¡¯s pack, she¡¯d never have won her first domination match. Crushed by a wolf hag, Kalaisa would have been accepted as a warrior, and for the first time she would be able to relax and... and be okay, never fearing, never cursing herself for letting her soldiers die because of her inexperience.


    The rubber tube slipped from her fingers, eliciting a growl from Kalaisa.


    ¡°Shit to shit, how fitting,¡± a cheerful voice said. Lifting her head, she saw Bogdan enter.


    ¡°Do you mind, shithead?¡± The pump almost broke in her paws. ¡°I am trying to work here. Find yourself another toilet¡­ Bastard!¡±


    Kalaisa recoiled in disgust as Bogdan approached, unzipped his pants, and began leaking casually into the nearest urinal, almost showering her with yellowish water. She drew herself high and cast a long shadow on him, doing her best to resist the urge to see his insides splattered on the dirty floor.


    ¡°What is your problem, shit stain? Wanna die?¡±


    ¡°You heard the Blessed Mother.¡± The insufferable scum flashed a smile, continuing his business! ¡°Try touching me, and Lacerated One will see you skinned. As for my problem, well¡­ It is you. You don¡¯t deserve to be in the army, but that I can live with. What bothers me is your proximity to my family,¡± his voice grew cold. ¡°Your family and I had a chitchat. I know what you did to them, you sick psycho. And now you cling to my mother, like a wounded cub asking to be coddled. You aren¡¯t a hot shit, you know it? You are not a soldier, just a useless bully. Because of your behavior, you got your ass handed to you, and someone else had to go on the mission. And they had died as a result, taking a place in the grave so richly reserved for you.¡±


    Kalaisa''s fist closed as her heart pumped blood so hard that the veins in her temples pulsated. Remembering Janine¡¯s lessons, she looked aside, taking deep breaths. First. The fucker knows nothing. Second. Does he think she doesn¡¯t blame herself? Third. She volunteered, damn it! It wasn¡¯t her fault! Who does this self-righteous bastard think he is? Bogdan had it easy: a mother, a father, and a family that actually cared! Kalaisa had none of that; her siblings were useless; she had to try to whip them into shape after the shame they brought upon her! It was all their fault, not hers! She was ready to go and die if necessary; it was Janine¡¯s fault; she denied Kalaisa a place on the team; she¡­


    She let someone die. The realization slowly sank in. It made sense, didn¡¯t it? If Kalaisa hadn¡¯t spent all her free time beating up her siblings, if she had trained and kept her pack up to date, she would have gone on the mission that night, because then Ashbringer would have had no reason to challenge her. Kalaisa would¡¯ve cleaved a path for the advance team¡­ And there would be less grief that night.


    ¡°Get the fuck out.¡± She spoke through clenched fangs, trembling. ¡°Now! Or I will report you for¡­ unworthy conduct in front of the commanding officer.¡±


    ¡°Sure, ma¡¯am.¡± Bogdan deliberately slowly finished his business, pausing near the exit to rest a paw on the door casing. ¡°I have ears, Kalaisa, and they heard your boasts about harming Marco.¡± His claws splintered wood. ¡°You¡¯re always whining about not being where you belong. Well, listen here. Try to so much as scratch my little bro, and I send you where you belong. Lay a finger on my buddy Kirk and I¡¯ll bury you. And no one will bat an eyelid.¡±


    Kalaisa slammed the door after him, hard enough to damage the jamb. She groaned in frustration when she heard the crack. Now she had to fix that too! She returned to the pump, reassembling it more slowly this time, using her claws to push screws into positions, taking slow breaths, and not caring about smells anymore.


    Why did you hurt your family? She didn¡¯t lie, right? Her siblings were weak; they stole her future in spite of everything she did for them. They deserved to suffer as much as she did! There wasn¡¯t anything else.


    Kalaisa tried to remember the past when she returned home from the pits, carrying food for the squeaking fuzzies at home. Tired, her bones cracking, she fed her siblings, chewing meat for them and letting them crawl over her. Did she... did she really never care about them? If so, why did she care about their wellbeing? Why on earth did she go to such lengths to ensure their survival?


    She bit her lip, getting progressively angrier at herself for wasting so much time beating Kirk. Kalaisa could¡¯ve trained her pack! She could have taught them new tricks or learned more about fighting herself. Why did she... Why in the holy names of the Spirits did she waste so much of her life on something so petty, so useless¡­ vile.


    Kalaisa paid little attention to Bogdan¡¯s threat. A: He is a male. What is he going to do¡ªbleed on her? B: She was the expendable one. Like all normal people, Anji had people who cared about her; that bastard Bogdan had a family who cared about him, and friends to boot! Even that dork Marco was genuinely adorable; no wonder Anji always tried helping him. Who does Kalaisa have? Bogdan spoke true; should she die right now, no one will care.


    I wish I was normal. Kalaisa reassembled the pump and looked at the doorjamb. I can fix it. She promised herself, remembering Anji¡¯s offer.


    Yeah. She¡¯ll take it. It was too scary to go to a therapist alone. And then she¡¯ll help Marco. She owed him that much. There¡­ there had to be steps to mend everything. To change.


    No one will ever die because of me ever again.


    ****


    I can give you everything.


    Mad Hatter stood in the center of a crater, her curved blades sheathed. Heat still emanated from the molten rock that swirled around her boots. It was a pleasant heat. No longer focused on the here and now, she could hear the rumble of artillery trying desperately to keep the Horde at bay, and the war cries of the khaganates. So many of them were here. Tens of thousands of hearts were beating: excited, furious, frightened. A music of war.


    Another heart lay at her feet, slowly stopping. She hadn¡¯t the faintest idea who he was. Mad Hatter left the camp for a stroll, speaking her mind to her Great Father above, ignoring the aberration. A streak of lightning carrying a silver-clad idiot across the night sky had caught her attention, and then he was on her, shouting that she would pay for her crimes. It ended as usual¡ªthe weak chattered, the strong acted. To honor his dedication at least, she caught him on the blade and opened him from chest to groin. Already dying, the man spat in her face, pleasing her with his defiance. She had already prepared a little poem in his honor.


    You stand on the threshold of immortality.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    ¡°No one is immortal, save for the Sky, demon,¡± she laughed at the white motes flowing around her. Sounds faded, the molten rivers stopped, and even the rain of debris around her stopped. ¡°The strong get fat, grow old and fall. It is our nature. We come, we go, and the Sky remains.¡±


    You are worshipping a non-existent deity, girl. I have seen this rock floating in the void, lifeless and cold. My hands sowed it with life; my words greeted the first ape rising to the first sunset. Such power you can gain if you but accept me. The voice was everywhere and nowhere; its warm, assuring words were meant for her ears alone. She knew better than to swing her head left and right, hoping to see the deceiver.


    ¡°Heaven had already given me enough. The rest is up to me.¡± There was someone at the edge of her vision. A figure formed of coalesced blinding light, its eyes burning red. Her arm moved, and a blade of propelled air sliced the figure in half, cutting a long line across the ground behind it. The figure reformed, laughing sadly, and hands touched her shoulders, beseeching her to be calm.


    The strong lead, the weak obey. Is that not your creed? He whispered into her ear. Accept me, and the ultimate power shall be yours this instant. In place of a human, the sun will shine on the queen of the new world, a true transcended being, worthy of my love. Your hand shall sweep away the remnants of the unworthy so that true servants may come in their place.


    ¡°What I want, I take by my own hand.¡± She turned, but there was no one behind her. ¡°Your words reek of lies, deceiver. God does not hide.¡± She pointed above. ¡°The Sky never hides nor demands submission; he does not care for heresy; he does not need the help of a mortal. My father simply is, and this is the true divinity. Eliminate humanity, shed my mortal coil? I am mad, not genocidal or idiotic!¡± Her bombastic laughter tore clean the veil of suspended stones around them.


    Do they not offend you? Even from here, I can sense their ambition and hear the words of cowards who can never muster the courage to face you. They scheme, skulking in your shadow, smiling in your face while holding daggers behind their backs. He clung to her back, his voice pleading, soft and concerned. Worthless slaves, undeserving of your gaze, disloyal servants, and fools who resist your rightful rule. What is there to cherish?


    ¡°Worthless?¡± Such ignorance amused her. She remembered the first slave whom she earned by breaking the neck of an arrogant khan. The wizened, bent man created such beautiful music from his flute. It moved her, the strongest human, to grab a fan and dance, laughing happily. ¡°Strength comes in many forms, fiend. If those below me can kill me, it means I became weak and deserve to lose. You say you can give me anything¡­¡± she asked slyly, giving the figure a sideways glance.


    Yes. Anything. Wealth. Eternal life. Your every wish can be granted in an instant. I am a gift.


    ¡°Then gift me your life. Die. Cease to be.¡± Mad Hatter smiled.


    His disapproval was palpable, his irritation sweeter than any drink she had recently. He had cost her so many years of stolen sleep. The demon laid promises at her feet day and night, often intruding and forcing her into conversation. Idiot. Not everything had a price, and her soul and her devotion to the Sky weren¡¯t that cheap.


    She bore no ill-will to her father above for not helping her. A parent can¡¯t be expected to stand in never-ending vigil over their child eternally. At some point, the child had to mature and make their own decisions. Mad Hatter did just that. A raven does not forgive a rat for feasting on its offspring. It doesn¡¯t forget insults hurled at it. The Gilded Horde will rule from continent to continent and find this coward for her to¡­


    The dying man at her legs shifted, and she tilted her head. There was no pop, no slurping sound common to regenerators, and the edges of the bisected flesh didn¡¯t shift. No, a simple line of light ran down the wound, closing it, and she heard a thumb. Very loud, it soon rose to a drumming worthy of a theater play, beating on and on, and Mad Hatter clapped her palms in tune to it, enraptured by the music of revived life.


    Lightnings flashed everywhere, flowing over her, superheating the surface anew and bathing the land in a blue and white glow. The assailant¡¯s hands twitched, his legs convulsed, while she danced, regretting not having her harp. It was fun! A normal person standing here would have burned to the ground long ago., but the fury of the elements pleased her. It was as if she were a small child again, climbing the highest mountain to pay her respects to her revered father and the God of all.


    ¡°Goooood¡­¡± half-yawned, half-stretched the dead man. His eyes flashed, focusing on her, and more muscles wriggled under the skin, like a tight knot of rope unraveling. The skin stretched but never tore, the man¡¯s silvery clothes evaporating into smoke as lightning forks leapt into her eyes. ¡°Divine punishment awaits any who blasphemes against God.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you yelling about protecting your nation just now?¡± asked Mad Hatter and ate a straight uppercut landed on her jaw, and a jolt of electricity raced over her skin, intensifying to become a spear of light that hid her head. His skin turned gold. A pillar of light completely engulfed her head, jumping from the thrown-up strands of hair as the energy pillar disappeared into the clouds above.


    ¡°Take up your swords, heathen,¡± demanded the creature.


    ¡°Nah,¡± the khatun replied. She touched her smooth skin, whipping away the streaks of blood seeping from under her eyelids. ¡°You sold your soul for this?¡± she asked in disgust.


    It, Mad Hatter no longer considering this filth to be human, erupted, sending out a dome of electricity. The khatun laughed and opened her arms wide to welcome the tickling sensation, not caring that the pins and rings holding her furs turned red. Warm! This was fun. The world spun, and she leaned to the left, still laughing after the thunderbolt-covered leg kicked her against the temple.


    ¡°Still unimpressed, non-believer?¡± The creature asked mockingly.


    ¡°Yep,¡± Mad Hatter confirmed, not bothering to straighten up. Another kick to the head followed from the other side; the golden figure disappeared, keeping the dome of crackling electricity around her. She was struck almost simultaneously from the left and the back, on the nose, then a finger poked her in the eye, but the khatun continued to jeer, ignoring the shockwaves from its punches and kicks. The silly buffoon tried to impress her with its speed. ¡°To tell you the truth, you were much more beautiful when you fought like a man for a cause you believed in.¡±


    ¡°You dare?!¡± The figure stopped flickering around her. The dome disappeared, and the electricity and lightning generated by its power gathered into this figure, fleetingly moving toward his fists. Orbs of pure energy grew on them, pure white gloves that completely covered its arms. Blue streaks rose from their surface and jumped between the man¡¯s hands. ¡°You dare question my unending devotion to God? I will shut your heinous mouth once and for all!¡±


    He jumped, and Mad Hatter¡¯s gaze followed him, barely curious about what he would do. Its power increased tenfold, it moved faster, its blows were far more powerful than before, but the khatun viewed the disgusting lump of flesh as a cautionary tale. Free will is precious; it was worth more than stupid strength. A slave, faking smiles and hating her in secret, was infinitely more important to her than this extension of a foreign will, whose every desire was inverted in exchange for accepting the deal. The deceiver¡­


    A line of white linked her to the sky as the creature hurled its thunderbolts at Mad Hatter. The ground erupted; the force of the impact had driven the khatun up to her neck into the quagmire that the overheated stone had become. She climbed free, hearing the roar of the exploded projectile that dwarfed even the distant battle and witnessing the widening crater.


    ¡°You¡­¡± A ray of light shone down and transformed into the golden figure. ¡°How much longer must I endure your impertinence¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Mad Hatter said.


    She was on the fool before it could register her movement. The creature had done something far worse than simply surrendering its will. It bored her. Her arm plunged into the golden chest, breaking through the ribcage as if it were made of paper. Wind flapped her hair as the driven air finally caught up with them, tearing house-sized chunks of rock from the untouched ground. It tried to squeak; beams of light formed in the creature¡¯s irises, but she clenched her hand, bursting its heart.


    It died disappointingly fast; blue lightnings from the initial shot still lingered, changing to a red hue when life was banished from the eyes.


    Do you see now? The white mist swirled around Mad Hatter, its edges pointing at the widened crater, and fissures opened in the ground. Devotion is greatly rewarded. I am not a silent deity who never responds to the pleas of my flock.


    ¡°No, you lie and use them.¡± She focused her eyes on the figure in the mist. ¡°He asked for a power to cast me down. And you have assigned him the role of an example to entice my interest, false pretender. True God has no need for falsehoods.¡±


    Any person has their limits. Yours are simply greater than the most. The whisper came. Play your silly game. When the end comes, you¡¯ll beg me for aid.


    ¡°When my last hour comes, I will face it with integrity and ask for no more mercy than I have shown others,¡± responded Mad Hatter.


    The flow of time returned to normal. Her own perception dropped from its height, so she would not be exhausted for months watching a stone fall. It was a lonely existence to be at the peak. Mad Hatter purposely put herself on the normal human level, ignoring the Purebloods¡¯ confusion. They were too engrossed in their game, vying for a scrap of authority. Alliances were formed only to be dissolved the next day, oaths were sworn and then broken, and occasionally there was even a hint of stubborn nobility, a sign so rare and exotic in the Gilded Horde.


    What a wonderful existence! Competition sharpens the mind, but since birth, no one could match hers. Mad Hatter deliberately ventured into traps to turn them around, used Dirtybloods and even bondsmen to humble arrogant khans. Nothing brought her joy; it was so simple, the flaws to exploit so obvious. Any game becomes stale when you win all the time. It was unfair to the loser and to her.


    A stage had drawn her. First, she shyly recited poems, bringing tears to the eyes of murderers, and then she dared to dance, encouraged by her wizened slave. The man never told her his name, and though it would be trivial to break him, Mad Hatter granted him this cloak of dignity, personally giving him a sky burial after Darkie, as she called him, died of old age. Flutes, harps, throat singing, drums, dances, performance! Infinite variations¡ªa pure sea of untapped creativity¡ªwaited for her to pour her emotions and intellect into. Former rapists no longer turned to violence; murderers pursued dignity; butchers showed mercy to the youngest after hearing her songs. It thrilled her, even more than conquering.


    But things come to a halt, if not to an end. There was the night the weak demon sat on her shoulder. He whispered even now, denying her a chance to sleep, a chance to formulate her thoughts, disrupting her creativity. Mad Hatter was not a kind person. First, she bent the Steppes to her will, searching for the trickster. He was not found. And the Gilded Horde marched on, burning their own legacy upon the world.


    ¡°It is ready, Khan of Khans,¡± said a stern voice. It had touches of static that disturbed some syllables. Mad Hatter smiled, hearing her dear curiosity from tens of kilometers away. One last hurdle to clear before facing the Reclamation Army, fellow madmen bent on world domination. It should be fun.


    There is a play brewing. She decided. Iron Lord and Brood Lord. So different, so ambitious. She envied their equality, the thrill of uncertainty, and uttered a simple prayer to her true father, begging the Sky to send her an opponent of superior or equal abilities to face so she could taste pain again.


    The battlefields were her stages now.


    ¡°What unforgivable crimes have you committed that the Sky has deafened your ears to my demands?¡± Mad Hatter asked aloud, addressing all those foolish enough to oppose her. She lifted the corpse to the heavens for approval and sank her teeth into it, ignoring the whispers of the false filth.

 Chapter 61: The Gilded Horde Conquers

    The city was about to fall. Dokholkhu looked down at it with empty eyes, seeing the same picture that he had seen years after years after years. Conquerors had herded the locals into the main square, where clans¡¯ chief overseers examined the frightened men and women, determining who would fetch a good price on a flesh market and who was too valuable to protect at any cost. The elderly and infirm weren¡¯t cut down on the spot, for this was not a raid. Their value to the invaders was non-existent, so they would be free to live under the new rulers. Next came the monuments and historical records. There was no mercy here. Cattle had no need for such things. Cattle only had to work to pay tithes. That was the price of resisting the Gilded Horde.


    It started like usual. Prior to the invasion, Brood Lord had sent his agents, entering into a conspiration involving one of the trading houses holding great authority in these lands. His father picked the most ambitious and the least influential house, the fools who would never have risen on their own. Then came Phaser, and portals opened in the streets. Assassins poured in, staging massacres, disrupting industry, eliminating key targets, often in daylight. The lord of this city was far too strong for Phaser to take on; a true and shining example of an Abnormal, his sword has cut down hundreds of fools who tried to encroach on his lands and ended many of their assassins. He was left untouched.


    Once panic was sowed and sufficient information was gathered, the Horde arrived in force, seizing local farms and mines. There were deaths, but Iron Lord¡¯s decree was clear: the people were to be sent back to work, providing food and metal for the Merchants and the clans. The Horde came to conquer, not to despoil. As the first hoverbikes neared the city¡¯s outer walls, Iron Lord announced the terms of surrender: Lay down your weapons and swear fealty to the Horde. Your leader shall become a bondsman in Mad Hatter¡¯s employ, a lucrative and generous offer that had often resulted in the creation of another great khan. The leader¡¯s offspring will be divided equally to serve the great khans. Do so, and a paltry tribute will satiate the Horde, and your history and culture will be preserved. Any response short of immediate agreement was considered a refusal.


    It was deliberately insulting, of course. The Gilded Horde grew fat and mighty, but without a constant abundance of fresh gifts and lands to share, its warriors grumbled. But the offer was sincere. A broken word cost far more in the long run, and Mad Hatter mercilessly flayed those who dared to break it. Several countries that accepted the offer enjoyed relatively safe and comfortable lives, often more secure from outside threats than before.


    But not this one, unfortunately. A negotiator, a head of one of the noble houses, came to parley with Iron Lord. The poor man received a glaive to his belly; his shrieking screams filled the air when the great khan raised him high over himself, carefully avoiding rupturing the lungs. Before the defenders could unleash fire and brimstone on him, the Horde¡¯s mobile artillery started speaking.


    This city was a prosperous place. During the Extinction, its future citizens hid themselves in several bunkers scattered throughout these regions, and thousands of lives were saved. Upon leaving the safety, they used the precious wonders of the Old World to erect reinforced walls and construct massive guard towers manned by well-trained crews. The shells of their artillery pieces could hit over the horizon, and deadly and precise howitzers stood ready to flatten those who got close. No less than three ancient missiles slept hidden in the city¡¯s missile silo. But all that was undone by the betrayal from within.


    The firing patterns were well evaluated; fast-moving missile launchers zigzagged around the city, firing non-stop, silencing one defensive position after another. Mass-reactive projectiles pierced the outer shells of the protective bunkers, releasing poisonous gases inside to suffocate the defenders. Crimson flowers bloomed on the walls, with the heat of the flame being potent enough to melt both steel alloys and reinforced stone. A few unlucky fools firing from the hidden balconies in the wall died, boiled alive in the rolling down napalm.


    Screams and curses filled the air, but the Horde kept their distance, sending forth snipers who began thinning those few defenders left. This was just the softening, and at Iron Lord¡¯s gesture, soldiers marched on, digging trenches leading to the walls. Dokholkhu volunteered to join, fully expecting the rival of his father to send him to his death, but the great khan paid no attention to an additional toy in his arsenal, and his officers handed the young man a shovel.


    Force generators hummed over their heads, partially shielding them from the intense shelling. Occasionally they were overwhelmed, and a landed shell cratered the ground, reaping a grievous toll of a dozen lives. Information gathered by Brood Lord also wasn¡¯t wholly correct, and hidden passageways opened in the ground. The defenders rushed out in a counterattack, hoping to stem the tide.


    None of it mattered to Iron Lord. The battlefield was a horrible orchestra of the dead and dying, of explosives and ever furthering siege warfare, of moving vehicles heading to positions, and sonic cannons firing to disable minefields. And Iron Lord was the conductor. Nothing was left to chance. When a soldier, whose eyes were wide from fear or excitement, rose from the ground to shoot Dokholkhu, he was immediately cut down by a fire from a well-placed automatic turret. Dokholkhu spared a single minute to the dead, wondering what he had lived for, whether he had loved or been loved.


    An officer¡¯s snap brought him back to the world, and the young man kept digging, doing his part to bring the conquest to its appointed conclusion. Iron Lord command was so widely different from anything he had experienced under his father. There were no killings to inspire the rest; when a soldier slumped, holding hands over her ears, an officer closed in and lifted her chin, expecting the Pureblood¡¯s eyes. He gave her water and sent her to the rear to recuperate. Purebloods, Dirtybloods, and even bondsmen toiled equally in a well-organized machine directed by Iron Lord, their differences forgotten. Do your part. Bring about the victory. Trust in protection.


    It was almost divine in its simplicity.


    Seven hours later, the preparations were complete and the outer resistance had collapsed. Brood Lord raised a hand, announcing his own advance, and fear gripped Dokholkhu¡¯s heart. He didn¡¯t want to go against dilapidated, but still steady defenses; he didn¡¯t want to see more of his brothers and sisters die.


    ¡°Devour the world!¡± came the terrible, terrible war cry ushered first by Mad Hatter and echoed by every soldier.


    There was no choice. Serve or be culled. Their father left them with no other option, ruthlessly hunting down any escapees and brutally torturing them before the eyes of his other children. His father¡¯s soldiers surged on, and there was gunfire. The front wave was made up of what the great khan called rabble. Their job was to soak up the bullets and detect any last surprises at the cost of their lives. Those who dared to turn back as the shells fell upon them after exiting the cover of the shields¡¯ protective perimeter faced death as the elite force followed in their wake. Brood Lord¡¯s host lacked uniformity; every khan was permitted to use what they wanted if they got the job done.


    The invincible son of Mungke¡¯s khan rushed to the gates, laughing as laser beams, bullets, and fire harmlessly slipped off his body. Portals opened on the walls, spewing out soldiers whose purpose was to die and buy time for the Horde to close in. Dokholkhu gritted his teeth, enduring a surge of artificial aggression tugging at his brain. It resulted in further chaos among the defenders and a series of fights amidst his father¡¯s forces. Monsters of all kinds used their abilities freely, disregarding the safety of their allies.


    By comparison, Iron Lord¡¯s progress was more orderly. The Brood had converged on Dokholkhu¡¯s location, joining him in advancing on the right flank, away from their father. Explosions erupted above their heads, expanding into bubbles of hot plasma that engulfed parts of the incoming projectiles. Iron Lord tolerated no challengers. Those who joined the accepted superiority of his khaganate kept their heads down and strictly obeyed the laws, or his glaive collected the head of an upstart.


    A flaming dragon soared above the advancing ranks, landing on the battlements and curling its tail around itself. It exploded, incinerating those in its path and deftly dodged aside as a slice of water, traversing fast enough to slit the stone, nearly touched its edge. The fiery mass gathered, still little more than a living flame, but its shape changed to a more humanoid form, and the richly blessed Pureblood faced an Abnormal opponent. Flame and water collided, and steam obscured part of the wall.


    Iron Lord advanced at the head of his forces, riding the largest thunder bull Dokholkhu had ever seen. Surrounded by his iron-clad bodyguards, the indomitable cavalry was heading for the main gates when suddenly a section of the wall fell and the khan redirected his forces in one smooth motion. Not to be outdone, Brood Lord raced to his portion of the wall; his six legs easily scaled up the ruined surface. He didn¡¯t pay attention to his children¡¯s sufferings and struggled. Buyantu, a seven-year-old boy, had died when a soldier shot him from an opening in the wall. Dokholkhu cherished his brother, educated him, tried to protect him, and he was gone in a flash. A hail of armor-piercing bullets struck the boy in the head, and his massive body slammed down. Lifeless. Broken. Dokholkhu roared and skewered the soldier who did it, sending him down after his brother.


    Brood Lord never looked back. He reached the top of the wall, filling everything with his deep, elegant laughter. His sword moved up and down, doing butcher¡¯s work and weaving arcs of blur before him. The khan fired his pistol; his pincers closed on the retreating soldiers, tearing them apart. Dokholkhu shouted at the top of his lungs, hating that the enemies refused to surrender, hating being here, despising the sound of bullets drumming against his chitin plates, and went on killing, firing his pulse rifle at the defenders.


    ¡°Turn them back!¡± A voice cut through the chaos of battle, and a shot knocked the rifle from Dokholkhu¡¯s hand.


    There was a new fighter on the wall. Dressed in a rugged black and green robe, the man wielded a pistol and a mace. A battle plate was visible in the wide gashes of his clothes, his face hidden by an old visor. He whirled, fitting into an open breach in a defensive line, and fired a Pureblood into his stomach. Then he brought down his mace, smashing the man¡¯s head.


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Soldiers of the Kingdom!¡± The man continued, still fighting. ¡°Your homeland faces twilight! But dawn comes! Sunlight banishes even the thickest darkness! For those who can¡¯t protect themselves, for those whom you love, and for those you protect, cast them off the walls! Fight! Fight until your bodies can no longer support you! Kill to save the living! For the future!¡±


    ¡°Listen to the reverend ordinand!¡± An enemy officer roared, and a hundred voices joined his. ¡°Ancestors! Watch over us in our hour of need! Send the bastards to hell!¡±


    There weren¡¯t many soldiers on the wall yet. Cold sweat covered Dokholkhu as he realized that the Brood were still climbing up. Opened balconies halted them, and only he and several Purebloods had reached the top. Swallowing his fear, he charged at the enemy, his sword in a double grip. Together with the two Purebloods, they faced the brazen ordinand. The man¡¯s mace was seemingly everywhere; it blocked a Pureblood¡¯s dagger, and the pistol shot him in the eye. Then its knob struck the other Pureblood in the throat as the ordinand took Dokholkhu¡¯s blade on his pistol.


    They were left alone. The soldiers closed in, brandishing their bayonets and firing at close range, denying them from climbing up. The ordinand mace crashed at Dokholkhu¡¯s curved sword, and the man pulled it down, trying to break the Brood¡¯s fingers. Dokholkhu headbutted him, but it only cracked his own chitin plate and sent the man back a step. Not even a dent appeared on his visor, and the young man dove to the side to avoid a shot.


    ¡°Father! Brood Lord Khan!¡± he said into the communicator, panting heavily and trying to block the rain of blows. Heavy. He was an Abnormal, his body enhanced by the protective exoskeleton he wore. The molecular blade in his arms was designed to cleave through the regular steel. Yet this dusty, old-fashioned mace endured, and the man¡¯s strength overpowered him. ¡°I need help! Right now!¡±


    ¡°Noted, but I have a situation.¡± Brood Lord replied, not even looking at his son. The HUD showed the khan advancing toward the stairs leading down; his shot speared through two Dirtybloods serving Iron Lord and tore an enemy officer in two. ¡°Gotta secure the gold in the banks.¡±


    ¡°Father, please.¡± Dokholkhu licked his lips. Another heavy blow of the mace tore at his cheek, sending his helmet flying. ¡°I¡¯ll die!¡±


    ¡°Sad, but such is the fate of children to sacrifice themselves to ensure their father¡¯s goals. Do make it count; I¡¯ll promise to mourn you later.¡± Brood Lord¡¯s voice came from the gorget of the Brood¡¯s armor.


    Heavy swings rained on Dokholkhu as he tried his best to survive. Fear, not for himself but for his brothers and sisters, gave him strength. He gritted his teeth and tried to kick the bastard back, using his front legs, but the ordinand pushed ahead, his gun blasting fist-sized holes in the climbing up soldiers. The man¡¯s situational awareness and skill made all the difference. Even using a single arm, he was overwhelming Dokholkhu.


    ¡°Sinner,¡± Dokholkhu froze, hearing the screech behind him. A weight, part of the torn wall, flew past him, beating away the mace directed at his exposed head, and the young man exhaled a sigh of relief.


    Not at him. The sentence wasn¡¯t directed at him.


    Taloned hands lifted the climbing figure. The head priest was completely naked, except for bone necklaces wrapped around his body and sharp fetishes in his long hair. Pitch-black feathers grew down the length of his limbs; despite the climb, he breathed easily, his bird-like, round eyes locked at the ordinand.


    ¡°Sinner?¡± the ordinand asked, raising the hand above his head and holding his gun close to his body. ¡°Why are you calling me so? Have I sinned against you in the past?¡±


    ¡°You stand in our path,¡± the priest stated. His talons moved, and Dokholkhu obeyed and stepped away.


    ¡°There is many a sin I have committed, and my penance is long. But by the Planet¡¯s holy name and spirit, it is no sin to stand against you,¡± the ordinand said. ¡°It is right to stand against the merciless invaders, who bring woe where peace reigns, and tears to the eyes of children.¡±


    ¡°Right?¡± Dalantai screeched so loudly that a prickle of pain touched Dokholkhu¡¯s eardrums. ¡°You dare persist in your blasphemy? How can you be right when I am stronger?¡±


    ¡°You judge rightness by mere strength?¡± the ordinand inquired.


    ¡°What else is there to judge by?¡± The priest gestured at the dead around. ¡°The strong desire, the weak give in or suffer. That is the part of the natural order set by the Sky. Your false sermons have led these poor souls astray, shaman. Their children will weep because of you.¡± The talons beckoned the man in the dark robe. ¡°Let us dispel these inflicted delusions. Play the part.¡±


    Another gun slipped into the ordinand¡¯s free arm, and he fired. The bullets flew past Dokholkhu, one aimed between the priest¡¯s eyes and another at his heart. Both projectiles stopped in midair, several centimeters from their targets.


    ¡°They¡¯ll never reach me,¡± Dalantai said, stepping past them. His opponent fired again. ¡°These were never fired.¡± Twin booms exploded the guns before the priest had finished speaking. The weapons weren¡¯t damaged; they slipped from the ordinand¡¯s hands, disassembling into their natural components. Dalantai closed the distance in a single step and grabbed the enemy priest by the neck. ¡°Tell me. Have you ever heard of a creature calling itself God¡­¡± he hesitated, closing his face to the helmet. ¡°Or of the White Raven?¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± the man whispered, struggling to speak as the talons crumpled his gorget. He grabbed Dalantai¡¯s wrist, but the priest ignored feeble attempts to break his bones.


    ¡°One is a blasphemer, a self-proclaimed deity who torments God¡¯s child. And the vision of another intrudes on my dreams. I see a great bird, its wings of the brightest white, its head black, closing in on me, its talons ready to shred me apart.¡± A crooked laugh left his lips. ¡°Let the apparition try! I will not run from my fate! I will strike it down and grind its bones to dust!¡±


    ¡°I have no idea of whom you speak,¡± the ordinand squeezed out the words. ¡°My deity is the Planet.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Dalantai tilted his head, forgetting about the battle raging around. ¡°Let us test your devotion. A thousand years of punishment shall suffice.¡±


    His talons released the man, and Dokholkhu heard a low whine as a cage of blurred air closed around the ordinand. The man¡¯s body twisted and jerked, performing hundreds of movements in a single second as every ounce of pain he had ever known in his life was returned to him. But there was no relief. When one injury was over, another would appear, and the agony of the previous one still lingered. Death was denied to the person trapped in the stasis of time; each injury was healed the instant it appeared, just to reappear again, but the brain experienced the pain in full, adapted to a different time-stream by Dalantai¡¯s power.


    This was the true terror of Mad Hatter¡¯s chief adviser and the Horde¡¯s spiritual leader. Ancient he was, born long before the great khatun, and he still looked young. His gifts allowed him to stretch space itself and manipulate time. His visions located the unborn Mad Hatter after the fiercest glowing storm that spawned countless mutants. So many have tried to usurp him, and all have failed.


    To anger him was worse than death. Back in the steppes, in the Sacred Mountain, there was a gallery. It was a showcase of human bodies in unimaginable agony.


    A snap of the fingers freed the man from the cage, and the ordinand splattered on the ground before the shocked eyes of the defenders. Not a shred of self-control or intellect remained in the man as he screamed, rolling around, foaming from the mouth. The scream paused only to suck in more air and then immediately resumed. It wasn¡¯t a man¡¯s scream; it was the desperate cry of a collapsed mind, begging for resolution, unable to go on.


    ¡°How frail you are, how pitiful your god is. Fall to it and bother me not,¡± Dalantai sang. The man¡¯s torn robes turned into rolls of cloth, his armor separated into ingots, microchips, wires, shining generators, and other stuff. The naked person shrank, rapidly becoming younger; scars disappeared from his body, but the madness in his eyes persisted. The man de-aged into a teen, the teen into a kid, and the child was reduced to a fetus. Dalantai stomped, reducing the writhing mass into a blood smear.


    Silence descended upon this section of the wall. Both the invaders and the defenders were horrified in equal measure. The roar from the palace distracted everyone as the surface-to-surface missiles were launched to wreak untold havoc. They soared high, and then something thundered as cuts split them apart. Mad Hatter had deemed it important to intervene in person.


    People on the streets, civilians, defenders, and invaders alike, yelled in panic as the burning rubble began to fall. Dalantai waved his arm, and the debris changed direction, rolling down an unseen chute and then exploding into bright domes on the horizon.


    ¡°Have your eyes opened at last?¡± Dalantai spread his arms. ¡°Your gods are mere idols, unworthy of notice. Your toys won¡¯t help you. The Sky is real. His gifts are real. Bow and¡­¡± His talon moved, stopping a bullet fired at him. ¡°Yield, I say!¡± roared the chief priest and swung his arm, locking dozens of soldiers into stasis of pain. ¡°Yield and serve! Bow to the Sky¡¯s Daughter!¡±


    ¡°Bow to the Khatun!¡± The Horde¡¯s warriors chanted and charged ahead, cutting down the last remnants of the feeble resistance.


    More screeching filled the walls, and the Raptor Unit swooped in, unleashed at last. These Purebloods were blessed; streaks of flames, acid, warping of reality itself came from their hands as they assailed the defenders, enjoying the total air superiority after the defenders¡¯ guns had ceased firing.


    ¡°Devotion is rewarded, Dokholkhu,¡± Dalantai said to him after the struggle was over and the soldiers began to descend. ¡°Sky¡¯s servants are never alone. Something is on your mind. Speak.¡±


    Dokholkhu wanted to keep his mouth shut, but the priest¡¯s black eyes were on him, digging into his temple in anticipation of an answer. To lie was unthinkable, inconceivable, unless he wanted to experience the same agony as the priest¡¯s victims.


    ¡°I¡­ was scared,¡± Dokholkhu said, and the priest moved. He embraced the warrior, gently pressing the young man¡¯s head against his chest.


    ¡°It is understandable,¡± Dalantai said softly, speaking in a human voice. The screeching was gone. ¡°Only demigods and madmen are not afraid of battle or getting hurt.¡±


    ¡°I hate war,¡± Dokholkhu admitted.


    ¡°Of course you do,¡± Dalantai drew back and nodded. ¡°Who in their right mind loves it? But there will always be war. Be it for authority or riches or respect, people will keep killing each other over nothing till the end of time. It is naive to think otherwise. Violence courses in our veins. But!¡± The shaman raised a finger and smiled. ¡°We¡¯ll hurt war. One of the causes of deaths is faith. Differences in it have led to total exterminations in the past. But as we tear falsehoods away and unite the entire world under a single religion, this reason for war will disappear. Is this not the greatest act of pacifism? Let it sustain you, child, for we will strike a blow against war itself!¡± Dalantai stood and faced the city. Behind him, the stasis cages exploded, releasing gasping people, who spasmed and soon went limp as the shock stopped their hearts. ¡°Tell me, Dokholkhu. Have you ever heard of the White Raven?¡±


    ¡°Until today, never,¡± Dokholkhu put a hand over his heart. ¡°Who is it, holy father?¡±


    The priest gave him a long look and breathed. Dokholkhu was simply happy to be here. He did not believe in Dalantai¡¯s reasoning; the life taught him that nothing lasted, and no place remained empty. But his daring charge somehow ended with him leading the Brood today, and his kin waited away from the slaughterhouse.


    ¡°Many visions have I seen. Not all are meant to be, for I carefully sift through them to aid the Gilded Horde navigate the myriad paths that lead to the future,¡± Dalantai said slowly. ¡°But in every single variation of what is to come, I see the same thing. The White Raven challenges me. Where and when? What¡¯s the outcome? Never have I faced difficulty divining the exact time. Before, if I pushed myself, I could predict entire lives, down to their hair and where they would lose it. Now everything is muddy. I had heard that the Reclamation Army has minions capable of disrupting gifts such as mine¡­ But it does not worry me. What is meant to happen will happen.¡± He shrugged. ¡°Come, young warrior. Let us attend to the inevitable.¡±

 Chapter 62: What a Human Can Do

    Dokholkhu hardly remembered what happened next. When he glanced back, he saw Jaliqai next to himself. The girl¡¯s arm went limp; one of her four legs had snapped, but her rifle had killed a soldier aiming at his back. Out of the brood, sixty-eight died, leaving just forty alive despite Dalantai¡¯s assistance. But they were at the main keep¡¯s walls, a proud towering building that oversaw the city below!


    Thanks to Iron Lord¡¯s preparation, the losses from the bombardment were limited. Shells that tore through the shield found troops hidden in the trenches and vehicles protected by the earthen walls. Armor carriers delivered their packages to the breaches; soldiers used siege equipment to scale the captured walls, and the enemy arsenals had already fallen.


    And the lord of the city was below, blocking shots of the buzzing raiders with his weapon while his elite guard fired back, killing the riders.


    ¡°Face me!¡± shouted the magnificent warrior in golden power armor and raised his sword high in the air. ¡°If you are half the man you claim to be, Iron Lord, come and face me!¡±


    The claymore in the man¡¯s hand exploded into a rainbow of light, blinding the raiders. This unnatural light, a miracle of the Old World, had pierced through the lenses, and the hordemen veered off course and smashed against the stone. The lord¡¯s legs carried him on, making almost impossibly elegant moves for a gigantic three-meter-tall body. In three mighty swings, he ended eight lives, and the bikes exploded in his wake as the man marched on, intending to either push the foes out of his city or die trying. There were traces of battle on his armor; a pauldron was missing, his visor was cracked, blood spurted from cracks in his armor, and he probably battled against exhaustion by overdosing on drugs. This king wasn¡¯t a coward.


    His guard followed him, loyal to the fault, aiming to face the towering figure that rode inside the courtyard. Iron Lord. He came to collect the prize, holding his position behind the troops, the grisly remains of the defenders dangling from his glaive, while the conquerors scoured the streets behind him, gathering the population.


    The rest of the leaders came to join Iron Lord. Impossibly thin Phaser caused reality itself to shatter around his claws, and small passages leading to the realms unknown lingered in the air at the touch of his fingers. Drozna, a beast of hardened muscles and ferocity, approached Iron Lord from behind. His oversized hands carried no weapons; gore and crimson belonging to the defenders covered his body. Slavetaker, a man of similar stature, shoved Brood Lord¡¯s bodyguard away from Iron Lord and slammed his machete into the ground, his cloak of flayed skin billowing in the air. Widowmaker, a tall and utterly rabid woman, still laughing from the thrill of the battle, flanked Iron Lord from the other side, hungrily eyeing the twins, killers in Brood Lord¡¯s employ. The brother and sister, dressed in matching domino suits, lurked in the background; a mask of one of them had a laughing face painted on it, while the second had a mask of a grief-stricken man. They bowed gracefully, responding to the minor khatun¡¯s attention. And others came too¡ªthe strongest and most merciless fighters of the horde, Abnormals and Purebloods with few equals.


    For a second, it looked as if two groups would collide: a man in golden armor facing a man in steel armor, sword against glaive, for the best man to win. Dokholkhu knew why the enemy leader had rushed out, abandoning safe positions in the courtyard. Civilians were rushing toward the castle, and their noble leader was prepared to give his life to buy them time.


    Alas, it was not to be. Dokholkhu learned and learned well, that there was no justice in this world. Drozna stomped, and a wave of rage emanated from him, forcing the most weak-willed of the defenders to turn their weapons on each other in confusion. The king turned back, stunned by a sudden call to mindless violence that had sparked in his mind. Every single grievance and frustration he had ever experienced in his life came back to him, turned up to eleven. His discipline held, his people¡¯s did not. Civilians and soldiers alike clawed and tore at their friends, and gunfire speared those who tried to escape.


    And in the midst of it all, Brood Lord leapt from the castle, and with horror, Dokholkhu saw a screaming infant in his pincer hand. Striding proudly, Brood Lord approached to the frozen-in-fear ruler, dangling his crying son before his very eyes.


    ¡°Please¡­¡± the man whispered before Brood Lord spat acid. The cracked lenses of the helmet did a poor job of holding it back, and the man screamed, reaching for his eyes as his vision was obscured. Immediately, the twins were on him, hacking at his sides.


    The lord swung blindly, driving them back, and Phaser stepped out of an opened portal behind him. His claws passed through the king¡¯s swordarm with disgusting ease, taking it away. Drozna charged in next, kicking the man through the fountain in the center of the courtyard with enough force to shatter the golden breastplate. Brood Lord tossed the infant aside and hacked away at the man¡¯s knees, not allowing him the dignity of facing the end standing.


    Finally, Iron Lord closed in; the tread of his thundering bull flattened the few remaining loyal defenders. His steel mask¡¯s white lenses dispassionately examined the writhing in pain man, and the golden glaive struck. The disruption field formed around the edge, breaking the molecular bonds of the gorget and sending the head flying.


    ¡°The Gilded Horde has conquered!¡± Iron Lord¡¯s augmented voice boomed loud enough to shake the windows. He thrust his weapon skyward, and the surrounding khans roared in support, ignoring the dead and dying around them.


    Hundreds stormed into the palace, ending the last few pockets of resistance and dragging away precious paintings, artwork, and historical records. Simple things were flung into flames; precious metalwork was melted down as weeping servants watched the rich history of the royal house reduced to ashes. The Gilded Horde will spare nothing; no statue will be left untouched, and no artistically crafted staircase will be permitted to stay.


    ¡°Greetings, my dear friends!¡± Brood Lord spread his mighty shoulders, his voice sounding surprisingly soft for his enormous bulk, and the countless golden amulets around his neck chattered in rhythm with his many steps as he advanced toward the traitors who gave the information to the horde. Only they, the doctors and scientists, will be protected. Dalantai joined him, silently watching for Mad Hatter. ¡°We will now discuss how this place will be run.¡±


    Dokholkhu jumped off the wall, relieved that the fighting was over. He knew what would happen next. The traitors will be celebrated before the entire city and put in charge. Naturally, no one will trust the bastards, and this will spark rebellions in the horde¡¯s absence. But therein lay his father¡¯s cruel plan. The Gilded Horde did not care for cities; they lived on the distant steppes, where the only buildings were the weapons factories. Cities led to false security, to a desire to settle down, and in turn to weakening and decline. Khans coveted farms and mines to feed their khaganates and pay the Merchants. Their minions held cities and towns, but a careful stroking of hatred ensured constant infighting so that none would ever be strong enough to break free from the oppressors.


    In the corner lay the forgotten infant, screaming at the top of his lungs because of his broken arm. Dokholkhu picked the child up as gently as he could with his pincer arm and headed into the palace. He knew what his father would do later. Brood Lord will taste women, and in a week their wombs will explode, sending forth a new and for a time mindless brood. Dokholkhu could not save them.


    But he could save someone.


    ****


    Dokholkhu came upon two soldiers standing guard nervously before the inner chambers of the ruler¡¯s family. The men clearly wanted to be with the others, to pillage and loot, and Dokholkhu took advantage of this.


    ¡°Leave,¡± he told them, striding forward.


    ¡°But our orders,¡± one of them tried to say, and the boy grabbed the fool by the neck, silencing him.


    ¡°My prize.¡± His eyes glowed in the corridor''s darkness as his fingers bent the metal gorget. ¡°Leave and find something else to amuse yourself.¡±


    Dokholkhu¡¯s body ached; several of his chitin plates were missing, his armor was in tatters, and one finger on his human hand was broken. But something in his eyes had convinced the guards to quickly nod and walk away, allowing him to enter the vandalized room. He handed the child to a weeping woman in a crimson gown and looked down at the frail woman and several servants, including a few older people who bore a resemblance to the dead ruler, but were smaller.


    The place itself was a mess. The once rich bed had been torn to shreds when Brood Lord came through the ceiling earlier. One of the three infant cribs was smashed, and something red within it twisted the young man¡¯s stomach in disgust. The other kid was alive; thank the Sky.


    ¡°Do you have a way out? A secret tunnel, anything?¡± Dokholkhu asked, and the woman stopped crying and retreated, worried. He grimaced, clenched his fist in anger, and tried to speak more clearly. Common was a difficult language. ¡°I am not joking. They will kill you. Listen to me, and your two remaining children will live.¡±


    ¡°There is a tunnel, but¡­¡± The woman¡¯s eyes flashed with concern, and Dokholkhu turned around. The same two guards from before had returned.


    They said nothing, seeing their fate in his eyes. Their hands reached for weapons, but before either could pull the trigger, Dokholkhu¡¯s pincer hand closed around the neck of one, ripping the man¡¯s head from his body. The second guard gasped for air as a stinger emerged from his chest.


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    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Jaliqai dropped the dead man. The older girl closed her face to his, nearly head-butting him. ¡°The father is going to murder us for this!¡±


    ¡°And yet you decided to help. Thank you, sister.¡± Dokholkhu grinned back, turning his head toward the people. ¡°He can¡¯t kill us if he never learns of it. Accidents happen.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe I am helping with this madness,¡± his sister said. ¡°And for whom? Normies! They would¡¯ve left us to rot at the first opportunity! Nobody cares about the Brood but the Brood.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t say such harsh words!¡± They whirled at the sound of laughter. Ulagchi, the Cupbearer and their father¡¯s current favorite sycophant, clapped his hands in the corridor, and a stinky line joined his palms. Three more Purebloods raised their weapons. ¡°I¡¯d be delighted to see you burn¡­¡± Hearing heavy stomping footsteps, his pale-lipped grin widened. ¡°And it seems we are not a¡­¡±


    A line appeared across his lower jaw, on the necks and shoulders of the Purebloods. None of the warriors had managed to so much as gasp as their heads left their bodies and pieces of stone fell from the cut corridor, leaving a single figure standing against the Brood siblings.


    He was entombed into a heavy suit of metal, devoid of gold jewelry and amulets. A shoulder cannon moved, taking aim at the young people. His lenses were illuminated by a pale light like his master¡¯s, but instead of a glaive, the member of Iron Lord¡¯s elite guard wielded a large axe with which he decapitated four people at once. Were it not for his generator, he could easily be mistaken for a metal statue.


    ¡°Dokholkhu, son of Brood Lord.¡± The boy slapped himself over the chest. ¡°Have you come to kill us?¡±


    ¡°Mehmed, son of Iron Lord,¡± in the warrior introduced himself. There was no static to disturb his worn tone. ¡°Brood Lord looked funny at my father. He sent me to slap the bitch. It is done. Had I wanted to kill you, I¡¯d already done so.¡±


    The siblings said nothing. They wanted their potential opponent to think they were vulnerable or weak. The hulking behemoths in Iron Lord¡¯s employ often overestimated the thickness of their plates and underestimated the resilience of a human body. Dokholkhu raised a hand and stopped Jaliqai. Perhaps there is no need for a fight?


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Mehmed asked, and his lenses flickered, zooming in on the room. ¡°I see. Might as well help. I have a map for planned external raids.¡±


    ¡°And how do we know you won¡¯t betray us?¡± Jaliqai asked calmly.


    ¡°Do you enjoy murdering children?¡± Mehmed asked her, and the girl shrugged and accepted his reasoning.


    In the end, everything was easier than they had expected. There was a tunnel that led straight out of the chambers to a small underground river. Dokholkhu helped the Normies get there by removing the debris left by his father and giving them the weapons of the dead guards. Even now, their chances of survival were slim, for the raiders would be plundering the area for weeks to come. But at least he had done something.


    Together, the three traitors set the room ablaze, feeding corpses to the flames and hiding every sign of their involvement. The legend was simple: Ulagchi¡¯s group got into an argument over women and riches and got themselves killed after a lamp fell over while they fought.


    ¡°Not sure I like it.¡± Mehmed scratched his chin. ¡°Father hoped to leave a message.¡±


    ¡°Then you¡¯d be the target,¡± Dokholkhu told him. ¡°Brood Lord doesn¡¯t forgive insults¡­¡±


    ¡°You give that whore too much credit.¡± The iron warrior hoisted his axe over his shoulder. ¡°If you ever need help pulling off a stunt like that, call me; I don¡¯t mind helping. And I saw you leading the Brood. When the time comes, stand aside. Iron Lord¡¯s beef with Brood Lord, not with the Brood.¡±


    ¡°What makes you think he can win?¡± Jaliqai inquired.


    ¡°In the war between the conventional and the unconventional, the conventional always prevails!¡± Mehmed laughed. ¡°Come to my tent later. Father gives us good and kind healers.¡±


    ****


    They found the khans feasting before the titanic statue of the former king. It stood taller than most buildings, sword to the sky, its hand outstretched toward the people below. In the days before the conquest, the people must have used this place for prayers or ceremonies. Now the conquerors were celebrating here, and someone had already shot out the eyes of the statue.


    Wooden planks were laid all around the square, and underneath them were the city¡¯s defenders¡ªthose soldiers who refused to bend the knee to the new rulers¡ªgroaning and screaming. And the khans and their closest subordinates sat on these planks, laughing and drinking, shifting their bodies slightly when a bone or an organ of mutilated people below them burst or cracked. The stone statue watched them, its inspiring smile turning more and more into a horrified scowl formed by the shadows cast by the dancing fires.


    Brood Lord surrounded himself with the ring of his champions and supplicants; the mercenaries from outside the Horde had formed a protective circle around their employer, knowing full well what awaited them should he die. Iron Lord sat surrounded by his children, their helmetless heads far too small for their massive armor. This surprised Dokholkhu.


    In the Horde, children served as a continuation of the bloodline. Each parent knew their offspring might one day overtake them, and kept them at arm¡¯s length, elevating the weakest to foster competition and divert the attention of the strongest. To die in one¡¯s bed, surrounded by a family too frightened to end you, was considered the pinnacle of a successful life, and any life-prolonging medicine was frowned upon. You came into the world when Heaven ordained, and you went out at the end of your natural lifespan.


    Iron Lord seemingly ignored these rules, boosting himself through the science. Rumor had it that he treated his wife and concubines kindly, and rarely used a whip to discipline his children, instead enlisting them in his personal guard and transplanting his mechanical knowledge upon them when they reached adulthood, elevating them above Dirtybloods and close to Purebloods. Several of his guards kept vigil even now, standing silently alongside automatic turrets.


    ¡°Dokholkhu, Jaliqai!¡± Their father called them, spreading his arms. His nose was red from the alcohol he had consumed. ¡°Come, sit by me. Let us drink and sing before the next conquest!¡±


    ¡°Why should we continue?¡± The grey-haired Mungke Khan grumbled. He was an old ruler who had pledged ten thousand people to the horde when he overthrew his father as a sixteen-year-old. Today, he had over thirty thousand warriors guarding his domain and more in the army. ¡°We have conquered enough land to feed us for millennia to come. Why should we bother with these desolate lands any longer?¡±


    ¡°Are you challenging my rule, Mungke?¡± A single voice cut through all the celebration, turning the blood of every member of the horde into ice. Only the tortured soldiers continued to groan, begging for a quick release from death.


    Jaliqai wept and prostrated herself, her body shaking, and Dokholkhu followed her example, casting a glance at the statue¡¯s head. Mad Hatter. She came in person. The woman was head and shoulders taller than the tallest khan; her body, covered in exquisite furs, had a chubby appearance, but Dokholkhu knew how deceptive looks could be. Incomparable muscles and unbreakable bones were hidden under a protective layer of fat. Her legendary fury had united the Gilded Horde into a unified force that had devoured entire countries. She wore a simple leather cap that covered her head like a suction cup, and a long feather swayed in the wind. A golden half-mask covered the woman¡¯s upper face, revealing her bloodshot eyes and two trickles of blood running down her chin.


    ¡°Mungke Khan meant no disrespect, Khan of Khans.¡± Brood Lord folded all six of his insectoid legs and bowed to the supreme rider of the skies. ¡°Arkhi simply got to his head, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the elderly Khan said quickly. ¡°Pray forgive my impertinence, oh peerless ruler.¡±


    Mad Hatter jumped off the statue, landing on the wooden planks. The wood splintered, unable to endure her weight, and small torrents of blood splashed upward, forming a brief crimson halo around the woman. She ignored it and walked toward the khans, killing a soldier with every step. Servants gave her a wooden cup of buttered milk tea as an appetizer.


    ¡°Have you found any mention of him?¡± Mad Hatter asked Dalantai.


    ¡°No. We have tortured the shamans, but they know of no god fitting your description,¡± the priest replied.


    ¡°A pity. What land is next?¡±


    ¡°The Reclamation Army.¡± Iron Lord reported. He was the only one who hadn¡¯t removed his helmet. He used an analyzer to check his food and drinks before taking any. ¡°Their lands are just to the northeast of us. We will be ready to leave in a few weeks after we receive supplies. I caution against advancing sooner. Our new booty is quite large; it would be disastrous if we ran out of ammunition in the middle of the conquest.¡±


    ¡°In the meantime, we have learned something,¡± Brood Lord eagerly interjected. ¡°My agents have already found us moles in Houstad, one of their richest capitals. Our mole has revealed that the Reclaimers are responsible for wiping out the raiding party led by Sky Lord and my dearest son... What was his name again?¡±


    ¡°Chimbai,¡± Dokholkhu said. Chimbai is dead? Sure, he was insane as a rat, but among the brood, he survived the longest, enduring sixteen winters, the father¡¯s tortures, and countless raids. How did he die? Wait, Sky Lord was with him; does that mean¡­


    ¡°Ah, yes, him. How sad. These Reclaimers also butchered Sky Lord Khan,¡± Brood Lord continued. At this revelation, the Khans murmured, plotting to take his lands and worrying over whoever was strong enough to match him in combat. ¡°So I plan to return the favor. While we are waiting, me and the others will pay a visit to this Houstad, stir up things a bit, and help our mole get into a more advantageous position to aid with the coming conquest.¡±


    ¡°You plan to wage war against the Reclamation Army?¡± The new city¡¯s ruler paled, grasping his thin white beard. ¡°I have heard that their champions are unrivaled in might and¡­¡±


    ¡°Brood Lord Khan, did this place share a border with the Reclaimers?¡± Mad Hatter asked deceptively calmly.


    ¡°It did, yes. Now we share that border. We also found some of their diplomats, as they called themselves, in an embassy nearby.¡± Brood Lord flashed a smile. ¡°They weren¡¯t much of a bother to crack.¡±


    Mad Hatter¡¯s scimitar struck. Dokholkhu never saw the woman place her hand on the hilt or draw the blade, but what he did see was the statue behind her crack. A single line split the stone in two, and the shockwave that followed soon reduced the statue to countless pieces of stone that fell on the houses behind. The arc of air unleashed by Mad Hatter did not stop there. It cleaved through the wall and raced across the land, tearing up swaths of ground before coming to a slow halt far from the city.


    The Khans fell silent. Worried about drawing Mad Hatter¡¯s wrath upon themselves. She could have easily finished off a number of their own troops and citizens, but perhaps as part of the challenge, her cataclysmic swing was aimed for devastation, and even the guards at the wall froze, silently thanking the heavens for their salvation. The khatun had found her blades in an ancient bunker and coated them in gold to celebrate her regal blood and savage soul. Besides their incredible toughness, they had no secret technology or trick.


    ¡°I alone could have taken this city in less than an hour, but that would have decimated my future servants. If you have been free all this time, it makes the Reclaimers weak.¡± She returned her scimitar to its sheath. ¡°Sky Lord¡¯s lands are my lands. Any threatening his family is my snack. Brood Lord. They have killed a khan. Proceed as you wish, but I want the head of someone equally valuable before the fun begins.¡±


    ¡°As you wish.¡± Brood Lord bowed back. ¡°I will see to it myself once my concubines amuse me enough.¡±


    ¡°The horde shall conquer all. Including false gods,¡± Mad Hatter told the elder, frozen with horror, and sat down, laughing and feasting beside her khans.


    Dokholkhu wept, pressing his face against the wood. The khan of khans spoke true. Nothing in the entire world could escape her power. Nothing at all. He and his siblings were stuck with the father, who valued them less than bullets, and with an insatiable ruler, who would eventually see them dead in one conquest or another. They may hate, fear, loathe her, but it mattered not, for she commanded their very existence, and there was no place to run or hide. And no one could stop her.


    There truly is no peace left in this world.

 Chapter 63: The Start of Peaceful Days

    As it turned out, the cold could actually be a hindrance to a Wolfkin. Coughing and sneezing in the morning, Janine put on the gifted sweater, a new stylish coat and two pairs of pants, and wrapped herself in a warm blanket. She was still shivering and called Maxence, wondering about possible poisoning.


    It was a novel experience. Her skin shivered, demanding warmth, and she held a paw over a radiator, chanting prayers to the Spirits. Janine was ever a morning bird, waking ahead of her pack to survey the defenses and taking pride in hearing gossip praising her diligence. She couldn¡¯t do it today and called Melina, assigning the traditional task to the wolf hag. The doctor arrived soon, checking her mouth and helping her replace bandages. From him, Janine learned that her condition wasn¡¯t unusual; a total of one hundred and fifteen soldiers, Normies and Wolfkin, had what was known as the common cold, a typical illness resulting from acclimatization to the new temperature.


    Janine ignored pleas to stay and recuperate, gulping down insipid medical pills. She swam through the toxic wastes; she endured the poisonous stings of the insectoids; she traversed zones filled with enough radiation to kill a Normie; a damned common cold will not bring her low!


    Her bravado could only last so long, as Janine soon learned. Her legs were shaking! She survived the bout against Lacerated One and lived to tell the tale; her whole body itched as the wounds, bones, and muscles healed, and yet the reason she had trouble moving around was because of a simple illness!


    Okay, Janine, calm down; there is no reason to be upset. Lacerated One is stuck in the praying den after feasting on the frozen food. You are not alone in your misery. The thought of the Supreme Shaman lying in bed like a little cub, sneezing and coughing, had lifted her spirit a bit. She herself had spent yesterday sleeping off the damage to her body, with her Wolf Hags taking turns bringing her food and water. Eventually, she chased them away and waited for Kalaisa to show up for the scheduled morning lecture, but she never did. Out of curiosity, Janine called Ygrite and received the answer that Kalaisa and Anji were lost in reading and studying Houstad¡¯s map. What in the Abyss could that ball of rage be reading?


    Oh, well, one less problem on my paws. Janine looked sourly at the approaching Soulless One.


    ¡°A soup?¡± She raised her eyebrows, noticing a plate in her friend¡¯s paws.


    ¡°There is a bit of chicken in there, the doctors said¡­¡±


    ¡°Shaman, my body is literally devouring itself to heal my wounds, and you bring me water to nourish me?¡± Janine interjected, her stomach rumbling. ¡°Fine, give it here. And make sure no one ever again eats frozen food¡­¡±


    ¡°About that.¡± Soulless One scratched behind her ear. ¡°Our cousins introduced us yesterday to a treat known as ice cream. It is cold itself, but the soldiers seem to like it. I tried it myself!¡± she said quickly under Janine¡¯s heavy gaze. ¡°It is a degeneration of pleasure, but quite nutritious and has caused no illnesses so far.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Janine grumbled, drinking the soup in one gulp like milk, ¡°so I am the only one cold-sensitive here. Are there any ice cream cones in these gifts?¡±


    ¡°There are, but you are not permitted to taste it until your recovery, warlord,¡± Soulless One said sternly.


    Janine nodded, dismissing the shaman to her duties and concentrating on the training field. The workers constructed a small dais and put armchairs for the sword saints and warlords alike to use. The positive news was that this seat easily supported their weight. But its softness threatened to swallow her whole. Janine didn¡¯t mind the pleasant, enveloping warmth of this strange luxury, but as a leader, she had a duty to be brutish and presentable.


    Four packs practiced on the training grounds. Wolfkins from Ygrite¡¯s and Janine¡¯s packs were busy with the rescue training. Carrying shardguns, loaded with paint-filled dud rounds, in their paws, they stormed a special set of buildings and mowed down Normies and New Breeds from the ranks of the Provincial Army and police, who graciously, even eagerly, agreed to play the roles of slavers and raiders.


    The ¡®slaver¡¯ camp was set up in the center of the mound¡¯s rubble walls, and scouts sneaked inside the cracks, mapping routes and the locations of the mines the enemy had planted. Elzada¡¯s leaderless pack flew silent drones over the camp, pinpointing targets for elimination and patrol routes. Optical camouflage turned the drones invisible to the naked eye from afar, as their coating mimicked the sky color.


    Then Anissa struck from the south and Kalaisa advanced from the north, taking only scouts in this initial assault. Silently, like splattered shadows flowing over the stones, the Wolfkins crept around the rubble, bypassing the defenses, and started the ¡®carnage¡¯. Four points for the sneaky approach. One point for incorporating the unknown equipment into their strategy.


    Claws touched temples, and strong paws grabbed necks briefly, simulating mortal wounds. Obeying the rules, the defenders immediately went limp, and the Wolfkins hid the ¡®bodies¡¯, before climbing the outer towers and eliminating the remaining opposition. Four points for efficiency. Next came the signal, and the main force charged, led by Melina. Like a storm of darkness, the two packs converged on their prey simultaneously, sweeping from floor to floor, giving the opposition no chance to breathe and rescuing the hostages. One point for a well-timed and well-executed assault.


    Janine tapped on the terminal next to her, observing the packs¡¯ performance inside the building. To spice things up, the interior had been made to look like a ramshackle copy of a mall in the Inner Core Lands, in the hopes of sowing confusion in the attackers¡¯ ranks. To her delight, Kirk and Bogdan came up with the solution, offering the Wolf Hag maps downloaded from the Net. Constant drills were the reason for this laudable efficiency in handling the unexpected trials, and every member of the pack had performed to the best of their abilities so far.


    So far. Shardguns were by no means precise weapons, but rather butcher¡¯s tools used to shock and overcome the opposition, and many defenders would need to take a shower afterwards. But now the packs would have to prove their mettle as the ¡®raiders¡¯ crammed into the command post and their leader grabbed a designated ¡®sex slave¡¯ by the throat to use as a human shield.


    More ¡®slavers¡¯ tried to push hostages in front of them, and Bogdan fired, painting the shoulder of one ¡®raider¡¯ and the face of the man behind him yellow. In a real field, he would have maimed and killed his victims. Janine meticulously deducted two points, since there was plenty of time to fire before the ¡®victim¡¯ could be grabbed. She added one point for saving a life and left a note for Anissa to take her brothers through the additional shooting drills.


    Kalaisa entered the room after the males and approached the enemy leader, loudly demanding a surrender. Janine narrowed her eyes, ready to give the packs more demerits for wasting their time, when the wall and ceiling above the slavers erupted, unleashing a rain of wolfkins on the enemy. Spinning and firing at point-blank range, they gutted the remaining opposition, and Kirk wrestled the weapon¡¯s barrel away from the hostage''s neck. His opponent was a police sergeant, a large Orais who elbowed the Wolfkin to the ground, determined to play his part to the last. Jaws closed on his ankle, and Kirk¡¯s brother dragged the Orais off his feet, throwing him off balance long enough for Kirk¡¯s younger sister to shoot the policeman in the head.


    Clever stunt. Janine grinned and added a point for quick thinking. A standard protocol in this situation was either to speed up and spear the enemy¡¯s eye with a claw, rupturing the brain, or to shoot at the legs, causing both people to fall. Implants were cheap, and hesitation meant more potential deaths.


    Kirk and Kalaisa advanced, painting the opposition yellow. To the boy¡¯s credit, he had little trouble watching and working with his sister during the battle. Only his breathing was slightly elevated. Perhaps the helmet helped him tolerate his abuser. He kicked one of the ¡®raiders¡¯ away and accidentally discharged his weapon into the ground. So not only his breathing. Janine chastised herself for not noticing that the boy¡¯s finger was on the trigger all along. As the person overseeing the operation, it was partly her duty to contact the group and prevent this very behavior. Minus one point for her error. Minus two points for Kirk¡¯s error.


    The exercise ended shortly: the ¡®slaves¡¯ were freed and the ¡®raiders¡¯ surrendered. The packs stormed outside, laughing and joking, no longer bothering with strict formation or discipline. They helped the downed Normies to their feet, throwing a few over their heads in celebration of the mission¡¯s success. Anissa had to slap a few fools around before the rest of them dropped the cubbish behavior, but she permitted friendly spars against the Orais involved in the operation, who were itching to even the score.


    Around them, the army¡¯s regulars were already hard at work, constructing new buildings and various hazards for the packs to overcome. Even Janine wasn¡¯t privy to the building¡¯s inner workings; under Cristobo¡¯s command, the packs would have to master the art of subduing and rescuing in shopping malls, movie theaters, hospitals, and power grids. Once that was done, more exciting urban warfare awaited them outside the walls of the base. A thunderous roar from the opposite base showed that the other two packs had also passed their training course.


    ¡°My bad,¡± Kirk said quietly, taking off his helmet. ¡°I¡¯ve made a mess.¡±


    ¡°Eh, relax,¡± Ignacy yawned, coming closer. ¡°Bogdan was the first one to make a mistake.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and you could¡¯ve kept your mouth shut about it!¡±


    ¡°And miss the chance to rub it in your face? Nah.¡± Ignacy dodged his brother¡¯s friendly slap and retreated to Elzada, who was only supervising today¡¯s training but could not take part because of her injury.


    ¡°Asshole!¡± Bogdan laughed and put a paw on Kirk¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Stop fretting about it. We are here to learn, and so we learn, even from mistakes. A few toilets to clean aren¡¯t that big a price to pay for survival on a battlefield. Besides, you are not even close to being the biggest screw-up around here; trust me, Kirk.¡± Bogdan gave Kalaisa a sideways glance and retreated to Anissa¡¯s side. The wolf hag snapped her fingers, calling Ignacy to her, and bowed her head, whispering something.


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    Janine¡¯s finger lingered over a button when she noticed Kalaisa approaching her brother. Hissing angrily, Janine prepared to call Ashbringer, who oversaw camp discipline today. It pained the warlord to admit it, but she was too weak to beat the youngster into the ground right now.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been over it, Kirk! Want to fire, finger on the trigger, don¡¯t want to shoot, off the trigger,¡± Kalaisa told her brother, hesitating at the last moment when she saw him trembling. ¡°Tch, come on, you¡¯re way better than this. Fine, scout, explain to the buffoon how it¡¯s done again,¡± she threw to her sister and approached the greenhorns of her pack, correcting their mistakes. Without hitting anyone.


    Who bit her? Janine tilted her head, removing her finger from the call button. Should I call security and report a potential spy in our ranks?


    ¡°Hey!¡± Kalaisa turned to look at Anissa, who had climbed atop the ruined wall. ¡°Are you up to the challenge? Want to have a fun trial?¡±


    ¡°That depends.¡± The corner of Kalaisa¡¯s lips twitched. ¡°What can a weakling like you do to give me even the slightest challenge?¡±


    Ah, still the same bitch. Janine eased a little.


    ¡°Wait, sorry, let me rephrase that.¡± Kalaisa raised a finger. ¡°Sure, A¡­ Wolf Hag Anissa, I would like to have some fun. What are the rules?¡±


    What in the name of the lightless Abyss¡¯ bowels is going on!? Janine tensed. Should she call the medics? Ygrite? Dammit, what happened yesterday to this woman?


    ¡°The rules are simple. You.¡± Anissa pointed at Kalaisa with two fingers. ¡°Come at me and try to knock me off the wall while Bogdan and the others are taking shots at you. Loser pays for tonight¡¯s drinks¡­¡±


    Kalaisa bellowed her fiercest roar, silencing Anissa¡¯s words. Lowering herself on all fours, the wolf hag had not exactly charged but fired herself from place, soaring over her brother and leaving her helmet behind, seeking to close in on the smaller wolf hag in three leaps. Her power armor was offline, becoming a dead weight like Anissa¡¯s.


    And this didn¡¯t hinder the woman one bit. Janine nodded in respect as she watched the bloodthirsty Kalaisa easily spot Bogdan emerging from a ruined stone. Using only her fingertips, the wolf hag sidestepped to the right, deliberately letting the balls of paint fly close to her to show off. Two more Wolfkins jumped out of hiding and fired at Kalaisa, driving her further to the right to avoid the shots.


    She was driven straight into the wall of debris. Janine continued to watch through the cameras, resting her head on a paw. Anissa had put her head into this plan. A mine filled with paint was hidden among the stones, a suitable trap for a wild beast. Wolf hags would sometimes take their soldiers into the wilderness, playing the role of mindless beasts for their soldiers to overcome with modern methods. Such games were used to build confidence and bonds.


    A clever ploy, but one that ultimately did not matter in the slightest here. Anissa hadn¡¯t stated in the rules that Kalaisa had to act like a rabid animal here. Despite her roar and rapid movements on the four limbs, the wolf hag had merely pretended to be lost in the heat of battle.


    Her eyes tracked everything in her path, spotting a mine just in time. Normally, Wolfkins would run on all fours, using all their paws and feet to slam into the stone. Kalaisa had followed in the footsteps of the late Terrific, crossing the field on her fingers. Aside from the obviously perfect training to turn her fingers into a truly terrifying weapon even without claws, this gave Kalaisa an excellent range of motion. Without a hint of hesitation or a moment of stalling, the wolf hag¡¯s fingers have grabbed a stuck piece of stone, stopping a millimeter away from entering the mine¡¯s activation zone.


    And then she hurled herself at Anissa without destroying the stone or activating the mine. Her body spun in the air, dodging shots with almost disgusting ease, her paws clenched into fists as Anissa hastily put on her helmet and a drone buzzed in the air behind her back.


    ¡°The booze is mine!¡± Kalaisa laughed.


    A burst of sound from the drone silenced her laughter. The intense frequency moved pebbles, and even through the microphones, Janine grimaced at the high-pitched sound that drummed in her ears. Kalaisa squirmed and pressed her paws to her ears; her armor rang, and Anissa took advantage of the weakness. She stepped up to the flying wolf hag, grabbed her by the throat, and threw her off the rubble wall. The wolf hag splattered on the stone, still convulsing from the sound, and was mercilessly ¡®gunned down¡¯ by the soldiers, raising a paw in surrender after a fifteen-shot round landed between her eyes. She lay still for a while, then laughed and joined in the soldiers¡¯ celebration.


    ¡°I thought shamans were not supposed to use weapons!¡± Kalaisa complained to Anissa, trying in vain to wipe the paint off her snout. ¡°What in the Spirits¡¯ names was that?¡±


    ¡°Technically, I didn¡¯t use any weapons; it was all Ignacy,¡± Anissa beamed and gave Kalaisa a paw. Kalaisa looked at the outstretched limb, stunned. Slowly, she took the paw and Anissa lifted her, massaging the younger woman¡¯s ears. ¡°And shamans are allowed a bit of trickery when needed. Packs hunt as one, always using the strengths of each other. Breathe slowly, yes, like that. In and out. I have experienced it tonight. The effect will wear off soon.¡±


    ¡°This is the sound beam emitter!¡± Ignacy explained, coming closer with the drone drifting behind him. ¡°You know how disruption fields work, right? It vibrates sound to such a level that it breaks molecular boundaries, cutting through everything in its path. Well, this beauty operates,¡± Ignacy took off his helmet and lovingly patted the drone, ¡°by emitting a thin, narrowly focused stream of sound. It is too weak to kill a New Breed, but when it enters your eardrums, it causes a mild shock to your sensory system, resulting in temporary disorientation. It is still very much in the testing phase, but once perfected, perhaps one day it can be mounted on a mech suit to serve as a mobile disruption cannon¡­¡±


    ¡°Magic. Got it.¡± Kalaisa replied sourly.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t magic, it is¡­¡±


    ¡°Witchcraft. Black sorcery. You deserve to be burned at a stake,¡± Kalaisa accused him. ¡°But since we don¡¯t do it, I¡¯m going to bathe you in cold water to drive out the evil spirit that possesses you.¡±


    ¡°I am not the one needing a shower.¡± Ignacy smirked.


    Kalaisa only shook her shoulders, disappearing from sight in a blur. Janine stood up, worried that the wolf hag might strike her son, when Kalaisa kicked the rubble near the wall. The mine went off, splashing yellow paint on everyone nearby. Anissa looked like she was going to let her claws do the talking, then she wrapped her arms around herself and fell back, laughing.


    ¡°Oopsie-daisy, it seems like you do now.¡± Kalaisa grabbed Ignacy with one paw and tucked him under her shoulder. ¡°Off to the shower you go, and I assure you, it¡¯s going to be freezing.¡± She looked down, distracted by a kick to her hip. Elzada stood beside her, panting, and Kalaisa had to grab her shoulder to help the newly promoted wolf hag stand. ¡°Elzada, I disrespect you and all, but you can barely walk! No need to make it easier for me, ¡®kay? I was just fooling around. We already have one stupid piss-head here.¡± She tossed Ignacy into Bogdan, stumbling them both. ¡°No need for you to turn into one. Come on, let¡¯s get you to the medics. Don¡¯t growl and I¡¯ll let you bite me, deal?¡±


    A tingle of fear announced Alpha¡¯s approach. The dais shook when Alpha slammed a steel chair next to Janine and seated herself. She wore a red coat provided by the city, and her red hair rose above her head like a bonfire. She had no eyebrows or fur¡ªjust the pure whiteness of her enormous body. Not a single vein was visible beneath the skin. Her gigantic claws could operate no machinery, so the woman motioned for a scout from her pack to approach and show her a terminal.


    ¡°The packs performed adequately,¡± Janine said, seeing the overall score of Onyxia¡¯s and Alpha¡¯s packs. Alpha mercilessly subtracted twenty points from their score because they failed to silently approach their target.


    ¡°Adequate,¡± Alpha snapped angrily. ¡°For Normies, perhaps. Woe to us that we don¡¯t have such numbers to allow our soldiers to die in vain. We need better infiltrators.¡±


    ¡°And more firing drills.¡± Janine showed her own terminal, pointing out the mistakes.


    ¡°Free hugs!¡± Kalaisa¡¯s roar on the field distracted them as the woman ran towards Anji. ¡°Hey, didn¡¯t ya promise me one not too long ago?¡±


    ¡°I retract my offer for the time being,¡± Anji chuckled, stepping back to avoid the painted paws.


    ¡°Too late! It¡¯s hugging time! Come ¡®ere!¡± Kalaisa cheered and jumped at Anji. The white-haired woman barely dodged the hug and backed away, holding back a giggle and trying desperately to stay clean.


    ¡°Cubs,¡± Janine sighed. ¡°We are dealing with cubs here.¡±


    ¡°They merely take the lead after their leaders,¡± Alpha replied dryly. She turned her head, and cold sweat broke out beneath Janine¡¯s fur.


    The memories of her mother abandoning her came back; she remembered the cold look in her mother¡¯s eyes years later, when Janine had found her. No daughter of mine can be such a worthless freak. This was the response to the question. The fear of seeing an insectoid chewing on her leg, the fear of losing her cubs, the pure horror of seeing her firstborn die... It all came back, threatening to still her heart. She tried to breathe and felt as if an iron hand gripped her windpipe, denying her any access to oxygen.


    ¡°What is the deal between you and Lacerated One?¡± Alpha growled, wielding fear like a needle and jabbing it straight into Janine¡¯s brain, intensifying the horrible waves.


    ¡°I plan to make a proposal at the Gathering,¡± Janine gasped, and the fear vanished as a reward for her cooperation. ¡°The shamans test a family pack and send all the members to a pack based on an average score. I want the shamans to give us that privilege so we can choose people for our packs based on merit, even if it means breaking up an individual family between villages.¡±


    ¡°You want them to give up the power.¡±


    ¡°It will be their decision to make.¡±


    ¡°Our decision. A stupid, pointless change, Janine.¡± Alpha grabbed her by the neck and closed their heads. ¡°Ponder about potential flaws. Most of the time, the warlords are in the field. Do you expect us to leave and go to each village to select a single soldier to join us? What kind of lunacy is this?¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Janine stopped, thinking about her sister¡¯s words. ¡°You are right. It won¡¯t work. But we can¡¯t continue the¡­¡±


    ¡°I agree.¡± Alpha removed her paw, leaning back in the chair. ¡°The idea behind the change is sound. You just haven¡¯t thought it through. Let all¡ªshamans, wolf hags, and us¡ªselect troops based on individual merit rather than family ties. If a warlord is present, she chooses. If she can¡¯t attend, she can send a wolf hag in her place. Or she can let the shamans choose, or they can choose if a warlord can¡¯t be reached. There, five seconds, already a better plan.¡± Alpha glanced at Janine. ¡°When you bring change to a society, you must always consider the negatives. Lives are at stake, sister. Were you planning to ask for my support?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine replied honestly. ¡°I can¡¯t endure a round against you.¡±


    ¡°Coward. Moron,¡± Alpha said. ¡°Think, Janine! Ravager¡¯s command binds us while we are in the city. What better time to ask, if not now? Ask everyone, be open to ideas, and share your fears with your sisters already! Stop acting behind our backs like a shaman. Even if we don¡¯t agree, we can listen, and we¡¯re here for you.¡±


    ¡°Is that why you opened Ashbringer¡¯s belly fifty years ago?¡± Janine asked plainly, ignoring the rage burning in her named sister¡¯s eyes. ¡°Alpha, you are wise. But you respond to every suggestion from your sister with the utmost cruelty, pushing us away. How can you be there for us if we can¡¯t hope to approach you without losing body parts?¡±


    ¡°Simply, just get stronger and rein me in.¡± Alpha crossed her arms and snorted. ¡°Fair. There is a touch of fighter in you, Janine. But then Ashbringer brought the punishment upon herself. Her offer would not be accepted, and she tried to force my paw. I act in ancient ways, sister, but my ear is opened to every mouth.¡±


    ¡°Then answer me this. Am I a mutant?¡± Janine asked, holding her breath.


    ¡°If you are a mutant, then what am I, sister?¡± Alpha opened her jaws to reveal a double row of fangs. ¡°You are a Wolfkin, Janine; the blood of a Ravager runs through your veins. So what if you are deformed? Not every cub is worthy of her parent, and not every parent deserves a litter. Forget and move on.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Janine said earnestly and sneezed.


    Never again will she be involved in the tribe''s politics. Alpha was right; Janine¡¯s first proposal was abysmal and pure stupidity. She must be better and know her place.

 Chapter 64: Peaceful Countdown

    Day 2: Evening.


    ¡°It¡¯s already 19:31,¡± Zlata checked the time on her terminal. ¡°We¡¯re going to be late.¡±


    ¡°Relax, they show commercials for the future movies for the first fifteen minutes.¡± Schalk waved his hand, stepping from the bus, and grabbed Keon and a young soldier by their collars. ¡°Wait a minute, lovebirds. I know you heard it a thousand times, but stay on the main roads, avoid trouble¡­¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± Keon promised.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep him safe,¡± the woman slipped her hand under the blushing Keon¡¯s arm.


    Zlata ignored the confusing mating dance of the Normies and stormed through the crowd to the building, accompanied by Arruda. Her whole body itched; the medicine of the Core Lands had done wonders for the skin cancer that had plagued her since she had been shot by a green disintegration ray. She¡¯d been half content with perishing as her organs began to give in; one after another, the throat hurt and it was difficult to swallow food.


    Then her friends dominated her and forced the disgraced wolf hag to receive medical help. It was humiliating; the Wolfkins weren¡¯t supposed to get sick, but it saved her life, even if she became dependent on pills and procedures to keep going.


    Dressed in heavy military coats, sweaters, and thick pants, the wolf hag ignored the tasty smells emanating from the stalls and headed for the movie theater. It was built according to the structures of the Old Times. Stone pillars supported the triangular roof, stairs of fake marble led to the entrance, and in place of modern light, it had bright projectors illuminating ferocious monsters on the walls.


    Houstad boasted a wide array of cinemas, but Arruda and Zlata had been eyeing this particular place since they heard about their ¡°vacation¡±. This theater didn¡¯t show recently made movies or those from the last days of the Old World; no, its selection of films predated even the first space flight, and movies about cowboys, the Middle Ages, and black-and-white pictures awaited guests interested in the old times of the Old World.


    ¡°Two¡­¡± Zlata stumbled and glanced at Arruda for help as they stopped before a booth. The woman inside, a young lass in a full-body black-furred costume, squealed and pulled the animal mask from her head.


    ¡°Tickets. It¡¯s what you call a permit, right?¡± Arruda said, tilting her head at the Normie¡¯s strange behavior.


    Zlata sensed panic and¡­ shame reeking from the young woman. She could somehow understand the panic; the news kept talking about the brutal fight between Janine and Lacerated One. Since the army had refused to comment, the experts said that the Wolf Tribe had consecrated the base in this way.


    Not the worst way to put it. Zlata thought, curious about the reason for the shame.


    ¡°S-sure!¡± the cashier quickly fired the words and pushed the tokens back. ¡°N-no need! The government is paying for you¡­¡±


    ¡°Cool,¡± Zlata grinned. Those tasty sausages in bread will be hers on the way back. ¡°So, we just go in?¡±


    ¡°Which seats do we take? Never visited a cinema before,¡± Arruda explained.


    ¡°The staff will show you to your seats.¡± The woman pressed her palms together. ¡°But are you sure you want to go? The ¡®Blood-Curdling Howl Five¡¯ can be... you know... insensitive, offensive, that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking, right?¡± Zlata smiled. ¡°We waited years for a chance to see a proper horror.¡±


    The two officers were led into a wide hall. Its surface sloped down from the entrance so that every customer could see the wide white screen in its entirety. The sounds of teeth munching popcorn, children laughing, and parents hushing greeted the Wolfkins as they were seated in wide chairs more suited to Orais than to them. Aside from a few curious looks, no one had disturbed them, and they relaxed, listening to advertisements for local restaurants as the movie was about to start.


    ****


    ¡°Is this a horror or a comedy?¡± Zlata gritted her fangs, checked the brochure, and tried to keep her voice low. ¡°No, don¡¯t growl; you imbecile; bite and chew already, you evolutionary mistake.¡±


    On the screen, a huge gray werewolf crept closer to a small window of the attic where the survivors of the party massacre had gathered, hoping to wait until the sunset. Zlata grabbed her own throat, choking on her own rage, as the idiot creature roared, removing every ounce of advantage gained through stealth.


    It smashed through the window, yellow eyes burning, moonlight reflecting off the glass stuck in the matted fur, and dropped Kirk, the muscle-head of the group. Instead of ripping his face off, it roared into his face and then closed its jaws around the teen¡¯s neck, shaking his body in the air as the others screamed, tried to help, or ran. Then it tossed Kirk, still alive, at a girl, sending them both through the thin wall of the attic.


    And roared. Zlata grabbed her hair.


    ¡°Easy,¡± Arruda¡¯s steely fingers pressed on Zlata¡¯s wrists, loosening her grip. ¡°It¡¯s a male; what did you expect? Are you rooting for a bad guy?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t help it; he¡¯s so pathetic and retarded. Again. Why are you howling, you freak?¡± Zlata cursed.


    ¡°Everyone is retarded in this movie,¡± Arruda stated, sipping off a soda drink. ¡°Oh, we found bloody bones in the creepy guy¡¯s house. Let¡¯s call him out loud instead of... running away¡­¡± she growled, the fur on her back rising as the group of survivors tried to get into a car outside the house. ¡°Flee, dumbasses! There was an engineless car before; it¡¯s self-evident¡­¡± A panicked woman hurriedly searched for the keys on the screen and tried to start the car when the beast landed on top of it, crumpling the roof. ¡°¡­ You deserve to die.¡± Arruda rubbed her nose.


    ¡°Even cubs would be more mature.¡± Zlata leaned back in her chair. ¡°Those actors in the movie. They¡¯re dead, right?¡±


    ¡°Probably.¡± Arruda shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s been what, over a millennium? Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just dawned on me,¡± Zlata laughed, scratching her chin. ¡°We were filmed entering the city yesterday. Imagine someone pulling up that old video a thousand years from now and seeing us, living, breathing, while we are long decomposed.¡±


    ¡°Morbid,¡± Arruda said. ¡°It doesn¡¯t bother me. We¡¯ll die doing our duty and living to the fullest. How many can claim the same?¡±


    Zlata shut her mouth, surprised at the statement. Indeed, how many people are blessed with gifts and second chances like hers? She was honored to be born in an era where she could pay the blood price to protect others and bask in the radiance of a living god fighting by her side. Is she afraid of death? No, it couldn¡¯t be so; she had brazenly faced and overcame mortal perils enough times to be sure of her dedication.


    Eternity dreaded her, Zlata realized. Surely none of the actors on the screen could have imagined that one day their homelands would be reduced to ashes, that the oceans and lakes where they relaxed would dry up, and that life itself would be in danger of withering away. They, too, were living good lives, bringing emotions to their viewers, and there came a moment when everything anyone had ever done was in danger. Humanity nearly died. Who was to say that somewhere in the impossible, distant future, the Reclamation Army would not be toppled, eroded, or burned? She imagined the walls of the movie theater crumbling, its halls empty of human speech for decades, debris falling from the ceiling¡­


    ¡°Are you werewolves?¡± A girl¡¯s voice brought Zlata back to the present.


    Several kids left their seats and came to the Wolfkin as the group on the screen had reached the police station. The girl who asked the question was accompanied by her father and looked completely normal, aside from having a set of fat, oily, and pale tendrils for legs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t lump us in with that junk, little one,¡± Arruda said.


    ¡°We are Wolfkins.¡± Zlata smiled. ¡°We are like Ice Fangs¡­¡±


    ¡°Only better,¡± Arruda interjected.


    ¡°And can¡¯t shapeshift,¡± Zlata finished her words.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen your kind in the city,¡± a boy said.


    ¡°That¡¯s because we live outside the wall,¡± Zlata answered, and a flood of questions about the people living outside the Core Lands poured at her. She grinned, waved the personnel away, and began explaining the situation, customs, traditions, settlements, and cultures, as she understood them, to the curious little ones, forgetting all about her fear.


    She wasn¡¯t a god, so why worry about the future? It was best to concentrate on living here and now, serving the state honestly and protecting the weak. Soon Arruda joined her, and their explanation continued long after the movie ended.


    ****


    Day 2: Deep Night.


    Soulless One put paws behind her head, examining the white disk hiding in the clouds above. Lacerated One sent her and several other shamans to learn more about Houstad, and the shaman spent her time familiarizing herself with an extensive park in the city''s south. There were many trees here she had never even seen before, not even on the Net. From firs that decorated the streets during New Year¡¯s celebrations to sturdy oaks, their branches decorated with wooden gazebos. Soulless One snuck into one to meditate in peace.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    It wasn¡¯t easy this time, no matter how hard she tried. Worries clouded her thoughts, selfish worries that focused strictly on herself rather than the betterment of the tribe. The augments buried in her body no longer ticked or clanked; they worked so quietly that she sometimes forgot their existence altogether. Pus no longer covered her eyebrows in the morning; the coughing and cramping had left her; her limbs were elastic; food brought her joy; and, worst of all, she was grateful to Janine.


    The shaman clenched her paws. The sanctity of the body was paramount to the Wolfkin, ever since forced copulation had been outlawed as abhorrent and barbaric. No female had the right to order a male or female to change the color of their hair, let alone ravage their souls by breaking their connection to the divine through the insertion of foreign metal. This law was being circumvented all the time, but the knowledge of it didn¡¯t help Soulless One.


    Who knows how long she will live now? Days, years, decades, centuries, or worse? A taste of technology was enticing; already Soulless One had the thought of asking Till Ingo and Banshee to improve her further, to give her the ability to feel in the numbed parts of her body, to make her stronger and faster, and¡­ it was Janine¡¯s doing. She saved the shaman¡¯s life; she helped Soulless One to come into this world, but this ultimate breach of trust and the nagging temptation bothered the shaman, denying her the clarity of her earlier vision, where she knew for certain the imminent end of her misfortune.


    ¡°Why did you hit him?¡± Soulless One¡¯s ear perked at hearing little ones going below. It was unusual; the park¡¯s paths were brightly lit, but very few families still walked in this late hour.


    ¡°That asshole yelled at me after I accidentally crashed into him on my bicycle. He even kicked it¡­¡±


    ¡°You crashed into him?¡± the first voice asked, and there was a sound of struggle. ¡°Come, let¡¯s apologize.¡±


    ¡°I am not going to do this cringe! He¡¯ll come to his senses tomorrow!¡± The second voice panicked.


    ¡°And what if not? Would you like to have one less friend, T?¡± the first voice inquired.


    ¡°Ughm¡­ No,¡± the second voice admitted. ¡°But it¡¯s kind of dark already. Can I apologize tomorrow, Jay?¡±


    Thank you. Soulless One thanked the Spirits for guidance. They never intervened directly, but there were signs, and this here was exactly it. Friendship. Janine wanted to save her in her own awkward way, not just because of what the shaman represented to the pack, but because of who Soulless One was to Janine. In a way, it was a weakness; the warlords were meant beyond such feelings, but the shaman smiled and jumped down, frightening a pale, fat boy on a bicycle and his taller friend, whose face was covered with freckles.


    ¡°You have allies in the night too, little ones.¡± Soulless One bowed low, showing that she meant no threat. ¡°If you allow me, I will accompany you to ease your souls and then back to your parents.¡±


    ¡°I am not ready!¡± T, the fatter boy, panicked suddenly, and Jay took him by the shoulder.


    ¡°We¡¯re orphans, miss,¡± Jay said. ¡°It¡¯s not time for us to go to our parents yet,¡± he finished with a sad smile.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll simply be your guardian for tonight,¡± Soulless One offered and extended her paws. After some hesitation, they took her by the paw and led her to the playground, telling her about their fight and firing questions about whether it was true that the Wolfkins preferred to eat human flesh.


    Soulless One enlightened them to the best of her abilities and waited patiently for T to apologize for his actions toward another boy. There was no chance for life in her womb. But thanks to Janine, there was still strength within her to protect and safeguard the little ones of the world, and to help her kin reach greater heights. And in finding this purpose, Soulless One found contentment and her measure of peace.


    The fight was soon forgotten, and the group of little ones surrounded her, loudly urging her to flash her claws and cut something to show how amazingly sharp they were.


    ****


    Day 3: Morning.


    ¡°I was expecting more people,¡± Zero said, glancing out of the cab at the front gate of Ironwill Mansion. ¡°I don¡¯t even see any Wintersongs, Sunblades, Summersprings, or even Voidrunners here.¡±


    Zero smelled of soft violet perfume and put on silver bracelets and necklaces gifted to her by the Twins themselves for this happy occasion. She wore the sleeveless black gown, cut at one side to reveal her elegant leg and the dark purple of the inner side of the gown. There was still a helmet on her head, but she adjusted it to show her snout, hiding her ears and eyes from the curious people.


    ¡°It¡¯s politics,¡± Ashbringer replied, checking the gifts. ¡°Our cousins are weird like that. It isn¡¯t proper for the upper households to grace a lower one without receiving a proper bribe, and the Ironwills are heavily invested in their expansion. Technically, even Bertruda shouldn¡¯t be here, since the Mountaintop household is much larger than the Ironwill, and rumor has it that Tancred isn¡¯t really a sword saint.¡±


    ¡°The rumors lie; I can attest to that, sister,¡± Zero said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ask, don¡¯t care,¡± Ashbringer snorted. ¡°Shameful. The girl is shaking, entering another house, and the old fucks play rituals, flaunting their ranks and showing the Ironwills their place.¡±


    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± Zero mused.


    Ashbringer got drafted by her sister for this wedding invitation. Out of respect for the anxious young one who will marry Tancred, Ashbringer dressed for the occasion, donning the stern business suit she had purchased at the Ironwill boutique. A stern blue tie held up the collar of her auburn shirt, golden pins held up the sleeves to free her paws, and on her legs were comfortable boots. The annoying salesman tried to force her to put on the skirt, but she told him to piss off and took the pants, not seeing what the big deal was. On her head was a simple helmet that hid her hideousness from the eyes.


    Then came the trickier part. Every guest attending a sword saint wedding was expected to bring a gift. This, in and of itself, wasn¡¯t that much different from the Wolf Tribe, where the warlords did the same. But the Ice Fangs were an exquisite group, and a simple beer like Zero wanted at first just wouldn¡¯t do. No, they needed a proper gift, and Ashbringer dragged Zero by the ear into a jewelry workshop belonging to Mountaintop after receiving tokens from Lacerated One. The materials for the gifts were found in the trophy rack of the Inevitable. Upon learning of their purpose, the workshop¡¯s owner refused to accept payment and explained that First Sunblade would cover the expenses.


    It was satisfactory, and Ashbringer entered the smeltery at night and left in the morning, having fused the golden ore, a bar of platinum, several chunks of silver, and diamonds into two amulets. Zero¡¯s sharpest claws then woven the tapestry onto the metal. Then a thin layer of diamond was placed over the open side of the amulets, forever sealing the drops of blood taken from each warlord inside, and the overlapping metals forming the chains created pleasant-to-the-eye imagery of dancing wolves woven into each link of the chain. Ashbringer truly enjoyed the warmth of the forge and thanked the overjoyed owner for his kindness.


    If the Ice Fangs won¡¯t support their family, the Wolf Tribe will. Sure, not every wolf was the same size, and the amulets were rough around the edges, but the named sisters were proud of the results.


    They stepped out of the taxi and were greeted by the worried youths of Ironwill, who escorted the two warlords to the mansion. Guests from the city were there, chatting in the gardens and being entertained by performers. Ashbringer hesitated, drawn by the pageantry of the Fireeaters¡¯ crew. They leapt through the rings of fire to the accompaniment of music, stepped into the burning cages, only to be launched from their tops and devouring burning stakes. To an outsider¡¯s eye, they were the masters of the flames, bending them to their will, but the warlord noted how respectable and cautious this family of five was. They never left their members without support; every trick and jump was the product of tireless practice, and she applauded their skill.


    Rare dishes, tables of hurrying servants, displays of the latest Ironwills products filled the modest gardens. The household tried its best to portray opulence, but it showed primarily prosperity, and the most interesting people in today¡¯s marriage were the investors. The mayor sent his secretary to represent him; there were no civilian representatives from the larger households present; the guests took their time before bowing to the masters of the house, and Ashbringer got pissed even further when she finally met the newlyweds.


    Lord Tancred held himself with dignity, dressed in a black suit, and greeted each guest who stepped under the defense of his house. There was a glint of uncertainty in the eyes of his lady¡ªa young and somewhat fragile Ice Fang in a sky-blue gown, her hair adorned with jewels.


    ¡°Welcome!¡± the lady said, her clear voice trembling as the warlords closed and Ashbringer knelt to reassure her. No wonder she¡¯s worried; in a pack, her family would be at her side, teasing, cheering, and infuriating her to the point where anger would drown out worry. If any of her wretches and buffoons would¡¯ve needed her at their wedding, but didn¡¯t call her thinking for fear of being too low status, she would first explain to them that this is not so, and then she would break their skulls for such idiocy. ¡°Please do not kneel, honored guests. Everyone is equal under the roof of our house today. Guests of your stature bless us with your presence alone.¡±


    ¡°Hard it is not to kneel before the sight of such splendor,¡± Ashbringer recycled the words she had once heard at First¡¯s wedding. ¡°May the light of your union shine upon Houstad for many years to come. I wish you many healthy offspring and offer these humble gifts to show our sincerity.¡± She handed the amulet to the woman.


    ¡°Yeah, me too.¡± Zero smiled, giving her gift to Tancred.


    Ashbringer straightened up, not listening to the lady¡¯s gasp. She turned around and spread her arms wide.


    ¡°Is it fitting that our civilized friends should lag behind mere barbarians? We can see the greatest pearl from afar. What is your excuse, honorable sirs and ladies?¡± Ashbringer addressed the crowd.


    ¡°Hear, hear!¡± Bertruda replied and hurried to the mansion¡¯s owners, ignoring the intention of being fashionably late. She bowed and presented her gifts, warmly wishing them many years of happiness, and the guests followed her example, dropping their ceremonial indifference and easing the worries of the Ironwills.


    The procession entered the mansion, where the sages of the Ironwill household proudly stood ready to complete the ceremony. Ashbringer and Zero found themselves placed in the front row, but where her named sister paid close attention to the sages¡¯ words, Ashbringer¡¯s focus lay elsewhere.


    Music! Classical music echoed from the tower of glasses. The soothing song of the harp joined the flow of champagne, the piano sounds reflected off the sages¡¯ armor, and Ashbringer found herself lost, enjoying her passion. She adored the classical music of any kind, but an orchestra was her favorite. It reminded her of home¡ªabout the days she returned after the pits straight into Mom¡¯s and Dad¡¯s embraces¡ªof the years when her brothers and sisters were still alive and there was always a shoulder to lean on.


    Now she was that shoulder. But even an adult can get weary over ages.


    She was so lost that she didn¡¯t even notice Zero standing up during the last part of the ceremony and approaching the Tancred and his lady. At her request, the sages quickly placed a black booth to hide Zero, Tancred, his wife, and Bertruda from the prying eyes of the curious assembly.


    That idiot¡­ Ashbringer shook her head when a newborn sun suddenly flashed from behind the booth, coming from Zero¡¯s eyes. The people didn¡¯t see her, but they witnessed Bertruda fall to her knees, a trembling paw pressed to her chest, and murmurs filled the room as Zero spoke casually. She lacked her sister¡¯s grace and eloquence, but her words came from the heart. The strongest warlord wasn¡¯t just offering the newlyweds her best wishes; she was, in a sense, a conduit for the Blessed Mother¡¯s will. Try beating that, Sunblades. Ashbringer grinned and elbowed a nearby Ice Fang.


    ¡°The place is getting quiet. Care for a dance?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Sir Ashbringer,¡± the young man said. ¡°Which ladies shall we ask to be our partners?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a woman, you degenerate!¡±

 Chapter 65: Days of Relaxation

    Day 6: Evening


    Blue. It splashed, wetting his toes, and the sunlight reflected in the droplets left on the white-tiled floor. The water was so clean that Marco could easily see the bottom and the occasional diver swimming nimbly from one corner of the pool to the other.


    ¡°So¡­ this is swimming,¡± he said, fighting back against a fear he never knew existed. Every ounce of common sense screamed in the corners of his mind: Don¡¯t drown!


    ¡°Yep,¡± Cordelia confirmed, hiding her hair under a leather cap. She was wearing a tight-fitting blue swimsuit. ¡°You¡¯ll like it.¡±


    Marco doubted it. A sort of ancestral dread washed over him, pounding in his temple, telling him to run, else something utterly irreversible might¡¯ve happened to him. He wasn¡¯t sure what was going on; Marco certainly didn¡¯t consider himself a coward, as he had teased every one of his siblings, including Yennifer, and lived to tell the tale.


    Besides, today was a great day! Cordelia took him¡­ Well, more like he was forcibly caught in the natural disaster of a sandstorm that the young girl had turned herself into, but that was beside the point. Joined by the other young Ice Fangs, the group had visited several shops and bought Marco¡¯s stylish black jacket with silver zippers and similar pants that were incredibly comfortable and warm. The boy pleaded and tried his best to convince Cordi that he didn¡¯t have the tokens to pay for them, but the girl was merciless.


    They spent thirty minutes picking out a hat for him, during which time Marco got to know the other cubs. He fully expected to be hated for being the reason they were stuck in the mall for so long, but a large Sunblade told him not to worry. The cubs refused to believe that Marco did not know how to use a sword, especially after he won an arm-wrestling contest against a Voidrunner, and Cordelia proudly led them to a fencing club, where Marco accidentally broke the Sunblade¡¯s training sword in two after a hard swing, surprising both the youngster and the instructor.


    After that moderate fun, they visited a park, and for a while he had the time of his life, competing with his new friends in climbing rope ladders and scaling rocks. It didn¡¯t last; the happy moments never lasted long for Marco, and after fifteen minutes, his knees began pulsating. Anissa, who accompanied him on this trip, noticed it and led her brother away, hiding the true reason for his absence from everyone but Cordelia. The medical gel helped; his knees ached no longer, but Marco was bitter about not being able to join in the fun for long.


    Cordelia noticed, and the group next visited a place called ¡®Steak House¡¯, where the smell of fat, heavenly tender meat had lifted his spirits. He even enjoyed the genuinely shocked looks of the cubs as he and Cordi ravenously competed to devour the largest pile of steaks, and when his new friends whispered and bet on which of the two cubs would burst first, it was music to his ears. He was normal! And he was normal when they visited the comic bookstore, and his eyes flashed at the sight of all those awesome superheroes pummeling down the vicious villains, and the cubs left the store, carrying away months of reading material. Marco planned to read all tonight long.


    So, maybe this isn¡¯t that bad, either? Marco pondered, sniffing the water. It had a soft chemical scent to it that made his fur rose, but the other non-Wolfkin cubs swam here confidently, and there were people sitting on the tall chairs, watching the pool and ready to rescue someone at a moment¡¯s notice. The pool itself was large, easily reaching five hundred meters in length. Several sections were set aside for the adults to practice in, while the youngest cubs and their parents splashed around near the walls.


    ¡°Here goes nothing,¡± Marco mumbled and made a great step for himself into the blue waters.


    ¡°Wait for us!¡± Cordelia yelled, but the waters had already closed over him.


    He was submerged. The sounds faded. Marco opened his eyes hesitantly, unsure what to do as his weight carried him to the bottom. He wasn¡¯t afraid at first. The situation was more funny than anything else; his arms and legs moved slowly, the bubbles flying out of his mouth. Then he swallowed, sensed water in his ears, in his nose, around his face, and understood that he couldn¡¯t breathe and that he had no idea how to get oxygen! He wanted to breathe, but there was no air, and Marco flapped his arms in panic, trying to calm himself to climb out, when a paw grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.


    Anissa lifted her worried brother out of the water, ahead of Cordelia, who jumped into the pool, and the approaching lifeguard. Positioned on her stomach, her head resting on her fist, she asked: ¡°Feeling fine? Ready to try again?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Marco closed his eyes, calming his heart. ¡°Yeah¡­ Thank you for the rescue, sis.¡±


    ¡°I will always be by your side to help you, brother.¡± Her artificial eye swirled in tune with her smile. ¡°Off you go.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± He screamed, but Nissi already let him go.


    He expected to disappear under the waters again, but this time, Cordi and another cub of the Sunblade household were there to help him stay above the water.


    ¡°Is he clowning us?¡± a chubby Voidrunner girl asked, swimming nearby on her back. After a few glances, she stopped and raised her paws. ¡°I mean, you saw how he climbed! Marco is strong and fast.¡±


    ¡°Not a swimmer, though.¡± Marco smiled nervously, lifting his head high. ¡°Don¡¯t know how.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t panic, everything is okay,¡± Cordi advised him and left him in the Sunblade care. She swam in front of Marco. ¡°Observe and repeat my movements, Marco, and don¡¯t worry a bit¡­¡±


    The boy obeyed Cordelia, mimicking her arm movements, and soon gasped when he realized the Sunblade wasn¡¯t holding him anymore. The white-furred boy grinned broadly and gave Marco a thumbs up, while the boy did his best to remember his lessons and stay above water. His new friends never let him down; another boy replaced Cordelia, patiently explaining and showing how to swim on the back, and Marco lost track of time, finding himself playing and even splashing water at his new friends.


    And the best of all came later. His legs. His knees didn¡¯t hurt, not a single cramp ran up his muscles, his limbs obeyed him, and he spread his arms and legs and laughed at the ceiling:


    ¡°It¡¯s so awesome! Anissa, I am swimming!¡±


    ¡°You sure are,¡± his sister replied, sipping tea at a safe distance from the water. She frowned as the Orais instructor looked down at her. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wearing a swimming suit.¡± The New Breed pointed at her bright crimson suit.


    ¡°Yeah, and your point?¡± Anissa tensed.


    ¡°In here you either swim or you¡¯re a creep who watches young children.¡± The Orais crossed his arms and tapped his short leg.


    ¡°Guess I am a creep then, because I am overseeing these cubs.¡± Anissa shrugged. The man¡¯s eyes never wavered, and a low growl escaped the wolf hag¡¯s lips. ¡°You are pushing your luck, male. Fine,¡± she sighed and slammed a glass down on the table, ¡°a single dive won¡¯t hurt.¡±


    ¡°Join us, Anissa!¡± Marco waved his paw. ¡°The water is warm, promise!¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you wish,¡± Anissa chuckled and eyed the instructor. ¡°Well, time for a bomb. A dive-bomb.¡±


    Anissa bounced off the tiled floor, almost touching the high ceiling, and spun around in the air, her arms and legs wrapped around her. She came down like a cannonball, sending wide ripples around the pool and showering the laughing and clapping cubs with water. Appearing awkwardly above the water, flailing her arms and legs to stay afloat, she joined in their fun, beaming when they asked if the sword saints could jump as high.


    ****


    Day 8: Midday


    ¡°Told you it wasn¡¯t the right direction,¡± Elzada sang after Melina faced a dead end at the end of the alley.


    ¡°Shut it; you are not a scout anymore. A wolf hag is never wrong; she merely unearths interesting surprises on the way to her destination.¡± Melina ran a paw over the rough surface and pulled out the map. ¡°I could¡¯ve sworn it was here¡­¡± She walked back to the group, shouldering the laughing Elzada aside.


    Their small group of Wolfkins recovering from their wounds was on their way to an unusual destination today. Elzada was the one to find it by accident after browsing Ignacy¡¯s terminal when her honey passed out in her den after a long day of tinkering with drones. She pulled a blanket over him and decided to see what was on the net and what curious things Houstad had to offer.


    A healing massage. The word was unfamiliar to her, and she asked Maxence about it, who explained to Elzada that there were indeed procedures to restore the elasticity of a limb after trauma, and that specialists helped Normies recover in military hospitals. However, he had no knowledge of anyone providing the same services to the New Breeds, who healed at their own speed.


    Her interest was piqued. Elzada thanked the helpful doctor for giving her medical materials to read and stormed off to summon her crew. A post-traumatic healing massage? She just had to learn what it was, and she, Melina, Sarkeesian, and Impatient One ventured into the city.


    They quickly got lost in its many alleys, to the scowling and cursing of the shaman, who spat bile at the wolf hags for not learning the environment already.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I familiarized myself with the local bars rather well.¡± Sarkeesian tugged the collar of her coat, frightening the passing cubs with her drill smile.


    ¡°And what good will that do you if you have to set up a defensive perimeter?¡± Impatient One elbowed Sarkeesian in the jaw, closing her mouth, and nodded to the cubs. ¡°Competence. Instead of scaring the little ones, act your age and stay alert. Any ideas on how to find this palace of promiscuity?¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯ll give me another chance¡­¡± Melina started.


    ¡°Let¡¯s ask the police,¡± Elzada offered, too horrified about the idea of spending a good portion of an hour walking after the hopelessly lost wolf hags. The two navigated the concrete jungle well when their destination was within reach of a bus stop, but outside of it they stumbled and came to a halt, too proud to ask for help.


    The white-haired policeman in charge of a small unit that kept the peace in these streets saluted them with two fingers on his cap.


    ¡°Beta and Gamma mending and relaxation center¡­¡± His friendly face hardened after the police officer learned of their destination. The man scratched his tanned face. ¡°You sure you want to go in there? Freaks are running this place.¡±


    ¡°Pray explain, what do you mean, sir?¡± Sarkeesian asked innocently.


    ¡°Non-humans.¡± The officer faced her eyes. ¡°They are not like us. Not New Breeds, not Normies, but the lab-grown vat monsters that escaped containment and somehow wormed their way into the trust of the humans. You never know what to expect from them¡­¡±


    ¡°According to the reviews, they are masters of their craft,¡± Melina showed the terminal to the officer, who waved his arm.


    ¡°Lies or fakery. These things can bide their time before striking¡­¡±


    ¡°Well, it is good that everyone is equal under the Dynast¡¯s rule,¡± Elzada said steely, watching the officer. ¡°Any discrimination is forbidden, and slurs are punished. Mind your mouth,¡± she read the officer¡¯s name from his badge, ¡°Officer Zurkov, and treat every citizen with the dignity and care they deserve. You can start showing care by showing us the way, personally.¡±


    ¡°Your funeral,¡± Zurkov sighed. ¡°I warned you.¡±


    Zurkov escorted them to a building hidden under a busy highway. Placed among a series of similar stores offering various services, it was always invisible. Each merchant and artisan here gave his place of work its own unique look, and Elzada was pleasantly surprised to see hanging insectoid legs in the Pest Eliminator shop and clay lamps from her distant home. Tourists were the primary visitors to this place, and Zurkov excused himself to help an elderly woman find her family after they were separated in the rush.


    The center itself was a nice, two-story block building, gray, but covered by the colorful billboards advertising the very best relaxation a Normie or New Breed could receive in several languages. Impatient One slapped Elzada over the back, and the wolf hag took the lead and knocked on the door.


    ¡°Coming, coming!¡± The door opened, and the speaker pressed his thirty arms together. ¡°My, what rare guests! Step in, step in; there is no truth in legs; sit down and relax, please.¡±


    Rare was not a word Elzada would have used to describe them, not when the speaker was one of the most exotic people she¡¯d ever seen. He, she assumed from the voice to be a male, moved on a fat ¡®foot¡¯ similar to that of a snail, and his black body resembled an oily substance held in place by a thin membrane. Their host throbbed, shrinking and expanding in response to his excitement. Stalks grew from his head, supporting round, wet eyes. Occasionally, flashes of light appeared over his body, always close to where the tendrils grew. At the end of each tendril was a suction cup, which this strange human used as a hand, as Elzada understood when he placed one on the door handle. He was taller than her on a head.


    The owner led them inside a small, clean room with a counter, a white sofa, and a spiral staircase leading up. One of his arms banged on the kettle, turning it off; another muted a drum beat; several others rummaged through shelves, placing mugs on the table near the sofa. Letters of thanks and health advice were pinned to the walls.


    ¡°We, uh¡­¡± Elzada blushed as her host shoved a cookie into her paw after she sat down on the sofa. ¡°We have recently healed our wounds and would like a massage. I read you offer the first session for free.¡±


    ¡°We do! It¡¯s wonderful... I don¡¯t mean wonderful that you got hurt; that¡¯s very sad, but wonderful that you came, ladies. I am Gamma-18.¡± Their host bowed, almost pressing his face into his leg. ¡°Beta-18! Wake up, we have visitors!¡±


    ¡°Is it the protesters again?¡± asked a voice from above, and they heard a heavy splash against the floor. ¡°Do you want me to hug you so you can sleep?¡±


    ¡°No, customers!¡± Gamma-18 replied, and his stalks twitched. ¡°I¡¯m terribly sorry about the closed doors, but there were incidents¡­¡±


    ¡°Customers trying to escape?¡± Sarkeesian grinned.


    ¡°Planet forbid!¡± Gamma-18 gasped. ¡°No, we have never let customers down. It¡¯s just¡­ the origin of our birth attracts a certain amount of ire from people.¡±


    ¡°We are not human,¡± stated a complete copy of Gamma-18, slithering down the stairs and stretching out his thirty arms. ¡°Brother and I woke up in a laboratory, locked in a vat, then we were freed by the explorers and taken to an orphanage. Is that going to be a problem?¡±


    ¡°My only problem is that I came to experience your hardest massage and instead you feed me cookies,¡± Impatient One growled, then nodded at Gamma-18. ¡°Very nice treats, by the way.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure. I had baked them myself.¡± A thin white line appeared on Gamma-18¡¯s upper body, symbolizing a smile.


    ¡°Hardest, huh? That would be the deep tissue massage procedure. Lady, you¡¯ll be crying your eyes out.¡± Beta-18 opened a door leading to a small room. ¡°I suggest opting for something more relaxing.¡±


    ¡°It is my duty as a shaman to learn about the perils of civilized life. If I so much as scream, you may consider yourself the winner of this bout, male.¡± Impatient One narrowed her eyes and entered the room.


    ¡°This is not a fight, and I don¡¯t care about winning. Understand, this is a procedure done at the strength of a New Breed; it will be unpleasant for the first time¡­¡±


    Gamma-18 asked the wolf hags questions and helped them decide which relaxation session they would get this time. Melina chose the aid with stiffening the neck after a chokehold. Sarkeesian stopped at the facial massage, and Elzada picked a full course, both for the rest of her biological leg and for her bad back. They were led into individual rooms, but Gamma-18 didn¡¯t follow them. Elzada lay down on a table in the middle of the room and pushed her snout into the cut opening. The arms of the sentient bio-weapon slid through the round opening into the room, and soon Elzada felt them rubbing a gel into her body.


    ¡°If anything hurts, say so immediately, Elzada.¡± Gamma-18¡¯s voice came from all around her. ¡°This massage does not involve any irritation sensations. Relax and enjoy.¡±


    She barely listened to him, closing her eyes and shivering with her whole body as his arms began to work on her tired muscles. Elzada knew a little about relaxation massage; she and Ignacy often rubbed each other¡¯s backs after a hard day¡¯s work, but what Gamma-18 was doing was in a whole other league.


    His suction cups clung tightly to her body, but they didn¡¯t harm a single strand of hair as they traced the muscles working on the knots. He rubbed and drummed, accelerating the wolf hag¡¯s breathing as calm descended upon her. The careful, targeted pressure and circular movements over the muscles in her waist made her legs twitch. Gentle stretching helped Gamma-18 determine the limits of her biological leg, and he carefully tested the elasticity of her artificial replacement.


    The massager seemed to know everything about her. When a twinge of pain tensed Elzada¡¯s back where one of her scars hadn¡¯t yet healed, Gamma-18 adjusted his massage and pressed on the other spot in her back. There was a pop, and Elzada¡¯s shoulders spread a little, and she thought she had grown an inch. When she expressed this thought, Gamma-18 pleasantly assured her it was just her imagination. Stiffened muscles, strained fingers¡ªnothing escaped the master¡¯s treatment.


    ¡°This is¡­ a novelty¡­¡± Elzada picked up the approving grunt of Impatient One. ¡°Go on! I didn¡¯t say stop.¡±


    ¡°How are you tolerating it?¡± Beta-18 demanded to know. ¡°I had patients crying during the procedure.¡±


    ¡°We should have paid you,¡± Elzada groaned. ¡°Can we still give you tokens, Gamma-18? I don¡¯t have much, but they are yours¡­¡±


    ¡°No, no, no, I don¡¯t want to hear about breaking the terms of the contract! If you want to pay me back, please leave a review. It helps me earn a reputation to achieve my dream.¡± Gamma-18 assured her.


    ¡°What is this reputation?¡± Melina asked sleepily.


    ¡°You see, since the world has become more interconnected, the companies are pickier whom to employ,¡± Beta-18 explained. ¡°Sure, the Reclamation Army government clamps down on every asshole, requiring years of experience just to become a janitor¡­¡±


    ¡°Why? Isn¡¯t that an important job?¡± Melina interrupted him.


    ¡°It is, but it is also an entry-level job,¡± Impatient One said. ¡°I am not certain what this ¡®entry¡¯ term really means, but as the supreme shaman explained to us, it goes somewhat like that. When people can¡¯t put food on the table, they get bitter and rebel. So the government is forcing big companies to swallow this pill and actually teach young men and women on the spot how to work. They also combat inequality, so that no one would hire only New Breeds over Normies because New Breeds can work longer. Am I right?¡±


    ¡°In a way, miss,¡± Gamma-18 said. ¡°There are also mandatory regulations to ensure proper shifts, but in spirit, you are correct. As my brother said, the corporations are picky. For me to become a massage therapist in a military rehabilitation clinic, I need to have five years of experience and a pristine clean online history.¡±


    ¡°As in never visiting the Net?¡± Sarkeesian inquired.


    ¡°Not exactly.¡± Gamma-18 produced a clicking sound. ¡°I must steer clear of gambling, don¡¯t throw racial slurs, don¡¯t conduct myself in inflammatory behavior, treat religion with respect, don¡¯t impose my beliefs on others, and so on.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know how to build it,¡± Elzada admitted. She occasionally had very heated arguments with her son over the Net.


    ¡°Oh, it is easy!¡± Gamma-18 assured her. ¡°Just go with your conscience. And for my dream of joining the official rehabilitation service, I will try my best.¡±


    ¡°A weird dream, considering we earn more here, brother!¡± Beta-18 laughed.


    ¡°The pursuit of material wealth doesn¡¯t interest me, brother,¡± Gamma-18 responded, working on Elzada¡¯s neck, and she had to slow her breath so not to gasp from pleasure. ¡°I enjoy helping people. It is my calling, which I found when I helped with the daycare at the orphanage.¡±


    ¡°A noble desire,¡± Melina noted.


    ¡°Thank you¡­¡±


    ¡°Get out of our city, monsters! Down with the freaks!¡±


    Elzada was on her feet the moment she heard the angry scream from the window. Ignoring the biological cups that tried to get her to sit down, the wolf hag looked outside, where a small crowd of Normies, mutants, and New Breeds had gathered. They waved posters of painted hanged monsters over their heads and threw rotten fruit and garbage at the building, but a line of police officers standing in front of them ensured that no violence would be used against the brothers today.


    A familiar white-haired figure swatted aside the rotten fruit aimed at the house and snapped an order to the officers to raise their shields and protect the property. Elzada expected swift retaliation, but Zurkov remained in place, seemingly content to prevent violence.


    ¡°Protesters again.¡± Gamma-18 opened the door and handed Elzada her clothes. ¡°I am so sorry about the disturbance. We will call the police right away.¡±


    ¡°Why are they doing nothing?¡± Elzada nodded at the officers.


    ¡°Zurkov hates us.¡± Beta-18 appeared in the corridor. ¡°No idea why. The bastard always does the bare minimum¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t say that. He protects our property and gives us names to sue for damages,¡± his brother said, dialing the call. ¡°And when the families tried to muscle us out, he stood by us.¡±


    ¡°Want us to crack some skulls?¡± Melina asked.


    ¡°Not going to lie, tempting,¡± Sarkeesian said. ¡°They denied me my pleasure. I¡¯ll deny them their lives. Fair?¡±


    ¡°Do nothing, idiots!¡± Impatient One bared her fangs. ¡°Remember the words of the Blessed Mother. Don¡¯t create problems.¡±


    Elzada said nothing and just looked out the window, clutching her shoulder in annoyance at the interruption. Racism wasn¡¯t something unusual; the folks of the Ravaged Lands called her kind doggies, but in the Wastes any racism was quickly overcome. Everyone had to work together to survive, and by the end of the second grueling shift, most assholes did not care who replaced them. There were radicals in the past, but they stayed in the past, buried and forgotten.


    The situation in Houstad was a bit different. And she struggled to understand why. Who cares how someone came into this world?

 Chapter 66: Making Peace with the Past

    Day 15: Noon.


    A fist thrust through the rising dust, and Martyshkina blocked it with the palm of her right arm. The warlord had already anticipated the movements of her stubborn opponent, hidden by the sand veil, and added an elbow right into the incoming headbutt. Such was the speed of the Orais that the resulting collision of two moving forces sent gusts of wind that tore the veil and carried away pebbles.


    She frowned in pain at the dislocation of her pinkie, and the championian stepped through the elbow that hit his nose. His leg hooked into Martyshkina¡¯s, his hand closed around her throat, and the warlord was thrown back to the stone floor of the arena, landing hard enough to be mistaken for an explosive round. But the cheers of the Champion¡¯s faithful were premature, for in her fall she let go of his fist and closed her paws on the arm that was strangling her. She grabbed the wrist and around the elbow, forcing him to choose between shattering his limb or letting go. His grip loosened, and she tossed the opponent to the side, planting him face down on the stones and sending up another billow of sand.


    The warlord sprang to her feet and added a kick to the rolling aside opponent, throwing her arm up in the air just in time to block the shards of rock thrown at her snout. She smiled, biding her time to set the dislocated finger and calm the aching bones. The Orais was an exquisite joy to face against. The man fought dirty, not shying away from spitting and throwing stuff at her; his grabbing technique was supreme, and, ah, every inch of his body was a weapon! When she blocked his punch, he seized her pinky with his own fingers and dislocated it, and her hide bled in several places where the steely fingers had torn flesh in a grip.


    Bruises covered the championian¡¯s limbs; his arms and legs were swollen, but he matched her smile with his own. The Orais were naturally built to withstand heavy throws, and their skin absorbed blunt trauma. Though Martyshkina pulled back a bit on her punches and kicks and refrained from using her claws, the two were evenly matched.


    They fought in the primary sparring arena, a large stone platform built inside the Champion¡¯s training grounds. Unlike other temples, this one had no sacred relics, and the most ceremonial things were the oil that young students rubbed on the fighters and the fumes of incense that rose from brass braziers. Crowds gathered in the seats around the platform, eagerly studying the full contact of these unusual fighters.


    ¡°Again, you stand, waiting for me to make the first move.¡± The Orais spread his arms wide, ignoring the urging of the crowd of students and onlookers to continue the match. Broken teeth rained down from his fur. This arena was seldom unused. ¡°Dear guest, what is troubling you? I can see it in your amber eyes, a glimmer of sadness flashing through the excitement.¡±


    ¡°I spoke the truth; I came here to learn.¡± Martyshkina hesitated to admit her reason in front of a thousand people, but then she took a breath and spilled it all out. ¡°And to forget the pain of losing those whom I love.¡±


    She didn¡¯t lie. Janine, busy as she was with introducing her pack to the new methods of warfare, was a great friend and tried to get Martyshkina to open up. But she saw that the young one, the feisty Kalaisa, needed guidance, and so Martyshkina joked her way out of the talks with Janine. Sadness swelled in Martyshkina¡¯s chest, sadness that her girl never took her advice, that she had missed the splendor and peace of Houstad, that her princess had to die to escape madness. The realization that she would outlive her precious cubs haunted the warlord again and again, poisoning her dreams.


    Her conversations with the therapist helped. The sessions were long, no less than two hours each, and slowly Martyshkina¡¯s desire to take a revolver and put a bullet through her skull began to fade. There were reasons for her to live and ways to be happy. But the depression refused to let go, and the warlord dared to relax.


    ¡°Forget?¡± The Orais raised his massive eyebrow. ¡°Sister, you stand on the holy grounds of the Champion, on the very border between this world and the next. Through our struggle, we reach those who have left their mortal coil, for improvement never ends. You need not forget. Let loose, unchain your clenches and fists, your claws and fangs, rip and tear, and speak to them. Open your heart to the fallen, and I will serve as an enduring conduit. Talk. Permit yourself to be free.¡±


    Martyshkina blinked, wanting to denounce the stupid idea, and then she howled at the sky, her muscles bulging, summoning every ounce of her rage and power. She stepped into the incoming rain of blows, grabs, and throws, taking the lead in this match, brutally landing her kicks on the Orais¡¯ shoulders and hips, sending ripples across his skin and exploding the ground beneath the man. He stayed true to his promise, withstanding her every blow and returning the gesture in kind.


    The world merged and collapsed in the intense, fast-paced fight: the vast arena, the red splotches in the air, the torn fur and flying debris, the clouds of sand and the cheering crowds. Through it all, Martyshkina imagined another sight. Maybe it was the incense burning in the braziers, or perhaps the Spirits opened a hidden pathway, but a shadow of her lost princess stepped into the air, flanked by her sisters and brothers.


    ¡°I am sorry,¡± water ran down Martyshkina¡¯s eyes, blurring her vision. Her head rocked up as a fist connected to her nose, producing a ringing sound as if a steel hammer hit a metal gong. The warlord persevered, dodging the trajectory of the next strike, and kicked the Orais in the groin. ¡°All I ever wished was for you to live long and happily, to find yourself soulmates, build a tent, and to have a knoll of little ones waiting for you when you returned from the wars. I dreamed of helping you raise them, cooking for them, and teasing you about how to be parents¡­¡± she whimpered, spitting blood. ¡°I never wanted to poison your veins, to have you be inverted or risk losing themselves. The time I gave birth to you and first enclosed your warm bodies in my embrace were the happiest days of my life. I¡­ don¡¯t know what to say to your cubs every time I see them. I am so, so sorry for taking you away from them and for failing you.¡±


    She expected curses or hatred. But what came from those phantoms was love, unconditional and reassuring. Memories of how she trained, raised, and helped them burned anew in the warlord¡¯s eyes. The ghosts of her children flickered out of existence, and the world returned to the arena where she wept and dodged and countered the raining blows of her opponent, who now took the place of the defender. Whether it was a mirage or the truth, something had changed in her. Martyshkina felt the supporting paws of her children on her shoulders. It was as if she was back in the past, and her cubs were already urging her to win against Janine in a ranked match.


    ¡°My duty¡¯s done.¡± The Orais bloody lips parted in a smile. ¡°It is a joy to witness a successful communion. May your burden be lightened.


    ¡°It is.¡± Martyshkina nodded eagerly. Her body hurt from all the pounding she had received, but her spirit was exhilarated. Her cubs didn¡¯t hate her! ¡°Apologies, but the fun is over. Little ones are watching. It¡¯d be bad if they saw their mom kiss the dirt again.¡± She snapped her fingers. ¡°Time to drop you, Holy Father.¡±


    ¡°Dream on!¡± the Orais roared, and they lunged at each other, their fists colliding, the loud shockwave of the impact silencing the crowd. Through the pain of that day, a most unusual understanding was born.


    When Martyshkina was returning from the arena, happy, bruised, and dirty, she ran into the waiting Eled at the entrance.


    ¡°You look different,¡± her named sister remarked.


    It was sweet. Janine had her paws full of her own pack, but Martyshkina suspected that her friend had asked people to watch over her. Regularly, the warlord would run into a familiar soldier on her way from the therapist¡¯s office, or a friendly face in a bar. Sometimes it was Predaig. Or Zlata. But she was never alone, and it was time to break out of her dark thoughts.


    ¡°I live,¡± Martyshkina said simply, smiling. ¡°Come.¡±


    ¡°To bars?¡±


    ¡°Screw the bars.¡± Martyshkina cracked her neck. ¡°I¡¯ve been drinking too long. We have duties to perform.¡±


    ****


    Day 20: Early morning.


    Mindy was a very happy Wolfkin. The survivor of the first litter, she was smaller and leaner than her siblings, but she never understood the pity with which her mother and they treated her. She was enlisted in Warlord Dragena¡¯s pack¡ªthe best pack there was! After ten years of service, only a handful of scars marred her body. She became a scout through a promotion and had a loving husband and four adorable cubs back at home. What was there to pity?


    She was ecstatic about the news of visiting Houstad, regretting the inability to bring her honey and the little ones here, while the rest of the pack sulked over the lack of war glory. Glory? What glory is there in getting hurt and dying in war? Mindy could never understand the savagery of her kin, not even when it came to protecting her rank. She often heard other scouts and even several wolf hags call her ¡®Weird Mindy¡¯, but all she did was shrug.


    Houstad was incredible! No war, an abundance of various foods, people constantly asking her questions about customs and traditions instead of boring fights, and she got to wear a gifted parade uniform! It consisted of a simple blue jacket decorated by four medals, long leather pants, a blue shirt, boots, a cap, and a skirt. She failed to understand why her combat sisters balked at it, preferring to stay within the confines of the base. Mindy ventured out to explore the city at the first opportunity, wasting all of her tokens.


    This was a problem. Mindy was weird, but not stupid; she understood the importance of money and sent most of her pay to her honey so he could raise the little ones right. It was okay; side jobs paid enough for her personal interests, but Houstad was so expensive! A cake here cost more than a spare bullet magazine in the Wastes. Mindy was about to settle for sightseeing when Warlord Dragena summoned her and Iternian Jacob Makarevich for a private mission! Her! A mere scout!


    Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    They were to find a person. It sounded difficult at first, but Mindy wasn¡¯t the one to pull a long face. She and Jacob visited the archives and retrieved files about the Assassins¡¯ Guild. As expected, there was no mention of this person after the guild was dissolved, but that was no problem! The assassins, silly buggers they were, watched each other jealously, trying to swoop in and steal customers at the first opportunity.


    It was then that she really came to appreciate the kind Iternian who paid for every expense. Sure, Jacob had endless questions about the tribe, but it was not forbidden to discuss these matters, and the two bonded over their morning coffees. The former assassins, now working in offices or escorting merchants outside the wall, were a great help, and after a little digging, they found their person and called the warlord, sending her the information they had gathered.


    ¡°Any idea why Dragena wanted to meet this woman?¡± Jacob asked, sipping coffee as he and Mindy sat in a simple coffee shop in the morning. It was a one-story place, built in a spherical shape, near a platform overlooking a river. People often gathered here before going to work in a nearby skyscraper, and during the day, several children delivered hot coffee to the offices.


    ¡°Nope! Not even a hint,¡± Mindy said, admiring the rich aroma of the coffee. Jacob paid for a monthly subscription in exchange for her personal experience of how the ¡°reward¡± of her power affected her. Mindy wasn¡¯t strong by any means, but even she gained fifty centimeters just by winning her share of the domination matches. The scout adjusted her cap and watched as the shop¡¯s sign lit up, announcing its opening. ¡°Doubt it anything bad, though.¡±


    Warlord Dragena appeared from around the corner, punctual as always. As she walked to the entrance, nodding once to greet her helpers, the sun began to appear on the horizon and lamps were turned off. Yawning couples and morning birds left their homes to go to work. Several people gathered on the platform, taking pictures of the first boats to float. A bearded man turned and filmed the warlord and the sitting couple. Mindy noticed him and waved at the man, who quickly turned away. The store¡¯s doors flew open, unleashing the storming-out crowd of young children of various ages and origins, who quickly spread around, wiping the white plastic tables clean. One girl, not quite awake, nearly rammed her head into Mindy¡¯s stomach before she realized that someone was sitting at a table.


    ¡°Uh¡­ you can¡¯t bring your own coffee,¡± the girl said with a yawn, pointing to the paper bag where Mindy kept her thermos. She blushed when the scout pulled out the flask and showed that it had the store¡¯s logo on it. ¡°Sorry, miss.¡±


    ¡°This coffee is delicious.¡± Mindy¡¯s praise made the girl¡¯s blush again.


    ¡°Woah, you are tall,¡± another child said to Dragena.


    The warlord¡¯s cold and dispassionate eyes surveyed the unusual work crew. ¡°Aren¡¯t you too young to be working at such an early hour? What if you run into some drunks?¡± she asked, glancing at Jacob.


    ¡°Mom will beat them up!¡± said a Malformed kid. Like the others, he wore the store¡¯s uniform, but his was always on the verge of bursting under the rolling muscles, the many knotted, sinuous limbs that ended in square fingers covered in bone crust. ¡°She is the best!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, when she picks up her scythe, even the craziest scum wets themselves!¡± The sleepy girl boasted.


    ¡°Is that it? Call her then, it is time to settle this blood debt,¡± Dragena said icily, and opened the store¡¯s door to let the kids run inside.


    ¡°That¡¯s bad,¡± Mindy swallowed.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t hired to be an accomplice to murder,¡± Jacob snapped and charged in.


    Mindy followed, unsure of what to do. She certainly didn¡¯t want anyone to die, and the orders of the Blessed Mother were clear. No causing troubles. If it came to it, she¡¯d throw herself to stop her warlord. The problem was that it wouldn¡¯t be enough. Even if they called the entire police department, it wouldn¡¯t be enough. A warlord, especially Dragena, could not be stopped by mere New Breeds.


    ¡°Stay where you are,¡± Dragena warned them, sitting in a chair near the counter.


    ¡°The hell I am.¡± Jacob closed in, and Mindy took a step.


    ¡°It¡­ It¡¯s against the rules, Warlord,¡± Mindy squeaked into the icy eyes.


    ¡°What is the commotion?¡± An impersonal voice inquired as the planks in the ceiling above the counter shifted, unleashing warm air and the wonderful smell of fresh seed.


    An elegant figure jumped down, wearing a white apron and black clothes. Mindy thought the woman was wearing a strange pitch-black body glove, but then she understood that the store owner¡¯s skin was black. Not as black as that of a Normie, but completely black, so that not even the light of the Warlord¡¯s eyes could illuminate it. She wasn¡¯t tall or muscular; the woman was about one and a half meters tall, and the whites of her eyes were two narrow slits of color on her round face. Ignoring the glowering warlord, she handed pocket change to the children, shooed them outside, and began cleaning metal pipes, turning her back on Dragena.


    ¡°Desert Death,¡± Dragena tapped on the counter. ¡°Once considered the best in the guild.¡±


    ¡°That was my nickname, yes. And I wasn¡¯t the best. Reaper always was.¡± The woman replied in an even voice. She stood on the counter and closed the entrance to the ceiling, then jumped down and reached for a hanging scythe on the wall. Mindy tensed, but the woman just picked up cups from the shelf, filled them with hot coffee, added sugar, and set one in front of Dragena. ¡°On the house. I go by the name of Sitota Ezkeiel these days.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind,¡± Dragena promised and casually drank the cup, baring her throat without care or worry for having it slit or if the coffee was poisoned. The hem of her coat shifted from the movement, and Mindy noticed the long, sheathed knives. ¡°Forty years ago, at the request of the Oathtakers, my wolf hag and four warriors had lost their heads in the night. It was done by a single scythe cut.¡±


    ¡°I had to wait over a week, covering my scent with chemicals,¡± Sitota said, sitting across from Dragena. She offered another full cup, and the warlord accepted. ¡°At the end, it was for nothing. They sensed me and riddled my stomach full of shards. It was a miracle I reached civilization to treat my wounds.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t deny it,¡± Dragena¡¯s unblinking eyes found their perfect match.


    ¡°No,¡± Sitota answered. ¡°Have you come to collect my neck?¡±


    Dragena glanced around the place and, at last, the door, observing working children through its glass.


    ¡°They are not yours.¡±


    ¡°They are not part of this,¡± Sitota said.


    The warlord¡¯s amber eyes returned to the woman¡¯s face. There was no thought or anger in them. Mindy knew that many, herself included, were unnerved during private conversations with the warlord. It was stupid; their leader had risked her life many times to turn the tide of battles in their favor; her unparalleled fighting style left no opponent alive, yet her presence resembled that of a very large snake. She threatened to open her mouth and swallow you whole just by being in the same room. Dragena never raised her voice or hurt her subordinates, but there was something wrong with her, as if she was missing a vital part of being human.


    Jacob squeezed in between the warlord and the former assassin, a mere human barely reaching the chest of the seated Dragena. He stood his ground, holding a terminal like a weapon in his hand.


    ¡°Warlord. No,¡± he said.


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Mindy reached out and put a paw over the knives. ¡°I can call the police. This... this isn¡¯t right.¡±


    ¡°This is no concern of yours, Iternian, scout,¡± Dragena replied coldly. ¡°It was said that Desert Death lived to kill, valuing neither tokens nor the lives of her victims or even her own. She didn¡¯t live; she merely existed, wasting oxygen day after day.¡± Dragena tapped on the cup, and Sitota refilled it. ¡°Desert Death never returned to Houstad. Sitota did, and her purpose is far nobler.¡± Dragena drank the coffee. ¡°There is no one left for me to kill. Raise these cubs, and we¡¯re even.¡±


    ¡°Just like that?¡± Sitota asked. Dragena nodded.


    ¡°And if Sitota hadn¡¯t changed,¡± Jacob pressed. ¡°What would have happened then? Would there have been bloodshed?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it, Jacob,¡± Mindy whispered, removing her paw.


    ¡°You underestimate me, Iternian.¡± Dragena examined the menu. ¡°I gleaned the necessary information about what kind of person Desert Death had become from the results of your search. My mind was already made up before I came here. But if we were to theorize, I would¡¯ve apprehended¡­¡±


    ¡°You would¡¯ve tried,¡± Sitota interjected.


    ¡°I never made a mistake in my life,¡± Dragena said bluntly. ¡°If you had wasted the years of life you were given, I would have broken you and turned you over to the police. There is no if in that; it is simply a fact. Now, unless you want to have breakfast too, leave us. And Mindy¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warlord?¡± She saluted.


    ¡°Good job. Never be afraid to stand up to me,¡± Dragena said and turned to the menu. ¡°I¡¯ll start with the omelet. Twelve eggs and bread, please.¡±


    ¡°Lizard or chicken eggs?¡±


    ¡°Chicken.¡±


    Mindy took that as a hint and dragged Jacob out into the street after her, wiping the nervous sweat from her brow.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± she said, checking her cap critically to see if there was any sweat on it. She liked the thing for its prettiness. ¡°I didn¡¯t know the Warlord would use you.¡± Mindy glanced at the crowd of people near the secure railing, filming the boats below.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind being used like that,¡± Jacob responded. ¡°I plan to skip the city; maybe check out the wall to the west.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± Mindy asked, narrowing her eyes. There was a man who looked worriedly at the store instead of filming the river. She wasn¡¯t surprised when this bearded weirdo took a peek at Dragena, but why was he so focused on filming the entrance?


    ¡°I¡¯ll film the smaller settlements to show how people live in these changed regions. And there is a kingdom outside the Reclamation Army¡¯s border. I have heard that your leaders are trying to integrate it peacefully. Material like this can make a killing back home, if I can get permission to venture outside. Shouldn¡¯t be hard; if the Oathtakers got one for their trip to the wall, there¡¯s no reason¡­¡± Jacob placed a hand over her shoulder. ¡°Is something wrong?¡±


    ¡°Not sure,¡± Mindy admitted, nodding at the suspicious man. ¡°The dude over there keeps paying more attention to here than to the boat. Is he a freak interested in children?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make accusations like that, Mindy; they can easily ruin a person¡¯s life. But come to think of it, he is a rather twitchy fellow,¡± Jacob focused on the man.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go ask him!¡± Mindy pushed forward, ignoring Jacob¡¯s pleas to stop. She waved her paw and called, ¡°Hey! Mister!¡±


    The bearded man darted away from the platform, shoving the tourists out of his way. She saw his panicked eyes as he ran to the intersection and almost jumped under the car to get to the alleys on the other side, while Mindy ran after him, gaining distance. This unusual behavior surprised her even more, and she made her way to the left alley entrance, knowing full well that the path the man had taken would end in the metal grating and a sealed door leading into the houses. This much she learned as she scouted the area in anticipation of the warlord¡¯s arrival. The scout gestured for Jacob to stay behind her for safety.


    What do they know? The man took pictures of her and Dragena. By no means a crime, so Mindy wasn¡¯t going to let her claws do the talking. Facing the grate, the man would have to choose between returning to the street or fleeing further into the alleys, and Mindy chuckled as she noticed him rushing around the bend ahead. She changed her walk to a stride and was about to catch up with the man when a figure in a black leather cloak suddenly stepped into her path.


    ¡°Halt,¡± the newcomer¡¯s eye flashed in the dark, and Mindy understood it was a woman. She showed an ID. ¡°Piam from the Investigation Bureau. We¡¯re conducting an investigation into the Benguigui family and would appreciate it if you¡¯d stop stirring our potential suspects.¡±


    ¡°Suspects in what?¡± Jacob asked, and Piam smoothly turned to him.


    ¡°Their rats have been spotted doing unusual activities around town. Nothing illegal, but enough to attract our eye.¡± A terminal slipped into the agent¡¯s hand. ¡°Do you happen to know who Warlord Dragena was meeting with this morning, and why that might be of interest to the criminals?¡±


    ¡°Not sure about the latter, but the former is¡­¡± Mindy started happily.


    ¡°Is none of your business,¡± Jacob snapped. ¡°Thanks for your warning, Investigator. We will certainly stay out of your business.¡±


    ¡°What bit you?¡± Mindy asked when they left the alley and ventured to a bus stop.


    ¡°Think about it, Mindy. Why would an investigator stop us in the alley instead of picking up that creep and grilling him until he answers her questions? And if she¡¯s leading the investigation¡­¡± Jacob scratched his chin. ¡°Why can¡¯t she simply come to Dragena and ask her? It¡¯s almost as if she doesn¡¯t want to meet her.¡±


    ¡°We best to inform the warlord,¡± Mindy decided and smirked. ¡°And get a breakfast!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll pay, of course?¡± Jacob laughed at Mindy¡¯s whistle.

 Chapter 67: Not So Calm Days

    Day 23: Noon.


    Kirk rubbed the collar of his jacket, hoping to banish this annoying stiffness, and looked anywhere but at his sister¡¯s back while wishing he could be anywhere but here. To tell the truth, he hadn¡¯t disliked the last few weeks. First, he made new friends. He did not know why Bogdan had reached out to him; Kirk was sort of an outsider in his own pack; only his sister and brother spoke to him. And Kalaisa. He blinked, banishing his fear.


    But suddenly, Bogdan barged into his life, invited him to play cards, taught him how to banter for fun, and never, never got upset with him. Even when Kirk accidentally broke the pipe and they were all submerged in shit and urine. He half expected to be beaten to death, but everyone laughed while they fixed the pipe.


    Kirk himself was fine. Other females in the pack chose not to dominate him or his siblings. A little of his fur grew back, making him look more like a real Wolfkin, but every time he faced the eyes of his comrades, he saw the same thing. Pity. As annoying as it was, he came to terms with the fact that he wasn¡¯t going to ever find a soulmate. The last heat season had already passed, and no girl had asked him to dance.


    Kalaisa¡­ behaved weird, too. Gone were the beatings; she would occasionally snap at him, calling him and the rest of the family useless, but now she would always stop, apologize, and rephrase her words, almost inviting them to get back at her. While his sister gave Kalaisa a piece of her mind, essentially denouncing her, Kirk remained silent. It was all a trap; it had to be. The moment he spoke, Kalaisa would punish him worse than before.


    Kalaisa dragged her siblings out of the base, requesting leaves from Ygrite. Kirk begged the Spirits to make the warlord ignore these requests as usual, but Ygrite approved all of them. Fortunately, they were never alone; either Anissa or Anji accompanied them.


    Their elder sister led her family into a quiet building, where a good-natured woman listened to them. Kirk wasn¡¯t sure what the point was; the woman talked to them one at a time, asking how they were feeling and carefully probing their family history.


    After the sixth session, Kirk felt comfortable enough to tell her a little. Their family had never been normal. No father, no mother; Kalaisa was always angry, but she had never raised a paw at them. When she came home, all bruised and beaten, she gave them milk and meat and then left to get more. They tried to help her, but without anyone to teach them, they broke more things than they fixed, which made Kalaisa¡¯s mood even worse, especially after Kirk accidentally ruined her toy. Still, she just glared at him and cleaned up the mess. Their family was dysfunctional, but they were together, and Kirk remembered how Kalaisa¡¯s lips twitched into a shy smile after he presented her with a barely working flute he had made with his own paws while she slept.


    And then the shamans announced their verdict. Kirk remembered that day it burned itself into his memory. She came back, choking with grief, her once amber eyes a blind crimson sea of burst blood vessels. Her paws trembled, and when the sister asked cheerfully which pack had taken her in, Kalaisa struck. Breaking a bone. She screamed in rage, and they screamed from pain. Their torment only spiraled upward from there.


    The kind woman gave Kirk some pointers on how to deal with Kalaisa. Do not look at her when talking to her. Try to concentrate on happier thoughts and distance yourself from her. Find a hobby. He tried that, of course, but the problem was that the damned Kalaisa refused to get out of his muzzle!


    Today, she announced they would be withdrawing tokens from her bank account and that he would help. Unfortunately, neither Anji nor Bogdan could come. Bogdan was busy showing Marco around the city, and Anji had to watch over Onyxia¡¯s pack while the warlord was away. Thank the Spirits, Anissa and Ignacy volunteered to go along. They rode a tram in awkward silence until Ignacy showed Kirk a ¡®web game¡¯, a humorous little shooter. Things livened up a bit after that, with Anissa and Kalaisa even cheering him on after each win and groaning in frustration at his slow reaction. At the end of their journey, all four sat down and played on the same map. Kirk even beat Kalaisa, though he suspected she was just letting him win.


    ¡°Is this where all our payments go?¡± Kirk tried the woman¡¯s advice and start a conversation while ignoring Kalaisa. He looked to the side where four black vans were parked near the tall white bank building. Then he smiled at the sight of a sibling playing under the supervision of an elderly matron.


    She can¡¯t hurt you. Not here. Everything is fine. Breathe.


    ¡°No, no!¡± Ignacy said. ¡°Kirk, the National Bank has many branches all over the country; even the smallest settlement has at least one place where you can deposit your tokens. To exchange your tokens for, say, Iternian credits, you have to visit a larger settlement. This is just one of the many buildings owned by the Bank.¡±


    ¡°How do they know how much we own?¡± Anissa¡¯s ears perked. ¡°I¡¯ve only ever spoken to the bank clerk near our village.¡±


    ¡°Simple.¡± Ignacy showed his terminal. ¡°Remember how we played together over the net? Well, this is the same principle, though much more encrypted. All transactions are in real time, so if you deposit something in a bank, all the banks know about it.¡±


    ¡°And what if someone hacks in?¡± Kirk asked suspiciously.


    ¡°Virtually impossible.¡± Ignacy beamed, opened a web page, and displayed a fifty-page explanation of dimensional encryption. Seeing the raised eyebrows, he sighed. ¡°Well, after the Extinction happened and we all sort of got along, Lada, an AI from Iterna, has provided the Three Great Nations with a special encryption that is impervious even to Artificer¡¯s tampering. This protection ensures that no one can repeat the Extinction and hack into the military and unleash WMDs on the world. After extensive research, Till Ingo created a lesser copy of this model, which is now used in our banking system. So know that if your tokens, shares, or interest go missing, it means the Iternian Elite has scammed you,¡± Ignacy chuckled at the last words.


    ¡°Interest?¡± He heard Kalaisa scratching her neck. ¡°The Abyss is what?¡±


    I will be fine. I am fine.


    ¡°Basically, you put tokens in a special account, don¡¯t take anything out for a certain amount of time, and the bank uses those tokens to invest and pays you back the entire amount plus some extra at the end of that time. I don¡¯t really know the details; I¡¯ve never been in the ¡®get more tokens¡¯ business.¡±


    ¡°Wait, we can do it?¡± Anissa¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Why didn¡¯t anyone tell us?¡± She reached out for her terminal and quickly punched in a number. ¡°Lacerated One? Excuse the sudden call, but I have important information to report¡­¡±


    They earned themselves surprised glances upon entering the bank. Kirk paid no attention. He and Kalaisa were dressed in bright crimson jackets, shirts, scarves, hats, thick pants to keep them warm, and specially tailored sneakers. Anissa and Ignacy wore similar outfits, but theirs were dark blue, the unofficial color of their pack. The company owned by His Excellency, Devourer, had provided these obscene riches to the Wolf Tribe as part of a welcome gift.


    The people inside wore summer clothes, and the coolers were running at full power to combat the supposed summer heat. A guard even approached and asked the Wolfkins if they were okay.


    ¡°Yeah, totally.¡± Kalaisa waved him aside and took place in a line.


    ¡°You.¡± Anissa jumped to sit before a consultant. ¡°Tell me everything about interest rates.¡±


    Ignacy picked out some brochures to read, and Kirk landed on a sofa and stretched out, both paws behind his head. He was enjoying Houstad and its lack of danger.


    ¡°I would like to withdraw three hundred tokens.¡± He heard Kalaisa¡¯s voice.


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°A moment, please.¡± The bank clerk checked her ID before returning it. ¡°Would you like to withdraw them from your primary account or from the state¡¯s account?¡±


    ¡°I only have one account.¡± Kalaisa frowned.


    ¡°This is incorrect, miss. The state has set up a separate account at the command of Governor Devourer. All members of your tribe are eligible for a certain sum from this account. As an officer, you can withdraw two thousand tokens per day while in Houstad.¡± The bank clerk explained.


    ¡°Why hasn¡¯t anyone told us?¡± Anissa exploded on her seat, reaching for the terminal again. ¡°Lacerated One? I have an update. About those cusacks that the tribe couldn¡¯t afford? Now we can¡­¡±


    ¡°Nobody moves! Hands in the air!¡± Kirk opened his eyes to the click of a gun and a loud slam of the front door. The barrel of a machinegun was pointed directly at his face.


    People dressed in black leather and wearing biker helmets rushed the main entrance, armed with machine guns. One guard tried to reach for his gun when a bandit pointed his empty palm at him. The guard convulsed and fell to the ground, vomiting and shaking all over. The terrorist who had pointed his hand at him came closer and stomped down with his boot, no doubt giving the poor man a minor skull fracture and knocking him unconscious. Kirk saw a trickle of blood coming from the guard¡¯s ear and nose.


    The rest of the assailant had spread around the room, taking aim at customers and bank employees. Kirk noticed a teller trying to reach for an emergency alarm button. She shuddered as a tongue of flame burned a hole through the security window, snaking around the woman¡¯s hand like a snake before disappearing. A bulky Orais stomped closer.


    ¡°Try it again, and I¡¯ll melt you, bitch,¡± the device in his helmet severely distorted his voice. ¡°Open the main vault, and no one else will get hurt.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, is this some kind of stupid joke I¡¯m not in on, or do you have a death wish?¡± Kalaisa¡¯s fingers broke through the counter.


    The Orais snapped his fingers and fire rose around Kalaisa, hiding her from view. A ring of fire encircled her, trapping the wolf hag as the terrorist barked orders and several of his thugs rushed to the second floor. Another terrorist began pacing the room, searching for someone.


    A cub¡¯s scream attracted Kirk¡¯s attention. The little girl was sitting somewhere away from her grandfather, looking out the window at the outside world, when the thugs burst in. Scared, the girl tried to run to the old man, and the butt of a rifle slammed into her skull. A robber kicked the fallen girl and yelled at her to stop moving or he would break every bone in her body.


    The world changed, and Kirk found himself back in the tent, shivering and crying at the sound of footsteps. Her footsteps. Kalaisa never bothered to hide, and she returned from her training in Ygrite¡¯s pack in a foul mood that grew worse with each passing day.


    Today, she sucker punched her sister in the gut and needed her in the jaw. Kirk whimpered, and she turned to him, eyes burning like embers. He felt pain in his ear when she lifted him up, forcing him to see her face, before pain speared his solar plexus. Gasping for air, he received another hit across his neck, robbing him of any chance to breathe. Kalaisa threw him into the air, and the fabric of the tent touched his head. In the next moment, the light dimmed, pushed out by the otherworldly pain that flowed from his groin after her kick.


    Wordlessly, he fell to the ground, trying to gasp, tears streaming down his face. Why? Kalaisa lunged at his brother, who tried desperately to appear smaller, and Kirk cursed himself. Why is he so weak? Why is she allowed to do it? Why had everything changed!?


    He snapped back to reality and found himself biting deep into the terrorist¡¯s neck. The man choked desperately, trying to form a plea for surrender, but Kirk would hear none of it. The man¡¯s form shifted between two people. Terrorist. Kalaisa. Terrorist. Kalaisa. Kirk ripped out the throat, spilling a stream of red over the shocked people.


    He collapsed to his knees, his stomach revolting. His breakfast came out in a stream of vomit; his lungs refused to take in an ounce of air; and the muscles in his legs spasmed incessantly. Above him was the bastard who had incapacitated the guard earlier. The Orais approached too, snarling at his men to get the tokens faster.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t have done it, kiddo,¡± the Orais said. ¡°Now you are about to become a crust.¡± A tongue of fire appeared on his index finger as the terrorist pointed his hand at him.


    ¡°I will¡­.¡± Kirk muttered as the cub whimpered behind him.


    ¡°Pleading for mercy?¡± the Orais inquired.


    ¡°I will never let my family be hurt ever again!¡± Kirk howled out the words and leapt, ignoring the agony.


    He grabbed the Orais¡¯ arm and forcibly lifted it up, sending the streak of flame to lick the ceiling rather than immolate him or the cub. He headbutted the bastard, breaking his own nose against the helmet, and stabbed at his throat with the claws.


    The New Breed easily caught Kirk by the wrist, twisted his arm to the point of breaking, and kicked him in the chest. Fierce and fearless, many of the Orais surpass low-ranked Wolfkins in sheer physical strength. This one was far stronger than Kirk; his kick sent the soldier cartwheeling across the room, slamming him into a wall and stealing the remaining air from his lungs.


    ¡°Plan B. Take this girl hostage; I will burn this one¡­¡± A fireball flickered to life in his left hand, but the terrorist never finished his speech.


    The terrorist beside him gasped weakly, unable to use his power, and claws appeared from his chest. Each warlord had his own style. Be it the use of melee weapons along with ranged fire like Janine or a brutal attack like Alpha, no two were the same in their method of fighting. Kalaisa¡¯s preferred method of slaughter was speed, and she mercilessly trained every part of her body to be as elastic as possible, shattering her own bones so that they would regrow, tougher than before and with a greater range of motion.


    Kalaisa took off from the circle of fire, landing on the ceiling and using it as a springboard to attack her prey. Before the stones of the ruined ceiling could get halfway to the floor, Kalaisa¡¯s arm went into the man¡¯s body up to the elbow. The Orais turned and struck back blindly.


    ¡°You touched my family,¡± Kalaisa growled, crumpling his fist in her paw like a clay figurine.


    Pieces of flesh and bone pushed themselves between her fingers. The terrorist screamed, calling flame into his remaining hand, only to have the Wolfkin grab his head. With a single violent twist, Kalaisa broke his neck; the second twist left him headless forever, and his flames died.


    And there it is. Kirk thought, looking at Kalaisa at her full height, meeting her eyes for the first time this day. He heard roars and screaming when Anissa joined in and saw Ignacy punching a man¡¯s head down the chest. But one thing dominated it all, filling him with hopelessness and fear. Kalaisa¡¯s figure standing over him.


    He pissed himself and blacked out.


    ****


    ¡°Sorry for the mess.¡± Kirk angrily wiped off the tears, sitting on the stairs leading into the bank while the police officers busily removed the bodies.


    By the grace of the Spirits, no civilians died, and the guard, his skull cracked, was the only critical victim. The robbers quickly surrendered after Anissa gored five of them. News agencies arrived a minute before the police and filmed the scene. The officers stated no charges would be filed against the Wolfkins, but the group would have to be escorted to a police station.


    ¡°Mess?¡± Anissa laughed, sitting next to him. ¡°That was a fantastic warm-up.¡±


    ¡°Sis, there were cubs in here,¡± Ignacy said quietly.


    ¡°People die all the time. It¡¯s better for them to learn that the world is a dangerous place now rather than later.¡± Anissa shrugged unconcernedly.


    ¡°I am sorry, I¡­ I just wanted to keep my brother safe,¡± Kirk said, his body shaking.


    Their eyes were on him, and Kirk wondered what had happened. Was it something he said?


    ¡°Kirk, are you ok?¡± Ignacy started. ¡°You saved a girl. And the only member of your family here is¡­¡±


    He got up, unable to hear the rest, and walked straight to the police van. Remembering the kind woman¡¯s lessons, he pulled out a small mechanical toy from his pocket. The toy resembled Grand Commander Outsider; his cloak billowed behind his back, a cowl covered his face, and steel armor encased his entire body. Slowly and carefully, he took the toy apart and began to reassemble it, not forgetting to breathe.


    I can fix my life. Kirk tried to concentrate on this thought. He was still young. He didn¡¯t have to be afraid all the time. Kalaisa no longer had any influence over him. That part of his life was over. Kirk reassembled the toy and immediately took it apart, repeating the process as his heartbeat slowed. He is not useless. He is a human being.


    His thoughts went back to the earlier vision. He tore at the man¡¯s throat, but it was Kalaisa in his vision. Did he... Does he want to murder his big sister? Who would that help? What kind of monster was he?


    ¡°Hey, champ, how are you doing?¡± Ignacy asked, stepping inside the van.


    ¡°I am broken, Ignacy,¡± Kirk replied.


    ¡°Oh, so the hero who saves a little girl is broken now. Wish I was this broken. Check it out; you are all over the news! They called you the black-furred savior.¡± Ignacy reached for a terminal and showed it to Kirk. Reporters moved quickly, interviewing people before the police could clear the scene. And the elderly grandfather, holding the cub in his arms, loudly thanked Kirk and blessed the planet for the Third¡¯s arrival in Houstad.


    Hearing no response, Ignacy put the terminal back into his pocket and sat nearby, wrapping his natural arm around Kirk¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Listen. I am not Mom or Bogdan. Not even Anissa. I can¡¯t do the whole¡­ motivational speech. But I do know this. If one of my devices is broken, I fix it. It takes time¡ªweeks sometimes¡ªbut in the end, they do their job. So... never give up on yourself, okay? If you ever feel the need to talk to somebody, find me. I can at least listen.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Ignacy.¡± Kirk rubbed his eyes. ¡°I am not sure how I can ever repay your family for such care.¡±


    ¡°Here¡¯s the funny thing: There¡¯s no need to repay! That¡¯s what friends are for! Now, snap out of doom and gloom, and let¡¯s think about where to go tomorrow. I suggest the zoo¡­¡±


    Kirk just groaned in frustration, but a smile touched his lips. It was great to be part of a group.

 Chapter 68: Confessions, Family, and Evil

    Day 23: Evening.


    Elzada.


    ¡°Right in here, Miss¡­¡±


    ¡°The name¡¯s Elzada.¡± She waved the officer away, sniffing the route.


    Ignacy was in trouble! Her heart almost jumped out of her chest at the news, and it surprised her. Elzada had always thought of Ignacy as more of a fleeting thing than a serious soul mate. Oh, the boy was handsome, no doubt. His fur was enchanting, his cheeks were simply perfect, and even their size wasn¡¯t far off. His mother¡¯s divinity ran through his veins. Their cubs would have been so beautiful!


    But there was something off about him. The mating rituals of the Wolf Tribe weren¡¯t very complicated. In the old days, females simply chose a male at random as their soulmate, regardless of their desires. But after Terrific killed her second mate for failing to make her some male cubs, Lacerated One, Zero, Alpha, Ashbringer, and Dragena, accompanied by the Twins, visited the Blessed Mother and forced her to change things. As always, Ravager refused to stay in charge for long, but some laws were implemented.


    Now the Wolfkins needed the approval of both sides to form a union. It was foolish to expect anything reasonable from the males, so the females invented a whole ritual of flashing their claws and not dominating their future soulmates to get their attention. The only exception was the Season of Heat, but that was, well, heat. When a female came of age, there was an urge to mate, and any male was game.


    Almost none of them refused free copulation. Except Ignacy. Not only did he reject Elzada, he ignored her advances altogether, begging her not to ruin his blueprints. To this day, the confusion of that moment filled her mind. How could a male reject a female for the sake of mundane things? Elzada respected his odd hobby and tried to avoid the strange buffoon, but something in his gaze always drew her back.


    She did not see him as someone who would prepare breakfast for her cubs in the morning. He was more likely to set fire to the tent while tinkering with new gadgets. But when she saw the news, Elzada leaped to Janine and begged to for the right to bring Ignacy back.


    I am weird.


    ¡°It was Benguigui¡¯s freaks,¡± she overheard a white-haired officer speaking to the commissioner. ¡°I recognized the head. That creep was seen with Raffy. If you give me a squad, I¡¯ll¡­¡±


    ¡°Agent Piam has already contacted me,¡± the commissioner responded. ¡°The Investigation Bureau is handling the situation.¡±


    ¡°The investigators have been sleeping on this robbery! Sir, there is queerness in the air. The Benguiguis are doing God knows what, now that robbery.¡± The officer put his hands on the table. ¡°They couldn¡¯t have hoped to escape from Houstad. And the Investigation Bureau¡¯s agents are stalling things. Sir, we must act.¡±


    ¡°Notice a log in your own eye before you accuse the investigators of incompetence, Zurkov,¡± the commissioner said. ¡°I have received complaints about your treatment of non-humans¡­¡±


    Elzada found Ignacy not in a waiting room or a cell, but down the hall in the basement, where he was busy fixing a leaking battery.


    ¡°Why is he here?!¡± she demanded to know.


    ¡°He asked himself.¡± The officer scratched his head. ¡°We offered him a room to wait in, but Mr. Ignacy insisted on being useful and fixed a water dispenser, lights in the basement, and is now¡­¡±


    ¡°Elzada!¡± Ignacy turned, and his happy muzzle made her smile against her anger. ¡°Glad to see you!¡±


    ¡°Same here. I came to pick you up. How are you doing?¡±


    ¡°This place is awesome! They have a library here, the food is simply magnificent, and the people are super nice.¡± Ignacy put aside the wretch and wiped his paws on his jacket, leaving dirty smears. ¡°Anyway, I wanted to ask you something... if it¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°What about?¡± I swear, if he asks to stay here, I will bite him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve read about a cool thing in the city. Called a theater. It¡¯s similar to the way artists perform in the main squares of the settlements, but on a much bigger stage. I thought... Would you like to come with me and check it out?¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Elzada smiled, and Ignacy beamed. She took him under the arm and marched him out. ¡°First, we return to the base. You need to clean up. Then we¡¯ll go.¡±


    Yes! He finally makes the first move! Elzada dragged Ignacy to the car, too worried about him getting distracted again and grinning from ear to ear at the warmth in her chest. Maybe he felt something for her after all. If so, she was ready to find out what kind of man he was. And perhaps give birth to five or ten cubs. Yes, cubs would be nice.


    ****


    Anji.


    Anji was relieved that Janine permitted her to leave the base. In recent weeks, the warlords had limited the packs¡¯ training hours. Rumor had it that the order came from high up: the Third Army was here to rest and recuperate. Leaves were available on first request, but many Wolfkins preferred to spend their time in their dens, not showing a nose behind the walls. But not Kalaisa.


    Her unexpected companion wasn¡¯t a lost cause. Anji was sure of that. If the Tribe could tolerate people like Terrific, they could tolerate Kalaisa. There was a future for her, and Anji was glad to see that the younger woman was trying her best to become a better person.


    In the past few days, Kalaisa had come out of her shell more and more, accepting the jokes and insults aimed at her without the usual claws and fangs. She even pulled a few harmless pranks. Seeing her now, bloodied and brooding, soured Anji¡¯s mood a bit.


    I hope our progress won¡¯t go to waste.


    ¡°How¡¯s Kirk?¡± Kalaisa asked as Anji sat down on the opposite side of a table.


    ¡°Your brother and sister came to pick him up with Ygrite¡¯s permission. I volunteered to bring you back. I thought you two shouldn¡¯t bump into each other today.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right. Good idea.¡± Kalaisa put her legs on the chair and grabbed her knees. ¡°I am broken, Anji.¡±


    ¡°The therapist didn¡¯t think so. She said that you have anger issues, abandonment issues, and¡­¡±


    ¡°What does she know!?¡± Kalaisa clicked her fangs. ¡°Anji, let¡¯s be real. Who wouldn¡¯t abandon a trash like me? Especially after what I¡¯ve done to my family.¡± She rubbed her nose.


    ¡°Kalaisa,¡± Anji stopped, trying to find the right words. ¡°I am... If you are fishing for pity, I have none to offer. I¡¯m your friend, but you¡¯re not exactly a victim when it comes to your family. They are.¡±


    ¡°I know it, Abyss take it! I just have no idea how to fix it!¡±


    ¡°You could try apologizing,¡± Anji suggested.


    ¡°And how do you think that would work? ¡®Sorry for beating you up all these years? Kirk, remember that one time I used you as toilet paper? Or that time I nearly broke your legs? Yeah, sorry about that. We cool?¡¯ Arghr!¡± Kalaisa wrapped her paws around her head and slowed her breathing. For a moment, Anji thought she was going to pass out. ¡°No. Asking for forgiveness puts a burden on them, an obligation to forgive or not. I can¡¯t... Nothing can atone for what I¡¯ve done. The best I can do is give them space. Get out of their lives as much as I can.¡±


    ¡°That may be right.¡± Anji nodded, placing a paw over Kalaisa¡¯s. ¡°But it¡¯s only a start. Don¡¯t give up professional help. Keep reading the self-help books. Regulate your anger. Keep trying to improve yourself.¡±


    ¡°Where further?¡± A grin came upon Kalaisa¡¯s muzzle. ¡°I am already stronger than you.¡±


    ¡°In your dreams, perhaps,¡± Anji let out a ringing laugh. She stopped after Kalaisa fell silent again.


    ¡°Today is Kirk¡¯s stupidass birthday. You know, he gave me a toy once and slept on my belly later. How could I forget how happy I was then? Where does this hatred, this anger, come from? I wanted to give him my own gift, to show him I¡¯d never hurt him again. Instead, I have caused him to freak out.¡± Kalaisa bit her lower lip. ¡°Can you ask that fucker¡­ Bogdan, to throw a party or something? Anything to cheer Kirk up. Tell them I¡¯m staying away.¡±


    ¡°Too late for that,¡± Anji said. ¡°Ygrite has already announced a big celebration, honoring Kirk¡¯s and your involvement in disposing of the robbers.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t that great,¡± Kalaisa grumbled, closing her eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll just skulk in the shadows. My family¡¯s had enough of my shit for a lifetime. To be honest, I don¡¯t want to get better. I want them to be better and happier. Myself? Didn¡¯t earn that, Anj.¡±


    Anji reached out across the table and slapped Kalaisa across the face. The amber eyes opened wide, fueled by the fury, and Kalaisa growled, her claws splintering the wood.


    ¡°The Abyss was that for?¡±


    ¡°You are a wolf hag, Kali.¡± Anji tried to speak evenly and not spurn this idiot away. ¡°Your self-loathing won¡¯t help anyone. Think for once. If you disappear, your pack will suffer for the lack of your strength. Unless you missed, you saved Kirk¡¯s life today¡­¡±


    Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°And that fixes everything? Absolves me of guilt? Bullshit.¡± Kalaisa bared her fangs. ¡°One good deed means nothing.¡±


    ¡°I did not imply it.¡± Anji ignored the desire to break the table over Kalaisa¡¯s head. ¡°The point is that your strength saved a life. Kirk still lives and can potentially heal the damage you caused. Stay in the shadows instead of leading, and your pack will suffer for lack of training. Your family will suffer.¡±


    ¡°Duties,¡± Kalaisa groaned. ¡°Always duties. You know, I never wanted to be a wolf hag. I just¡­ snapped when I arrived in Ygrite¡¯s pack and challenged my superior. What I wanted was to loosen up, and in a few blows I won and ended up commanding almost a hundred soldiers. Me! A person with no experience. I dreamed of shiny power armor; instead, ours are rusted and dented. Our shardguns often misfire in real combat and even explode from time to time; that¡¯s why Ygrite forces her pack to accept augmetics. Tracking equipment is of similar quality, radars barely work, and PA¡¯s HUDs flash mid-mission. Guess I deserve it, corroded armor, corroded soul¡­¡±


    ¡°Again with the self-pity!¡± Anji slapped her paw on the table. ¡°Drop it! You said you didn¡¯t earn to get better? It¡¯s not what you¡¯ve earned that matters, it¡¯s what you need. The power armor in your pack are rusty? Off to Chak and demand it be repaired. Your pack¡¯s equipment and weapons are barely functional? To Chak you go, write a report; if he doesn¡¯t fix it, write directly to Captain Cristobo; if he drops the ball too, write to the higher-ups. Keep pestering everyone; ask the warlords for help, but solve the problem! These are your soldiers; you are responsible for their lives! Fuck Ygrite, if she does nothing, that doesn¡¯t mean you have to follow in her footsteps!


    ¡°Yes. Your life is full of duties. And responsibilities. This is adult life; get used to it, because it is here to stay,¡± Anji added warmth into her voice. ¡°But you don¡¯t have to be unhappy, Kali. You can both excel in your duties and be happy, and that way you can help others as Janine has helped you. Maybe, no, most likely your family will never forgive you,¡± Anji told the harsh truth. ¡°They have a right to that. But you are alive, save lives, and educate younger scouts not to end up like you. Don¡¯t give up; hang in there, heal, and let me help you, ¡®kay?¡±


    Kalaisa gave a single nod. Anji relaxed a bit and pressed a finger to her lips. By the looks of it, her comrade had taken her advice to heart, but leaving her alone in her paws felt wrong. Dad did not leave anyone in trouble, daring to come to the rescue even in the most remote villages. She won¡¯t drop the situation either.


    ¡°Capital. Get up; we go to the base, clean you up, and go straight to Alpha and come clean to her about everything.¡±


    ¡°Anj, I don¡¯t care what happens to me, but you can¡¯t expect me to rat on my warlord. For all her flaws, she is our leader and has always risked her life to save us when our PA failed¡­¡±


    ¡°That is exactly what I expect from you! If I ever become as irresponsible as Ygrite, I expect you to kick my ass and report me. You know Onyxia acts like Ravager, right? She drops out of the shadows, gives orders to the wolf hags, and fucks off back into the darkness, never training us herself. But every time supplies come in, she meticulously checks every detail¡ªevery shardgun, every grenade. And if she doesn¡¯t like something, Onyxia sits down, writes a report, and doesn¡¯t leave until our equipment is up to her standards. Because our lives are at stake, and that is how a warlord should act.¡± Anji tapped on the table to calm herself. She hadn¡¯t expected to be so riled up about Onyxia¡¯s eternal absence from the pack¡¯s life. ¡°Here¡¯s the thing. If we go to Janine, she will talk to Ygrite and hardly anything will be resolved. Onyxia is still on the mission, and Ashbringer hates your guts¡­¡±


    ¡°The feeling is mutual,¡± Kalaisa muttered. ¡°I am going to get that ferret one day.¡±


    ¡°¡­Alpha is not safe, but she is a problem solver. Kali, this is your duty. Our duty at this point. For the sake of not only the soldiers under your command, but for the sake of Ygrite¡¯s entire pack, we must put an end to this incompetence. Ygrite may be a genius at ambushes and traps, and perhaps she is truly willing to give her life for her soldiers. All this may be true. But we cannot allow her indifference to the equipment in her pack to cost any more lives. So what is your answer, Kalaisa? Are you with me?¡±


    ¡°I am. But we will tell the full truth and let Alpha judge me as she will.¡± Kalaisa stood up, ready to move toward the exit, when a piercing howl filled the corridor.


    ¡°What in the name of the lightless Abyss¡¯ bowels is that?¡±


    ****


    A police officer.


    The police officer barely had time to open the door before a giant Wolfkin stormed past him and into the interrogation room. Impatient One, as the woman called herself, paced the room, towering over the seated woman who had a crimson implant for an eye. The reports said these two were sisters, but to him, all Wolfkins looked the same.


    Am I a racist? The man wondered, desperately trying to find any differences between the women, aside from their size. The same color of their natural eyes, heavy fur coverings, and even their hair were pretty much the same.


    In the past few days, the situation in the city became unstable. Not because of Wolfkins. Today¡¯s four were the second to be taken into custody, the first being Warlord Martyshkina¡¯s wolf hags, who drank themselves into a stupor and had to be thrown into a drunk tank for everyone¡¯s safety.


    But criminals of all kinds have become extremely active, trying to smuggle huge amounts of ill-gotten gains out of the city. The higher-ups were informed of this and attributed the result to Tancred¡¯s influence. The sword saint had already brought more than a dozen smaller gangs to justice. Even though their cells were filled with criminals and the streets were getting safer by the day, the police officer felt uneasy. It was as if an unseen storm was gathering, and no one seemed to care.


    I must be getting paranoid. Decided the man.


    ¡°You are a complete disappointment!¡± Impatient One barked at Anissa.


    ¡°Listen, I can explain.¡± The other woman raised her paws.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you do.¡±


    ¡°No, really! Armed thugs stormed into the bank; we snapped and¡­¡±


    ¡°And you let the bloody male take the lead!¡± Impatient One shook her fist. ¡°I commend Kirk for his determination, but you should have taken the initiative and gotten the first kill! Didn¡¯t Mother and I teach you better than that?¡± She leaped on the table, ignoring the police officer¡¯s worried look. Raising a finger, Impatient One continued. ¡°Why did you rip out that bastard¡¯s chest if you weren¡¯t going to eat him? People got scared! Kill efficiently! And why did you pull a spine out of another?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Anissa licked her lips, ¡°may or may not have used it as a club.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ club. Instead of the noble blades you were blessed with.¡± Impatient One stopped speaking, shaking with rage. She released her claws, and the police officer shuddered at the size of them. Impatient One grabbed Anissa¡¯s throat. ¡°I will choke the life out of you for this disgrace!¡±


    The police officer reached for a button on his belt and pressed it, summoning the riot squad. He had experience with New Breeds, of course; they committed crimes just like anyone else. New Breeds were stronger and faster, and they were usually apprehended by other New Breeds or shot with tranquilizer darts.


    But he had never seen people like this. Impatient One and Anissa turned into a blurry ball, kicking, slashing and biting each other. Their weight crashed into the table, and as they rolled around the room, hitting the walls and shaking them with the impact of their titanic struggle.


    ¡°I will peel the skin off your face!¡±


    ¡°Time to see the color of your guts!¡± Surprisingly, their voices did not sound angry. They reminded him of times when he and his sister played silly pranks on each other and swore revenge, only to burst out laughing.


    A splash of blood fell on his face, and the police officer wondered if he should try to stop it. But how do you stop a fight when you can¡¯t even see the fighters? Where is this damn riot squad?


    He breathed a sigh of relief as the officers in green power armor, wielding large shields and clubs, rushed past him. Immediately, they surrounded the fighters, pushing the ball of violence into the center of the room, slamming their shields into the floor to get a better foothold, and bringing down their maces. Electricity crackling, the weapons meant to knock out suspects had landed on the black-furred forms. Again. And again.


    ¡°Is this a joke? A grandmother can hit harder than this!¡± One of the Wolfkins shouted.


    ¡°Put your soul into it! You are the soldiers of the state, not some wimps!¡± added the second.


    Neither of the Wolfkins even stopped struggling; they were still hacking, kicking, and tearing chunks of flesh from each other as they snapped at the policemen, more annoyed at their weakness than at their interference. One officer shouted an order to bring in the tranquilizer rifles.


    ¡°Anissa! I came as soon as I heard! Are you fine¡­¡± A monster straight from hell scuttled into the room, moving quickly on many legs; its chitin-covered body barely squeezed through the doorway, and the newcomer coiled inside the room, raising his head to the ceiling. ¡°What the horror is going on here?¡±


    In the end, it took sixty darts before the perpetrators finally fell asleep, snorting loudly and still holding each other by the.


    ****


    Brood Lord.


    ¡°My friends!¡± The khan spread his arms wide to greet his troops.


    He stood with his back to a burning pyre, and hundreds of Purebloods, Dirtybloods, and bondsmen greeted him, banging their golden cups against wooden tables that stretched a dozen meters each. Every food imaginable was here, alcohol and chai flowed like rivers, and beautiful women and men stood ready to serve their every whim. It annoyed him to waste his riches on sacrificial lambs, but Brood Lord needed them in high spirits for what was to come.


    His keen eyes scanned the room, taking note of the ambitious and the cowardly gathered under his command. Only these could pose a problem, for they could see the pattern and try to save their hides before doing their jobs. It was no bother. Brood Lord had been playing this game for decades, and he had already figured out who to keep and who to discard. Everything will happen much too fast for anything to go awry.


    ¡°What is the best way to topple a nation?¡± he asked, walking through their ranks, goblet in hand. ¡°Is it to attack, attack, and attack, as Iron Lord Khan claims?¡± The soldiers laughed. ¡°Overwhelming force is simply not enough if we are to preserve our skins. Eventually a bullet finds its mark! No, my friends. In your eyes I see a true understanding of how the world works. Fear is what paralyzes the hands that prepare to pull the trigger. It is the will that must be broken!¡±


    Brood Lord drew himself up to his full height and drank rice mead, tasting its honey and feeling his hearts race faster. Droplets of sweat from the long celebration glittered in the flames. Drozna was sitting, surrounded by a host of men who fed him grapes. The fingers of his loyal follower caressed their backs. Phaser lingered in the shadows, covetously and meticulously checking his share of the day¡¯s trophies. Farther back, the hired killers, the twins, stood watching, never joining in the festivities as usual.


    In their loyalty, Brood Lord wasn¡¯t sure. But their skills were valuable, and he had decided to dance with danger and tolerate their presence. There were safe ways to dispose of them.


    ¡°Tomorrow we shall erode the Reclamation Army¡¯s confidence and remind them of the savagery. Their city will suffer and burn, their leaders will die, and fear will touch every corner of their nation. Their wall, hopes, and dreams will crumble amid it all.¡± He saluted his troops. ¡°You know your targets, but do not stop there. Murder and desolate, do not retreat until you have fired your last bullet. Let them wail in horror at the sight of piles of corpses in the streets; let them know that their order is lost. And as our forces break through the wall, our steeds shall march upon the backs of broken and frightened populace. Our raid will haunt their dreams to the end of days!¡±


    He paused, waiting for a slave servant girl to refill his goblet. She had a nice, muscular build, and the blackness of her skin was simply irresistible. Brood Lord decided to taste her first on this night.


    ¡°Some of you will die. I may die,¡± he lowered his voice to give it gravitas and briefly softened his face. ¡°Doubtlessly, you have all experienced loss. Brother, mother, sister, father¡­ By your strength, you have stood where they fell! Conquest is in our blood! If we die, we will go out as martyrs, saluting the Sky and watching as our horde crushes the unbelievers!¡± Brood Lord yelled. ¡°And to the survivors go the spoils. Glory! Wealth! Women! Lands! Slaves! To each their own, and our prey has it all in abundance! It is a great land, but one swollen with the fat of peace, while you are in your prime! So as you face your fate tomorrow, know that whatever it may be, it won¡¯t be in vain! The Horde is merely beginning, and our deeds will go down in legends! Slaughter for me! Victory for Mad Hatter Khan! Devour the world and prosper!¡±


    ¡°Devour the world!¡± The roar of his soldiers surrounded him, and Brood Lord smiled, basking in their adoration and enjoying their stupidity.


    There will be prosperity, but it will be reserved for the survivors. Mad Hatter will conquer the world. These willing pawns will pay the blood price for it. And he will rule it.

 Chapter 69: The Price of Complacency

    Day 24: Early morning.


    Keon shuddered, trying to overcome the splitting, pounding pain that threatened to split his brain in two. He heard voices, but they came as a din, and no matter how hard he blinked, only murky shadows filled his crimson-stained vision. He tried to stand and found ropes biting into his arms and legs, securing him tightly to a wooden frame.


    What¡­ What had happened? Keon concentrated on his memories. He and Emily decided to visit a movie theater and stumbled upon a crowd in a dark alley. A man invited him for a ride, but Keon declined. Then a multicolored flash devoured everything as a bat connected to his head and Emily... What happened to her?


    ¡°Where is she?¡± A whisper escaped his lips, and Keon¡¯s leg touched a wet, hairy broom. Why was there a broom on the floor? He didn¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Wakey, wakey, shitstain.¡± A finger snap in front of his nose sent another surge of agony through his head. It was torture just to see anything, let alone concentrate on anything. ¡°Time to rise and shine.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ask you to open his head, Raffy,¡± said a cold voice, and another shape appeared before Keon. It sounded familiar.


    ¡°A minor inconvenience,¡± the first voice responded mockingly. ¡°What matters is that he is here, right, boss?¡± Even through his confusion, Keon heard the sheer venom in the man¡¯s words. ¡°It wasn¡¯t all bad, you had to admit. We even started to settle the score for what those barbarians did to my men.¡±


    ¡°Layman. Go on, play your succession game, and leave us.¡± Gentle hands touched Keon¡¯s face, lifting it, and a soft cloth cleaned his inflamed skin. A bottle was pressed to his swollen lips, and the soldier drank hungrily. ¡°Apologies, Keon.¡±


    ¡°Who¡­ are you?¡± the soldier asked in a hoarse voice, spitting out teeth.


    ¡°A kindred soul, cruelly torn from its homeland. Like you, I have witnessed my country vanish in conquest,¡± the figure said in a soft, sad voice. ¡°The homes we grew up in are gone or abandoned, the streets where we had our first kisses are buried under the sand, and our friends and family are scattered everywhere. Our cultures, our languages, our very identities are on the verge of disappearing. And for what? So that the Reclamation Army can say ¡®Mission Accomplished¡¯ as it chokes down another helpless nation?¡± the speaker spat. ¡°You and I have been given a unique opportunity. Fate has maneuvered us into a position where we can do great harm to the Reclamation Army and possibly cripple this colossus. The salvation of our way of life has slipped from our grasp, but vengeance is within our grasp.¡±


    The speaker cleaned Keon¡¯s wounds, wiped the blood from his swollen eyebrows, injected medicine around his cracked cranium, and bandaged the gaping gash in his head.


    ¡°Revenge?¡± Keon managed to ask. Images of toxic waste and towering blocks of stone, erected on the orders of Techno Queen and the lifeless land, flashed through his mind. ¡°How are you going to do that?¡±


    ¡°For every force, there is a counterforce. We will use a beast to wound another. The details will be revealed to you if you join us, Keon.¡±


    ¡°What will it solve?¡±


    ¡°It will bring justice to the dead,¡± the voice insisted. ¡°Do you mean to tell me you have not lost a friend, a loved one, or a family member to the war that was forced upon you? The Dynast is merely another warmonger masquerading as a liberator. By his actions, you can judge his true nature. Was your country perfect? I doubt it. None is. Did it deserve to die?¡±


    ¡°Die? No,¡± Keon said, regaining his will. ¡°It did not deserve to perish, nor is it dead. The land is not a place or a stone, nor is it a language or a culture. It is people, and they live on, carrying their dreams and finding their purpose in the lands of the Reclamation Army. You say the Dynast is a warmonger. I cannot deny that. I will go further and say that the man is a monster. Only the ultimate monster can bind beings like Commanders Ravager and Devourer to his will.¡±


    ¡°Then you see him for what he is! He and that cursed serpent throw entire nations into their melting pot to boil until every shred of individuality and uniqueness is lost.¡­¡±


    ¡°There is merit to your words. The Dynast is a monster that devours the worst monsters,¡± Keon interrupted the speaker, shaking off the last of the dizziness. He expected to whimper and beg for mercy, but strangely, fear no longer gripped his heart. ¡°He is also the chainbreaker, the liberator, the builder, and the unifier. Perhaps he deserves a bullet for all that is done under his command. I am not a philosopher or a judge; all I know is that my people found a second chance under his leadership and that my loyalty is to him and the Third. To take revenge on the Reclamation Army is to harm my own countrymen and the woman I love. I refuse.¡±


    ¡°Such foolishness,¡± the voice said, giving Keon more water. ¡°You are so blinded by propaganda that you are deaf to the cries of the innocent lives lost in conquest. Keon, I do not want to harm you, but I must tend to the bigger picture. So many countries exist in the world, big and small, and every single one of them is under a threat as long as the Reclamation Army exists. Perhaps if we had extracted you more carefully, if I had more time to explain to you¡­ But today is an important day and I have little time. Go to your woman, Keon.¡±


    To your woman? The realization sent a shiver down his spine. Keon whimpered, mourning not for himself but for the dear soul who had accepted him and beside whose warm body he had shared nights dreaming of the future, planning their retirement and one day returning to Houstad. He tore at the restraints, understanding that it wasn¡¯t the broom next to his leg, and a gun was forced into his mouth.


    A shot pierced his brain, and Keon, a man who had traveled so far to see the Core Lands, saw nothing more in his life.


    ****


    Day 24: Midday.


    ¡°Sorry for the blunder we have caused.¡± Janine stood at attention and the mayor motioned for her to sit in an armchair.


    Jaquan¡¯s office was not what she had expected. She thought it would be drowning in opulence, as magnificent as the ancient building itself. But once Janine passed through the massive stone columns and took the elevator to the fifth floor, she entered a plain white office with a vast window behind the mayor¡¯s desk that looked out onto the crowded plaza. Wooden bookcases lined the walls, and a single picture of the Three Great Commanders dominated the left wall. Next to it was a detailed map of Houstad, casually marked in several places.


    The mayor¡¯s leather-upholstered chair seemed a bit too rough, and Janine knew the morbid reason behind it. One of Houtstad¡¯s first mayors was caught embezzling funds from the city budget. The Dynast made an example of her by turning the woman¡¯s remains into an eternal reminder for all future servants.


    ¡°I do not think we should be dwelling on this event,¡± said Schalk, offering an oversized glass of wine to Janine. ¡°Several thugs died, boo-hoo. Who¡¯s going to cry about that? Should we really bother the mighty berserker who stalled Blood Graf with such trifles?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t halt him at all.¡± Janine shook his head. ¡°He crushed me in a single blow.¡±


    ¡°Schalk, stop licking boots of your superiors and act your rank,¡± Jacomie ordered, sitting sourly on a sofa. ¡°Kids saw guts spilling on the floor. That is no way for soldiers to behave in the Core Lands.¡±


    Janine nodded in agreement. There have been many misunderstandings over the past few days. Upon getting a leave, dozens of black-furred bodies charged across the streets, crept under the bridges, climbed on the roofs, sniffed everything they could and left marks for future groups. The police had to physically stop a wolf hag from scent-marking the statue of Devourer in the park. Janine herself had to calm the distraught woman, who was ready to offer her head to atone for the shame. Soon, another mishap occurred.


    Her cubs and the soldiers of the Ygrite pack were involved in a bank robbery. The standard protocol for such an event was to surrender and let the police handle things, who often captured the criminals without firing a shot. To her great shame, no one explained such a tradition to the Wolfkins, and they reacted naturally. The news sang praises, elevating Kirk to the status of a national hero for saving a cub, and by the Spirits he deserved every ounce of glory. But Janine suspected that hearing the gurgling of the dying and the desperate pleas for mercy had disrupted the sleep of many civilians present on the scene.


    Their problems weren¡¯t over there. Impatient One initiated a bout at the police station, seeking to cheer up her sister. The two woke up in a different cell to a police therapist, who quickly became concerned after inquiring about the sisters¡¯ childhood and the reason for their intense aggression.


    One problem followed another. Janine was burning with shame and worried sick about her girls when the news of Alpha¡¯s arrest reached her. She still had no idea what exactly had driven the strongest warlord into such an unusual fit of rage. It happened during the celebration of Kirk¡¯s bravery. The party soon grew into the base-wide explosion of fun and debauchery that came to an abrupt halt at Dragena¡¯s and Alpha¡¯s arrival. Alpha nearly caved in Ygrite¡¯s skull in front of the shocked state¡¯s journalists and kept beating her until Captain Cristobo arrived.


    The police had to get involved, but Ygrite, of course, chose not to press charges. Janine still did not know what this all was about, but Dragena now never left Ygrite¡¯s side, and the weakest warlord sat down and wrote several reports, resulting in Chak¡¯s complaining about a sudden obscene amount of work dropped at him. Alpha was taken to the state¡¯s jail and spent her time discipling local druggies and alcoholics into changing their ways or dying at her claws.


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    ¡°Come on, ma¡¯am,¡± Schalk said. ¡°The city will be cleaner without some trash littering the streets.¡±


    ¡°Regardless, we should have known better,¡± Janine quickly interjected before the lieutenant could speak. ¡°On behalf of the Wolf Tribe, I offer our sincerest apologies. Should you ask for a blood price¡­¡±


    ¡°I will hear none of it.¡± The mayor slammed a hand onto the table. ¡°Warlord, I understand that savagery is a way of life in the north, but here we act as civilized people. Your soldiers¡­¡±


    ¡°Not all of them are under my command. Alpha is....¡±


    ¡°Irrelevant. They will do community service under the supervision of Sword Saint Tancred Ironwill, who has taken on the role of protector of the city. Not that there is much to protect against, but they can clean streets and serve in soup kitchens¡­¡±


    ¡°Fur,¡± Jacomie said angrily.


    ¡°Yes, right,¡± the mayor allowed himself a smile. ¡°Well, we¡¯ll find something for them to do,¡± he sighed, leaning back in his chair. ¡°Why can¡¯t your kind be normal like Ice Fangs? Your cousins have already mostly left the city, checking on their fiefdoms and schools, spreading their majesty everywhere. And your kind seclude themselves and act like barbarians.¡±


    ¡°We are the barbarians,¡± Janine reminded him.


    ¡°But you don¡¯t have to be! I have received a report that six of your kind have visited the therapy clinic. Six! Out of thousands!¡± The mayor pressed his hands together. ¡°Our mental institutions are a far cry from those in Iterna, but they can aid your people in overcoming traumas. You may feign a strong fa?ade¡­¡±


    ¡°I will not,¡± Janine said, remembering Colt. ¡°There are times when even we need help.¡±


    Therapists, or soothsayers, as the tribe called them, were a constant source of contention among the shamans. Soulless One believed that their interruption softened the warriors, creating a potential risk for greater casualties. Other shamans calmly pointed out the clear improvement in the souls of those who had dared to visit the strange mind fixers. Janine had no strong opinion about the matter. She once stumbled upon Kalaisa¡¯s and Anji¡¯s joint exercise, where two wolf hags skated down the street, falling, getting up, and learning from each other. Then the two played chess. It was a beneficial exercise in bonding, but try as she might, the warlord could not understand how it helped with Kalaisa¡¯s aggression.


    ¡°And we want to help!¡± Jaquan put a hand to his chest. ¡°Trust me when I say it; I want to see your people integrated into the Reclamation Army at large to see your children attend schools and universities. The state is willing to spare no expense, and the Wolfkins are not inherently inimical to a peaceful life. Cinemas, theaters, markets, and stores¡ªare all open for you, and my heart sings when I see Wolfkins visit them.¡± Jaquan shook his head. ¡°But so few do it. It¡¯s as if you don¡¯t want to live in a world you helped create and would rather wage pointless wars.¡±


    ¡°Pointless? Elaborate.¡± Janine demanded, quenching her anger before a growl could escape her lips.


    ¡°Take your last conquest. This Tecno-Queen. What have we won?¡± Jaquan met Janine¡¯s eyes. ¡°A fat nothing. The land that can¡¯t be used, we got thousands of new mouths to feed, lost loyal soldiers during the conquest, and your own tribe ended up being bled dry on the campaign.¡±


    ¡°We stopped Techno-Queen¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that crap,¡± Jacomie sneered. ¡°I¡¯ve read the reports and spoke with the captain. She ruined her own country. It was only a matter of time before it became a necropolis sticking out like a sore thumb in the Wastes. And we just walked into a hornet¡¯s nest and got our asses red. Death is all you brought home.¡±


    ¡°And lives,¡± the warlord rebuked her. ¡°You are wrong, Lieutenant. Had we waited, hundreds of cubs would have died¡­¡±


    ¡°Matters of another country¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t interrupt me ever again, Jacomie.¡± Janine stood up over the soldier. Her sudden move caused an unusual sensation, as if unseen eyes were hardening and examining her back. She ignored it; no doubt the mayor had his own defenses. ¡°The Dynast¡¯s will is clear. All are to be united under his banner. And we can¡¯t do that if these people are dead. Even if you don¡¯t care about lives, think of the danger. Techno-Queen wasn¡¯t some crazed ruler or politician we can ignore. No, she was an evolving threat that desolated a country. By eliminating her, we may have spared our own country from a future invasion.¡±


    ¡°Again with the same argument,¡± the mayor groaned. ¡°Warlord. I deeply respect the Third¡¯s action. But look at Houstad.¡± He gestured to the window. ¡°For all our splendor and glory, we still have people living in slums or on the streets and migrants huddling in barracks. There is a clear shortage of available housing. Yet two quarters of our annual budget goes to support the armies. Two quarters! Can you imagine what we could have done with those resources?¡± A light came into his eyes. ¡°Renovation of run-down neighborhoods, orphanages to house war victims, new factories to create jobs, and, of course, the construction segment! Rather than saving others, we should first solidify our own industrial base. Teachers, doctors, specialists ready to solve every hurdle the Wastes and the Ravaged Lands may face¡­¡±


    ¡°Those who don¡¯t feed their own army are bound to feed the army of another nation,¡± Schalk recited an ancient proverb.


    ¡°Rubbish.¡± Jacomie tapped on the sofa, getting Janine¡¯s attention. ¡°You spoke plainly; let me return the favor. These rumors of invasions from afar? They are nothing but fear-mongering to keep our war machine going, to make people like you feel needed and heroic.¡±


    ¡°I disagree with this assessment. You are not fully understanding what you are talking about. The danger is real. The Core Lands were invaded in the past,¡± Janine replied, keeping her cool. There was an honesty in Jacomie that she respected. Of course, the woman was clearly misguided in her views.


    ¡°And we crushed the invaders! We, the Provincial Army, did all the heavy lifting while our armies conquered elsewhere.¡± The lieutenant¡¯s fist clenched. ¡°And I know what I am talking about, Warlord. My tribe were peaceful people who lived their own lives¡­¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, please¡­¡± Schalk tried to stop her.


    ¡°And you know what happened?¡± The woman ignored him. ¡°One day the Second Army showed up, smashing our gates and shooting everywhere.¡± She stood up, pointing at her waxy skin covered by scars. ¡°I was six years old back then. Black-skinned. My mother tried to carry me away when a building near us caught a flaming bomb. The conquerors dragged us to the Outer Lands and declared us civilized. As if we weren¡¯t! And now the language of my tribe and our traditions exist only in museums and¡­¡±


    ¡°Jacomie. Enough,¡± the mayor asked, but Janine raised her paw, requesting a word.


    She bowed to Jacomie, showing the back of her neck.


    ¡°I am deeply sorry for what has happened to you and your tribe.¡±


    Janine meant that. To lose one¡¯s identity was unthinkable. Janine imagined the situation reversed: she dreamed of herself witnessing the fires devouring many tents in her village, soldiers dragging cubs away to be locked in orphanages, adults taken to the re-education camps, their religion dead, and survivors hesitantly searching for a job to feed their cubs, alone and isolated from the rest of their people¡­ No, even though their cause was just, she wished no one to experience that kind of agony.


    ¡°Keep your soldiers on a leash, and we are even,¡± Jacomie forced out a laugh. ¡°It¡¯s all ancient history, anyway. Sorry for getting emotional, Warlord. My point was that there is simply no one outside strong enough to challenge us. Oh, I know of Iterna and the Oathtakers, but let¡¯s be honest, there is no new war brewing. We are allies now. Countries like in the Old World.¡± She rubbed her forehead. ¡°I am leaving to meet with Cristobo and Maxim. We will be at a shooting range, thinking about how to explain Alpha¡¯s shitshow to the press and how to avoid future incidents.¡±


    ¡°Of course. Janine, we will solve the problems and get your soldiers cleared. Just please inform them not to start a ruckus in the future,¡± Jaquan asked.


    ¡°I swear on my pride,¡± Janine said.


    She spent more times with the man, discussing Houstad¡¯s customs and Jaquan¡¯s plans to ¡®civilize¡¯ the Wolf Tribe. The mayor had grand ideas, ranging from moving the entire tribe to the lands east of Houstad, and Janine flatly refused, along with sending her cubs to the schools. Such a decision was simply out of her paws, but she agreed to command six hundred soldiers to attend the evening celebration of the one hundred and sixty-seventh anniversary of the creation of the Core Lands.


    Jaquan revealed more of himself in their conversation, explaining that he and the lieutenant were officially members of the Restoration political party, an ever-growing movement attempting to persuade the Dynast to cease expansion and turn the state¡¯s attention inward. Their primary goal was the total removal of the distinction between the Outer Lands and the Core Lands, granting every citizen the same privilege of access to universal health care and bringing every settlement up to the standards of the Core Lands. Their short-term goal was to reduce the barbarism of the warring tribes serving the state, and the Wolf Tribe was their current prime target in this pursuit.


    ¡°I wish you the best of luck,¡± Janine said honestly, indulging in tasty morsels known as shrimp. Their juicy insides slid easily down her throat, giving the warlord immense pleasure. ¡°Mind if I take a few for my son¡­¡±


    ¡°No need. They¡¯ll be on the base¡¯s menu. My gift,¡± Jaquan said. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to show an understanding of our goal.¡±


    ¡°Had I been younger, you¡¯d offend me. Not anymore,¡± Janine admitted. ¡°I tried my best to convince Marco to try life in the Core Lands, but to no avail.¡±


    ¡°Send the boy to me,¡± Jaquan offered. ¡°Officially, he¡¯ll be in charge of passing messages to you and working as my secretary. In the meantime, I¡¯ll try to give him a new perspective on things.¡±


    ¡°I will give it a thought,¡± Janine warmly thanked the man, leaving the office.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Schalk caught up with her, slipping into the elevator at the last second. Janine had already had to squeeze in to fit, and with another person, it got cramped. ¡°I just wanted to say that Jacomie Bronkhorst is a loyal soldier of the state, despite her harsh words. You can trust her with your life, so please don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°There was no harm,¡± Janine grumbled, trying not to smear the man against a wall. ¡°Honesty is appreciated. You told me you and Jacomie were from the same homeland.¡±


    ¡°The same town, actually,¡± Schalk said. ¡°My father served in the garrison. Got himself killed by an agent of the Second Army prior to the invasion. After the conquest, I decided to follow in his footsteps, minus getting killed, of course.¡± The man flashed a strained smile. ¡°The lieutenant and I first joined the militia in the Outer Lands before being transferred here as a reward for our service.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry about your home and family,¡± Janine said softly.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s not like we can change the past, right? We must move on and live in the present.¡± The man shrugged.


    A buzz of the terminal distracted the warlord from the dark thoughts.


    ¡°Janine, what is it?¡±


    ¡°We have a problem,¡± Chak said on the other side. ¡°Keon is missing.¡±


    ¡°You sure he didn¡¯t simply overslept?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Chak¡¯s mandibles produced a click. ¡°Keon is a nice boy, unlike your flea-ridden rabble. Besides, his partner also didn¡¯t report to the morning training either.¡±


    ¡°Tell Ashbringer, at once. Have her contact the police and see if he is in jail. I¡¯ll get back to you as soon as we find anything,¡± Janine switched the channel, raising a finger to halt Schalk¡¯s questions while she called Till Ingo.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± he answered in a calm voice. ¡°I sincerely hope this is important and not a friendly call, as my presence has been requested for the pointless inspection of the power plant and my patience is at an end. Also, Banshee says hi,¡± he added with a hunt of irritation.


    ¡°Good health to her and you. We have a missing soldier. I remember reports that you tried to recruit Keon, a recruit from¡­¡±


    ¡°I know who it is,¡± Ingo interrupted her. ¡°He turned down my offer, and no, I don¡¯t know where the boy is. Report to me immediately if you find him, Warlord. Yes, Agent Piam, I am ready¡­¡± the researcher cut off the communications.


    ¡°Something happened?¡± Schalk inquired as the elevator stopped at the first floor. Janine stepped out and briefly explained the situation to the sergeant. ¡°Keon, huh?¡± he whistled. ¡°I remember the boy and the girl; they were in a hurry to ditch us while we escorted the wolf hags to the cinema. Perhaps the lovebirds built themselves a nest and forgot about the time? Ah, the wonders of youth,¡± he giggled. ¡°I¡¯ll ask around for them; it shouldn¡¯t be hard to find them in one of their usual spots.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Schalk,¡± Janine told him.

 Chapter 70: The Second Kill

    When Janine stepped out of the city hall, the bustling street greeted her and the loud honking of dozens of passing cars. To this day, the sheer volume of people living in Houston boggled her mind. Life surrounded her from every side, not the kind that waited in crevices to prey on unsuspecting travelers. Mothers walked their cubs in parks or met their laughing little ones as they hurried off buses to get home after school. Future soulmates played ball or whispered intimacy in cafes. It was nothing like the Wastes.


    A trio of cubs raced down the stairs of a store, racing to a bus, and a mutant girl had tripped on her knotted tentacles. Janine stepped to catch her before the girl¡¯s head smashed against the pavement, but another colossal black form outpaced her.


    Eled caught the girl on her palm and joked to the terrifying cub, eliciting a chuckle out of her. Gently, the warlord placed the girl next to her friends: an Orais boy, already as tall as a grown man, his body covered with short brown fur and boasting impressive biceps, and a Normie girl who was a beanpole compared to the boy. Their cheers and pleas for an autograph brought a smile to Janine¡¯s lips.


    Marco would have been happy here.


    It was a miracle. Cubs of different origins laughed, studied, and, yes, the suspicious timing of the girl¡¯s fall didn¡¯t elude her, cheated together. No one was afraid because of their appearance. Marco would have fit in well, even if she still didn¡¯t understand how the teachers prevented the Orais cubs from murdering anyone by accident. Abyss, Houstad even had special schools that nurtured and helped mismatched cubs find happiness and purpose.


    Could we be wrong? Janine wondered. Her wounds healed, and she was back in her prime. Fighting had made her who she was. But the picture of males and females being equal, the absence of domination matches, and the lack of the need to prove superiority over and over again tugged at her heartstrings. What if there was another way for the Wolf Tribe¡­


    Foolish. She reprimanded herself, focusing on what was important. The Orais boy was incredibly gentle as he patted his friends, pulling out a pencil for Eled to write in their diaries. Cubs raised in peace were hardly suited for the horrors of war, and that was okay. Proper even. They deserved to be happy; otherwise, what was all this for? But that happiness came at a price. This stability around them, this wondrous paradise¡­ Should everyone be like the locals, the state will grow weak.


    If they permit it to happen, there will be mere ruins littering the lands and chilly winds howling on the empty streets. The world was not safe, far from it. Janine and every wolfkin had to continue to serve, watering the fertile soil of their nation with their blood until every corner of their world was united and peace was established.


    ¡°What news of our sisters?¡± asked Predaig, rising from a bench before the city hall.


    ¡°Servitude for a while,¡± Janine answered.


    ¡°I found an awesome bar nearby!¡± Martyshkina boomed, placing an elbow on Janine¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Say, how about we taste some of the beverage they pass for booze around here?¡±


    ¡°We need to pick up Alpha, and our soldiers went missing,¡± Janine briefly explained the situation.


    ¡°Eled can do it,¡± Martyshkina pointed to the warlord, who was giving the Normie girl a piggyback ride. ¡°Anything to keep her away from the cubs before we end up being silly on the news.¡±


    ¡°Too late for that,¡± Predaig said in a raspy voice, pointing to the crew of reporters. Martyshkina groaned in frustration.


    Janine wanted to refuse, but remembered the mayor¡¯s words.


    It¡¯s as if you don¡¯t want to live in a world you helped create.


    What was the harm in seeing something other than war? Ravager herself demanded that they know Houstad, and she could do nothing to help in the search for Keon.


    ¡°You know what? Let¡¯s go. Predaig, please keep Eled out of trouble. The task of escorting Alpha out of jail falls to you. Ashbringer is in charge of searching for our missing troops. After we are done.¡± Janine eyed an ice cream shop. ¡°I have a promise to uphold.¡±


    ¡°Want to get sick again?¡±


    ¡°Shut it, Marty.¡±


    ****


    Brood Lord spread his arms, patiently waiting for his servants to mount the battleplate onto his body. Overlapping plates covered his inhuman, sinuous legs. Wires went into sockets, and a jolt of strength brought a smile to his lips. The initial phase of the raid was the most dangerous, requiring his direct intervention. He would have to be the first to step through a portal, to set things in motion.


    The thrill of uncertainty was exhilarating. Will everything go as planned? He maneuvered the pieces on the board to his liking, but any plan could easily fall apart. Behind him, his troops were gearing for battle, ready to slaughter in his name. The twin assassins tossed their knives up and down, relaxed. Drozna tensed, pacing back and forth, annoyed at having to miss the action. There was no danger of betrayal from them. One lacked the desire, the other the brains.


    But there were others, those he had entrusted to lead his portion of the Horde in the coming assault. The ambitious rabble, impatient for any sign of weakness that would allow them to usurp him.


    ¡°The Horde values strength,¡± Brood Lord said, licking a slave who was strapping his pistol to his belt. The woman became so submissive after he ate the second of her five children. ¡°Are you strong, Phaser?¡±


    ¡°Valuable,¡± screeched the thin man, waving his claws in the air and setting up the portals.


    ¡°Valuable.¡± Brood Lord moved his humanoid hand, testing the gauntlet¡¯s fingers. ¡°Do you remember that bullet of the Old World we found in the ruins? So unique, elongated, richly encrusted with unknown metals, and shining like the morning sun. When Mad Hatter gifted it to Iron Lord, he melted it down to learn more about the alloys involved in its creation. That was the limit of its preciousness to him. Many Purebloods sought to kill me for the origin of my birth, and I forced them to bow.¡± He gestured to where his Brood and the soldiers stood. ¡°Can you do the same?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the mutant answered cautiously. ¡°What¡¯s this about, Brood Lord?¡±


    A pincer closed around his neck, and Phaser froze, blinking nervously.


    ¡°Khan. Brood Lord Khan,¡± Brood Lord reminded him. ¡°By my force, I have earned that rank. Just checking to see if we are on the same wave, my friend. I know of your visit to dear Mungke. If I disappear, the Purebloods won¡¯t tolerate you. Not as equal. Even Dirtybloods may enslave you, and you know that they can break you into submission. Everyone breaks.¡± He stroked the slave¡¯s cheek, regretting that she no longer served him poison. It was good for his stomach. ¡°You lead a pleasurable existence thanks to my might. No Brood Lord, no rank, no wealth, nothing, but servitude.¡± He let go of Phaser and let the slaves work.


    The cables of his generator joined the assembled plate, and it added its rumble to the din of the lesser models. The slaves attached a scabbard to his belt and filled his amotion pockets. Brood Lord inhaled recycled air, receiving updates projected onto his retina by his heavily modified version of a battle helmet. His little helper was busy sending to him the exact positions of his chosen prey and the sacrificial lambs. Brood Lord declined offers of adrenaline stimulants, trusting his own abilities to reach the state of supreme exhilaration where his perception would be heightened enough to slow even falling pebbles to a crawl.


    His host prepared. Soon.


    ****


    ¡°This is exactly my kind of place!¡± Martyshkina laughed, landing herself on a chair.


    It had been almost a month since the Wolf Tribe had arrived in Houstad. But it was only now that Janine understood what a labyrinth this place was. Her shoulders scratched the edges of the stone walls as they navigated their way through the narrow alleys that flowed into one another and another into three more. Hundreds of advertisements flashed on the masonry, and the homeless scavenged through the trash, looking for metal cans. Her every instinct called for a jump¡ªto plunge her claws into the walls and reach the rooftops from where she could survey her surroundings.


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    Her friend led them to a small street bar, half-empty at this hour. A welcoming and familiar darkness greeted them inside, clouds of smoke hid them from the patrons, and low, unhurried, wordless music was pleasing to her ears. Judging by the bartender¡¯s warm greeting and the scents outside, this was not Marty¡¯s first visit.


    Tentatively, Janine ordered an orange juice, sniffing the glass several times before finally tasting it with her tongue. Her eyes widened in delight and Janine gulped down the entire thing. It felt good! The taste was delicious and pleasant, as the addition of sugar took away the sourness. The warlord snapped her fingers and ordered more juice, mixing it with cognac.


    ¡°Care to explain what is bothering you?¡± Martyshkina hiccuped, emptying the first bottle. ¡°Or should I beat it out of ya?¡±


    ¡°That obvious?¡± Janine laughed. ¡°Marty, I am engaging in a little politics. I want to make a proposition at the next Gathering and was wondering if you¡­¡±


    ¡°Lemme stop you right here. Sorry, Jani, can¡¯t support you here.¡± Hungrily, Martyshkina snatched a plate of fish from the bartender¡¯s hands.


    ¡°But why? You haven¡¯t even listened to what I want to change¡­¡±


    ¡°Because it is arrogant,¡± Martyshkina replied. ¡°Jani, the tribe is divided between civilian and military life for a reason. The shamans are the ones who help new mothers with lifegiving. They are the ones managing food, and it is only thanks to their cleverness that we have survived the famines. And yet, despite all this, they willingly serve us in times of war, risking their lives to preserve ours.¡± Martyshkina put the glass away and folded her paws. ¡°We, who spend our lives on the battlefield, who lead our cubs¡­¡± She closed her eyes. ¡°We are the tools of death. They are the instruments of life. Both are needed, but neither should encroach on the territory of the other. If we try to lead villages as we lead packs, it may be tempting to cut our losses, so to speak, and force everyone to conform to our vision. But what if we are wrong? Gatherings, more than one warlord, the shamans created such a system to avoid tyranny, to let our people speak their minds.¡±


    ¡°Then you are ignoring their wishes by refusing to listen to the opposing point of view and blindly voting for the shamans¡¯ side every time,¡± Janine insisted.


    ¡°Well, perhaps I am a hypocrite. Or perhaps I don¡¯t trust myself enough to decide how the tribe should live! But that¡¯s not what¡¯s bothering you, is it?¡± Martyshkina roared and slammed her paw against the table, rocking the drinks. Janine quickly waved her paw to the patrons to show them that everything was fine. ¡°Jani, I saw your hesitation in the fight against the bull. I had spoken to Bertruda¡­¡±


    ¡°You did what?!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that, sister.¡± Martyshkina pressed her forehead against Janine¡¯s, locking eyes with her. ¡°I planned to break her for hurting you, but she was kind of sad, and her description of a battle threw me off. The Janine I know never held back in battle, consequences be damned.¡±


    ¡°The Janine you knew grew up.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit! You nearly broke my back when we were cubs over that boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Wait, what the fuck, Marty?¡± The bartender asked.


    ¡°Shut up! It was a phase!¡± They cried in unison, still looking at each other. Martyshkina continued. ¡°Jani, I am sorry. I am sorry for being so consumed with my own problems...¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Janine interrupted her. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever dare to downplay the importance of what has happened in your life. I should have¡­¡±


    ¡°You did.¡± Martyshkina grinned, still sober. ¡°Eled, Zlata, Predaig, even Anissa that one time¡­¡±


    ¡°That obvious, huh?¡± Janine said dejectedly. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ Subtlety is not my thing, but I couldn¡¯t¡­ I was worried, okay, Marty?!¡±


    ¡°Jani, I¡¯m not mad! It was sweet!¡± Martyshkina hugged her. ¡°Thank you! Thank you for caring. But that is over now. I am not yet back in my sane mind, but I feel better. Tell me honestly what¡¯s bothering you before I claw an answer out of you! If I am still your sister in blood and friendship, trust me!¡±


    Janine sighed, emptying another glass of cognac. It¡¯s true, in the past, they always shared everything with Marty. Boys, fights, sorrows, victories, treats, secrets¡­ When one got hurt, the other treated her wounds. When one suffered defeat, the other would pounce on the victor. Janine filled the glass again, rolled the liquid inside and decided not to add juice. The two substances were better separated.


    ¡°It¡¯s about Terrific,¡± Janine admitted, taking another shot.


    ¡°About that bitch? What about her?¡± Martyshkina asked bitterly, making Janine smile.


    ¡°She is¡­ Terrific wasn¡¯t a bitch!¡± Janine looked weakly at Marty. ¡°Well, she wasn¡¯t a bitch to me. Remember when I was weak in the pits and then I could take you in battle? That¡¯s because Terrific stood by me and pushed me to excellence. Under her care, my body had healed; she nursed me from a near grave to my peak.¡± Janine put aside the glass, reliving the past. ¡°The warlord was a bad person.¡±


    ¡°You mean a monster,¡± Martyshkina said. ¡°She broke our ribs and limbs to torture those little ones.¡±


    ¡°Should I call the police?¡± the bartender asked.


    ¡°No need. Terrific is long dead,¡± Janine told him. ¡°Marty, she had a hard life. Terrific was one of the first generation, a person who stood by Ravager at the dawn of our tribe. And yet she was different. Her claws were so tiny, they barely left her fingers.¡± Janine raised her own paw. At the end of each fingertip, every Wolfkin had wrinkled skin that was loose and baggy. Claws protruded from these places. Janine let out a few millimeters of her own claws and showed them to Marty. ¡°Here. This is all she could do with them¡ªnot enough to reach for a jugular or anything vital.


    ¡°And she was weak too, not like other warlords who grow naturally. Marty, she trained¡ªactually trained all day long, carrying tremendous weights on her fingers, injecting steroids, and fighting everything she could. She challenged other warlords over and over, even Alpha, and always ended up losing. At the end, it was the shamans who promoted her to warlord after the tribe grew big enough. Can you imagine this shame? To obtain the long-desired rank, not through strength, but through pity-victory. It was eating her alive, probably causing her to lash out in the way she did. But she cared for us. She helped with your transfer. She honed my skills, turning me from a useless wreck¡­¡±


    ¡°Useless? You think I¡¯d waste my time on a useless person? Jani, a wreck would not have the guts to stand up to the warlord when she was about to off me. A useless person would not have persuaded me to team up and share food with the entire pits,¡± Martyshkina said calmly. ¡°Call yourself useless ever again, and I am dragging you to my therapist. Let¡¯s see you cry your heart out during a session.¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± Janine stumbled and patted her friend. ¡°I am quite large, can stop a lot of bullets, at least.¡± They burst out laughing and refilled their glasses. The rebuke helped push back the poisonous self-pity. So what if her biological mother tossed her aside? Who cared? Janine had friends, sisters, family. ¡°Thanks. I needed that. Marty, Terrific was¡­ is like a mother to me. Cruel, ever-angry bitch threatening my friends, but still part of my family. That is why I feel like a traitor after murdering her.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I am calling the police, ladies,¡± the bartender warned, and a few customers hurried to leave the establishment.


    ¡°Go ahead. The MP has already investigated me and cleared me of any guilt.¡± Janine waved a glass at him and continued. ¡°It happened when Terrific captured the slavers¡¯ cubs. You know how she was; she had plans to slowly skin them alive to force the bastards into panic and swoop in, saving the hostages. And I couldn¡¯t stand it. Couldn¡¯t fail again. Those cubs were what, under eight years old? There was no fault on them. I¡­¡± Janine licked her lips. ¡°I challenged her. I will never forget the look of utter betrayal on her snout. Terrific wanted either you or me to succeed her, but only after her death.¡±


    Marty chuckled, ¡°Well, she can suck dick on that one. We have several warlords who have lost and reclaimed their ranks. Ain¡¯t nothing weird about that. Abyss, Ygrite lost her rank five times and jokes about it!¡±


    ¡°That may be true, but they earned their original rank by right,¡± Janine argued, fighting the urge to grin. ¡°Terrific did not. For her, losing a rank was the end¡ªproof that she was unworthy of being one of the first generation. And when we fought, she refused to quit. And when we fought, she refused to give up. Marty, if you had only seen her fight, you would¡¯ve forever respected her stubborn refusal to lose! She was weaker than me, but her ferocity is forever etched in my soul. But in the end, there could be only one victor. As I held her by the neck, pinned on the ground, she dug her fingers into my side and tore at my ribs. It enraged me; that stupid refusal to admit reality pissed me off; the fear for the cubs¡¯ lives drove my paws, and I snapped her neck. I¡¯ve been dreaming about that moment ever since, wondering how I could¡¯ve resolved it differently and saved my mom.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault.¡± Martyshkina placed a paw on her shoulder. ¡°Boo-hoo, the prideful bitch refused to go down and tried to kill you. Should you have coddled her into submission?¡±


    ¡°Maybe!¡± Janine snapped. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s what I should have done! Each new warlord must be better than the last. Soldiers who died under my command, civilians I failed to protect... Imagine how many lives would have been saved if I had reined in Terrific?¡±


    ¡°Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°Good, bad, it doesn¡¯t matter, Marty. We have to grab them both by the ears and drag them, drag them into the future. This is the only way the tribe can grow.¡±


    Martyshkina said nothing to it. She simply poured more drinks into their glasses, and the two friends toasted in memory of those who were no longer in this world.


    ****


    Brood Lord smiled, opening his helmet. A leader had to set an example, and he walked bravely to the crackling line in the air. It spread to his left and right, forming a V-shape and opening a gateway onto the road. His front legs carried the khan through the portal, into the realm of honking horns, where white-furred mutants played on the sidewalks, escorted by the larger, black-furred mutants. Light danced in the hundreds of windows, people of many races chatting, oblivious to the complete upheaval of their way of life that was about to occur.


    There were eyes on him. Brood Lord had expected it, the arrogant sword saint standing at the crossroads not far ahead, surrounded by his white-clad knights. The man came here for an inspection, carrying only his weapon. His whelps were the ones who posed a danger. They reached for their ranged weapons, noticing his oversized handgun.


    It was too late. The mole¡¯s reports were correct, and Brood Lord quickly aimed and fired at the car driving toward him, liquidating the driver¡¯s head and shearing off the head of Maxim Puchkov, beheading the local police as he returned to the station. Pieces into places. Fear was a universal tool for conquering nations, but there was so much more to this art. Brood Lord wisely never taught his subjects everything he knew, letting them act against him based on the incomplete ideas of his modus operandi. Pretend to be stupid in order to survive and thrive.


    The projectile left a wide gap in the car and kept ongoing, hitting a family in the next car, and the ensuing screams were music to his ears. And they were about to grow so much louder.


    ¡°Hello, wonderful place,¡± sang the khan.


    Countless portals opened all around the city.

 Chapter 71: The Spreading Chaos

    Zlata laughed out loud, nearly spilling the soda as the bad guy¡¯s wrench on the screen missed the hero¡¯s head after the man ducked to pick up a coin. The evildoer lost his footing on the slippery floor and tumbled over the railing, mounting a cannon several meters below. His speed took the shocked man into the spin, while his mouth was opened in a wordless cry. Little ones in the cinema cheered as the oblivious hero went about his day, oblivious to the attempt on his life.


    Hot popcorn showered over a sitting close cub, and the boy whirled, returning the favor in kind to his friends who had sneaked up on him. Their parents began apologizing, but Zlata simply shook off the popcorn stuck in her fur and stuck out her tongue at the mischievous youth, too absorbed by the atmosphere of joy in the cinema. Old movies were fun!


    She had eased up in the latest weeks and deeply regretted that none of her friends could come up today. The wolf hag eagerly picked up phrases from the films and hungrily studied the ancient architecture, shocked to the core at the sheer safety of the ancient times. There were no skinwalkers prowling in the darkness, no ravenous monsters lurking beneath the sand, and no rampant slave gangs trying to carve out a nation for themselves. It was a paradise, and it saddened her how much the humans didn¡¯t appreciate what they had.


    But truth be told, she was guilty of the same vice. Was she not the one who shunned doctors, like the Blessed Mother? Not anymore; once they returned to the villages, she¡¯d do her best to change the Wolfkins¡¯ perception of their trusted allies.


    A gunshot jerked Zlata out of her blissful mood. She was already on her feet before a hole appeared in the screen. People stopped their laughter, standing up to the faint screams coming from the corridor.


    ¡°Is this part of a show¡­¡± asked a blond man in a black leather jacket.


    ¡°No,¡± Zlata said, narrowing her eyes at the fist side hole in the doors. ¡°To the emergency exit, at once!¡± she snapped and grabbed the confused man by the collar. ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there; lead everyone out¡­¡±


    The world shook, and the doors came apart in an explosion of burning wood. A triangle shone in the swirling smoke, and Zlata growled, recognizing a visor pattern. It was a mistake; her growl alerted the intruder, and bullets raced through the smoke, spearing her chair as the wolf hag jumped. She pushed the panicked crowd out of her mind, ignoring a little one being trampled by the bodies rushing to the second exit, the dead and wounded falling, light shining through the holes in their bodies. Zlata kept her focus even when a bullet hit a little one between the eyes and her brain splattered on the seat.


    Don¡¯t anguish in a battle. Do what is possible to preserve lives. This was Martyshkina creed, and Zlata bounced off the ceiling, landing in the swirling smoke. Her claws raked against the metal, gouging deep lines into the suit. A metal hand grabbed her by the wrist, and she was kicked in the stomach, hard enough to make her spit blood. No matter, she still lived. Zlata broke free, shuddering from the shot to her stomach, and stabbed into one place she was certain her claws could penetrate.


    The visor. Her eyes adjusted to the smoke, and she saw a large, chubby even, figure bedecked into the heavy plate. The tips of her claws shattered the reinforced glass, and she plunged her fingers to the full length into the eyes of the screaming enemy, falling alongside him into the corridor. A burst of gunfire ripped through her abdomen, and splinters rained down from above.


    It was a slaughterhouse there. Mere twenty minutes ago, the corridor was full of the running cubs, cartoon cutouts, adults, and personnel roleplaying as the movies¡¯ characters. There was life, calmness, and a tasty smell of hot butter. Broken bodies now lay on the floor, arms and legs missing. The disgusting odor of released bowels permeated everything. Three more fat bastards fired indiscriminately, downing everyone in sight. There was no logic, no sense in it; the armored freaks simply enjoyed butchering, and it enraged Zlata. She twisted her claws, ending her opponent, and snatched his oversized machinegun from the dead hand.


    A burst of fire cracked power armor and tore chunks of flesh from her left leg. Zlata rolled aside, scowling at the realization that her femur was shattered in several places. She lifted the dead invader and used him as a shield while she fired at his fellows. The one she aimed at was thrown a step back. Dents covered his chest plate, and a trickle of blood appeared from the joint of his elbow.


    ¡°Useless garbage,¡± Zlata muttered the words, struggling for a breath. Her knee joint was torn, and the leg dangled on a string of muscles. ¡°Shardguns are the best.¡± T The battered bastard reached for a grenade. ¡°Good, meat.¡± Her vision dimmed, but the wolf hag took aim and fired, exploding the grenade in the steel fingers.


    She embraced the rage. It was what kept her alive and awake. Holes, more than she cared to count, covered her body; one lung gave out completely and she was kneeling in a pool of her own blood, her insides slithering out. That was it, the last test of her mettle. Ravager often asked: ¡®What were they willing to sacrifice to protect the helpless?¡¯ Zlata was willing to deny death for it, savagely tormenting her body for another second of life, embracing fear for those in the hall, and using it to fuel her life.


    The grenade exploded, tossing the fatty aside. Two of his fingers cracked, and his companions lost their footing. That was the limit of Zlata¡¯s lucky shot, and she accepted it, running her trembling paw over the dead man¡¯s belt. The amber embers of her eyes flickered and faded, but the wolf hag wildly grinned, activated the grenades, and threw them in the general direction of the enemy. She didn¡¯t see the bright explosion that collapsed the entrance and flung the armored forms outside. She barely recognized the steel beams and the ceiling that came crashing down on her. Zlata fought for every breath, trying to find a weapon even buried under the rubble when her paws stopped.


    Wolf Hag Zlata of the Martyshkina Pack bled out, stalling the attackers to give the citizens time to escape.


    ****


    ¡°Everything is in order.¡± Till Ingo rolled his eyes at the data on the screen. The consoles¡¯ operators reported stability of the power grid. ¡°Pointless.¡± He frowned. ¡°Where are these voltage drop disturbances, Agent Piam?¡± he eyed the woman looming over the operator.


    Ingo was in a foul mood since the morning, and the summon only served to sour it even further. The dragon, that flying vehicle of the dead Horde¡¯s leader, refused to yield its secrets. He took it apart, marveling at the exotic reactor of this ship. The researcher had expected it to be a regular plasma reactor, but it was a rudimentary proton engine, a technology long stuck in Iterna¡¯s grasp. If he could understand how it worked, the Reclamation Army would be one step closer to unlocking the secrets of the wireless energy transfer. The implants in his head urged Ingo to continue, infected by his enthusiasm, but the scientist remained cautious. Slow and steady wins the race.


    The cursed soldier of the First had woken up every victim of Techno Queen, and his students reported that the children had befriended Banshee¡¯s siblings and often played ball with them. This disturbed Ingo to no end, for if the information about their inhuman origins were to reach the press, it would leave a mark on their lives. In an act of petty revenge, Till Ingo immediately gave the order to test the heavy ordinance on Daion, using his volunteer guinea pig to test the abilities of the recreated combat intelligence, whose schematics he had gleaned from Techno Queen¡¯s knowledge.


    Finally, this. There was a power outage yesterday, suspiciously timed to coincide with the attempted bank robbery. It reached a hospital in the south, and several patients in the emergency ward died during this short period. Furious, Till Ingo sent an official complaint to the Dynast, demanding the removal of the Minister of Health if the woman was dumb enough not to supply hospitals with the additional generators. Then came the invitation from the Investigation Bureau.


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    ¡°The reports didn¡¯t lie,¡± Piam said in a steely voice; her artificial eye gleamed. ¡°There was interference. If we have a virus or a backdoor in the system¡­¡±


    Till Ingo raised a finger, halting the woman. Reports filled his eyes about spatial anomalies happening all around the city. He slowed his perception of time, trying to make sense of the situation when an elbow rammed him into the chest.


    ¡°Dad, duck!¡± Banshee screamed. ¡°Watch out everyone!¡±


    Sizzling cracks appeared on the platforms that overlooked the Operations Center. They widened into lines, and before Till Ingo could say a word, armored bodies stomped out of them, carrying oversized rifles. The researcher gulped, expecting an offer of surrender or anything. These iron-clad giants stood three meters tall, and the helpers in his head readily confirmed that, based on their expanded bulk, these New Breeds shared the same heritage as those who had attacked the settlement.


    The Horde wasn¡¯t done. It came for them.


    There were no battle cries or taunts. The invaders aimed their weapons down and fired with deadly efficiency, eradicating the trying-to-run operators, while three of their number jumped down. Their hands slammed into the helmets of the security guards, pinning the men to the walls, and weapons barked, sowing death. An Orais threw an operator into the opened corridor and closed the distance to the nearest giant, grunting as the projectiles drummed over his plate.


    His opponent was still turning after killing a Normie guard, and the Orais¡¯ foot caught the Horde soldier in the knee, sending him sprawling. Long arms, each capable of shredding power armor without the added aid of the security suit¡¯s synthetic fibers and servo motors, closed in on the helmet. The Horde soldier¡¯s head was jerked aside, his gorget and neck cracked under the pressure, reaching for his shotgun.


    ¡°Piam, get out of the open¡­¡± Ingo shouted, and his daughter grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed him behind a console.


    ¡°Dad,¡± she hissed, ¡°the bitch is with them.¡±


    He looked at her incredulously, thinking that Banshee went crazy from the stress when Piam¡¯s head swayed from side to side, her features flowing and reforming into the face of an unknown woman, her hair growing longer, and the artificial eye falling to the ground. Even her uniform melted and solidified into a green trench coat.


    ¡°That Khan,¡± the woman masquerading as Piam hissed, ¡°it wasn¡¯t needed.¡±


    She nodded after an armored giant shouted at her words in an unknown language. The woman headed for the control center, and the Orais tried to bar her path. His shotgun fired, and armor-piercing slugs disappeared into the depths of the green coat, bringing the woman no discomfort. She swung her arm; fleshy growths sprouted on the leather, spitting out bone blades that impaled the guard. Legs, arms, chest. Against his will, Ingo marveled at the precision with which the bones were immobilized without damaging the arteries. The bones turned into elastic muscle whips, and the false Piam flung her opponent into the open corridor. She continued her advance; the elastic muscle whips shifted to become barbed living wire, and it whipped at the guards trying to stop the creature. Legs snapped, arms bent at impossible angles, blindingly fast whips bisected weapons, but left the guards alive.


    Banshee peeked out of hiding and fired her coil gun Ingo had handcrafted for her. Blue energy flew out of the barrel, hitting the Horde soldier on the platform top right in the head. A round hole appeared in the helmet, and the body toppled down, while Banshee screamed in pain, clutching her shoulder, lightly nicked by a ricocheting bullet. Another shot hit bounced off her bone ridge, and the third sheared off her earrings and a piece of flesh from her ear.


    Till Ingo punched the console before him in frustration, got up quickly, and dragged the wounded operator to safety. The woman was missing everything below the waist. The scientist calmly injected her with the experimental nanomachines. It was an unfinished product, one that fell short of his expectations due to its immaturity. Instead of creating metal legs, it will simply stop the bleeding and preserve the host¡¯s life at all costs. After that, it will take another injection of another set of nanomachines to remove the first ones from the bloodstream so that prosthetics can be installed.


    Screams, gunfire, hissing wires and explosions surrounded Till Ingo, but he wasn¡¯t afraid for himself. Not anymore. These degenerates had turned his precious student into a killer. Banshee was crafted for war; the readiness to kill was in her very DNA, but he came to respect and care for the pale-skinned girl, trying to guide her to a better future, first according to Ravager¡¯s wishes and then, surprisingly, his own. He often scowled and mocked her for falling asleep during lessons, and yet something in him drove him to cover her with a blanket more than once.


    She deserved better. The people here deserved better.


    They stole her innocence. An implant responsible for survival took over, joined by virtual combat intelligence. They killed his countrymen and brought war to his city. A cluster of nanomachines in Ingo¡¯s body synthesized stimulants, causing his forehead to glow. The researcher essentially relinquished control of his body to the helpers and receded into the background.


    Hunting mode enabled.


    Ingo¡¯s arm moved into his coat on its own, closing around the toxic gun. Just when the implants calculated that no one would pay attention to the spot to his left, his body slid there. The implants briefly navigated his body to appear from behind the ruined console terminal and fire at the wires behind two Horde soldiers on the platform above. A concentrated, searing beam of acid traveling at two thousand kilometers per hour burned through the wires, causing them to explode, sparks obscuring the soldiers¡¯ view. Ingo aimed quickly and fired twice at each of them, once to damage the armor over the heart and the second time to kill.


    ¡°Hide the wounded behind the terminals!¡± Ingo shouted as his body fired again, melting away the top of one console so Banshee could take a shot. His student didn¡¯t miss the opportunity, and another dead body dropped to the ground. ¡°Activate the emergency, summon¡­¡±


    He stopped talking, too shocked to his very core when his connection to the city¡¯s system was abruptly cut off. He received no panic calls from the police or the mayor¡¯s office, and there was no connection to the Net. White static filled the channels. The alarm systems weren¡¯t directing civilians to shelters; rudimentary artificial intelligence assistants didn¡¯t guide the police, forcing the officers to rely on old-fashioned radio communications. Advertisements blinked and disappeared, and one glitch after another piled up in Houstad as automated systems, under the conflicting commands of the unknown malware, began to create emergencies. Gas pipes exploded, traffic lights flashed brightly and spat sparks, massive displays relayed unknown messages.


    This unknown malware only spared three locations in Houstad. Iternian Embassy, which came as no surprise. The terraformation complex¡¯s systems had held, saved by the software provided as part of the joint restoration treaty. And the last was the Inevitable, as the behemoth¡¯s crew had severed its connection to the city¡¯s network. The ruination was spreading; Till Ingo¡¯s implants nearly failed prey to it, and they whispered, angrily, in the back of his mind, trying their best to figure out what horror of the Old World had been unleashed today.


    It was irrelevant. The source of this poison came from the control room, and Till Ingo stood up.


    ¡°Stay in cover,¡± he ordered Banshee.


    Many people called him a cold person. Even his sisters doubted his intentions. And there was a grain of truth in those doubts; Ingo almost stumbled countless times on the path of learning. He often dismissed good advice, forced his will onto others, and nearly ended his creation in his arrogance. There were allies who helped him stay human, and as a human, he intended to help keep Houstad safe.


    A splitting headache gripped Ingo¡¯s brain; his forehead glittered like a New Year¡¯s decoration. The New Breed security team was already in the hall, and Orais faced up against the bulky giants. Despite the threat coming from the arriving reinforcements, many of the Horde troops sought to end Ingo, and his body jerked, manipulated by the helpers, dodging bullets before they left the barrel.


    Cuts appeared on his body. It was a funny thing about precognition. If he had been able to predict the future flawlessly, and the simulations of his implants were far from that level, his body was still that of an overweight Normie. Knowledge was useless if he couldn¡¯t keep up, and as a shell hit his shoulder, Till realized that he certainly wasn¡¯t fast enough. His cut limb fell, and he braced himself for the inevitable death as a shot landed in the shooter¡¯s stomach and the second blue flash left a wide gash in his eye.


    ¡°You never make things easy for me, do you, Dad?¡± Banshee asked, helping Ingo walk. ¡°Why are you risking your bacon out here?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± he said hoarsely. ¡°Don¡¯t call me dad, student. We need to flush the virus out of the system before half of Houstad is set on fire.¡±


    They marched on together.

 Chapter 72: A Creature of the New World. A Being of the Old World.

    With a trembling hand, Till Ingo injected nanomachines into his ruined arm. Relief came immediately, and the blood had clotted. The battle was still raging around them. Five Orais in heavy assault suits came in from the corridor, filling the air with the rapid fire of their autocannons. A sixth rushed in with flamethrowers mounted on his arms, the intense flames scorching the armor of the Horde soldiers.


    The Orais¡¯ onslaught was cut short when an attacker burst through the wall of flame and kicked the guard in the stomach hard enough to crack the plate. A series of shots narrowly missed the guard¡¯s head as he closed in, engulfing himself and his opponent in flames. Ammunition belts exploded; the Horde soldier¡¯s machine gun melted in his hands, but the giant drew his sword and plunged it into the Orais chest. Mighty hands grabbed the intruder¡¯s wrist and pulled the blade free, just in time for the Orais to headbutt his opponent, laughing all the way. Strangely, the Horde madman, oblivious to the heat seeping through the cracks in his suit, laughed as well.


    Banshee and Till Ingo ignored it and stepped inside the small corridor leading to the control room At the sound of the first emergency, the defense system raised steel plates to block the entrance, but the woman wearing Piam¡¯s face tore through them as if they were paper.


    Pulsating growths covered the room inside. Red flesh connected every pimple the size of a man¡¯s body, and dark vines spread everywhere. Pools of crimson flesh swallowed whole terminals, and the room¡¯s crew was pinned to the wall, covered from neck to toe in the strange biological material. Both guards and operators had gags around their mouths, but Till Ingo was relieved to see them breathing, even if they were unconscious.


    His first step was accompanied by a disgusting champ sound, and the reddish substance on the ground shuddered. The arterial vines joined together to form a web on the ceiling, digging into the walls in places. Till Ingo moved on, heading for a single untouched terminal on the opposite side of the room and gesturing for Banshee to stay back.


    ¡°We both know this is a trap,¡± Ingo said aloud. There was no response; the surrounding vines continued to throb. ¡°Based on your actions so far, you are not a killer. Let us negotiate.¡±


    ¡°I am as many things as my mission requires, Till Ingo,¡± a voice came from his left, and his aides began their calculations, trying to locate the unseen spy.


    Human lips appeared on a vine, but a loud series of wet pops and cracks behind Ingo¡¯s back filled him with dread. He spun around just in time to see bones, ligaments, and muscles appearing in an innocent-looking vine in the corner. The top of the vine broke free from the mass of flesh above and whipped, heavily slapping Banshee against the jaw. She fell with a crack, dropping the coil gun. The vine lay next to her, sprouting appendages that secured his creation to the floor before a bubbling mass appeared at its center.


    On an instinct, Ingo fired the searing toxic ray at the upper part of the mass, but his shot missed as the mass spread, creating a hole through which the deadly stream could pass. A hand, then another, formed from the flesh, and soon the woman in the green trench coat rose to her full height and met his eyes. A single hair whipped out, slicing through the toxic gun.


    ¡°Now we can converse in peace,¡± she said and noticed his eyes on Banshee. ¡°Your companion is alive. I merely dislocated a few vertebrae. I suggest you do what you came here for while we are speaking. There may not be time for it later, and neither of us desires more needless deaths.¡±


    Till nodded and proceeded to the terminal, flying his hand over the keyboard. Wary of the malware that overrode most precautions built into Houstad, he didn¡¯t risk establishing a direct link to operate it remotely.


    ¡°Your deeds don¡¯t match your words,¡± Ingo said coldly.


    ¡°I am deeply sorry about your wound.¡± The woman placed a hand on her chest and bowed. ¡°The arrangements were clear; you were not to be harmed. It was not according to my plan, and the one responsible will pay. But I reject your implied accusation. None died by my hand. Collective responsibility is a sham, Mr. Ingo, and I am responsible only for what I have committed with my many arms. Every woe that befell Houstad resulted from the actions of its citizens.¡±


    ¡°Keep making excuses,¡± Ingo halted, trying to summon anti-malware programs. ¡°How should I call you?¡±


    ¡°Trace.¡± The woman walked over to the operators and placed a hand on the twisted leg of one. The limb jerked and straightened.


    ¡°What have you released into the system?¡± Ingo demanded. He expected to see some unknown device attached to the terminal, but there was a simple USB drive inserted into a slot. ¡°I have never seen anything like that.¡±


    ¡°A self-propagating virus. Your observation matches mine, as I tried to stop it as soon as I noticed the area of effect. It was meant to deliver a message, not risk causing untold devastation,¡± Trace said dispassionately, healing the trapped wounded. ¡°I assume my allies are unaware of its function. It differs greatly from their standard malware. A third party involved in our situation, I am certain of it. Mayhap it is even beyond your abilities to stop it now.¡±


    ¡°How about a bet? If I can solve this problem, you will surrender,¡± the researcher offered, smiling thinly as he discovered a possible approach to tackling the system. It was the experimental malware cleaner he kept in his aide, a crude copy of Iternian programs modified with what he had found in the ruins around the globe.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid it risks compromising my mission,¡± Trace answered.


    ¡°Judging by your behavior, you are not in the business of mindless killing,¡± Ingo stated. He briefly established the connection, and his aide released the hunter and shut down, already infected. The cluster in his brain showed unusual activity as they pitied their affected friend. ¡°Riches, knowledge? What are you after?¡±


    ¡°You, Till Ingo.¡± Trace checked a guard¡¯s heartbeat and frowned, sending more tentacles into the man¡¯s chest, returning color to his cheeks. ¡°Bio-Tinkers desire the brightest and the smartest to assist in the glorious task of improving human biology, and you should be honored for attracting their attention. As an instrument of their reach, I have been charged with gathering you. Circumstances don¡¯t allow me to take you whole, but the brain will do. Do not worry, once the Great Mission is completed, we will reimburse you for such indignity.¡±


    ¡°Bio-Tinkers, Great Mission¡± Ingo laughed. ¡°Bollocks! I have seen the reports of hordes of biological horrors used in the anvil of war. Twisted, hapless, created for a single purpose. Vat-grown mutants, unleashed at the snap of your masters¡¯ fingers. There is no greatness in propagating such misery.¡±


    ¡°None of them are sentient,¡± Trace traced an old scar on the man¡¯s face with her finger, leaving perfectly smooth skin behind. ¡°The Oathtakers forced our hands, forced the conclave to deny my brothers and sisters sentience and use them as the cannon fodder.¡±


    Till Ingo stood with his back to Banshee. He couldn¡¯t see his daring creation, but a whisper reached his eardrums, transmitted at such a low frequency that no one else in the room had a chance to catch it.


    ¡°Ready.¡±


    Wait. There is much to learn. On my signal. Till Ingo tapped a code on the surface of the terminal, disguising it as a gesture of frustration. It was a language they had invented together, a secret they shared. His ears didn¡¯t pick up the soft tapping, but Banshee picked it up loud and clear.


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    ¡°Brothers¡­ So you are not human,¡± Ingo stated.


    ¡°We are the Second Chance, the intermediate link between the present humans and the next race.¡± Trace nodded and removed her tentacles from the guard, giving the unconscious man a gentle pat. ¡°I would recommend intensive medical checks for your personnel. Dying of heart problems is an embarrassing way to go.¡±


    ¡°Another idiots seeking to eradicate the human race.¡± Ingo shook his head, pretending to work on the terminal. The hunter program no longer needed his input, but the researcher attempted to buy time to learn more. ¡°Can¡¯t believe there are so many morons obsessing over it.¡±


    ¡°Eradicate?¡± Trace asked, an emotion of surprise creeping into her voice. ¡°You misunderstand our intentions. Humans are our parents. How could we hate them?¡± she said passionately. ¡°We do not seek to expedite the death of humanity in any way, shape, or form. We¡¯d rather prefer to live alongside it.¡±


    ¡°Under your guidance, I trust?¡± Ingo asked. ¡°What is the angle of your cult, Trace? Do you plan to forcibly evolve every human or something equally wicked?¡±


    ¡°Your fear is understandable, but entirely misplaced,¡± Trace said. ¡°Bio-Tinkers have no enemies. Nor do the Second Chance. Neither I nor my brothers and sisters seek to subsume, alter, or control humanity. We cannot say that we love each and every one of you, but by and large, you are our kin, and I personally want nothing more than to become a doctor one day. In my own way, I weep over the deaths happening in Houstad.¡±


    ¡°Why can¡¯t you be a doctor now? Why help the murderers?¡± Ingo asked bluntly.


    ¡°To collect you,¡± Trace sighed. ¡°And to obtain genetic material from extremely rare humans. The Gilded Horde is coming, hundreds of thousands of them, and unless I take you away, there is a risk of losing your potential to the world. Hate me if you wish, but you can¡¯t deny the necessity of the Great Mission.¡± Till Ingo raised his eyebrow, and Trace stepped closer to him. ¡°Consider the tragedy of the Old World. Our own history almost ended. The Second Chance was meant to lessen that possibility in the future. My future siblings will be perfect in every way, capable of surviving any conditions, and human at their core. They are the salvation of us all, and your mind will help design them.¡±


    ¡°Perfection doesn¡¯t exist. There will always be a flaw to remove, a biological function to improve. Can¡¯t you see, Trace, that your Great Mission is, by its very definition, unattainable? It is a task without end; all the while you kidnap, kill, and maim for it.¡± He caught a glimmer of irritation in the woman¡¯s eyes. ¡°You actually agree with me. Curious. You have called yourself an instrument. Do you have free will, Trace?¡±


    ¡°I have faith that the conclave knows better. Certain limits to my freedom are unfortunate precautions for the sake of a better future for all.¡± The light above flashed, and Trace took a terminal from the pocket that appeared on her arm. ¡°Connection to the Investigation Bureaus has been restored. How naughty of you to stall for time after I was so cooperative.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Till Ingo pleaded, placing a hand on the stump of his shoulder. ¡°Last question. Were you created using the knowledge of the Old World?¡±


    ¡°No. The conclave had failed to secure data vaults containing the knowledge of the Old World biotechnology.¡± Trace tilted her head. ¡°Why do you ask?¡±


    ¡°Then you are out of luck,¡± Till Ingo laughed and sat, leaning against the terminal.


    Trace took a step, and the floor shook. The living ropes wrapped around Banshee broke, and the woman rose, snapping her neck and grabbing her head, forcing the dislocated vertebrae back into place.


    ¡°Hey,¡± she coughed. ¡°Get away from Dad.¡±


    Bone spikes shot up from the vine closest to Banshee, splintering centimeters away. The bone fragments dropped to the ground. Vines moved, giving birth to smaller arteries; hands ending in claws emerged from the flesh, trying to tear the student apart, while organic ropes would bind her. Banshee¡¯s mouth opened, her lower jaw touching her chest, and Trace hastily carved a hole in her body, spreading her torso wide as she calculated the presumed line of attack.


    An omnidirectional blast of sound liquidated everything around Banshee. It bounced off the walls and joined a second scream that tore through the throbbing web created by Trace. The agent formed a bone shield in front of her, only to see it shatter and hiss in pain as the third scream splattered her between the two trapped guards. The intensity of the screams from Banshee¡¯s mouth increased, and the organic covering on the floor raced into corners and was crushed into tiny spheres.


    But nothing touched Ingo or the captives. Not a single hair fell from their heads.


    Banshee often frightened him, Till Ingo was willing to admit this much. Where her vat-grown siblings were perfectly normal kids growing up, their youngest sister was different. As her hands touched the edges of the vat and her head showed from the green waters, she addressed Ravager and the scientist in perfect Common, claiming that she had heard everything. There was no secret in the lab that could be kept from her ears, and she often first congratulated confused students on finally deciding to become a couple. In time, such hearing became a bother, and Till Ingo made her noise suppressors in the shape of jewelry, giving the girl the same hearing as a normal human. She beamed with happiness all day long, testing them, jumping like crazy, screaming that it wasn¡¯t noisy anymore and that her head wasn¡¯t hurting.


    Sound was her weapon; her vocal cords were capable of amplifying a simple sound to the point of leveling a tank. The ancient records stated that ¡®products¡¯ like her served as spies and assassins. But there was more to it. Ingo experimented with the Glow, trying to understand the mechanics behind the fact that it was giving powers to the few and ending the many. His results were inconclusive; there seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the glow¡¯s power-giving, but it accepted Banshee, and she gained control of the sound by her. The student wielded it with perfect precision.


    That was what hit Trace. A scalper of thinned and magnified sound caught the woman, wrapped around her like a cloak, and slammed her against the wall. Trace¡¯s eyes exploded, her fingers snapped, her body tortured and ravaged by the merciless waves of sound. Ingo was about to ask Banshee to stop when the agent¡¯s finger lengthened and touched the ropes holding a suspended guard.


    Her whole body was sucked into this rope, clothes, and bones. Banshee¡¯s scream hit the wall, but Trace had already reappeared on the ceiling. Her right arm morphed into a thin bone blade nearing Banshee¡¯s head. The point cracked, stopped by a hastily created sonic shield. The tip cracked, stopped by a hastily created shield of sound. A sonic burst bisected Trace in two, but a bubbling mass emerged from beneath the floor and tried to close in on Banshee¡¯s legs. The student inhaled and screamed.


    The scream shattered the ground and lifted Banshee, saving her from a reddish mass that was trying desperately to cling to the boot. Bone shards were shot from the mass, tendrils of hardened muscle unfurled, whipping madly in an attempt to bypass the sphere of sound around the student. Banshee screamed again, uprooting the mass from the ground. It twisted and contorted, suspended in the air as unseen pistons pounded on its surface, flattening it.


    ¡°Surrender,¡± Banshee demanded. Ingo heard no response, but another scream opened a panel on a wall and the mass was thrown against it, flailing wildly as the currents of electricity raced through its body, burning the outer skin. ¡°Give it up. Now,¡± Banshee repeated. Listening to an answer deafened by the tearing and burning of muscles, she nodded and screamed again.


    Covered by extensive burns, its outer shell darkening, the mass slumped to the ground. It gave a single, faint pulsation, trying to change, and slumped into a pool.


    ¡°Because you didn¡¯t kill when you had the chance, and you never aimed for my vitals,¡± Banshee said to the black mass. ¡°You really don¡¯t like killing, do you?¡± She gave Ingo a worried look. ¡°Dad! How are you?!¡±


    ¡°Fine, Banshee,¡± he grumbled, not sure what she was grinning like an idiot about. ¡°Release the prisoners, carefully, please. What happened to Trace?¡±


    ¡°Incapacitated for a while.¡± Banshee nodded at the dark mass. ¡°But it won¡¯t be for long. Lying is bad, by the way,¡± she said in the air, gently liberating an operator from the ropes. ¡°I can hear your capillaries growing. Can you contain her?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find a way,¡± Ingo promised when the stomping of the approaching guards made him realize that they must have been aware of the screams and if the cameras were online during the fight¡­ ¡°Banshee, let me explain everything¡­¡±


    ¡°Guys!¡± The insufferable girl waved a hand to the barged in Orais. ¡°Dad and I stopped the baddie; don¡¯t step on her by accident; she is our prisoner and can still bite. There she is, that heap of shit. Also, I am not a human, was grown in a vat.¡±


    Till Ingo stopped, clenched his fist and prepared to shout the order to stand down.


    ¡°So what?¡± the leading Orais stumbled. ¡°The fuck am I supposed to do with the last part of that information? You want a medal or something? Help her get the people down and the injured out,¡± he snapped to his soldiers.


    ¡°If you can find my earpiece, it¡¯ll be awesome,¡± Banshee asked, touching the remaining jewelry on her good ear. ¡°It¡¯s so noisy. People screaming, bones breaking, explosions and gunfire outside. It¡¯s rough.¡± She licked her lips, sweating. ¡°Tough,¡± she added.


    ¡°Banshee,¡± Ingo began.


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage, Dad,¡± she assured him. ¡°No drugs. Never drugs.¡±


    ¡°Find the pretty thing for the girlie!¡± the Orais in charge told a Normie soldier, reloading his rotating autocannon. ¡°As for us,¡± he told his team. ¡°On the road. Honor the Champion and the Dynast by spilling the blood of their enemies!¡±

 Chapter 73: Scarring Houstad

    Mindy struggled to fathom the reasons for Dragena¡¯s visits to Sitota¡¯s caf¨¦. The woman was responsible for the deaths of their comrades, yet every morning since their meetings, the warlord had visited this place after her morning routine, always having the same breakfast and a coffee to go with it. Breakfast at noon! Who even does that? Mindy was hand-picked by Dragena herself to accompany her leader through the streets and to solve any misunderstanding involving the locals.


    It was an important job, but the scout wished for a wolf hag or a shaman to take over. Why her? She wasn¡¯t that important or strong, and she didn¡¯t have any hidden potential, not even a single drop. When the warlord¡¯s inner circle caught her yesterday demanding answers, she simply offered them to dominate her, as Mindy had none. No one touched her, and the wolf hags asked¡ªasked, not ordered!¡ªthe scout to keep a close eye on Dragena, as the greatest of their kind, did not understand social interactions.


    ¡°Um¡­ Mindy,¡± asked the brown-haired girl, and the scout raised her head from the counter. To her left, Dragena¡¯s fork clattered against a table. ¡°Sorry. I can¡¯t get a thread through the needle.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry!¡± Mindy smiled sweetly and gently took the girl¡¯s hand, showing her how to do it.


    She sat the girl down in a chair and helped her sew the white apron. While the scout despised Sitota for murdering pack members, her cubs were another matter. Mindy genuinely enjoyed helping the little, hard-working buffoons. During their second visit, she secretly sniffed the cubs, searching for any drugs, and paid close attention to any scars, welds, or bruises when the sleeves of their clothes fell. But to her relief, Sitota took excellent care of her adopted little ones, and so far there wasn¡¯t a hint of a foul play.


    Maybe people do change. Mindy shrugged, receiving thanks from the girl, and turned to assist the Malformed boy.


    ¡°You too?¡± Dragena asked off-handedly, placing eggs on a piece of bread.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Sitota poured coffee for a patron. ¡°Wished to be better, to match Reaper. And a bio-tinker was in search of a test subject.¡± The murderer pointed at her void skin. ¡°Wasn¡¯t worth it, but it helped me see the perspective and the foolishness of my previous trade. Maxim. Don¡¯t play near the machines. Go and have fun on the street.¡± She chastised a boy who almost put his hand on the steaming pipe. ¡°And you?¡±


    ¡°Since birth,¡± answered Dragena.


    ¡°My condolences,¡± Sitota said, handing the warlord a cup of coffee. ¡°I¡¯d have given almost everything to get them back.¡±


    The women never changed their intonations or raised their voices, which was unnerving to Mindy. Would it kill them to show a glimmer of emotion? The scout decided the killer was lying about the condolences.


    ¡°What was it like?¡± Dragena inquired.


    Mindy stood up and walked out of the caf¨¦, bored out of her mind. Wolfkins weren¡¯t made for idle chatter or sitting. An itch to move, to learn, to explore burned in every cell of Mindy¡¯s body. If she was weird by the standards of her kin, then Dragena easily crossed that threshold, stepping into the realm of the purely incomprehensible. A soccer ball flew into her snout as the scout opened the door, and she caught it, grinning wildly at the cubs.


    There was a bet between her and the little rascals. If they managed to surprise her just once, she would owe them a pizza of their choice. They tried admirably: a bucket of water over the front door, pushpins on a chair, glue to her boots. But Mindy always was one step ahead, and right now she dramatically raised a paw and let the ball roll down her sleeve and over the back, caught it with another paw, and elegantly tossed the ball into a soccer gate. The ball flew past the cub, who tried to stop it, and Mindy bowed to the applause.


    ¡°Teach us how to do that!¡± a girl asked, staring at her intently.


    ¡°We¡¯ll still get you, you know,¡± another promised, and the Wolfkin patted the pouting little one.


    ¡°One day,¡± she promised him. ¡°But you have to be creative about it.¡± She sat at a table, enjoying the breeze from the river and stopping the chair from being pulled away with her foot. ¡°To pull off a successful surprise attack, you have to become innocent and relaxed. Even your mind is better off focused on something else.¡±


    ¡°Cartoons?¡± the girl asked.


    ¡°Good choice!¡± Mindy praised her. ¡°Know that feeling when you can sense eyes on your back? It¡¯s the same here. When you try to get a quick one over me, I can read the intent on your faces. You are so fixated on an opportunity to see me go down to ¡®even the score¡¯ that you create circumstances when you miss that very opportunity. Let go of past frustrations and you may find your task easier than you think. But enough babbling.¡± She clapped her paws and asked for the football ball. ¡°No idea how to play soccer,¡± she admitted, ¡°but I can teach you a little of¡­¡±


    A burst of static from the advertising screens stopped her. Electrical boards displaying ship schedules, traffic lights, even store music choked and died, and darkness and whiteness replaced everything on the displays as dynamics produced gurgling sounds. Mindy¡¯s paws were around the cubs¡¯ before a flash from a distant explosion illuminated them. Years of dangerous life in the Wastes had taught her this. ¡®See anything out of the ordinary? Grab the helpless and run!¡¯ was the saying her parents had drilled into her, and today it saved lives.


    Bullets speared the places where she and the cubs had stood mere seconds ago. Fires engulfed a distant skyscraper, coiling around the walls and bursting out the sides with the falling burning figures. Explosives. Mindy was dreaded by the realization as the superstructure creaked and tilted, spilling torrents of stone, glass, and metal onto the street below. Thank the Spirits, it wasn¡¯t falling on the store, but it was falling, and Mindy¡¯s heart skipped a beat at the sight that seemed straight out of the Old World. The skyscraper, one of the tallest buildings she had ever seen in her life, fractured and collapsed, sending a tremor that reached here and a huge plume of smoke that spread across the sky like a dirty oil stain on the pristine water.


    How many lives? Don¡¯t think; focus on getting the cubs to safety. Mindy kept rushing to the caf¨¦ doors, darting her eyes to the left, where armored giants appeared, four of them firing into everyone. A quick-thinking pedestrian pushed a family into the rivers and tried to tackle one of the killers, but was cut in two by a machinegun and a heavy boot stomped on his head. Dragena was already standing up when Mindy shoved the cubs inside and screamed in pain.


    Fingers. The fingers of her right paw dropped after a single bullet caught her on the knuckle. How dare you? Blood soaked Mindy¡¯s uniform. The instincts took over, overriding even the desire to obey Dragena. Rage. She had never been so angry, not even after a wicked girl had once trounced her little sister, and Mindy had tracked the bitch down in the night, held a knife to her throat and threatened to kill the younger woman if she ever hurt her family again. It was an unworthy act for which she begged forgiveness, but the rage in her limbs burned far brighter.


    Families killed, peace broken, civilians in danger. The scout blasted stones under her feet, covering twelve meters in a single leap. She landed on the shoulders of the closest armored prey, who was too caught up in firing at the sheltering citizens. The impact staggered him a little, and claws of her good hand immediately slashed at the neck, drawing a tingle of surprise from Mindy¡¯s throat. Her claws, the pride and joy of her life, tools that had convinced her precious soulmate to give her a chance, had broken off at the tips and were stuck in the rubberized neck guard.


    What in the world¡­ She had only encountered such durability only in the state¡¯s armor before. A hand closed around her ankle, and the world spun as the enemy slammed Mindy to the ground. She coughed, pushing through the pain, and kicked, her claws shattering against the groin guard. The scout tried to wriggle free, but the hand holding her easily overpowered the Wolfkin, and a single shot left a yawning crater in her side.


    Sorry, everyone. Mindy blinked away tears and gasped frantically for air. One of her lungs was no longer in its place, and the barrel of the machinegun was pointed at her head. I won¡¯t be bringing back any souvenirs. Love you. Love you so much. Spirits guide¡­


    A knife pierced the giant¡¯s head, going through the armor as if it were hot butter, and continued on to cut the arm of another attacker. Mindy raised her head just in time to see Sitota¡¯s scythe strike the third giant¡¯s visor. The seemingly frail and lithe woman brought the blade down with such force that it scraped the back of the helmet and pulled the opponent to her, hiding in his shadow as the remaining two opened fire. Their attack lasted no more than a breath; two more knives brought them down, and Dragena closed in on Mindy, briefly seizing the scout¡¯s jaw.


    ¡°Brilliantly done. Your war is over, Scout,¡± said the emotionless voice, and Mindy prepared for a mercy kill, but the warlord merely glanced at Sitota. ¡°Take the people to the nearest emergency bunker.¡± She rose and pointed at the two customers who left the caf¨¦. ¡°Into the river, help everyone get back to the road. You three! Tourniquets and bandages; take belts and clothes of the dead if needed¡­¡±


    ¡°My customers are my responsibility,¡± Sitota said. ¡°I¡¯d rather help clean up the city.¡±


    ¡°And toss the children aside?¡± Dragena asked in-between giving the instructions.


    ¡°Stretcher. There is one on the second floor.¡± Sitota turned to the frightened children.


    ¡°Mom¡­¡± The youngest stuck her thumb in her mouth, while the oldest cubs raced to get the object. ¡°Is it going to happen again?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Sitota replied, placing a hand on the girl¡¯s forehead. ¡°You won¡¯t find yourself alone. Promise.¡±


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Mindy tried to stand, almost screaming as she used her torn paw for support. Only a whisper escaped her mouth, but Dragena should have heard her. The warlord gathered her knives and walked away, speaking into the terminal. ¡°I can still¡­ Let me¡­¡±


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    ¡°Wounded should lie down and relax.¡± Sitota tapped on Mindy¡¯s head with the butt of her scythe, pinning the scout to the ground. ¡°Bandages. We have an injured.¡±


    ¡°Where do we don¡¯t have one?¡± grumbled an elderly man, trying to save a bleeding woman. He tossed a roll of bandages to the former assassin.


    The scout obeyed, lying still and wondering about Dragena¡¯s words. How could a war end? Was she going to die? Would the gaping hole in her side, which tormented her like a sea of sharp claws, take her life? Or was she exiled for a failure to secure a kill? The answer never came, while several people turned her to the side and bandaged her wounds. Even that simple shift hurt like the Abyss, and she bit her tongue, silencing an urge to calm down a doctor who insisted that she needed immediate attention.


    Carried on the stretcher, Mindy traveled through the city, the clarity of her thoughts clouded by a purple haze. Gunfire barked, terminals stopped working, wicked words spewed from the dynamics, and more than once the group paused to help more unfortunates and grow in numbers. Doctors tended to the wounded along the way, and when they reached the bunker, the scout thought she heard the barking of shardguns, and that brought a smile to her face as she slipped into unconsciousness.


    She awoke briefly to find Sitota standing guard over the entrance and the youngest cubs clinging to Mindy, shaking from terror. Trying to stay conscious, the scout hugged them, calming the little ones to the best of her abilities.


    Monsters came to Houstad. Well, the city had its own monsters. And the invaders made them very, very angry.


    ****


    Jaquan took a sip of thirty-year-old cognac and rubbed his head, trying to compute the reason behind the Wolfkins¡¯ aggression in the jail. He had already prepared the speech, praising the familial bonds of the two sisters, even if their way of showing affection was unusual, but to be honest, he preferred to deal with Kirk and Ignacy rather than their belligerent comrades. The vices and the reasons of those two were human enough for him to understand, but the females remained a problem. If only the therapists had agreed to disclose their sessions, then he would¡¯ve learned more of the tribe¡¯s inner politics and traditions. But his request was sternly denied, along with a reprimand for even suggesting such a breach of ethics.


    Culling of sickly cubs. Of elderly. He took another sip, disgusted at the laws his sire had implemented. There were tragedies in the past, created out of hasty desire to modernize societies unfit to it and a long death toll weighted heavily on the conscience of every figure of authority in the Reclamation Army. Be it the Restorers led by Devourer or the Expanders under the wing of Outsider and Ivar, no one wanted another genocide. Ivar opposed it to preserve his supposedly unblemished military record, and Jaquan opposed it because it was heinous, pure and simple.


    But surely they had the means to solve the culling problems altogether. His Supreme Authority could have coughed up enough budget to build nice, cozy retirement homes in the Core Lands. Jaquan did his homework. The Wolf Tribe as a whole had a fear of losing its identity. It wasn¡¯t unfounded; many males and low-ranked warriors had been known to lose their wits and mental acuity over the years, eventually being reduced to the level of an infant. That was the problem, and the solution had to lie in extensive research on individuals like Predaig who didn¡¯t exhibit these syndromes. These days, even a genetic abnormality was somewhat treatable.


    This left the problem of the youth, and that part of the puzzle was both the easiest and the hardest to solve. More nursery homes and more factories to produce augments will ensure cheap replacement organs and limbs in addition to boosting the economy. But when Jaquan, pleased with his unparalleled ingenuity, presented his idea to the Dynast, the Supreme Authority pinpointed the problems of tradition and religion. To force the Wolf Tribe into the reeducation camps was unthinkable; it would be both a betrayal and a spark for civil war, for if one tribe could be mistreated there, why not another?


    Still, there wasn¡¯t a reason to give up. He had to find a way to address Ravager, and Lacerated One graciously accepted his invitation. The Supreme Shaman seemed to be reasonable enough, albeit suffering from a mental disorder. Since they were at peace, it was for Lacerated One to decide about lending Predaig to research. No matter. Where there was a will, there was also a way. The Wolf Tribe was no more irredeemable than his own people or the Orais. He just needed to find the right approach to tackle the matter.


    ¡°How soon will the families¡¯ heads arrive?¡± Jaquan contacted his secretary to distract himself from overthinking.


    He had received disturbing reports in recent weeks, and the disruption of construction schedules was his greatest concern, as the conquest of Techno-Queen¡¯s lands would undoubtedly bring in more citizens from the north. New housing districts were scheduled to be finished by yesterday, but instead a former Benguigui had organized a robbery. Clearly, there was a miscommunication between the parties involved, and the mayor hoped to resolve it swiftly.


    ¡°They apologized profusely for not being able to honor your invitation, Mayor Jaquan,¡± the secretary responded. ¡°I¡¯ve made inquiries, and the families¡¯ heads are gathering for the supposed annual meeting at the Benguigui villa. There have never been annual meetings at this time in previous years, and the place is heavily defended.¡±


    ¡°Stalling, then.¡± Jaquan surveyed the plaza below, nodding in silent thanks to the priests and charity workers who distributed aid to the poor and gently escorted the worst of the homeless to the psychiatric facilities. ¡°They are playing ¡®wounded pride¡¯ over the Ice Fangs¡¯ involvement. It will not stand. I will not be disrespected in my city.¡±


    ¡°The police department has shown an outstanding willingness to remind the families of their place, sir,¡± the secretary suggested, guessing his intentions.


    ¡°No, a show of force is needed, unfortunate as it may be,¡± Jaquan sighed. ¡°Get me a list of mercenary companies in Houstad that are clean of war crimes. If the families won¡¯t have civility¡­¡±


    The contact abruptly dropped, and the mayor raised an eyebrow at the hissing of the screens around the square. Confusion turned to panic when the screens exploded, showering the townspeople with shards of glass, and the mayor immediately pressed the button to call security. There was no answer, and he heard the heavy thuds as his bodyguards tried to get past his jammed doors. Jaquan took a step to open them from the inside, when suddenly there was a hiss in his office.


    It was coming from every electrical device, but the loudest din was emanating from four thin columns rising from the floor. Jaquan wanted to examine them and was thrown aside in the explosion of wood and metal. His protection against contingencies, hired at the request of his secretary after the robbery, smashed the entrance to the hidden room and motioned for the mayor to lie on the floor.


    Once the best assassin in the city, Reaper had paid an impressive sum in favors and tokens to have every millimeter of his outer skin replaced with the silver alloy. His head was now stylized to resemble a skull; dim lights burned in his eye sockets, for Reaper rarely approached his targets inconspicuously. Cybernetic enhancements had greatly improved the man¡¯s body, but beneath the layer of silver there was still a human body, forever doomed to be fed through an IV. Reaper raised a needle gun and fired twice into the opening wounds in reality.


    Armor-piercing needles struck two approaching figures coming out of the unfolded portals. They clutched at their necks, shuddering in excruciating agony as blisters grew on their skin and pus clogged their throats and lungs. Two of the invaders never even set foot in Houstad, dying wherever they were. That was Reaper¡¯s style. One shot, one scratch, one wound, one kill. Jaquan was shocked that the man still used the forbidden poisons from his work as an assassin, but now was not the time to argue.


    A burst of fire forced Reaper to leap aside, and a bullet shattered the glass in the trembling mayor¡¯s hand. Hulking monsters stormed in from the portal, and Reaper faced the first of them with a stab of his short blade, infecting the man. The second crashed into the bodyguard, and the two rolled around, losing their weapons and turning into a blinding whirlwind of kicks and punches, flattening everything in their path.


    ¡°Guards!¡± Jaquan yelled, then screamed as the window to his office exploded; a shard of glass ended up in his arm, and a tongue of flame licked his wound. More panicked shouts and noises of gunfire came from outside; people¡ªhis people!¡ªwere dying out there. ¡°Guards! Guards!¡± the mayor wailed in a high-pitched voice, wetting his pants.


    He wasn¡¯t a fighter; he never killed anyone, and the sight of criminals being burned always shocked him to the core. Just because Jaquan knew the merits of violence didn¡¯t add to his bravery. So when his guards broke down the doors and finished off the giant who was trying to strangle Reaper, Jaquan wept with relief; his legs trembled with horror. Alone! If he had not listened to the advice, he would be dead now!


    ¡°Sir, are you fine¡­¡±


    ¡°Not thanks to you, idiots!¡± Jaquan snapped at his bodyguards. ¡°My arm hurts. Reaper, you live?¡±


    ¡°These were exceedingly difficult to kill,¡± Reaper answered, retrieving his weapons. He touched his neck, running fingers over the dents in his body.


    ¡°Connect me to the police office, to the Third, and to the Provincial Army,¡± stammered Jaquan as his secretary arrived, while the bodyguards most uncomfortably removed the glass from his wound. ¡°We also need the Dynast. And open the direct channel to the city. Why are the damn emergency sirens not working?¡± he roared in infuriation. They paid good tokens to install a security system that should have guided the citizens to the bunkers and assisted in the evacuation.


    There was hell outside. The mayor briefly glanced before Reaper and his bodyguards almost pinned him against the wall. There were shootings, explosions, buildings burned, and dead bodies lay broken on the ground. Jaquan clutched his chest, wondering if he should bite the cyanide pill. Not to escape the Dynast¡¯s judgment, the hatred that he had experienced for himself right now was worse than any punishment the liege could hope to mete out. But his death might allow a more competent person to take over, since he clearly failed in his duties.


    All he ever wanted was to build land without war, a land of opportunity to heal old grievances and to nurture the next generation. This... this was worse than any nightmare he had ever experienced.


    ¡°Impossible, sir,¡± the smartly dressed woman shook her head, gulping nervously at the sight of the dead body. ¡°Communications are down, no one is answering our calls, and the police are forced to use the radio for coordination.¡±


    ¡°What¡­ Never mind.¡± Jaquan slapped himself. ¡°We are heading out; I¡¯ll address the people in person. Bring the maps with the evacuation routes.¡±


    ¡°Sir, it isn¡¯t safe out there,¡± a bodyguard said.


    ¡°I know it¡¯s dangerous, you worthless imbecile!¡± Jaquan roared into his face. ¡°If it isn¡¯t safe for me, then what about everyone else? So for once in your useless, incompetent life, do your jobs, patch me up, hit me with an adrenaline shot, and protect me for once while I try to organize the citizens before more get hurt in the confusion.¡±


    ¡°Should we send someone to your husband, Mayor?¡± the secretary asked. ¡°And perhaps enlist the help of the families?¡±


    ¡°Romuald has guards¡­¡± Jaquan stopped; his eyes turned round at the realization. The families. The stalling, strange behavior, refusal to answer his summons, and weeks ago Raffy had insisted on taking a picture with him in this very office, sealing a pact of partnership. ¡°Families¡­¡± he hissed, his lips curling to show teeth. His life? Fuck it, there was a room for forgiveness. But innocents outside? ¡°Reaper. I have a job for you.¡±


    ¡°A contingency was stopped.¡± The man¡¯s voice fluctuated between a pleasant, rich, masculine voice and a broken screech. His voice modulator had been damaged in battle. ¡°Do you have enough tokens for another at hand? Credit cards don¡¯t seem to work, Mayor.¡±


    ¡°Screw the tokens!¡± Jaquan pointed at the window. ¡°Houstad has turned into a battlefield! We risk going back to savage times!¡± He jumped, covering his head with a good arm, when a skyscraper fell. Calming himself, the mayor whimpered, trying to sound certain. ¡°Make your choice, Reaper. Reclaimers, independent or the invaders?¡±


    ¡°I quite prefer civilization.¡± Reaper stood at the edge of the broken window. He took aim and fired at someone below. ¡°Reclaimer. But I¡¯d rather do a job that helps Houstad.¡±


    ¡°Trust me, it will.¡± Jaquan smiled bloodily through his tears. ¡°Clear the house. The secretary will give you the coordinates.¡± He jerked his half-bandaged arm from the bodyguards. Fear threatened to paralyze him, to stop him in his tracks. If he didn¡¯t move now, he might chicken out. ¡°Enough! We are heading out!¡±


    ¡°Sir, put on body armor at least!¡±


    ¡°Y-yes, this is a good idea,¡± Jaquan agreed. His legs were shaking. But his duty waited.

 Chapter 74: An Unusual Unity

    Brood Lord kicked up the wrecked car and knocked it aside, ruining a store to his left. Grinning madly, the khan lunged, bringing three of his legs down on a van. The impact flattened its front, and the driver inside screamed as his legs and arms were reduced to rags riddled with bone shards. A single shot silenced the man, and the slug reached the gas tank, exploding the vehicle into Brood Lord¡¯s face. Fire and debris concealed him from the aiming Ice Fangs, and the Khan jumped onto the sidewalk, keeping his eyes on his target, who was helping a woman out of the wreckage. The khan¡¯s legs squeezed the life from a black-furred and a white-furred mutants.


    ¡°Weak!¡± he sneered, firing the handgun again, and a smallish white-furred freak disappeared in a crimson mist. His sword struck, cleaving through people trying to stop him. The bodies hadn¡¯t even touched the ground before bullets thudded against the khan¡¯s armor, and his pincer snatched a freak girl from the ground, strung on his pincer, skyward. ¡°Whoa! None of that, fools, or the girl dies.¡±


    The Ice Fang hesitated long enough for Brood Lord to fire blindly at the commissioner¡¯s car. He sought to end a man known as Cristobo, the captain of this miserable rabble calling themselves an army. But the heavy slug merely kissed the cloak on the man¡¯s back, tearing a line of flesh as it cratered itself against the ground, and Brood Lord narrowed his eyes. Cristobo began his dodge prior to the shot. Surprising. Irrelevant. He pushed the girl before himself and positioned himself ahead of a store full of people, taking advantage of the lesser humans¡¯ need to protect their offspring.


    No plan lasted long in battle. That was why Brood Lord had backup plans in abundance, and the roaring laughter left his lips, heard over the screams and honks as lights flickered everywhere and screens went white. Machine gun fire filled the air, grenade explosions followed, and the sweetest music of falling buildings reached Brood Lord¡¯s ears as his helmet closed, feeding information to his retinas.


    Jagun engaged. Spread out evenly across the city, the butcher teams began to wreak havoc. Factories were spared, Brood Lord squeezed enough out of the captured diplomats to know that the Reclaimers would evacuate the population, and in the near future those assembly lines would be an adequate gift to the Merchants. No, the brave sacrifices wandered through the largest gatherings, planting explosives in the living quarters, and a group of bastards who looked too closely at his slaves were priming bombs in a skyscraper. Brood Lord activated those immediately, freeing himself of the obstacle. It was their fault for really trusting him; how could a man forgive a violation of his property?


    Blood and death spilled to the street, but the Khan¡¯s keen eyes noticed the pockets of resistance. Mercenaries, doggies, large freaks resembling mystical ogres, and even worthless humans stemmed the tide of carnage in places. That, too, was expected. Today¡¯s goal was to send a reminder of the inevitable weakness and... Brood Lord stared at the approaching sword saint. Glory. All his, not a shred for Iron Lord.


    ¡°Slowpokes! Don¡¯t you care for your white hide expires?¡± He was jeering, luring the prey closer, when his pincer arm twitched in pain and the puppy slipped down. There was a knife between its chitin plates!


    ¡°I¡¯ll eat your guts for hurting Cordi,¡± growled a small doggie, slipping another knife into his paw, and Brood Lord smiled, opening his helmet but still wary of the surrounding movements.


    ¡°Try it, pest,¡± he offered to the arrogant lump of fur that barely reached his knee. The boy had slipped his knife, faked a throw at the khan¡¯s neck, and redirected it to his eye at the last second. But the blade swatted the knife aside. ¡°Pathetic,¡± Brood Lord said, enjoying the horror in the boy¡¯s eyes as his sword drew back, catching bullets fired by a larger black fur from the cover. ¡°Sorry, was that supposed to be a clever ambush to blind me? No toss, kiddo. But such is the nature of an open catch; there are winners and there are losers. You liked my eyes, right?¡± Brood Lord blocked another shot, and the kid pressed a button on a strange device, but nothing happened. ¡°Pay up with yours.¡±


    He raised his leg to finish off the gasping bitch on the ground and swung his sword to blind the arrogant boy, planning to inflict just enough pain to forever immortalize himself in his memory until their next inevitable encounter. Killing the kid instantly would be a waste; the khan never missed an opportunity to create an example of those who dared to tickle him.


    ¡°Fuck off from my squirts!¡± There was a roar from his left, and for the first time in the day, Brood Lord had missed his opponent.


    The Ice Fangs were still paces away, and there were no police or provincial guards nearby. The only danger should have been the adults accompanying these small children, but out of the blue, a large black-furred female in an orange janitor¡¯s robe sprang at him and kicked into his sword arm. She drove him back! Brood Lord weighed twenty tons in his power armor, and this doggie pushed him away!


    ¡°How did you know I love when women throw themselves at me?!¡± he redirected his blow, cutting through her robe and a breast. The messy-haired Wolfkin cursed and grabbed the children, evading to the right just in time to escape a fired slug. In her place, a white-haired doggie appeared; her braids cracking like the tips of the whips. Three legs met her; one blocked two knives, another slapped her ribs, and the third pinned the woman to the ground as she groaned, trying to keep the sharp tip from piercing her throat. ¡°So uncivilized.¡± Brood Lord shook his head, raising the blade. ¡°I had hoped you city dwellers could appreciate the sanctity of a duel, but well. You¡¯re not my type, but don¡¯t worry, you can still serve as compost¡­¡±


    ¡°Who else do you plan to kill?¡± A bardiche edge stopped the tip of the descending blade, and crimson eyes met the enraged eyes of the Khan.


    At last. Tancred. Brood Lord calmed himself, disregarding an urge to lower the weapon down. There will be deaths aplenty in the future. Job first, then the pleasure. Acid bubbled in his glands as their weapons collided, and for a moment there was a network of blinding flashes. That doggie was good, the khan realized. His physical might, already superior to that of the deformed rug, sent the bardiche¡¯s head over the sword saint¡¯s shoulder, and immediately the man embraced it, turning his wide-open stance into a thrust with the butt of his weapon. A sharp hook at the end of it welted Brood Lord¡¯s cheek, and the doggie crashed into him, carrying the khan away from his intended quarry.


    Their struggle led them into the store¡¯s wall, and Brood Lord dropped onto his back, taking the incoming slash on his curved sword. He kicked upward, landing the tip of his chitin column against Tancred¡¯s wrist. The block did little to stop the blow, and the sword saint jumped back, spitting blood as his own arm struck his jaw.


    ¡°You,¡± Brood Lord said, standing up. He glanced to the left and right, as if noticing the approaching Ice Fangs and showing up soldiers of the Provincial Army for the first time. Exactly when needed.


    He ran, charging past the two surprised Ice Fangs. There was no longer any need of hiding anything back; his sword sliced through their necks before those pathetic excuses for warriors could fire their second bullet. The helmet closed around Brood Lord¡¯s head, his pincer arm punched through the torso of an Orais who was dumb enough to stand in his path. A single shot ripped through a dozen civilians, and then he grabbed another black-furred female as she stepped out of an eatery. The claws closed, destroying lungs and the spinal column, and the road was free as Brood Lord tossed the still-twitching corpse at his pursuers, ignoring gashes in his armor.


    Tancred was on his tail, gaining ground with each step, and his knights followed. Such silliness brought joy to the khan¡¯s dark hearts. Did they really believe their troubles were over?


    ¡°Phaser,¡± the khan said into his helmet, unheard by anyone on the chaotic street. ¡°The lesser quarry lives still. End it, but take care not to kill our ¡®pieces¡¯ yet.¡±


    ¡°With pleasure, master,¡± chuckled Phaser, eager to see some action at last. Another portal opened, releasing two full arbans.


    Things didn¡¯t look so good around the city. Either Trace had failed or something had happened, for there was no report of Till Ingo¡¯s demise. Sad. There was a debt that the creature owed to him. He had hoped to see the look on her face when the priests dismembered her. Mad Hatter Mad Hatter planned to honor her promise to this creature, but what the Khatun does not know does not pose a threat to Brood Lord. After all, weren¡¯t the Bio-Tinkers future enemies? Why empower them? Well, at least the virus was still working, exceeding his expectations by far.


    If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    More groups were dead already, and the mayor had escaped their grasp. Unfortunate, but nothing overly serious.


    ¡°Drozna,¡± he contacted his bodyguard. ¡°Strike the nerve.¡±


    Brood Lord¡¯s smile widened as he heard the knights breaking into howls as he hurried to an opening underground. Time and place. There was time to escape and a place fit for killing. At large, everything was proceeding as he had envisioned.


    *****


    An insistent beeping alarm interrupted Janine¡¯s monologue. Even despite the alcohol threatening her mind, Janine immediately reached for her terminal, biting her own lower lip to blood. Clarity. She needed it. Her private terminal had several tones. A melodic tone for informal business. A siren for military calls. And finally, this sound¡­


    Marco. She grabbed the terminal, noticing her location at the same time as a siren gave way, announcing a call from the base. Storming outside, Janine jumped up, not caring if Marty followed her. Marco. Today he ventured to a comic store, accompanied by his friends, Bogdan, and bodyguards from the Ice Fangs. Janine had only the vaguest idea what a comic shop was, but apparently they sold myths. She gave her son the tokens she could spare and asked him to bring back a good story.


    If Kalaisa dared to touch my sons, I will murder her. Janine promised herself, burying her claws in a brickwork and climbing up, her terminal pressed to the ear with the shoulder.


    ¡°Captain Cristobo?¡± Janine asked. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡±


    ¡°Warlord!¡± said a worried operator. ¡°An urgent situation! The police chief has just been killed, and Captain Cristobo was attacked on his way back to base, along with the lieutenant ¡­¡±


    An explosion silenced the rest of the words. An invasion? Janine grabbed the terminal with both paws, using just her legs to propel herself up, and joined the communication.


    ¡°Kalaisa here. Cristobo is badly injured, Bogdan, and the others are trying to keep them safe from the enemy. Anji and I have joined the hunt.¡±


    ¡°The people on the street have gone completely mad! They are attacking each other!¡± Eled reported in.


    ¡°Sword Saint Tancred, reporting for duty. We have the killer in sight; he is a Malformed of some sort. Pursuing him into the sewers..."


    ¡°No,¡± came Dragena¡¯s calm voice. ¡°Tancred, wait until Alpha joins you. All of you, the enemy used some sort of power to whip our people into a frenzy. Protect the cubs, break the limbs of the adults, no casualties allowed¡­¡±


    Janine reached the roof and stood up to see columns of black smoke rising from the streets. To her north was a large main street, separated from her by a few dozen buildings. A crackling fire rose from the middle of the street, and the air itself shook as more crimson flowers spread across the sidewalks. Broken bodies covered in flames flew above buildings. The impact of the explosions sent parked cars back onto the main street, detonating them and spreading the destruction further.


    To her west, a large skyscraper spewed fire as a hellish boom shattered windows on several floors, sending a torrent of deadly glass into the street and trapping people on the upper floors. In the distance, another skyscraper fell, flattening a row of residential buildings. The gigantic building splintered, its huge pieces rolling down alleys and streets or crashing into apartments. Cries of the dying, the frightened, and the panicked were heard everywhere. It was as if Houstad itself was screaming in a multitude of voices.


    Screens showing advertisements or news blinked and turned dark, only to show carnage on the street, where wide-eyed people leaped at each other with fists or grabbed pieces of glass in their hands. With no regard for their own safety, citizens suddenly turned on each other, kicking and punching, leaving blood and bodies in their wake. Some screens have changed the view, showing the decapitated body of Maxim Puchkov and the corpses of Ice Fangs and Wolfkins, including several dead cubs.


    More images flashed, and Janine spotted the woman who had struck Ravager on them, stopping a waiter from plunging a knife into a man¡¯s back. The one-eyed woman bravely hit the man with the cane again and again, shouting in his face that it wasn¡¯t him. She yelled for him to resist, and the confused waiter lowered his knife, shocked at what he was about to do. On another screen, Kirk tried to coordinate an evacuation, and the mayor encouraged citizens to flock to the ¡®black-furred savior¡¯ for protection. Soulless One and Melina held a crowd from rushing the orphanage, obeying the orders not to harm the civilians.


    But such instances were few and far between. Most screens showed carnage at the hands of Houstadians. A woman suddenly tried to stab her newborn baby, and the husband retreated under a shower of blows. Fingers plunged into eyes, teeth sunk deep into flesh, hands tried to strangle life as crowds faced off, fighting in churches, on the streets, in homes and shops. The screens showed it in full, and Janine felt the urge to turn around and open Marty¡¯s belly for daring to take her from her precious baby. She would not stop; she will¡­


    Janine shook her head, overcoming the mental compulsion to rage. Childish. There was an itch at the back of her head as her brain adapted, changing slightly to become immune to this blasphemy as her power decided it was a victory over an opponent.


    ¡°The Gilded Horde is here!¡± a gleeful voice thundered, amplified by the thousands of speakers. ¡°Your walls have fallen. Your city offers no protection. We are everywhere; we come as we please and take what we want. Your armies cannot stop us, and your minds are our toys. Your rulers are in hiding, nowhere to be found, and you are all alone. Weep for your weakness. Submit and live, or resist and be trampled. These are the only choices left for you, weaklings.¡±


    Janine blinked to protect her eyes from debris when a flash of light happened to her right. Another explosion opened the roof of a building and heavy rocks fell on the alley below. Hearing cries for help, the warlord jumped into the opening. Inside was a half-naked man, his arm missing at the elbow, but steadily approaching the cowering children with a meat cleaver in his hand. The madman was missing an eye; extensive burns covered his body, telling the story of how he had somehow exploded his own apartment.


    With Dragena¡¯s caution in mind, Janine grabbed the man by his torso, only to have him hack at her, screaming mindless obscenities. She didn¡¯t mind; the man¡¯s hatchet barely pushed her skin; wounded as he was, this poor person could never hope to injure her. Janine¡¯s lips curled in anger at the blows from behind. The little ones, three Normie cubs no more than seven years old, had attacked her, biting and punching.


    ¡°Enough,¡± Alpha said a single word on the communication, and Janine embraced terror.


    The Strongest Warlord unleashed her wave of fear, wielding it like an omnidirectional weapon. Inside the walls, people fell into each other¡¯s arms, trembling not at the cruel words or screams from outside, but at another fear¡ªan irrational fear of dark and unknown places. This fear wasn¡¯t strong enough to cause strokes among the populace, but it was strong enough to disrupt any frenzy that came upon the citizens.


    The man in Janine¡¯s hold relaxed and screamed in agony as his mind was freed from manipulation. His rage had held back the pain until then, but it returned immediately, accompanied by rasping coughs and frantic thrashing. Janine picked him and the cubs and jumped away from the fires to another rooftop where a small group of people, including the bartender, had gathered. They took in the wounded and rushed to tend to the man¡¯s wounds.


    ¡°Will Daddy be okay?¡± asked a crying girl. ¡°I didn¡¯t want to get angry at him; I promise, I didn¡¯t mean to tell him to die!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine¡± Martyshkina put her paws on the girl¡¯s shoulders. ¡°None of this is your fault.¡±


    ¡°Citizens of Houstad!¡± Janine¡¯s eyes became two round plates when she heard Jaquan¡¯s voice coming from a round orb of an Iternian drone flying over streets. More and more drones appeared, and the people on the streets stopped fighting, horrified at what they had wrought with their hands. ¡°You have suffered from the emotional manipulation! Do not give in to despair; listen to our hero!¡±


    ¡°The Abyss, am I a hero?!¡± Kirk¡¯s voice joined him, but then he coughed and proceeded in a cracked voice. ¡°Everyone. I know you¡¯ve been hurt, but there are those who need help. Help whoever you can, bandage their wounds, remove debris, make tourniquets to stop the bleeding. If the debris is too heavy, call New Breeds or the Army. You are not alone. Help is on the way. Those who can walk, please escort the wounded to the shelters¡­¡± the passing drones projected holograms showing maps of Houstad.


    ¡°Our enemy has attacked the power plant¡¯s control personnel and unleashed an ancient virus of unknown origin to overload the power grid and make the announcement,¡± Till Ingo¡¯s voice joined the command channel.


    ¡°Can you flush it out?¡± Dragena demanded to know.


    ¡°Did it already. There won¡¯t be any more sudden explosions, and screens should return to normal at any moment. I myself came under attack; Banshee has captured an agent, and we are now en route to my laboratory to conduct a thorough scan of our systems.¡±


    ¡°Zero, protect him,¡± Dragena ordered.


    ¡°Chief Emmanuel of the Iternian Embassy here, hope you don¡¯t mind us intruding on your channel,¡± a cheerful female voice joined in.


    ¡°How did you¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, as if we couldn¡¯t pick such a crude lock,¡± Emmanuel interrupted Till Ingo. ¡°Anyway, it seems like our drones malfunctioned and the mayor commandeered them by accident. Oops, sorry about that; keep them. Also, our crates of high-grade medical supplies simultaneously got spoiled, so we put them outside the embassy gates, and our medical staff mysteriously vanished without explanation¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you for your help, friend Emmanuel,¡± Dragena thanked.


    ¡°No idea what you are speaking about, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°Abel and Eva of the Oathtakers Embassy here. Thank you for permitting us to use the channel. A member of our embassy was injured in the mechanical malfunction. On behalf of our nation, we are temporarily joining forces to avenge such an unprovoked attack. We have forty soldiers. Whom do you need to kill?¡±


    ¡°Zurkov here! I guess I am temporarily in charge of the police forces. We are fighting¡­¡±


    ¡°Predaig, Eled, change of plans, assist the people in the burning skyscraper. Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°I have my target, Dragena.¡±


    Janine was already jumping forward, accompanied by Martyshkina, heading west. Half a kilometer away, almost nothing. A howl touched the sky, and Janine added her voice to Alpha¡¯s, soon followed by Martyshkina and other warlords from across the city. Their chorus of rage soon drowned out the sounds of carnage. She did not need a HUD to know that at that very moment, the doors of the base opened and the packs sallied forth in full strength.


    This horde dared to attack their city? There could only be one answer.


    Death.

 Chapter 75: Street Battle

    Janine ran across the rooftops, shattering the stones with every step. Martyshkina stopped briefly to rescue another family from a burning apartment. Janine¡¯s heart ached at the thought of losing her sons, but she refused to blame her friend for this decision. Normies had a right to expect their protection. They can¡¯t just let them die.


    As she approached the pillar of smoke ahead, the barking of machineguns and the roars of her kin reached her ears. Janine reached the edge of the building and looked down, assessing the situation.


    The Reclaimers were pinned down. The car carrying the captain was now smashed against a wall, its side bearing a huge dent, the passenger door was torn wide open, and there was a gaping hole in the center. Not a result of a grenade launcher¡¯s shot. Not the result of a grenade launcher blast. Several Ice Fangs lay dead on the road; judging by the red stains on their weapons, at least three of them had perished, taking the lives of the invaders. But these were knights, and there was no sign of the captains and sages who had accompanied Tancred. Only a single young knight-captain, bearing the colors of Summerspring, organized an effective evacuation and tried to reach his allies, leading a small unit. Red smears on the surface told the whole story of how Bogdan dragged a group of wounded into the relative cover of the police car.


    There were two wrecked Provincial Army vans. They were coming from the west, unloading their troops, when a sudden hail of armor-piercing bullets reduced both drivers to bloody shreds. Next, something or someone cut open the rear doors of the vehicles, and grenades did the rest. With their backs exposed, the troops didn¡¯t last long, and their survivors now hid among the cars on the road, firing at the armored figures.


    Bogdan was firing shots from a pistol into the enemies on the street, and Marco desperately tried to bandage the wound of the white-furred girl. Soot turned the girl spotted, but Janine recognized Cordelia Sunblade. The rest of her group had their snouts on the ground and their heads covered with paws, but one boy bravely held a terminal to Marco¡¯s ear.


    ¡°No, the heart is not damaged!¡± her boy shouted. ¡°The claw hit her in the right side. Yes, there are blood blisters on her lips. Very small ones. What should I do, Maxence¡­¡±


    Janine¡¯s muscles tightened, bulged, and she disappeared from the rooftop, coming down with all her speed. Her howl joined Kalaisa¡¯s and Anji¡¯s, and she had promised herself to apologize to the stupid girl for suspecting her. Kalaisa was already injured, but fought undaunted alongside her rival against a duo of clowns. The wolf hags were in no immediate danger, and the full weight of the warlord¡¯s mass crashed down on a Horde soldier trying to push through the gunfire toward Bogdan.


    A single punch¡ªthat¡¯s all it took to pop his head like an apple, but Janine wasn¡¯t done yet. Her second blow shattered the sternum despite the armor protection; her paw closed around an ammunition belt, and the lifeless body crashed into two more raiders, knocking them off their feet. A kick threw the dead man¡¯s machine gun and ammo into Bogdan¡¯s eager paws.


    ¡°Finally, not a pee shooter!¡± Bogdan sprayed at the fallen soldiers, finishing them off.


    Suddenly, the Ice Fang boy and Cordelia grabbed Marco by the shoulders and pulled him down just in time to save his life from a flying bullet that shaved off a little of his hair. Janine spun, her amber eyes shining bright as lamps, and the sniper let out a single scream in an unknown language, a plea or a boast; the warlord didn¡¯t care as she was on top of her, tearing the woman limb from limb and biting through the visor.


    ¡°Heh. Even now,¡± Cordelia whispered hoarsely.


    ¡°Thanks! No talking!¡± Marco slapped her on the head. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare die, Cordi! Maxence, orders?¡±


    ¡°Would rather not¡­¡± Another slap shut her up.


    Jacomie was beside the cubs, hyperventilating and tightening the tourniquet on Cristobo¡¯s missing leg. Janine noted briefly that whoever had sliced up the captain had taken cleanly everything below the knee. The captain himself appeared to be unconscious, his lips peeled back, showing teeth and saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth.


    The once peaceful street had become a battlefield. Burning cars, dead soldiers, rolling civilians unable to stand from their horrible wounds, and cautious helpers trying to drag them to cover. Bullets flew in the midst of the chaos; the raiders shoved the cars aside to get to Bogdan; their heavy steps were about to end the lives of the trapped civilians when a single roar reached the sky. A flick of the wrist sent a car door flying at a raider, and the heavy metal slammed into the man at a speed of five hundred kilometers per hour. It staggered the armored foe, and he retreated, trying to get the warlord in his sights.


    His head left his shoulders in the next second as Janine was already behind him, spinning, slashing, and biting. Her claws opened armor plates, her elbows smashed faceplates straight into skulls, her bites left mangled bodies in her wake, and the Horde soldiers recoiled in the face of unhinged aggression, frightened by the opponent their eyes could barely see. More and more tried to string a few familiar words together, but for Janine, the time for mercy and reason was long gone.


    They brought war to civilization? She will give them a taste of their beloved barbarism.


    Kalaisa, dressed in an orange robe, and Anji, in stylish black leather pants and a jacket with way too many silver zippers, did their best not to die against their opponents, who were aided by three strikingly similar New Breeds who tried to end the wolf hags from afar.


    Each had four insectoid legs in place of humanoid ones; chitin covered these limbs completely, making it impossible to see any veins. Humanoid arms of these New Breeds were covered by armored sleeves, but the green plates were incomplete in places, as scarred and welded carapace shapes grew on their bodies, resembling cancerous growths, and the metal was tailored to fit around this sturdy protection. One was dark-skinned, and his sibling had milky-white, pale skin visible through the gashes.


    Interesting, but irrelevant for now. It had only taken Janine a breath to observe the field.


    The warlord jumped, deciding to eliminate ranged support and keeping track of the wolf hags fight. Kalaisa and Anji had already eclipsed Anissa and Impatient One in physical abilities by far. Even without their PAs, they could depopulate small settlements through sheer speed alone. Yet now their foes weaved around them like threads of silk, almost sliding off cruel thrusts meant to disembowel. The clowns¡¯ skin-tight suits were uniquely colored; one even had white and black squares running the length of the cloth, and another had lines of emerald and blue that shifted in the light. Their faces were hidden behind elaborately crafted white masks; one mask had a smile, while another had a frown.


    Janine brought her weight on a New Breed who aimed her gun at Anji¡¯s back. Claws pierced the shoulders, splintering bones and shredding muscle. The raider shrieked in a high-pitched voice, trying desperately to roll aside, but the momentum carried the warlord to the ground, and the woman¡¯s amputated arms fell to the floor. She tried to retreat, but the paw grabbed the back of her head as insectoid legs drummed in fear. Janine faced the crying, pleading face, guessing the wordless request without needing to understand language. With just her legs left, the woman was no longer a threat.


    Jaws opened wide, silencing the scream. My sons. The people here. You threatened and hurt them. The lessons of the Twins seemed to scream in the warlord¡¯s head, but she ignored them, closing the mighty maw and silencing the last muffled shriek of agony when the skull was pulverized between her fangs. The flesh of the dead prey tasted divine, and Janine dropped the faceless body.


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    ¡°Death. Death!¡± Janine roared, trampling on the convulsing body and terrifying a civilian into hiding.


    She charged ahead, dodging a pulse rifle blast that opened yawning holes in the corpse behind her. In the aftermath of the battle for the settlement, the engineers and Till Ingo made progress in understanding the Horde¡¯s weapons. Most of them used standard armor-piercing rifles, but their riders used energy weapons.


    The principle behind their use was simple. A single energy particle was accelerated to Mach 10 and launched through the barrel. The weapon itself was shaped like a normal rifle, but it actually had a small energy generator above the trigger that fed its extra cooling mechanism. The weapon tended to overheat with prolonged use and required expensive energy cells to reload. In return, the pulse rifle provided excellent accuracy due to the lack of recoil and enough striking power to penetrate power armor with relative ease. Design shortcomings and general unsuitability for prolonged combat led the engineers to abandon the idea of introducing the pulse rifle into the army.


    For all her speed, Janine wasn¡¯t even close to being able to dodge these fast-moving energy projectiles, but her eyes were fixed on the weapon in the attacker¡¯s hands. To hit her, he would first have to get her in his sights. And Janine refused to grant him that courtesy, circling around the man as he fired blindly.


    He cursed, pressing the trigger in vain as the anti-overheating system activated, and faced the snarling Janine. Her paw came down, hitting harder than an artillery shell and smashing through the pulse rifle the New Breed was trying to use as a shield. His chest armor cracked, the blow splattered the man against the street, and his legs, ending in sharp hooks, tried to close in on the warlord¡¯s neck. Janine grabbed all four legs at the joints, two in each paw, and squeezed.


    What came out of the man¡¯s lips wasn¡¯t exactly a squeal of pain, but rather a strained rasp. His knees snapped like straws, and in a last desperate attempt, the New Breed grabbed a sword from his belt and tried to crawl away from his opponent. He propped himself up on his elbow and slashed at the warlord, trying to cut through her ankle. Janine kicked. The claws of her foot broke through the gold-plated metal and found the neck. Blue eyes widened in shock, then calmed as the pain left them along with the life as the head rolled down.


    ¡°Shit steel.¡± Janine spat at the dead.


    She paused to survey the carnage, freed from the last New Breed thanks to the Summersprings¡¯ bullets. The two ridiculous-looking fools had actually pushed Kalaisa and Anji. Where the Wolfkins acted ruthlessly, each eager to claim a kill for themselves, only blocking the grazing blows intended for their ally out of habit, their opponents danced in battle. Every step betrayed an inhuman fluidity; instead of blocking the incoming attack, the weird fighters took the claws on their daggers, allowing their arms to be drawn back almost to the point of snapping before whipping them back into position with a sudden burst of movement, the vivid colors of their suits shining in the light, free of any dirt.


    The clowns stood on their tips, spinning gracefully to dodge Ice Fangs¡¯ shots, and their mocking laughter enraged the novice knight-captain. He holstered his emptied pistol, his mind affected by the rage-inducing power, and hurried to aid the wolf hags, beating aside the dagger aimed for Anji¡¯s neck with the flat of his blade. Immediately, the laughing clown spun around, unperturbed by the interference, and the tip of her leg barely touched the knight captain¡¯s forearm, spreading the wide, deep dent upon it. The bone cracked, and the Summerspring let go of his round shield. Giggling, the clown turned to face Kalaisa¡¯s attack, exposing her back to the captain.


    And the Ice Fang fell for it. His stab drove the clown into Kalaisa¡¯s close quarters, but in a single, elegant motion, the clown leaned back, dodged the wolf hag¡¯s horizontal slash, and plunged her own curved daggers into the Summerspring¡¯s rubberized neck guard, timing her attack perfectly to coincide with a single moment when his gorget and jaw guard would be momentarily out of the way. The Summerspring still stood, disbelieving his own demise and supported by the armor, as the clown somersaulted over him, saddling the dying man to twist her daggers, then kicked him into Kalaisa.


    The clown who had the frowned mask jumped away from Anji and reproachfully wagged his finger. With blinding speed, the twin daggers rose to block a swift thrust at his neck. Anji shrugged and jerked her fingers, sending the lithe figure from the middle of the street onto the sidewalks. Right in the middle of the Ice Fangs.


    Janine cried out a warning, but it was too late. The clown rolled like a rag, faking breaking bones, then burst into motion as the knights, angry at the loss of their leader, tried to hack him to pieces. With surgical precision, his daggers sliced at the ankles, right where the protection was weakest, and the knights howled in pain. The attack came to an abrupt halt when the dagger stuck in the mechanical leg of a young Ice Fang.


    ¡°Spirits, give me the strength to save lives,¡± Malerata Summerspring said, delivering a kick to the enemy¡¯s forearm that sent him flying. She fired immediately, but the killer deflected the bullet aimed at his forehead, and the knight kneeled, reaching for a first aid kit.


    My cousins. A vein burst in Janine¡¯s eye as she assessed the number of wounded and dying in the street and noticed an impaled scout pinned to the wall. Nightmares plagued the woman, at nights she dreamed she was under heavy shelling. Maxence diagnosed it as a case of PTSD, and on Janine¡¯s recommendation, the scout took a leave to visit a psychologist. And now she was dead. My family.


    ¡°I¡¯ll wear your entrails for decoration and serve your brain on a silver platter as a dessert!¡± Anji shouted, leaping at her foe.


    Janine charged on all fours to her, knowing full well that the serene girl had made a mistake. She took the bait. Cruel as it was, this particular massacre was meant to enrage the fighters. Realizing that it would take too long to defeat their opponents in a fair manner, the clowns deliberately included the Ice Fangs. While Kalaisa tossed away the dead Summerspring and went after her enemy with precise determination, Anji, unaccustomed to fighting in anger, was overwhelmed by her emotions.


    It blinded her to the danger. Still in the air, she had no opportunity to evade or block an attack when the frowning clown sprang off the concrete and launched himself into the air. The slender and agile body easily veered away from the incoming claws, and deep incisions opened on Anji¡¯s arms and torso. The wolf hag landed badly; her legs gave in, and bloody drool clogged her windpipe, while the opponent positioned himself for the final strike.


    Sensing the threat, he whirled around and caught Janine¡¯s claws onto the daggers¡¯ edges. The warlord calmly closed her claws around the weapons, remembering the opponent¡¯s style, and whipped out a low kick that knocked the clown off his feet. Still holding the daggers, she slammed the bastard into the concrete, sending an explosion of dust and stone upward. Before she could capitalize on the advantage, a bright streak pierced the veil, forcing her to let go to block it.


    A dagger struck her claws and flew back in an arc. The frowning clown swung his head, slapping the rebounded weapon back into his partner¡¯s hand, and gained distance, studying the warlord from a distance. A snap of Janine¡¯s fingers sent Kalaisa to Anji¡¯s side, freeing the warlord to focus on the two individuals who had just toyed with the strongest wolf hags of the tribe.


    ¡°Anji!¡± Kalaisa tore off the robe off her body to fashion bandages.


    ¡°Damn poison, Kali.¡± Anji raised a trembling paw, waving it before her eyes. ¡°Kali? Are you here? Can¡¯t see. Can barely hear. Fainting. Tell the warlord¡­¡±


    ¡°I am aware,¡± Janine said, glaring at the two unmoving foes. There was an unknown substance on their weapons, potent enough to threaten even a Wolfkin¡¯s life. ¡°Rest, soldier.¡±


    ¡°Have we ever hunted a warlord, precious Adonis?¡± The laughing clown sang softly, her feminine voice sounding like the murmur of a running river.


    ¡°No, dear Heika. This one is the first,¡± purred the frowning clown, spinning his daggers. His voice reminded Janine of the rustle of a silk dress she had seen on a sword saint once.


    ¡°An offering worthy of the Khatun¡¯s attention.¡± Heika bent her knees, spreading her arms wide. ¡°Let¡¯s make it beautiful.¡±


    ¡°You know Common,¡± Janine stated. ¡°Are you from the Reclamation Army?¡±


    ¡°It speaks so clearly!¡± Adonis marveled. ¡°We should reward it.¡±


    ¡°We should indeed.¡± Heika nodded. ¡°No, beast. Our homeland died, squashed and compressed by the moving land. We have been traveling ever since, honoring it through the use of the skills it taught us, and bringing glory to the ghosts of our people.¡±


    ¡°Glory, tch.¡± Janine spat. ¡°It¡¯s only worth a damn if you have what it takes to acquire it. Honor is more important, but you are too dumb to realize the dishonor you have brought to your lineage.¡±


    ¡°And how would you know what passes for honor in our homeland?¡± sweetly inquired Adonis.


    ¡°Simple. Big, fat, tall, short, black, white, red, furred, or naked¡ªall people share the same desire to live and raise their young in peace. It¡¯s the strong who miss the point. Come.¡± She beckoned. ¡°Let us end the story of your poor nation.¡±

 Chapter 76: Others Are Capable Too

    Janine stomped. A ripple passed through the damaged concrete as if it were water; the impact shook the closest wreckages and drew groans from the wounded. The clowns merely leaped a little back, filling the air with their melodic laughter at what they perceived to be a futile attempt to stagger. But Janine never sought to achieve that. Her paw slapped a head-sized rock, spat into the ground by her stomp, into Heika¡¯s face, and the warlord closed in on Adonis, hidden by a veil of dust.


    Wide, precise arcs of blurry, fast-moving daggers rose in her path. Adonis never once dropped his guard, and he planned on cutting her arms and neck. But claws met the edge of his blades as the clatter of metal against stone behind Janine announced that Heika had blocked the projectile. It was fine; Janine ignored it for a time and bore down her entire fury at Adonis, hewing and slashing, trying to bypass his defense and drive him away.


    She could see it clearly now. A green sludge, almost invisible to a naked eye, coated the entire length of her enemy¡¯s blade. An unknown substance that easily overcame even a Wolfkin¡¯s immune system and brought Anji to her knees. Janine went back and forth with the killer, equally growing annoyed at the man¡¯s resilience and taking his measure. Anger wasn¡¯t a problem. When wasn¡¯t she angry? Her biological mother had abandoned her; Janine hated herself for letting Terrific get away with so many atrocities; she despised her paw for ending the life of the one she had come to call her mother. Every mistake, every display of weakness fueled the fire burning in her chest, never allowing it to become dying embers.


    But embracing that furnace invited dangers, as Eled clearly demonstrated times and times again. To protect her family, her nation, Janine had chained that anger, channeling its energy to sustain her endurance and denying herself the rest to keep a cool head in battle. It didn¡¯t always work, but today it saved her hide when Janine sensed Heika approaching from the rear and relaxed. Adonis refused to stand and fight, wisely dancing out of her reach so the clowns could perform a classic pincer maneuver.


    And something else, a tactic that had eluded her for so far, but the previous actions had told enough. Fine then. Slow way it is. A growl left her lips, commanding to tend to the wounded and prepare for an ambush. Kalaisa relayed the message to the Ice Fangs while Martyshkina paused on the roof, her eyes fixed on the tense Bogdan. A dagger flew at her back and Janine blocked it, trusting her instincts and ears more than her skills. Her oversized and long arms easily reached the middle of her back. Her speed was superior to that of her opponent. They knew it too.


    So where was the trap?


    Heika and Adonis grew frustrated that their baits and deceptions no longer worked. Janine held her ground, concentrating on the defense. Adonis stabbed at her, and she counterattacked, stopping her thrust when his impeccable footwork carried him out of harm¡¯s way. The warlord elbowed the clown, no doubt bruising him, but refused to give chase, blocking Heika¡¯s cuts. Again and again, the two tried to lure her in by exposing themselves, and she disappointed them each time.


    No longer they attacked her alone; the two teamed up and multicolored lines raced past her, from left and right, from back and front, stabbing and slashing, and inevitably retreating when a claw met a blade. Janine knew their type: youngsters gifted with incredible potential, their blood running hot in their veins. These clowns wanted to turn the battle into a spectacle, to take the leading role and end it on their terms, winning through coordination and cooperation where their individual skills could not prevail.


    Only Janine stood her ground. Immovable. Indomitable. By denying them satisfaction and thrill, she made the battle dull and repetitive. Their speed failed to overcome her defenses, and when Janine saw the frustration in the slits of their masks, she allowed herself a smile, fanning the desire in their souls to end her soon.


    Perhaps there was no trap? Janine disregarded the doubt. For better or worse, she had chosen the approach.


    There were many ways to win a battle. Throwing your foe off their game, ruining their rhythm, and letting their frustration lead them into making mistakes was one of the most basic ones. Anything from simple insults to attacking the enemy¡®s allies was beneficial to this. Kalaisa and Anji lost because they played the clowns¡¯ game and forgot who the hunter was. It mattered not how long the hunt lasted, as long as you brought home the body. Oh well, it¡¯ll come to them with experience; don¡¯t be harsh on them, Janine. She chastised herself, remembering her own failures.


    Kalaisa stepped away from Anji, and Janine eased a bit. Rather than rushing back into a fight, the wolf hag decided to help the Ice Fangs save lives and was currently performing CPR on a civilian. I didn¡¯t even know she could do it. The girl was learning from her past mistakes, and that widened Janine¡¯s smile even more, finally cracking the clowns¡¯ composure.


    They came together as before; the male aiming for Janine¡¯s legs and the female aiming for her spine. Their daggers were met by the claws, and ringing sounds filled the street. Only this time, the fools chose not to retreat. Heika jumped over Janine, and Adonis tried to slide underneath her swing on his knees. He was met with a knee to the face and an elbow against the back of his neck. Janine whirled, slicing Heika¡¯s shoulder, and the clown screamed, ruining the laughing melody.


    ¡°Beautiful enough?¡± Janine asked, tensing up when she realized that Adonis¡¯ body wasn¡¯t at her leg.


    She landed the blow with her entire might. The man¡¯s mask partially shattered upon the ground, yet he himself was already beside Heika with his head tilted and anger splashing in his blue eyes. There was a cracking noise, and the clown set his head straight. He separated his vertebrae to spare the bone. Janine understood. She knew of methods to go limb to limb to disperse damage, even to dislocate joints, though such a master was beyond her. But vertebrae? That was too dangerous.


    The man stood, legs shaking, left hand pressed to the ruined face, his nose caved in. ¡°Sister.¡±


    ¡°Brother,¡± Heika responded.


    ¡°We are being underestimated.¡±


    ¡°Humiliated.¡±


    ¡°Bogdan!¡± Janine and Martyshkina yelled in unison, hearing din in the air.


    There was a line above the soldier. It floated in the air, created by nothing, but Martyshkina tossed the sharp rocks at it simultaneously with Bogdan rolling to the side. It was what had saved him when the line widened up, creating a blue window. This tear swallowed the stones, and an arm scooped at the place where the soldier had been a second ago. Bogdan was already firing back, but another window opened and swallowed the bullets. Martyshkina cursed, sidestepping a hole in reality that opened behind her, spitting out Bogdan¡¯s bullets, and a thin arm coming from a new portal grabbed Bogdan¡¯s neck and pressed him tightly against a blue body while a finger ran over his gun, cutting it in half.


    ¡°Move an inch and the dog gets skinned,¡± the newcomer chuckled, coming fully from the shimmering blue portal, keeping it at as his back to shield himself for a sudden attack.


    Thin as a scarecrow, his ribs threatened to break through the paper-thin blue leather skin. His eyes were sunk deep into the skull, the nose sucked in air loudly, and the mouth grinned, showing needle teeth. The tear at his back showed sewers and several corpses of the Ice Fangs. Gunshots, roars, and curses echoed from the walls of the tunnel.


    ¡°I don¡¯t recall asking for help, Phaser.¡± Heika hissed. ¡°You¡¯ve been hiding the entire time, and now you decide to step out?¡±


    ¡°Recklessness can only purchase you an early grave, silly girl,¡± the blue-skinned man, Phaser, said in a voice that needled Janine¡¯s ears. ¡°The deed is done, but we might as well add another to the tally.¡± He smiled, standing naked, covered just by black tattoos in the shapes of flying birds that covered his arms, legs, and waist. ¡°Yes, imagine the reward Mad Hatter will give us when we bring a warlord¡¯s head to her knees! You!¡± he told Janine. ¡°Stay and die. Otherwise, this thing.¡± He shook Bogdan and extended his arm to Marco, ¡°and the puppies will die.¡±


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    ¡°Stay away from the children,¡± Adonis ordered icily. ¡°The adults are fair game for us.¡±


    ¡°But killing kids is too low,¡± his sister added.


    ¡°Oh, I wouldn¡¯t dare to trouble you,¡± Phaser chuckled again. ¡°I¡¯ll be more than willing¡­¡±


    Janine gave a deep growl, approving a cheeky glint in her son¡¯s eyes. Marco tensed too, ready to dart away, and only stopped out of concern for his comrades. The Ice Fangs didn¡¯t know. Jacomie didn¡¯t know either when she tried to stand and fell face down from exhaustion. They had to stay away. On the other side of the street, Malerata pulled a string of wires from the place where her steel legs were connected to her torso and tossed away her damaged foot, looking decisively at Bogdan.


    Don¡¯t do anything reckless, girl. Janine pleaded. Nothing was over.


    ¡°Touch a child and you¡¯ll die,¡± Heika promised, surprising Janine. What were they talking about? A body of an Ice Fang cub lay on the ground; there were little ones scattered around, dead or wounded, and these creeps tried to pretend to have principles now?


    ¡°How dare you talk to me like that?¡± Phaser took his eyes off Janine. ¡°You weren¡¯t so eager to say anything to Brood Lord!¡±


    ¡°Unlike you, the khan we can¡¯t stop,¡± Adonis said.


    ¡°You seem to forget who is your way out of this place,¡± Phaser struggled to speak calmly. ¡°And speaking of Brood Lord, guess who is under his protection? Unlike you, unlike his whelps, unlike anyone, I am too valuable to lose!¡±


    ¡°Can he protect you all day long?¡± Heika inquired. ¡°What will the khan say after he hears how casually you address him, mhhhm? Or what about giving gifts to the Khatun? Nasty, nasty Phaser. Your plans are obvious to anyone with a half of a brain.¡±


    ¡°Do it,¡± Adonis asked. ¡°Leave us. Cross the line if you dare, Phaser. See how long you¡¯ll live afterwards.¡±


    Whatever response Phaser had planned to give died in his desperate screams when Bogdan grabbed his hand. He didn¡¯t use his claw, or a hidden knife. Two black round disks were attached to the palms of his hands, each capable of releasing a surge of electricity strong enough to knock out even a scout.


    Bogdan had always been a troubled boy. He was biting Janine during feeding too hard; he was the first of his litter to stand on his feet, to her and Colt¡¯s delight; and he was the first to almost kill another Wolfkin. Not in the pits. A girl was relentlessly throwing Bogdan and Ignacy to the ground, trying to get the males¡¯ attention, not yet fully understanding that she was doing it the wrong way because of her youth. Well, she got her wish for attention when Janine returned to her tent after a day of service to find her grenades and explosives missing. All forty of them, and the answer as to where they went, came in a series of booms at the village¡¯s edge.


    Her son had challenged a girl to a duel and had no intention of fighting fairly. He forced the terrified cub through a line full of acid and fire, burying her under an avalanche of stone, and then found her under the rubble and dragged her to the surface by her ears, allowing her to breathe but still trapping her arms and legs. He repeatedly smashed her face repeatedly with a rock, asking what more he needed to do for her to get the message and leave him and Ignacy¡¯s brother alone.


    Janine and Soulless One stopped what was about to end in murder. They concealed the information from the tribe at large, sharing it only with the warlords and shamans, for it was unthinkable that a male could defeat a female. Elsewhere, Bogdan would face punishment. The laws of the Reclamation Army were strict, but the Wolf Tribe was given the privilege of living by their own laws, and Lacerated One herself absolved the boy of all guilt and redirected the boy¡¯s mischief in a productive direction. The wounded girl later apologized and held no grudge for the defeat.


    The girl herself told her friends about how awesome a tricker Bogdan was, and soon there was a cave named ¡®Bogdan¡¯s Great Den¡¯ in the village, a training ground of sorts created by her son. In the darkness of this place, her boy put his natural reluctance to be bullied to work, constructing the most exquisite traps he could fathom for the girls and boys to overcome. Ignacy helped, but his duty was limited to making sure no one died in this hellish maze of acid grenades, swinging stones, pitfalls and collapses. It was a badge of honor for the youth to overcome these insidious traps.


    But as he grew older and found a soulmate, Bogdan faced a natural barrier. Warriors he could stop, but what about scouts and wolf hags? His cave of wonders still existed, although he was now far more careful not to harm any cubs. Anissa made a mockery of his test, passing it at a walking pace, and later Elzada raced through the course without getting hit once. This caused Bogdan to sit and read, studying the workings of Wolfkins¡¯ bodies. He dismissed the use of gas, as it cost an arm and a leg to get a canister of nerve gas for private use, and many scouts showed incredible resilience to toxic effects, but electricity intrigued him. He added grids to the parts of his cave, and Janine took pride in her role as the first ¡®test subject¡¯ when her sweet boy¡¯s contraptions tickled her a little. Later, the shamans even copied it to other villages, so that the cubs and adults everywhere could hone their skills.


    This was what Bogdan used. It was his trump card, a device looking so non-threatening that when his charm and trickery failed to pit one female against another, he would offer to shake his paws or desperately grab his opponent, shocking her just long enough to press a pistol to her eye or a claw to a jugular vein. It had a lesser effect on wolf hags, but Phaser yelled and writhed as the electricity shook his internal organs.


    Janine was distracted by this event, and it almost cost her her life. With the stone exploding beneath their legs, Heika and Adonis disappeared out of sight, turning into a whirlwind around the warlord. Left, right, a strike aimed at her right knee, immediately followed by one aimed at the back of her left knee. This time, Janine had to move, walking back across the street, blocking strikes from the maddening whirlwind of steel and rage. Their speed, the accuracy with which these two were striking, and their sheer endurance to maintain this assault without slowing down were sublime.


    This was a dance and one in which they took the lead. Their blurred forms almost overlapped; the non-stop onslaught of constant dashes, cuts, strikes, and graceful evasions was mind-blowing. Even in her power armor, Janine would be mildly challenged to keep up with this speed. Without it, worried about the safety of her sons, plagued by thoughts of the dead and dying around her, she had known fear.


    She channeled her fear into power, releasing adrenaline into her bloodstream. There were many in the tribe who viewed fear as something to be shunned, an unworthy behavior. Not her. Fear was a natural human emotion¡ªit was honest, if nothing else. She was outmatched, but she had to win. Accepting fear sharpened Janine¡¯s senses. By relying on her skills, honed by years and years of combat, she knew when to defend and when to push back. And now it was time to defend.


    Even though Bogdan¡¯s devices had an energy supply, they gave him enough time to free himself and dart away, trying to save himself from Phaser¡¯s long fingered stab. But it was of no use. The difference in speed between the two was too great, and the stab that was destroying the very space neared Janine¡¯s son, and Marco cried out his desperate warning. That¡¯s when Malerata took flight.


    The absurdity of it shocked the clowns and the warlord, halting their struggle for a whole second. Malerata Summerspring blazed raging flames and sparks from her damaged legs, somehow turning herself into a living rocket, overloading the internal reactor supplying her artificial limbs. Carrying a round shield in her paws, the knight crossed the street in the blink of an eye, spinning in midair to douse Phaser in the searing fury emanating from her stump.


    Phaser stopped his stab and swung his hand, opening the portal to block the flame. He moved his other arm, and another rift cracked and opened above Malerata, engulfing the Ice Fang in her own flame. But the smirk on the Horde¡¯s teleporter didn¡¯t last. Malerata, hidden inside the flames, cast her shield at Phaser¡¯s ankles, and the man tumbled into his own portal, disappearing inside.


    ¡°Reckless like us,¡± Bogdan cheered, pulling Malerata away to hide behind the car as the portals disappeared and the woman landed heavily on the ground, unable to move her legs. The sparks and fiery stream coming from her ankle stopped. Once she was safe, Bogdan blew on his paws.


    ¡°But not useless.¡± Malerata said. Her armor blackened but held. The woman was shaking from the burns from several holes in her combat plate, but her voice was clear and as cheerful as Bogdan¡¯s. ¡°She was right. I am not cursed at all!¡±


    ¡°Thank you for saving our hides! You¡¯re the best, cousin!¡± Bogdan humorously glanced at her. ¡°But just to be clear. I have already found my soulmate. So if you had any ideas¡­¡±


    ¡°I would never have dared to hint, sirrah,¡± the knight mumbled and leaned against the car, gathering her strength to help Marco.


    Time to win this. Janine beamed, unbothered by her worries any longer, and stomped again. Caught by a tremor during their fierce assault, both clowns tripped, their overlapped shared blurry form separated in two, and the warlord clawed at Heika¡¯s mask, fully intending to shave the woman¡¯s head off this time, when a loud crack to her left announced the arrival of the new enemy. Janine¡¯s claws, her pride and joy, left her left paw and drummed against the ground, leaving just stumps on her fingers.


    ¡°Enough toying around,¡± Phaser roared, stepping out of a portal. ¡°Warlord dies!¡±

 Chapter 77: Brood Lord

    They advanced upon Janine, with Phaser casually waltzing in, almost inviting Janine to try her claws on him, and the clowns circling like a unit of hungry insectoids, tracking her every move. Janine¡¯s arms hung loose as she pretended to be shocked at the loss of her claws, intensely observing them. Wolfkins claws¡¯ toughness exceeded even their bones, their incredible density kept them safe from splintering even when raking at power armor. As a Wolfkin received gifts of power, their instruments of destruction thickened and sharpened, to the point where Janine could pierce an armor plate with a simple tap.


    And a light touch of these elongated, thin fingers cut her claws away. There was no resistance, no struggle; the ability to scratch space surpassed any durability the warlord¡¯s body had built over her lifetime, and she let out a low whine, and Phaser¡¯s lips parted in a smile. Portals floated in the air around him as he approached her, his hands weaving a pattern in the air, creating immovable shields to protect himself. He was too sure of his victory.


    Wolfkins¡¯ range of vocalization covered a wide range of sounds. Most served as simple expressions of dominance or submission, but there were hidden meanings behind certain patterns: warnings, a demand to follow, an urgent halt, and many others. This was what Janine had used to request immediate aid. The ground around Phaser exploded; little shapes ricocheted off each other, finding their paths around and in-between the hovering windows. Phaser¡¯s smile changed to a scowl. The man grabbed his torn shoulder and Janine closed the distance, ignoring the awkward slash that left long gashes in reality. She slashed above that line, lacerating his stomach, and Phaser recoiled, screeching, not understanding why his allies retreated too, instead of slashing at the warlord¡¯s sides.


    ¡°By the Sky, what was it?¡± Adonis cursed, evading passing projectiles.


    ¡°Bullets, brother.¡± Heika recovered first, striking once to block a bullet aimed at the teleporter¡¯s eye. She pointed at the approaching Wolfkin. ¡°She did it.¡±


    ¡°Janine, you are so greedy!¡± Martyshkina chuckled. Bullets danced between her fingers, and at a Phaser¡¯s move, her thumbs snapped two of them, sending them flying and bouncing off the ground next to Phaser¡¯s legs. If not for his allies, the teleporter would¡¯ve had his knees pierced. ¡°How about a team-up? Two against three sounds fun, right?¡± The amber eyes found Phaser. ¡°Minor space manipulator, capable of cutting through most materials. Wow! Must be scary to sleep at night. What if the power activates and you find your dong cut off by accident in the morning, am I right? Eh, don¡¯t worry, I know how to handle your kind.¡±


    ¡°Adorable,¡± Phaser replied dryly, retreating to the open crack. Janine and Martyshkina went after him, but the man swung his arms, opening a path to a desert in front of Janine and a portal to a misty mountain that swallowed bullets aimed at his face. ¡°We¡¯ve bled you enough for one day.¡±


    He stepped into the cut behind him, and the tear in reality disappeared, abandoning Adonis and Heika. The clowns leapt away from the firing bullets and slithered into narrow recesses between the sidewalk and the street, designed to collect rainwater.


    ¡°Janine here.¡± The warlord pressed a terminal to her ear, raising a fist above her head, while Martyshkina collected her cut claws. ¡°We encountered a New Breed capable of hopping between places by opening portals. One such rift showed us dead knights of the Ice Fang Order. Request immediate medical assistance at our location. Pursuing escaping prey.¡±


    The fist came down, smashing through the street. Stone slabs rose to the left and right, opening a gap wide enough for Janine and Martyshkina to fall, landing in the shallow waters of the underground sewers. Sniffing the blood of the fleeing clowns and hearing wet footsteps, the warlords stomped after them, splashing garbage against the walls.


    ¡°Sword Saint Tancred has ignored my order, likely under the influence of emotional manipulation,¡± Dragena informed calmly. ¡°I saw your battle through the lenses of our allies. Assist our reckless cousin, sisters; his last known location is in the tunnels to your north. Alpha is coming. The survival of the sword saint and your own comes before all else.¡±


    ¡°Understood.¡± Forcing herself to give up the hunt, Janine consulted the terminal, pulling up a map to see the closest route to their destination. Noticing how long a detour would take, the warlord cursed and shoulder tackled a wall in front of her, breaking into another tunnel, accompanied by Martyshkina¡¯s laughter. The laughter died instantly at the sound of gunfire.


    The Ice Fangs fought each other in a half-flooded tunnel. Knight-captains stood upright in the murky water, roaring, bringing swords and maces down on their own lesser kin, cutting through shields and taking shots in return. One sage spun his glaive around, nearly decapitating a nearby defender. Martyshkina saved the endangered woman; a bullet flung from her fingers knocked the defender back into the water, and the glaive sheared metal from her helmet.


    Discipline, kinship, cohesion, and even the famous dignity had been abandoned. Soldiers used their weapons not only against allies, but had forgotten their fabled skill and here and there clawed and tried to bite the opposition. Holes from rifles and pistols covered the walls; the clanking of the weapon added to the bestial growls filling the tunnel. There was heat. The heat was not the pleasant, comforting warmth of her home, but a ferocious heat of furnaces that permeated even her mind. Whatever was causing the raging violence was close by, affecting the troops unhindered by Alpha¡¯s fear wave.


    And worse still, the moment Janine stepped closer, her fingers touched a submerged body. No. Not a body. Bodies. How many? To see their cousins, the ideal of dignity and duty reduced to this, has filled Janine with irresistible rage.


    ¡°Enough!¡± she roared, shaking random stones, and a few soldiers stopped, but the sage turned to her, his helmet missing.


    Howling and spitting drool, the sage lunged forward, bringing the glaive down in an overhead strike. Janine dodged the attack, which exploded the water, and slammed the man into a wall with enough force to crack it, struggling not to bite his snout off. The sage showed no such restraint, thrashing in her embrace and trying to push her away with the shaft of his weapon. His feeble fangs snapped, stuck in the rough warlord¡¯s skin.


    A male dared to bare his fangs on a female, and not during a marriage ritual. Janine¡¯s nostrils inhaled loudly and a red mist covered her eyes. She wanted to rip off his lower jaw and strike up to his brain, eat his tongue and then feast on the still warm stomach. He dares! No male had ever disrespected her so! Every instinct called for his death, and something ancient resonated. A pale memory of a dark place, of groping fingers touching the helpless body, surfaced. It was an unknown experience, and she wasn¡¯t even sure if it was hers, but it fueled the urge to mutilate even more.


    Her claws came from her fingers, ready to plunge into the crimson eyes and damn the consequences. Here and now, she will teach the Ice Fang Order the meaning of disrespecting a warlord! Too long had she endured the humiliation and¡­


    ¡°Restraint,¡± a voice whispered, and familiar dim and dead eyes looked at Janine from the cracks in the wall, halting her long enough to realize the gravity of what she was about to do.


    Janine closed her eyes and roared, giving everything in a wordless howl of frustration that escaped her lungs. A trick. This rage is not her own. Someone toyed with their minds, tugging at their emotions and guiding them toward the most unfavorable choices. I refuse. My anger is too precious a thing for anyone else to wield. It is mine, and mine alone. I, with all my faults and all my might, am I. Janine of the Wolf Tribe.


    The sage gasped in her hold. His head was knocked back against the wall by the roar that reverberated in his ears and shocked his brain. He gasped, and Janine had to help him stand when all the aggression washed out of his body, filling him with confusion as his mind cleared.


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    ¡°Warlord¡­¡± the man gasped.


    ¡°Janine,¡± she said.


    Their kinship strengthened. It was shamans¡¯ duty to guide young cubs through their first violent urges, passed on to them by the Blessed Mother. There were claims of seeing great beasts in their dreams, but as the cubs grew older, they themselves doubted their visions. It was hard, mastering rage, but necessary, for if they experienced it elsewhere for the first time, they risked endangering the Normies. Her cousins had no such training, but in a way, it was pleasing to see that they shared the same trait.


    She just wished the price wasn¡¯t so high. ¡°Report.¡± Around them, the battle stopped, although Martyshkina had to slap several knights to bring them back to their senses.


    ¡°He tricked us. The bastard lured us here and challenged the noble Tancred to an honorable duel, and when the lord agreed, a flash of anger struck our brains. We weren¡¯t ourselves. The liege was the only one mostly unaffected, but the coward struck a knight in the middle of the duel, breaking the rules, and used him as a hostage to spit acid into our master¡¯s eyes, blinding him. Pray, be on your guard against this insidious fiend.¡± The sage shook his head, trying to regain composure.


    ¡°Where is he?¡± Janine demanded. ¡°Where is Sword Saint Ironwill?¡±


    ¡°Jani!¡± Martyshkina¡¯s paw grabbed her, pulling the warlord aside.


    Waters swirled as a dark shadow passed underneath them. A blade sliced through the surface, bleeding Janine¡¯s neck, but Martyshkina¡¯s timely intervention saved her life. Her friend often boasted that no one but friends could ever sneak up on her, and by the Spirits she had proven herself true in full measure! The blade struck the wall, and a shower of stones rattled against a rising figure cloaked in heavy armor.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    Six massive, segmented legs, each the length of a knight and as thick as an oak, raised a massive torso above the water, puzzling the warlord as to how someone so massive could hide so well. The green armor was covered in occasional gashes and cracks, revealing tanned skin and a deceptively chubby build. Several wires hissed the visor no longer glowed, so a metal hand opened it. Golden medallions and jewelry were wrapped around arms. The unknown madman had two human arms. One held the long, curved blade, and a set of insectoid limbs extended from under the armpits, ending in pincers covered in chitin rather than steel. Golden, diamond-encrusted bracelets, stained with soot and blood, covered each wrist. The man¡¯s bald head nearly scratched the ceiling; the ends of his long mustache slipped from his helmet and touched his chest, and coins from unknown lands glittered in the skin of his forehead. Sharp brown eyes scrutinized the warlords mockingly.


    ¡°Greetings, sweet madams.¡± He bowed courteously to the warlords, his voice soft and pleasant, kind even. ¡°Janine, is that correct? You have taken something of mine. In return, I will take everything from you. I am Brood Lord, the Breaker of Nations, the Despoiler of Women, the Father of Thousands, the Merciless Blade of Mad Hatter, and the Master of the Northern Plains. Your sons I will see eradicated; your daughters, if you have any, will whore themselves to my whims; and you yourself, blinded, armless, and legless, will wail in despair, cursing the day you stood in the way of the Gilded Horde. And when I finish amusing myself with you, not a trace of your bloodline will remain in this world or any other. So I have decided, and so it shall be.¡±


    Brood Lord¡¯s pincer arm rose high, displaying Tancred¡¯s severed head for all to see. A tongue dangled weakly from the sword saint¡¯s mouth; dark holes replaced the once bright red eyes.


    ¡°Glaive, Sage,¡± Janine commanded, extending her paw. ¡°I have a crustacean to cook.¡±


    ****


    ¡°Wake up, sir!¡± he yawned, surprised by a powerful tug as sweet Najwa, very unladylike, pulled him out from under the warm water.


    ¡°Hello there, dear.¡± He clung to her, breathing in the scent of her stunning golden locks. She smelled of apples and roses. ¡°No more ¡®sir¡¯, please. Call me however you like.¡±


    Najwa¡¯s slender brown body was already dry, and she threw a black bathrobe over her shoulders. The worry in her gracious blue eyes concerned him. Had he insulted her in any way? Technically, her job was to protect him, but he preferred a more intimate relationship with members of the fairer sex, and so he treated the surprised bodyguard like a queen. It didn¡¯t take long for her to join in the evening orgies, although as of right now, he hadn¡¯t yet known if the beautiful agent was doing it out of obligation or pleasure, and the mystery was intoxicating!


    The rest of his girls were relaxing on the white edges of the large pool, still dreaming after a long, passionate night. What were they taking? He remembered cocaine, enough to kill a normal person ten times over; then there was liquid hot mind, a highly addictive drug bringing about every hidden desire inside a human. Biological enhancements to their bodies gave them all the benefits of tasting these forbidden fruits and protected them from any negative effects. Alcohol, that¡¯s a given, food¡­ Oranges? He raised his black eyebrows. Probably ordered by the insectoid agent, the shy girl had peculiar tastes, making her all the more precious to his heart. No, there wasn¡¯t anything out of the ordinary, and if he¡¯d learn that he¡¯d dared to say so much as a dirty word to his sweethearts, he¡¯d whip himself.


    ¡°You need to see it, sir!¡± Najwa insisted, dragging him to the window.


    ¡°Sure-sure, just let me get dressed.¡± The last time he walked naked to a window of his penthouse, he ended up being at every yellow newspaper in Houstad and on more sites than he had wished. His girl tossed his clothes atop a statue whose bronze surface almost matched the color and perfection of his perfect skin.


    ¡°No time!¡± Najwa shoved him to the window and his eyes widened.


    Houstad was burning. Black smoke now covered the streets of his city, his base of operations. His perception sharpened as he saw waves of dark-clad bodies swatting away armored figures trying to gun down civilians. There was no mercy. The jaws of the Third¡¯s mutants were closing in on necks and arteries, biting off chunks of skin, their ugly guns barked, drilling holes in the oversized bodies.


    The destruction was horrific. A skyscraper fell, bringing destruction to Houstad as if a giant dagger had been stuck into the city and then drawn a line across it; cars burned; there were explosions that destroyed parts of the streets as pipes carrying gas exploded and drove into the cracks. There were even several pools of overheated water, and even he didn¡¯t want to think about the last moments of those who died there. Rescue teams, like busy bees, tried to save lives, but there was too much chaos, and many lost their lives, trampled to death.


    ¡°Who¡­ who dare?¡± He whispered and a halo of light briefly flashed into reality around his body, accentuating well-built muscles and black hair. Why didn¡¯t the alarm go off?!


    He restrained himself, obeying the order to conceal his presence. Even through the bulletproof windows, he heard the scream of a family trapped in an elevator on the outside of the skyscraper. An empty elevator above them broke free of its shaft and was about to crush the family. He was about to let them die, noticing an ugly goat-headed freak among the people, but there were normal humans there, too. And they fought for the liberation of humanity. A flash of light, traveling at the speed of light, vaporized the falling elevator, leaving only steam rising to the surprise of the terrified civilians.


    There was no force in the world capable of withstanding his wrath. This senseless massacre could be stopped in minutes, but he was constrained by his rank. Win or lose, Houstad would have to fend for itself. Still, there was fire coming from the floors below, and at the very least some help and evacuation of his adorable bodyguards to safety was in order.


    ¡°Wakey-wakey, ladies!¡± He clapped his hands; they snapped out of their dreams and grabbed weapons, ready to fight. So cute! But whether or not they realized it, he was the one responsible for their protection, even if some of them were mutants. Otherwise, what kind of man was he? ¡°The city is under attack, but let us not panic and evacuate in an orderly fashion. Permission to rescue anyone is given and¡­¡±


    A heavy bang on the window stopped him. There was a crack, and a black-furred arm of a gigantic beast broke into the apartment.


    ¡°Not an enemy!¡± roared the thing, stopping the bodyguards from firing and pushing her body inside and widening the hole. ¡°Evacuation team. Do not fear¡­¡± There was a mane around the creature¡¯s neck. It sniffed the air loudly, and he understood it was a warlord. ¡°Degenerates,¡± it said, and he raised a hand, commanding his girls to obey. As far as he knew, the warlords were females, and it would not do to harm a woman. A few visits to the beauty parlor, a rejuvenation procedure, several operations to remove scars... He clicked his tongue. Yes, do it, and she might be pretty enough to invite for dinner. And where there was dinner, there was also the possibility of extending such an exquisite encounter into a night of carnal pleasure... ¡°Great,¡± the warlord grumbled, looking down at him. ¡°This one is too high to understand.¡±


    ¡°Wait, it isn¡¯t what¡­¡± he tried to explain, to dispel the wrong first impression, understanding that she had caught the scent of narcotics.


    ¡°You. Are. Being. Rescued. Relax,¡± she interrupted him, speaking slowly and scooping the people into her embrace, jumping back into the broken window where another enormous, black-furred woman was saving people trapped in the elevator.


    Elder Spaniad of the Organization rolled his eyes, placed a hand on Najwa¡¯s shoulder to show he was not angry at being disrespected, and tried to enjoy the sudden attraction of being saved in such a unique and unorthodox manner.


    I need to find and burn whoever has caused chaos in my city. Spaniad thought.

 Chapter 78: Against the Khan

    The curved blade came down, scraping against the ceiling, screaming as it passed through the air and landed on the shaft of the glaive that the sage had hastily handed to Janine. Such force! Brood Lord used a single arm, and yet the impact of this collision created a sound explosion and rippled the water¡¯s surface. The metal glaive bent and sharp edge lacerated Janine¡¯s shoulder as she tried her best to stave off the immense weight. Power armor. The strength given by it was overwhelming; there was a reason using an active combat suit during a domination match was considered cheating in the tribe. Even when damaged, it reinforced the invader.


    ¡°Cute,¡± Brood Lord hummed. Three of his legs burst out of the water and closed in on Janine. ¡°Arm first.¡±


    They pulled her down, dragging the warlord beneath the dark and murky surface briefly. Then Brood Lord¡¯s bulk shifted, driving the water aside, and she found herself pinned to the floor, held by his columnar chitin limbs. He raised his blade, and another irises spread from beneath the lower lids of Brood Lord¡¯s excited eyes. These new irises were orange in color, perfectly betraying the thirst for mutilation burning within the man. He wanted to tear her apart, drooling in anticipation.


    Explosions blossomed over Brood Lord¡¯s armor, and he threw up an arm to shield his eyes from the bullets. A hiss escaped his lips as a claw¡ªJanine¡¯s own severed claw!¡ªpierced his vambrace at a wrist, and the warlord grinned, lifting his legs in the split second of distraction. She wasn¡¯t alone, not this time. The blade cut in a downward arc, drawing a line where she stood, but Janine was already waist-deep in the returning water, and she met the next blow head-on, shattering the glaive against its edge.


    Sharp shards of steel flew everywhere, creating mirrored red spots on her and Brood Lord¡¯s cheeks. Another leg kick broke through the remnants of the glaive and flung Janine against a wall, knocking the air out of her lungs. It wasn¡¯t a blind attack; the invader aimed directly for her solar plexus, and if not for Marty¡¯s timely intervention, the battle threatened to end here for her.


    Bullets flashed from Marty¡¯s paws, forcing Brood Lord to cover himself with his pincers to shield his eyes. Several of his gold coins shattered under the pressure, and a few bullets deftly slipped into the open cracks of his unorthodox armor, spurting all-too-human crimson blood from his body, but no serious damage was done. Brood Lord grunted a chuckle and swung overhead, this time wielding his curved blade in both human hands.


    Martyshkina rolled as the cut tore a wide gash in the stone, which began to suck in water. The hordeman twisted his blade, jerking it free and sending a hail of stones at Janine. She didn¡¯t block them; a slash followed, and the warlord retreated, hearing a wall crumbling.


    ¡°Warlord Janine! Catch!¡± a knight-captain yelled, tossing something at her, and before she knew it, two claymores were in her paws, just in time to block the returning swing of the whirling hordeman¡¯s body. Cracks and dents appeared on her steel, but it held, and Janine kicked to keep his leg from attacking during the bind.


    They parted, the air shaking under their blows. Two-handed style wasn¡¯t Janine¡¯s forte, but she¡¯d be a poor warlord if she hadn¡¯t practiced in every form of combat. Right arm to take his blow, left arm to stab the claymore into the arm holding the sword saint¡¯s head and wound the bastard. She was not going to let him defile his cousin any longer. It wasn¡¯t entirely efficient, and all too often the warlord had to use both swords to withstand titanic swings, but the goal of felling her opponent alone wasn¡¯t on the program today.


    For she was not alone. The Ice Fangs and Martyshkina fired, shattering the shell covering Brood Lord¡¯s torso. He grunted and hissed, did not close his faceplate, and never wavered in raining down attacks on her. Her allies obeyed Martyshkina¡¯s command and hauled knights and wounded away from the fighters, for the dishonorable cur could¡¯ve easily replicated what the sage had told Janine. Ground exploded beneath the warlord¡¯s legs; her bones ached after each block, but the battle entered a stalemate phase. Or so it seemed.


    Brood Lord was no unskilled opponent; she understood that much at once. The sheer speed and precision behind his often deceptively wide strikes, his quick adjustment to Marty¡¯s interference, his cunning eyes scanning the environment¡ªeverything betrayed years of frontline combat. Even the initial swat with his legs was intended not only to immobilize her, but to splash water at the Ice Fangs, obscuring the fighters long enough to hack off her arm.


    But this isn¡¯t it, right? Ignoring the pain in her limbs, Janine remembered the Sage¡¯s words and raised an arm as Brood Lord¡¯s lips formed an ¡®O¡¯ and a stream of acid landed on her forearm, splashing lightly against her right eye. The accused acid had eaten half of her world for a second, but she fought on, refusing to let in even a hint of panic. The eye was in place; she could feel it.


    Blessed by the Spirits, Wolfkins grew stronger with every received injury. A ruptured heart ended up being tougher upon healing, often gaining new chambers. A punctured lung, a fractured bone, or a scratched eye¡ªall of this led not to detriments but to improvement among the Wolf Tribe. Her trainings and sparrings¡ªwhen Martyshkina landed a knuckle against Janine¡¯s eye in their brawls, headbutts from Terrific, and kicks in the snout from shamans¡ªhad changed Janine¡¯s body forever.


    She didn¡¯t blink, concentrating on her opponent. Even as the right side of her body went numb, Janine willed herself through the weakness, raising up the weapon of her foe to break another bind. Brood Lord dragged his blade over the edges of Janine¡¯s claymores, widening the gash on her shoulder, before jumping back, eyes wide, and weaving a sphere of blurred slashes around himself.


    Martyshkina kicked spears, swords, and axes of the deceased Ice Fangs into her paws, understanding immediately the thickness of Brood Lord¡¯s armor. She launched them like darts, one after the other, forcing each projectile to exceed the speed of sound. Back in their childhood, Marty had always loved to get up close and personal with Janine, shredding her hide and receiving brutal beatings in return. That soon changed after Terrific had introduced them to shardguns. Marty¡¯s eyes lit up with joy when she fired her first shot at a practice dummy; a glimmer of her future divinity shone from those amber eyes, and she cradled the shardgun, holding and cooing to it as if it were a little one. On that night, she slept, hugging her shardgun like a lover. Later, the grown-up woman heavily modified her first shardgun using discarded archeotech and gifted it to her cubs, and presented it to her cubs, and it was passed down like a family relic, always cleaned and loved when its wielder¡¯s paws grew too big.


    In the years that followed, Martyshkina was busy honing her skills at killing at a distance. Throwing knives, guns, explosives, energy weapons, darts, rocket launchers¡­ If it could kill at range, Martyshkina mastered it, abandoning melee combat altogether, considering it an outdated thing of the past, a chore unworthy of a soldier.


    And now her skills made a difference where Janine¡¯s might had faltered. A blade exploded against Brood Lord¡¯s sword, only to turn into a hail of hundreds of smaller shards that stabbed into the exposed parts of his body. His pincer arm dropped Tancred¡¯s head, hastily protecting his eyes. Marty hurled another weapon, an axe, deliberately shattering it against the tough armor. Another weapon broke, its shards flying aimlessly against the walls¡­


    No. Not aimlessly. Janine understood. The shards bounced off the Ice Fangs¡¯ plates, hitting no exposed body parts, ricocheted off the walls, and came back at Brood Lord, pressing him even farther back. And more weapons came in their wake, this time biting deep into his armor plates and lacerating his flesh. Martyshkina, without her custom-made revolvers, drove the enemy back.


    Janine inhaled and wiped the acrid, irritating liquid off her eye. There was something else in his spit, a toxin of sorts, that clutched her lung in an unseen iron grip and tried to wrestle control over her body, constricting muscles against her will. Breathing deeply and calmly, Janine placed a paw on her chest, pleading with her immune system to overcome this poison sooner.


    ¡°Cowardice!¡± Brood Lord said, blocking and dodging. ¡°You assault me together, knowing full well that you are too weak to challenge me in any other way. Animal looks suit you well, freaks, since you even fight like a pack of rabid dogs!¡±


    ¡°Whine more. You hurt my friend; you killed my kin and massacred people under my protection,¡± Martyshkina growled, and Brood Lord gasped as a sword landed on the axe stuck in his armor, sending it deeper. ¡°A single death is too good for you, so the least you can do is give me a little sport as I take away your limbs one by one.¡±


    ¡°If you so insist, dog,¡± came the calm answer.


    The pincers struck the ceiling, collapsing the ceiling. Through the avalanche of stone and steel, Brood Lord dashed forward, his own body pulverizing rubble into dust. The curved sword slashed out in a blinding arc, aiming for Martyshkina¡¯s neck. Janine barely had time to block the incoming blow when his pincer arm struck, snapping close near their bodies.


    Pushing himself into the space between the two warlords, Brood Lord kicked with his legs, cannonballing Marty into a wall and unleashing his full fury on Janine. The battered claymores faced the mighty sword. Sparks flickered in the air, stifled by the sonic booms created by their clashes. Cruel and efficient, Brood Lord brought his pincers to bear, ripping chunks of flesh from Janine¡¯s sides, tearing at her hide, and using the clouding of her wounded eye to his advantage.


    And like a ghost, he disappeared from view, and Janine swung blindly behind her. But he wasn¡¯t there. Brood Lord¡¯s legs hooked into the damaged ceiling, and he scurried toward Martyshkina, nearly cutting her in half with a wide overhead blow. On pure instinct, the warlord dove to the side, losing her collected weapons and earning herself a wide gash across her chest.


    ¡°Warlords, sword saints.¡± The hordemen spat. ¡°Bumps in a road. Stand and be strangled!¡±


    ¡°Now would be a lovely time,¡± whispered a hoarse voice, and everything slowed down. Pieces of rubble barely moved, stillness gripped the waters, and Janine¡¯s blood turned cold as she brushed fingers down her back. ¡°No, stupid girl. Rage, not cold. Rage against the impossible.¡±


    ¡°Nothing is impossible! If you want to punish someone, try me first!¡± Janine roared. Fear tried to creep into her psyche, and she shook it off, embracing adrenaline. ¡°I am the one who took your life!¡±


    ¡°A bit premature, don¡¯t you¡­¡± Brood Lord, thinking she was addressing him, spoke and hissed in annoyance as the damaged claymores impaled the spot where his legs were hooked into the ceiling.


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    The stone gave in, and his body fell straight into Janine¡¯s wide hook. Her working claws failed to penetrate his helmet, but the force of the blow cartwheeled the hordeman away from Martyshkina. A second later, Janine was on top of him, ignoring an elbow that smashed her snout and broke one of her fangs. Slugfest. This close Brood Lord could not use the sword, and the Ice Fangs stopped firing, worried about hitting her. The two of them exchanged blows, pincers and claws raking over bodies, bruises growing, welts appearing, and neither giving in the slightest. Enraged, Janine slammed his bulk against the wall every time Brood Lord tried to shove her aside.


    Brood Lord¡¯s eyes glanced back worriedly when the stone gave in. Janine used this distraction to slip under him as they fell into another tunnel, located at a lower level. Her arms wrapped around the armored waist, and Janine slammed the huge body into the floor, sending an explosion of water upward. A kick that tore through her cheek and a pincer closed around her paw, trying to take it away. Undaunted, Janine headbutted Brood Lord, breaking his nose, and the pincer released her as he inhaled the returning water. In response, the sword¡¯s pommel landed at her poor belly, forcing the warlord to cough, and the second blow with the pommel threw her off him.


    His blows were insane. It was as if she was hammered with by hundreds of pile-drivers simultaneously. Her zygomatic bone cracked under the pressure, and a sizeable bruise bubbled over it immediately. Rarely had Janine fought against an opponent in power armor without her own trusted suit, and today she understood the difference this piece of technology made. She won¡¯t be mocking hostile Normies during the next invasion anymore.


    Next? The thought seemed ridiculous in its certainty that she would survive this battle, yet her heart was pumping, her body wasn¡¯t broken, and the prey was breathing. There was no time to think of peril.


    ¡°Weapon!¡± Janine roared, stepping back while her allies above fired at the advancing Brood Lord, bleeding him. He won¡¯t let her gain distance again.


    ¡°Here, lady!¡± She caught a thrown sword.


    This has got to be a joke. Janine laughed sourly, blocking the foe¡¯s swing with the tiny toothpick. A knight¡¯s sword! It was a mere dagger compared to her height. In a situation where true might was needed. Not even a sage¡¯s glaive, a claymore, or, at the very worst, a shield. Seeing the blades coming against each other and time slowing down, Janine bristled and decided to overcome the inevitable.


    Her dreams weren¡¯t big, but they were precious to her. Janine intended to see Anissa exceed and become a shaman; she wanted to see Ignacy marry his soulmate and help Marco find happiness in life, hopefully convincing him to exile himself and join this weird, white-furred girl of his. She wanted to fight beside Impatient One again, to apologize properly to Soulless One, and hold Bogdan¡¯s cubs again and again. There was also the matter of the politics and the safety of her pack.


    What right do I have to die?


    True, death came for everyone, and sometimes a person lost through no fault of her own. That didn¡¯t mean she had to lie down and take it. Janine heard Marty, knowing full well her friend would be too late to save her again today. The blades collided, and immediately a crack appeared on the knight¡¯s sword, widening rapidly. It won¡¯t hold. Which part of her body should she give to survive the inevitable bite¡­


    Janine was still pondering about the dilemma when the second irises disappeared behind the first, confusing her. Brood Lord jumped, getting away from the circle of light shining down at them, and the warlord glanced up; she saw an angel of death descend, the gigantic claws swatting aside a quick slash aimed at Janine¡¯s nose.


    White, so white that she looked more like a moving alabaster statue than a living being, Warlord Alpha landed heavily, dressed in a tattered orange prison robe that her crimson hair covered like a cape. It was unbearable to stand in her presence; fear oozed from every pore of that titanic body, worming its way into everyone around her, forcing every nightmare to resurface, filling minds with doubts and worries.


    ¡°Alpha,¡± Janine gasped, happy as never before to see her unusual sister.


    ¡°Rest, sister.¡± An elbow blow, more of a gentle tap by the strongest warlord¡¯s standards, nonchalantly flung Janine away.


    Another swing, an almost lazy move, and Brood Lord retreated further, shocked that his attack had been deflected with such childish ease. Alpha opened her maw, spewing white steam, and the hordeman lifted the dented and shortened blade in his hands, crying out in pain as he finally noticed three deep and torn gashes on his chest where his armor had been shaved away.


    ¡°Drozna! Play a tune again, direct it inward this time!¡±


    A roar of fury answered as Brood Lord scuttled back into the tunnel, heading for a large steel platform that hung over a waterfall that cascaded into deep darkness. Alpha strode after him, her long crimson hair flowing freely in the dirty stream, her paw raised in command for everyone to stay behind.


    Several hordemen rushed out of the darkness, taking aim at the pale monstrosity following their master. Alpha didn¡¯t stop. Her form flickered for a moment, and in an instant she was among the hapless fools, goring and biting them. There was no roar, no aggression. The strongest warlord slaughtered six armored opponents with almost mundane movements.


    Lights of the Ice Fangs knights lens illuminated the tunnel, revealing the steel platform overlooking a small waterfall. The familiar clowns and more hordemen emerging from portals were there, guarding Phaser as he scampered around the edges, gesticulating wildly with his claws and sweating profusely. With heavy treads that shook the platform, a muscular beast of a man stepped forward, standing taller than even Brood Lord. His taloned hands grasped the remains of a half-eaten Ice Fang. The poor soul had been chewed to pieces while still clad in armor. Sucking in the entrails, the beast hunched his shoulders, dropping the corpse and flexing his muscles, ballooning arms and legs.


    Drozna¡ªJanine assumed this was who Brood Lord called¡ªgrinned his crimson jaws, and Janine experienced searing rage in her blood, an urgent need to leap at Marty and prove once and for all who was the strongest warlord between them. A vessel popped in her eye at the memory of how Alpha had dared to humiliate and mock her before. And all around her, the others suffered the same effect. Her cousins glared at their fellows; one even spat on the ground.


    ¡°Barbaric filth.¡± A knight captain clenched his knuckles, accompanied by the wheezing sound produced by his power armor. ¡°Had you only been faster, our liege would¡¯ve¡­¡±


    ¡°Be silent, male.¡± Janine had to physically restrain Marty from lunging at the man. The captain drew his pistol, only to have the sage slap it from his paw. ¡°Marty, it¡­¡±


    The rage intensified, bringing back memories of every humiliation, every missed promotion, every injustice, real or imagined, sparking every bitter memory and stoking the bonfire of long-buried grievances. I killed Terrific. Janine looked at her shaking paw. Terrific was the only one who truly gave a shit about her, and she broke her neck! And for what? For some useless, blasted, mewling cubs? For the offspring of the worst people possible?


    I don¡¯t deserve to live. Clarity descended upon her. Several Ice Boys began lifting their blades, nearing their edges closer to necks. What are you waiting for, you coward? Raise your claws, gouge your eyes, and drag your brain out! Do it! It is the least you deserve for¡­¡°


    ¡°Curious,¡± Alpha spoke in a tone resembling grinding gears and unleashed her fear.


    Janine had a close acquaintance with experiencing the fear wave, Alpha¡¯s power. Once, as a cub, she snuck into the general store to steal treats. On her way out, she came face-to-face with Alpha. No claw touched the young and foolish girl on that night, but she still lay in her bed, pissing and crying all night, tormented by the unspeakable horrors that haunted her for a week. Even some of her fur had turned gray. At the end of the week, the shaman in charge of overseeing the cubs came to Alpha, demanding mercy, and the Strongest Warlord showed it, asking young Janine why she did it. Upon receiving the answer, Janine was sent to watch over cusacks for a month, accompanied by Marty, who volunteered to share the punishment, and her fur returned to its lush black color amidst ambushing insectoids. By the end of the month, Alpha had given them double the amount of the very treats Janine had tried to steal, rewarding the girls for honest labor.


    In other instances, the fear wave worked more directly, stopping the hearts of anyone standing in Alpha¡¯s way. But on this day, the fear wave protected them. The anger and self-hatred dissipated, bringing up shameful doubts. Were their crimes truly beyond redemption? If so, how dare they seek an easy way out instead of working to atone until the day they could walk no more? Were their oaths so weak?


    ¡°No!¡± An Ice Fang roared. ¡°We will fight!¡±


    ¡°Wise words, brother.¡± Martyshkina patted him on the shoulder and blinked away tears. ¡°That wasn¡¯t very nice. I usually cry after a bottle¡­¡±


    ¡°Just one? Pathetic.¡± Janine teased and received a hard slap.


    ¡°Curious indeed.¡± Brood Lord pushed past Drozna, guiding him back to the platform with one arm, and Alpha walked toward them. His surviving troops shuddered; even the assassins were uncomfortable, but no one died of fright. ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered what happens when the brainwaves of two emotion manipulators interfere with each other. It seems that they cancel each other out. Thank thee, the Foolish Warlord.¡± Brood Lord bowed mockingly, hiding his nervousness, but his skin paled. ¡°You gave me useful knowledge. Now I know who will hunt you down.¡±


    ¡°What good is knowing the answer if you are dead?¡± Alpha laughed.


    ¡°Let me eat her,¡± Drozna rasped, spewing out a paw. ¡°I can take her. I know I can!¡±


    ¡°No doubt, but more roaches are closing in, and we have had enough thrills for one day, my friend. I had hoped to bring Janine¡¯s broken carcass along, but alas. No matter, we will meet again soon enough, my dears. Phaser, open it now!¡± Brood Lord commanded.


    Alpha charged at them, and Drozna met her halfway. Giant claws slashed, leaving deep gashes in the man¡¯s arms, and his talons returned the favor, bleeding the warlord¡¯s arms. Alpha pushed her opponent back, ignoring the hordemen¡¯s shots. She was about to close her jaws on Drozna¡¯s shoulder when the giant stomped and Janine yelled a warning. The platform shook, coming off the wall with a screeching sound of tearing metal and falling stones. Janine rushed to the edge, just in time to see the structure collapse into a much larger crack in reality, which led to a vast field in an unknown rocky land. Alpha stopped calmly beside Janine, hungrily looking down.


    ¡°Hope he picks an interesting one,¡± she said.


    Janine faced her. How could she? So many civilians, so many cubs, their cousins, and finally their own soldiers have perished today. And this¡­ This monster only thinks about the thrill of an individual duel?


    Calm yourself. Alpha has saved your life. The strongest warlord has her own ways. Janine chastised herself.


    ¡°Gather up!¡± Janine snapped. ¡°We have wounds to lick and preparations to make. Secure the injured.¡± She saw shame in the Ice Boys¡¯ faces and added warmth to her tone. ¡°Lift your heads, my kin. Marty and I also succumbed to the mental assault, and yet you endured it far longer than we did. Be proud and act, for we have work to do!¡± She hoped it would soothe their souls; the Spirits know it was Tancred¡¯s foolishness that led to these losses, not theirs. Damn it, why was it forbidden to use claws to motivate her feeble kin? Nothing cheered up soldiers¡¯ souls like a proper brawl. Drinks helped too, but not everyone liked them. ¡°The foe dared to assault our city! Death and destruction have been brought to our land! Will we stand and take it?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± The Ice Fangs roared.


    ¡°Damn right, we won¡¯t. We are not priests to show another chin! Their leadership we¡¯ll slay and topple their nation, and reclaim their people for the Dynast ahead of the Second and the First! Nothing is forgiven; every grievance is awaiting to be repaid, but the living are more important than the dead!¡± Janine raised a paw and clenched it. ¡°Let their hearts beat. For now. Assist in restoring the order and saving citizens entrusted to our care. Then,¡± she bared her fangs, ¡°we¡¯ll hunt them to the edge of the world and see their spines broken against our knees. Vengeance and honor!¡±


    ¡°Ice and heat!¡± It wasn¡¯t something she had taught them. She had never heard such a cry before, but accepted it anyway, glad to be accepted as kin.


    ¡°Shall I call you Sword Saint now?¡± Martyshkina whispered. ¡°Milady Janine Ironwill. Sounds cool, won¡¯t lie.¡±


    ¡°Screw you,¡± coughed Janine, imagining the horror. She didn¡¯t take over the Ice Fangs¡¯ pack, right? Things don¡¯t work that way in the order¡­ she hoped.


    ¡°Oh, Lady Janine, I never knew this side of yours! Unfortunately, I can¡¯t return your feelings; I¡¯m into males¡­¡±


    ¡°Marty, I¡¯ll murder you if you don¡¯t stop!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll try,¡± Martyshkina stated arrogantly.


    ¡°Where is Sword Saint Tancred?¡± Alpha demanded to know.


    ¡°Dead,¡± Janine replied sorrowfully.


    ¡°Understood, sweet lady.¡± Alpha bowed her head in a brief show of comradeship. ¡°Find his remains and retrieve his weapon. I have answers to find.¡± She reached out for a dead hordeman.

 Chapter 79: Duty and Prejudice

    I just wanted to watch a movie. Gamma-18 panicked, lying flat on his belly on the main road leading to the nearest shelter. The day had started excellently; his brother praised the prepared breakfast, which, in hindsight, was already a portent of an incredible ominous event to come. Beta-18 never appreciated his brother¡¯s efforts to introduce him to proper cuisine, preferring to gorge himself on bags of chips and throwing darts at Zurkov¡¯s photo in an attempt to curse the misguided individual.


    Their business was booming thanks to Social Services, who gave their small center a sum eclipsing their annual earnings just to treat the Wolfkins for free, and the twins couldn¡¯t be happier about it. Seeing a steady line of soldiers waiting for their turn outside, more customers had dared to venture into their humble establishment, and Gamma-18 cut two hours from his sleep, baking foods for the visitors, until Beta-18 told him to cut it off and replaced him at a stove. Two Orais had a word with the protesters, and since then there had been no disturbances outside their parlor.


    Life was changing for the better, and Gamma-18 had decided to celebrate such an occasion by visiting a cinema, convincing himself that he could stand the bigots shouting about him being non-human. It was a necessary obstacle to overcome if he wanted to work in a military hospital. Beta-18 wasn¡¯t always going to be at his side to protect and support him. No one screamed at him in the cinema, but rather many screamed with him when the terrorists attacked.


    If it hadn¡¯t been for that brave Wolfkin, they¡¯d have been dead by now, because the door outside was jammed. The brave woman shielded them long enough for Gamma-18 to get close to the jammed door and knock it off, along with part of the wall. Outside was no better; it was as if the entire city had gone mad. Quakes, billboards exploding, the ground erupting, cars driving over people¡­


    Houstad wasn¡¯t supposed to be like this. It was a civilized place, where Gamma-18 hoped to build a comfortable life for Beta-18. Here, police responded to calls and arrived quickly, ready to help anyone, regardless of background, and social workers regularly visited their massage parlor and assisted the bioweapons in adjusting and filling out paperwork.


    Gamma-18 came to love this city, and so he tried his best to keep everyone safe. His skin was tough enough to mostly ignore shards of glass and pieces of metal, and the occasional cut was nothing to fret about. But the familiar streets had changed; crashed vehicles and fallen buildings clogged the streets, and fires raged in the alleys. Dead, shot and trampled, blanketed the ground, and the stench of urine, gas, and burning bodies was nauseating. Thick smoke made orientation difficult. Navigation through the network wasn¡¯t working. But when all hope seemed lost, unusual drones swooped in, beaming an updated map of Houstad, and a confident voice from Mayor Jaquan and Wolfkin Kirk gave them strength to fight the fear.


    ¡°I¡­ sorry,¡± said a lanky kid in a leather jacket, holding an unconscious girl close to his chest. The child had tried to bite and scratch her out of the blue, then lost her conscience after headbutting a hardy Orais¡¯ knuckle. Several people succumbed to a strange bloodlust and had to be tied up or knocked out for their safety.


    ¡°Hm?¡± Gamma-18 inquired nervously, arching his eyestalks under his head. They took forever to regenerate, and several scalds from overheated metal already adorned his head. He wasn¡¯t the only New Breed helping to keep everyone safe, and an Orais distributed them evenly around the line, giving the bioweapon the hardest area.


    ¡°About yelling at you to fuck off from Houstad.¡± The kid swallowed, his eyes red, soot and scratches covering his face. ¡°We thought¡­ it seems so bullshit now... we thought your kind lured humans and ate them, like the rest of the bioweapons. We¡­ I didn¡¯t¡­ Sorry. About everything.¡±


    ¡°No, I much prefer meat borscht. Beef brisket on the bone, thin strips of beef, pork ribs, chicken if I can¡¯t afford pork. And no sour cream! Mhhhmmm¡­ Heavenly!¡± Gamma-18 grumbled, using pleasant memories to combat the horror and keep moving.


    He recognized the young man; his ass was throwing rotten fruits at their building. He had half of a mind to tell him everything he was thinking about his ilk, how stressful it was for the poor Beta-18 and how Gamma-18 had to budget their expenses, often cutting back on food because those lousy nits were scaring away clients, but who would this help? And it felt too hollow and childish to hold a grudge in the face of the carnage.


    ¡°Let¡¯s forget the past,¡± Gamma-18 sighed. ¡°Tell you what, sir, come visit us for a few sessions and we¡¯ll call it even. First time free!¡±


    Bio-weapons did indeed have a terrible reputation, to the point that they were hated in many lesser countries more than even Malformed. It wasn¡¯t entirely undeserved. When the Old World was dying, hordes of creatures were unleashed from the secret laboratories, murdering entire cities. Gamma-18 and his brother were of a more enlightened sort, and after being cleared by the specialists at the Investigation Bureau, they opted into a program designed to rehabilitate the public perception of their kind. It didn¡¯t involve any work; all they had to do was live their lives without breaking the law, so the government could later point to them and say that bioweapons were exactly the same as everyone else.


    ¡°You treat Normies too?¡± The kid glanced at him.


    ¡°Our specialty lies in massaging New Breeds.¡± Gamma-18 beaten aside a rock that was falling on a woman nearby and began to explain enthusiastically. ¡°You see, it is natural that very few specialists work with New Breeds¡¯ bodies¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it. Why is it natural?¡± the kid asked.


    ¡°Multitude different body types.¡± Gamma-18 pressed a hand to his own chest. ¡°I lack a heart. Not emotionally speaking, but physically. Orais evolved to have hardy, rough hides, almost impervious to conventional kitchen knives.¡±


    ¡°Impervious!¡± boasted an Orais knuckle-walking in the middle of the group.


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°If you say so, sir,¡± Gamma-18 agreed. ¡°Several of our clients¡¯ organs are in constant flux. Imagine a brain migrating through the body on its own. There are also chitin plates of Insectones and sub-dermal exoskeletons of Wolfkins. Or poison spikes, intense heat, or, the rarest of my career, a brain radiating unnatural fear. Each requires a unique approach. My dearest brother and I have aced that mastery.¡± He stopped; the worry about Beta-18 spread like the sharpest needles piercing his chest.


    ¡°He should be okay,¡± the kid tried to cheer him up. ¡°It can¡¯t be that bad everywhere, right?¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Gamma-18 said honestly. ¡°Regardless, Normies¡¯ and human-shaped New Breeds¡¯ bodies lack complexity for the lack of a better term. It doesn¡¯t take as much time to learn their inner workings and how much pressure to apply for a proper relaxation session. Don¡¯t take it as an insult.¡±


    ¡°None taken,¡± the kid chuckled. ¡°You are passionate about your work, mister¡­¡±


    ¡°Just call me Gamma-18, sir, and of course I am. I take tremendous pride in my craft.¡±


    ¡°Where is your center, again?¡± asked a blonde woman.


    Gamma-18 gladly began to explain, advertising their humble services to the best of his ability and trying to further pique the crowd¡¯s interest with an offer of perfectly baked homemade treats. It was a little distasteful to be involved in a potential business discussion in the current situation, but none of the inhumane things happening today were his doing, and Beta-18 insisted that Gamma-18 needed to socialize more. Besides, a pleasant conversation helped the group forget about the deadly dangers around them.


    When they almost reached the bunker, a rocket struck a building on the side of the road, showering a rain of destruction down at them. Gamma-18 reacted far faster than ever before. Twenty of his arms pushed those closest to him into the safety of the Orais¡¯ embrace; ten more pulled those behind him into the safety of his expanding body. He had never imagined himself capable of such speed and reaction. Less than a second ago, he was engaged in a pleasant conversation with his newfound friends, and the next, his body was moving on its own, knowing exactly what to do to save lives.


    The building collapsed, dropping its heavy weight on Gamma-18¡¯s back as he did his best to spread himself out over the trapped people, trying to lift tons of stone. It wasn¡¯t easy; he and his brother preferred columnar shapes for a reason, but it wasn¡¯t impossible.


    His eyes spotted trembling pebbles, and he heard stomping feet approaching. Gamma-18¡¯s hope that they were rescuers soon turned to fear as a one-armed terrorist emerged from the billowing clouds of smoke, letting go of a rocket launcher. His armor was shredded by claws and firearms, blood gushed from a stump of his arm, an eye was missing, but he giggled half madly and reached for an oversized rifle strapped to his belt.


    ¡°If... if you... s-surrender, I promise to arrange for your survival!¡± Gamma-18 tried to offer, but the armored giant spat something in an unknown language and aimed his weapon at his head. He repeated his offer in other languages, screaming desperately, but nothing helped. ¡°Beta-18. You are the best brother ever...¡± Gamma-18 whispered, awaiting a shot.


    A click of an empty gun startled the terrorist and saved Gamma-18¡¯s life. A figure in green riot gear burst through the smoke and struck the helmeted head with the buttstock of his shotgun. The strike produced a thud and did little else, and the terrorist began moving his own rifle when a stun baton¡¯s tip landed straight in the gaping wound of the missing arm. Yells filled the street, and the larger opponent recoiled, trying to retreat as the officer continued frying him. A headbutt to the face cracked the officer¡¯s helmet, and a strand of white hair showed through the crack.


    Zurkov, Gamma-18 couldn¡¯t believe it was him, rammed his empty shotgun against the faceplate of his opponent, shattering the visor and sending razor-sharp shards of reinforced glass into his eye socket. With a roar, the terrorist let go of his rifle, wincing and convulsing from the electric shock coursing through his body. He rammed a knee into Zurkov¡¯s stomach, bending the man over, and added a heavy blow from above, denting the armor.


    ¡°Bastard.¡± Zurkov¡¯s hand closed on the dropped rifle, and he leveled it at the giant¡¯s crotch. ¡°Drop dead already!¡±


    Bullets hurled the screaming terrorist against the building. New holes appeared all over his armor; he tried to put a hand over his face, screaming in a foreign language, but the officer was merciless, emptying the entire magazine. Swaying like a drunkard, Zurkov rose to his feet, kicked the larger body to see if it was dead, and picked up his weapons.


    ¡°Citizen, you are alive; stay still, everything is going to be okay; help is close by¡­¡± Zurkov stopped, reloading his shotgun, and recognition crept across his face. ¡°Freak,¡± he hissed. ¡°So many people have died and your soulless kind is still alive¡­¡± The shotgun shook in his hands, frightening Gamma-18, but then the officer secured it to his belt and knelt, trying to push the rubble up. Through the cracks in Zurkov¡¯s helmet, Gamma-18 saw a bruise swollen around his eye and blood streaks across his face. ¡°My armor is damaged and malfunctioning, and I am not a New Breed,¡± he said, face red from exertion. ¡°Might be a tad uncomfortable, but you should¡­¡±


    ¡°God bless you, Zurkov!¡± Gamma-18 laughed. Live, live, he was going to live! He¡¯d have to ask Beta-18 to stop trying to curse this bizarre officer. Gamma-18 placed his hands on the ground and strained himself, raising the rubble. ¡°Just you wait, I will give you a monthly¡­ no, a lifetime subscription!¡±


    ¡°What¡­ How did you?¡± Zurkov¡¯s shock didn¡¯t last long, and he immediately grabbed the unconscious people under Gamma-18 and dragged them to safety, one by one. Only then did the bioweapon slip out from under the rubble and wrap his arms around the officer. ¡°Let go of me, creep! Don¡¯t you defile God by mentioning him with your abominable mouth!¡± Zurkov struggled in vain against the embrace.


    Gamma-18 let go of him as other officers emerged from the smoke to check the civilians¡¯ pulses and help them wake up. The bioweapons refused medical aid, pointing to a closing burn on his shoulder.


    ¡°Neat.¡± Zurkov shrugged. ¡°My men found the rest of your group and escorted them to the shelter. You best follow them. It isn¡¯t safe¡­¡±


    ¡°Sir! More wounded!¡± An officer yelled, trying to remove a steel plate from the collapsed building. Another officer held his hand over the wrist of a pale arm visible from underneath the rubble.


    ¡°Stop it,¡± Zurkov commanded. ¡°None of us will lift this. You two lead the civilians to safety. I¡¯ll report to the command¡­¡±


    ¡°I can help!¡± Gamma-18 eagerly volunteered, thrusting his hands under the plate. There they stuck to the surface, and the bioweapon lifted the plate vertically so the officers could crawl underneath and get the wounded out. ¡°If you need help with the heavy lifting, I am ready! Just please call my brother and ask if he is okay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do it right away, and you are heading to the shelter,¡± Zurkov said.


    ¡°Sir, we could really use extra help,¡± a police officer said.


    ¡°It¡­ He is a civilian,¡± Zurkov snapped. ¡°We do not endanger civilians, Jane.¡±


    ¡°Not unless they volunteer to help, sir!¡± She saluted. ¡°Please. There are not enough hands to help the trapped, and our military is still fighting. Every second counts. Lives are at stake.¡±


    ¡°So we should put others¡­¡± Zurkov shook his head and clenched his fist. ¡°Fine. Beta-18, right?¡±


    ¡°Gamma-18, actually!¡± Gamma-18 corrected him.


    ¡°Yeah, understood. I hereby accept your assistance, and on behalf of Houstad, thank you for this generous offer. Stay behind us; don¡¯t even dare to peek until we secure the area and give you permission¡­¡±

 Chapter 80: Unfair Decisions

    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Do we know who attacked us?¡±


    ¡°Mayor, why have we lost contact with the villages and towns in the southwest?¡±


    Kirk stood steadily, dressed in an unusually pristine white uniform of an Ice Fang; several medals adorned his chest reflected flashes of the reporters¡¯ equipment. A sash in the Third¡¯s colors draped diagonally across his torso, and around his neck was his family¡¯s tribal necklace. Dressed like a parade, Kirk felt ridiculous.


    Mayor Jaquan was beside him. The man¡¯s jacket puffed out from the body armor underneath, and his typically black face paled. Despite the shock of the failed assassination attempt, he held himself with dignity, summoning an evacuation council as soon as the order came from Dragena. He invited reporters to a brief press conference, smoothly taking over from Kirk, but kept the young man close at hand.


    They gathered in the damaged city hall; a screen of reinforced windows separated them from the busy shouts of city workers and army personnel overseeing the evacuation procedures.


    ¡°As of right now, we know the following.¡± Jaquan raised a hand to calm the anxious crowd. ¡°An unknown nation has carried out a heinous act of terrorism in our noble city. Thanks to the valiant efforts of the Third, the attackers were repelled, and their cursed remains now crackle in the incinerators. Safety and order have once again been restored to our streets.¡±


    ¡°Then why is the need for evacuation?¡± asked a reporter. ¡°And where is Sword Saint Tancred? Shouldn¡¯t he be overseeing the safety of the citizens?¡±


    ¡°There has been an invasion of our lands, and the sword saints and warlords are busy preparing defenses to face and vanquish the Horde,¡± Jaquan lied without blinking. Tancred was dead, but to maintain morale, the news of his demise was kept from the populace.


    ¡°War is coming to Houstad?!¡± the reporter gasped.


    ¡°Where is Commander Ravager?¡± demanded another.


    ¡°This evacuation is merely a precaution to ensure the safety of our people. The Dynast has endowed Dragena with the authority to make decisions in this matter, and I fully support her course of action.¡± Jaquan placed a hand on his chest. ¡°We knew of the dangers lurking beyond the Wall.¡± Genuine pain flashed across his face, and Kirk thought the Mayor¡¯s resolve wavered for a moment. But he regained his composure and continued. ¡°Houstad endured war before. She will do so again. The Second is coming, and the Dynast himself has promised to be here sooner. I see your worries about the economy in your faces, and I understand and share them sincerely. But lives are more important, and material losses can be compensated in due time. Commander Ravager is regrettably indisposed. She has left for healing meditation¡­¡±


    ¡°Damn protesters!¡± roared a burly man whose face was covered in recent cuts. ¡°Their venom drove her away. If she were here, nothing would have happened! My sister died because of¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough!¡± Kirk slammed his paw against the podium, silencing potential disorder. ¡°Every soul has the right to air their grievances to the Blessed Mother. Those ¡®damned protesters¡¯ risked their necks and saved lives today. No, the commander had a reason. In her place, her daughters and sons and the entire Third bleed for you. Dare not insult our sacrifices through misplaced blame. The invaders are guilty, and no one else! Sir,¡± he added in a warmer tone, worried that he was overstepping his bounds.


    Spirits know why Warlord Dragena, on the recommendation of Warlord Janine, put him in charge of communication with the locals. He was supposed to represent both the tribe and the Order, hence the ridiculous attire and a sudden authority dangerously close to that of his sister. But he wasn¡¯t a diplomat! To be honest, he agreed with the poor man. What kind of parent was absent to protect their offspring? And the Blessed Mother is an avatar of the gods themselves; what right does she have not to be there in their hour of need? His own mom and dad, Spirit of Sorrow, please watch over them, fought to their last, giving their lives for the betterment of everyone, no matter what the bitch may believe.


    But he couldn¡¯t let grievances turn into calls for violence. Sure, he¡¯d have liked to give those fools who protested the presence of the Third and called them monsters a kick in their collective guts, but their lives were in his care. It was his duty to protect every soul in Houstad.


    ¡°The hero of Houstad reminds us of what is important,¡± Jaquan said passionately, placing a hand on Kirk¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Our adversaries expect us to fear and fight among ourselves. I say nay! The Reclamation Army has always triumphed over barbarism, and this time will be no different!¡± He raised a fist overhead. ¡°For the duration of this crisis, please report only information from official sources and help guide citizens to evacuation zones. Do you wish to add anything, hero?¡± Jaquan looked at him, prompting Kirk to speak up.


    ¡°I am no hero¡­¡± Kirk began, irritated by this stupid nickname. A hero would never have stood by and watched the bitch beating his sister and brother. ¡°Others have done far more than¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s full of shit!¡± the yell frozen him.


    Kalaisa. She stepped closer to the crowd; through the unzipped jacket, he could see the bandage covering her split chest. His sister and brother hastened to her, but the wolf hag snapped her fingers. Kirk bit his lower lip, preparing to be destroyed as she lacerated him first with words and then with her actions.


    ¡°Done more, so what?¡± she asked haughtily. ¡°Was it not Kirk who first took action against the robbers? Was it not he who drew the first blood and saved a cub? Where others stood, he acted and set an example! If that¡¯s not what a fantastic hero is, I don¡¯t know, buy some glasses or something.¡±


    ¡°True!¡± Jaquan supported the lie, and the reporters joined in the applause. ¡°Your humility is inspiring, Kirk of the Wolf Tribe, but by your actions you earned the right to the title.¡±


    ¡°Thank¡­ you,¡± Kirk forced the words out, struggling against the urge to shake. Composure¡ªhe needed to look confident in front of the cameras. ¡°Many of you may consider me a barbarian.¡± He grinned. ¡°And I am one. But the Core Lands, the life you have built here... It is worth fighting for. Our enemies seek to trample it underfoot. They will fall and scream in agony of despair as our claws drag them into the Abyss. This I promise to you. You heard the spiteful, taunting gibberish of our enemies. They know that in our unity we surpass anything they can throw at us, so they seek to sow despair in your hearts. Deny them that. Remain rational, help your fellows in need, and if you are able, volunteer to join rescue or evacuation teams.¡±


    His brother approached Kalaisa and put a paw on her shoulder, and the two exchanged friendly congratulations on their survival before she turned to him and playfully stuck out her tongue, storming past his sister to the exit. Is she thinking this is it? The rage boiled in Kirk, overwhelming even his fear. Was this another cruel prank of hers, to raise his expectations before the bitch would drag him through the mud? Or did she truly believe that he had forgiven her for the hell she had put them through, for the shattered trust and the torment she had caused them after she had supported him once? He will never, ever forgive her. Kalaisa could rot for all he cared.


    It stung just to think that his dear brother had let go of the hatred, and the sight of common distaste instead of disgust and distrust in his sister¡¯s eyes infuriated Kirk. How dare they let go¡­ He inhaled and waved his paw at the reporters like the obedient puppet he was. Sacrifice. The demands came in many forms, and right now, he had to show solidarity and courage, not wanton aggression.


    ¡°Elizabeth Macbeth of the Sights Unseen.¡± A reporter raised her hand. She had an ugly, barely stitched, torn gash on her cheek and used her companion to stand upright, but her voice was clear and inquisitive. ¡°Our viewers and camera footage had shown that the madmen had used portals to enter Houstad. Do we know if Eugenia Mylli is involved, and what guarantees do we have that there won¡¯t be another attack in the middle of the evacuation?¡±


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    ¡°Eugenia Mylli.¡± Kirk¡¯s features changed into a frown. Rage, pure desire to rip and tear that shocked him, had sparked in his chest. He had never met the Elite; his family line had never had any quarrel with her, and yet a single name evoked the urge to rip and tear. He coughed, buying himself time to calm down. ¡°The Redeemer,¡± using her title, helped stave off aggression, ¡°is not involved. I can swear to that. If not for Iternian assistance, the losses would be greater today. As for methods of protection¡­¡± he turned to Jaquan.


    ¡°Several disruptor types of the New Breeds left their posts at the terraformation complex and joined crucial points of Houstad¡¯s defense.¡± Jaquan waited for murmurs to subside. ¡°I assure you that the complex¡¯s defenses have not been compromised in the slightest. Anyone attempting to open a portal into Houstad is in for an unpleasant surprise.¡±


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t such methods been used before?¡± Elizabeth refused to let the mayor off the hook.


    ¡°Lack of specialized New Breeds, Elizabeth. Our disruptors must to be conscious to use their powers, and while they can stay awake for the duration of the evacuation process thanks to the medication, prolonging that time for everyday activities is simply not sustainable for their health,¡± Jaquan answered. He raised a hand, stopping further questions when a figure in a tattered green suit limped into the hall, stomping heavily with his sole working leg. ¡°Commissioner Zurkov! Glad you managed to make it. What news from the streets?¡±


    Zurkov stopped; his swollen lips began forming a retort, but then he shook his head, wiping sweat from his brows. ¡°There are no more shootings in suburbs. Food rations and water bottles are being distributed, medics are working overtime. Help came from the most unlikely sources: Oathtakers, Iternians, who still deny it, migrant workers, and Bioweapon Gamma-18 saved lives.¡±


    ¡°Even a bioweapon! What a joy to hear it! With allies such as these contributing to the common cause, what right do we have to falter? Now, ladies and gentlemen, I must adjourn this meeting. Immediate duties demand my undivided attention.¡± Jaquan and Kirk left the podium, and the mayor took Zurkov¡¯s arm and led the man into their unusual operations center.


    Doors slid behind them, cutting off the din of reporters¡¯ questions and introducing the noise of working crews. Wolf Hag Sarkeesian, representative of the Alpha Pack and chief overseer of the evacuation, glared at the arguing crew of people trying to solve the complex puzzle of completely emptying Houstad within a week. In the face of the crisis, Jaquan invited even the most unsavory characters. Crude and foul-mouthed criminals of Houstad¡¯s underworld shared tables and workstations with dignified and serious corporate operators.


    ¡°Zone EF, sector five, bridge vermin¡­¡± An operator from Murzaliev Logistics cringed from the name, ¡°haven¡¯t reported in yet. Reasons?¡±


    ¡°Oh, they probably got lost playing somewhere. You know how kids are¡­¡± began a ragged woman who reeked of alcohol.


    The operator snapped his fingers, and a blade appeared near the grimy neck as a figure in dented silver armor towered over the recruited criminal. ¡°Answer. Please.¡±


    ¡°Hehe, they call us cutthroats, and here you are going straight for the jugular.¡± The woman exhaled a puff of smoke. ¡°There¡¯s a cache I¡¯d like to retrieve.¡±


    ¡°I will not have my subordinates taint my reputation by falling behind the schedule. Call them back immediately and tell them to take a shower and then change into their uniforms before getting on the truck.¡±


    ¡°The hell do they need a shower and uniforms for?¡±


    ¡°Just because we are refugees doesn¡¯t mean my subordinates can afford to look unpresentable.¡± The man adjusted his tie.


    ¡°We are not your subordinates!¡± the woman snapped.


    ¡°It¡¯s either that or a prison sentence afterwards,¡± the corporate operator checked his watch.


    ¡°You drive a hard bargain,¡± the criminal grumbled. ¡°Fine. Are we at least getting paid?¡±


    ¡°Was that in your contract?¡± the corporate operator and raised a finger, stopping the furious outburst. ¡°If not, our lawyers can renegotiate it later. Soon you understand that Murzaliev Logistics is not without its advantages. Or punishments should you try to return to your former lifestyle.¡±


    ¡°Your knee.¡± Maxence, who had temporarily assumed the responsibilities of Chief Medical Advisor after the former and his second were killed in the attack, rose from the table and approached Zurkov.


    ¡°Torn cartilage.¡± Zurkov shrugged, and Maxence shoved him into a chair.


    ¡°You may lose your leg, oaf.¡± The doctor deftly began removing the armor.


    ¡°Far less than many have lost today.¡± The commissioner sneered.


    ¡°Everyone, everyone, we are supposed to be a team,¡± Jaquan pleaded. ¡°What pressing problems remain to be solved?¡±


    ¡°Wounded,¡± Maxence replied, cursing at the sight of a swollen leg. ¡°We¡¯ve got people in the ICU and babies in the NICU. Over a thousand people. They will die in transit.¡±


    ¡°Tough,¡± Sarkeesian said casually. ¡°They¡¯re getting into the trucks, regardless.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you heard what I said?¡± Maxence snapped. ¡°Our patients won¡¯t survive without care. Mayor, I suggest we leave a skeleton crew behind to tend to those who need emergency care. Our hospitals are built like fortresses; we should be able to survive¡­¡±


    ¡°Nah, not satisfactory enough,¡± Sarkeesian interrupted him. ¡°You¡¯ve seen the bastards in action. If their horde spills out into the streets, they and the patients die. Can¡¯t risk that. Into the trucks they go. Only the military will stay in town, and they won¡¯t have time to check the hospitals.¡±


    ¡°What if¡­¡± Kirk almost shuddered under the wolf hag¡¯s gaze, but forced himself to speak, anyway. Memories of the lack of doctors in the Outer Lands burned brightly in his head, and Sarkeesian was absolutely right to want to preserve their lives. But there was a middle ground. ¡°What if we ask Till Ingo and our scientists and engineers to devise safer means of transportation and send the medics away in the final phase of the evacuation?¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t be able to accommodate everyone,¡± Maxence said quietly.


    ¡°It¡¯s still better than nothing. Thanks for the quick thinking, Kirk,¡± Jaquan praised him, and Sarkeesian nodded in concession. ¡°What¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°Citizens are complaining about our decision to send seniors in the last wave. They are afraid we¡¯re leaving our elderly behind,¡± the corporate operator reported.


    ¡°I hate it,¡± Jaquan admitted. ¡°But the youth is our future.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d better not put it that way, sir, to avoid an uproar,¡± advised his secretary.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± the mayor sighed. ¡°Contact the veterans and public servants in the retirement homes, please. Find me people who are willing to make an encouraging speech in support of our decision. I myself will stay until the very end to lend gravitas to this action. Next?¡±


    ¡°I heard about the Families that run the criminal underworld.¡± Kirk raised his paw hesitantly. ¡°Why are they not present here? Surely, we can use their resources.¡±


    ¡°Already in use,¡± stated the quiet man in silver armor. ¡°There was an accident that claimed the lives of their leadership, and the lower ranks immediately offered us any help possible.¡± He tapped his scabbard, ignoring Zurkov¡¯s intense look at him and the mayor. ¡°The former members of the Assassins¡¯ Guild will join the defenders. On one condition. Those of us who have or adopted children are to be evacuated.¡±


    ¡°A volunteer named Sitota wished to join the army, Reaper,¡± said a soldier of the Provincial Army. ¡°Based on her bio, she is the mother hen of many orphans.¡±


    ¡°No need to deny her request. Assign Sitota to guard the refugees on the road to Stormfiend,¡± the assassin suggested. ¡°She and the others have finally surpassed me where it counts. I won¡¯t let them die here.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Jaquan agreed. ¡°Anything else we need to decide?¡±


    ¡°Yes, and it is urgent!¡± A nervous Ice Fang in a strict business suit sprang from her seat. A badge on her chest identified her as the Chief Cultural Advisor. ¡°There has been a terrible, unforgivable misunderstanding. My department was ordered to abandon priceless museum exhibits and cultural relics from the temples, including texts dating their existence back to the pre-Extinction era, in favor of evacuating animals and plants from the zoos and corporate prototypes! Plants!¡± She spat in disgust. ¡°Mayor, this is our... No, mankind¡¯s history we are talking about! Statues, paintings, works of art! We can¡¯t sacrifice them to mangy beasts and useless flowers!¡±


    ¡°Are the texts digitized? Do we have photos of the objects?¡± Kirk inquired ahead of Sarkeesian¡¯s sharp reply.


    He wasn¡¯t sure what ¡®zoos¡¯ were, but he didn¡¯t need to hear the explanation for rescuing animals. Houstad was one of the major genetic engineering centers responsible for reintroducing extinct wildlife species into the environment. The cost of reinventing and improving these templates was astronomical. As for the corporate prototypes, the woman was wise not to argue against them. Technology was paramount to progress, and schematics were rarely trusted on the Net.


    ¡°Most of them, but¡­¡±


    ¡°Then they are not lost and can be rebuilt later,¡± Kirk assured her. ¡°Leave them behind and¡­¡± he turned to Sarkeesian and took off his necklace, handing it to her. It was made from the bones of his mother and father, but they would want it. He hoped. ¡°Can you ask our shamans to add our own relics to the museum so the civilians won¡¯t feel like we¡¯re cheating them by saving our sacred symbols? The shamans will probably resist the idea, though.¡±


    ¡°They can try.¡± Sarkeesian opened her maw, and her drills whirled inside. ¡°The strong command, the weak obey.¡±


    ¡°You cannot recreate the marvels of the past!¡± The cultural advisor exploded. ¡°If it were that easy, it would have been done by now! You need soul, passion, talent... These objects have inspired generations of artists and given hope to countless thousands! It¡¯s our heritage, our responsibility to preserve them¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sister,¡± Sarkeesian said in a softer tone, giving the woman an encouraging pat on the stomach. ¡°The Third is here, and the city has not yet fallen. Tell you what, I¡¯ll do my best to protect it, and you give me a tour when the war is over. Promise?¡±


    ¡°S-sure, but you don¡¯t know if you¡¯ll win¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t know? The state always wins! And I am hungry for battle, sister.¡± Sarkeesian¡¯s eyes flashed with anticipation.

 Chapter 81: Anjis Secret

    Anji floated across a sea of utter void. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes on any source of light but failing to find any. Turning her head left and right had made thick and disgusting oily liquid pour into her ears, but not a single splash accompanied it. Control of her body below her neck was gone, and even moving a finger was an impossible task. Fear crept into her as the water soaked her fur, weighing to begin sinking her body.


    ¡°Anyone!¡± she tried to scream, but no sound escaped her parched lips. Not a groan, not a whisper, not even a breath.


    Stillness. A perfect silence enveloped her. Am I in the Abyss? Anji wondered. The Abyss, the place where all sinners of the Wolf Tribe go after their demise. Oathbreakers, cub-slayers, incompetents, faithless, and cowards headed straight to its fiery and cold depths to suffer unimaginable tortures and endure lifetimes of torment before the Spirits allowed them to be reborn, tempered and wiser than before.


    It felt¡­ unfair to be here. Anji was still young and cubless; she chatted with Mom and Dad this morning, exchanging latest gossips, telling them farewells, and she was sure that she had done nothing to deserve to be here. Dad always taught her to treat others as she would have them treat her, and Anji lived by that rule, never harming a male in her life. Perhaps the spirits punished her for not stopping the dominations in her pack? But they were the ones who created them in the first place!


    No, it had to be something else, and her mind wandered, searching for a reason. She always tried to befriend and help everyone. Big or small, she refused no plea for help. Whether it was bandits holding someone hostage or a need for tokens, she gave it her all, Normie or kin. It was a bit tedious at times and left her with dozens of scars marring her once-beautiful body, but the reward was well worth it. Joy of mothers reunited with their cubs. A gleam of hope in downtrodden eyes. Well, and friends. Tons and tons of them, all over the Outer Lands.


    Maybe this is it! Vanity! She always prided herself on being perfection incarnate, never mopping in the darkness. That, and she dyed her hair. Changing her natural appearance must¡¯ve angered the Spirits. Yes, this is it. Anji decided, looking around. Shamans told tales of the Abyss as a place of brimstone and fierce rage, or absolute cold, where the guilty were strung up in iron frames, their limbs stretched ad infinitum, cruel rusty blades piercing their regrowing skin and organs, and a firm grip on the conscience of the guilty denied them escape into madness.


    Instead, the Abyss was far more insidious. The threat of drowning accompanied by utter silence. Anji enjoyed laughter and needed companionship. Never since her very birth, since her dear brother died, had she been alone. There was always someone by her side to keep her company. Could this be her sin? Could it be that she helped others not out of the goodness of her heart, not as a decent person, but as a frightened hypocrite, a coward unable to bear the thought of being all alone? Was that it? Was that all she was?


    Well, the shamans spoke true about one thing. Helplessness. The true nature of the Abyss, an ultimate torment. No matter what you do, no matter how strong you were, here and for decades to come, you will be helpless, hearing only your thoughts, and even they will vanish in time, swallowed by silence¡­


    ¡°No!¡± Anji screamed, opening her eyes to the white light on the ceiling.


    ¡°She is awake!¡± Anji blinked, greeted by Wolfkins: eighteen soldiers from her own pack, Kalaisa, Bogdan, and Marco, standing on a chair.


    A stench of antiseptic and medications assaulted her nostrils, forcing Anji to frown. She blinked twice, trying to believe that she was alive. Weariness touched her, threatening to drag the wolf hag back into the sleep¡¯s embrace, but she forced herself to stay awake.


    ¡°How¡­¡± She licked her lips, gratefully gulping water from a flask held by Kalaisa. ¡°How long?¡± Anji asked again.


    ¡°At ease, loser,¡± Kalaisa said smugly. She closed her eyes, ignoring the angry growls of the offended pack, and corrected herself. ¡°Sorry. I was worried and ran my mouth again. Just a few hours.¡±


    ¡°We are in the Hall of Charity, Wolf Hag,¡± added the second in command of Anji¡¯s pack. At a confused look, the woman quickly explained. ¡°It is a place to provide basic medical necessities to the less fortunate in the city. The mayor commandeered it for the soldiers with non-life-threatening wounds in need of recuperation. At least that was the original idea.¡± Hearing a strained groan, a shadow passed over the scout¡¯s muzzle. ¡°Civilians are also being treated here instead of in a proper hospital, since there are too many injured. The rest of our pack is either back at the base or helping to clear the rubble.¡±


    ¡°Kalaisa stood by your side while you slept!¡± Marco added eagerly. ¡°She called us when you began to stir! Doctor! Mr. Diego! Anji has woken up!¡±


    She tried to stand up and found out that her wounded arm and leg were still numb and refused to bulge. Needles pierced her body, carrying both nutrition and medication through rubber tubes, and sensors littered her chest, sending data to a nearby terminal. Her cheeks flushed red at the sight of two tubes connected to... more private parts of her body under a blanket.


    Stained glass was installed in the walls of this spacious hall. Each circular window was adorned with various saints of the planet¡¯s faith and shone a pleasant kaleidoscope of light. Only a few patients, like Anji, had an abundance of space, and most beds were crowded together, with just enough room for nurses and doctors to pass by. Moans, screams, and the scents of fear, sweat, and blood permeated the air. Medical staff worked tirelessly, removing pieces of stone and glass from bodies, cleaning wounds, and trying to save limbs and organs. The medics didn¡¯t share the same uniform color, but the red marks united them. Words of confessors and priests brought comfort to the patients.


    A doctor, dressed in a stylish blue robe of a private medical clinic with a golden snake encircling it, came closer, checked her eyes and body, and declared that the worst part was over and her immune system had overcome the toxin. The man asked her to try to move the fingers of her numb limbs, and with some difficulty, Anji did, to the cheers of the Wolfkins.


    ¡°Good.¡± The doctor smiled, carefully removed the bandages, and whistled. Blood had long since dried at the edges of her closed and sewn wounds. ¡°The bleeding has stopped. My, your kind truly is a marvel. It is an honor to work on such a magnificent body.¡±


    ¡°Planning on taking a patient to dinner, are you, Doctor?¡± Bogdan teased.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t mind it going further one bit, but I was given an understanding that your people prefer a singular partner, while I belong to every beauty,¡± the doctor answered unabashedly. His fingers lightly tested her damaged limbs, sparkling a tiny sting of pain. ¡°Apologies, lady. Your muscles are still partially compressed due to the poison. Although our catalog was unable to identify it, I assure you that the numbness and partial paralysis will last at least two days. Worry not; the worst has passed, and your heart and lungs are safe. I¡¯ll schedule you for the scar removal procedure once your body has finally flushed out this filth.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, turn her into a real princess,¡± Kalaisa said with a shit-eating grin.


    ¡°No need,¡± Anji said quickly, blushing.


    ¡°All women are goddesses,¡± the doctor said warmly after finishing checking for inflammations and changing the bandages. ¡°No matter their origin, they must be treated with reverence and care. Since the mayor has enlisted the help of our private clinic and entrusted you to my care, you will abide by my recommendations, Miss Anji. We cannot allow ugliness to persist.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Kalaisa examined the man¡¯s perfect facial features, his well-built physique, free of any wrinkles or imperfections. ¡°You are an Iternian.¡±


    ¡°Guilty as charged.¡± Diego flashed a white smile. ¡°But let¡¯s not speak it too loudly. Officially, citizens of my homeland have no right to interfere in international affairs between the Reclamation Army and another country.¡±


    ¡°Going to be punished otherwise?¡± Kalaisa inquired.


    ¡°Indeed, and terribly so: a fine and a stern warning, accompanied by finger-wagging and perhaps a ban on practicing outside of Iterna for a few years, what a nuisance.¡± Diego rolled his eyes.


    ¡°Sucks to be you,¡± Bogdan said. ¡°Doesn¡¯t sound fair one bit. But you have my thanks for saving lives, sir.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, if I get grounded, I¡¯ll just pitch my sob story on the Net and earn twice my salary in donations,¡± Diego laughed. ¡°Really, I don¡¯t really give a fuss about it, and after your superiors rudely interrupted my morning routine, I feel obligated to return the favor. So don¡¯t worry, relax; nothing will happen to anyone in my care.¡±


    ¡°What about Cordi?!¡± Marco tugged at the doctor¡¯s robe. ¡°My friend. She is an Ice Fang of the Sunblade household. No one knows where she went.¡±


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s just no good.¡± Diego sat comfortably and produced a terminal from a pocket. ¡°No woman should ever be abandoned. Cordi, Cordi¡­ Ah, you mean young Cordelia Sunblade-Wintersong? She suffered a punctured lung and was escorted, along with the cubs... what a ridiculous name... from Houstad to the Sunblade family estate in the far west. No further information is available, but in the worst-case scenario, a Wolfkin should survive a missing lung fairly easily.¡±


    ¡°I can attest to that,¡± coughed Scout Mindy from a nearby bed.


    ¡°Diego! A patient is having a stroke!¡± A nurse called. ¡°We risk losing him!¡±


    ¡°Coming, Najwa!¡± The stylishly dressed doctor jumped away to help treat the violently convulsing civilian. ¡°Nobody likes a quitter, so you, mister, are staying with the team!¡±


    Anji¡¯s body itched intensely as it repaired itself, and her stomach rumbled with hunger. She could almost imagine the flesh moving under the dried crust of her blood, knitting itself back together. To distract herself a little, she surveyed the hall. Several Wolfkins and Ice Fangs rested here, kept in a healing coma, with oxygen masks on their snouts. Many lacked limbs.


    So many wounded. And how many more died? And how many more have died? A pang of sorrow shot through her heart at the sight of a doctor shaking her head and covering a civilian¡¯s face with a bedsheet. Two nurses rolled out the bed with the deceased. We failed you. I am so sorry. Diego was tireless, bio-enhancing technology of Iterna kept exhaustion at bay, and he was saving life after life, instructing his colleagues along the way. Anji forced the sad thoughts out and smiled, forcing herself to be certain and confident before her friends and subordinates.


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    ¡°That¡¯s the Bootlicker I know!¡± Kalaisa grinned. ¡°No paper cuts are going to keep you down. No way, no how.¡±


    ¡°Kalaisa, would it kill you to be¡­ you know what? Fuck it. Thank you and Anji for saving my and Marco¡¯s bacon back there.¡± Bogdan extended his paw to Kalaisa, who spat at it, hissing at the soldier. He shrugged, wiped his paw clean, and shook paws with Anji.


    ¡°Rot in the Abyss, male, stupid, idiot, piss-head!¡± Kalaisa patted Marco¡¯s head tenderly. ¡°I wasn¡¯t trying to save you; it was my duty!¡±


    ¡°And Marco and his friends?¡± Anji asked innocently. She blinked the sleep away. Not now.


    ¡°The pipsqueak? Well, that¡¯s personal. He gifted me a sweater. Ice cubs aren¡¯t bad either. Offered me a pork pizza once.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for saving us, sister!¡± Kalaisa slithered from the embrace of the beaming Marco. ¡°Uhm, why were you two even around? I thought you were assigned to clean the orphanage. Do you like comics too?¡±


    ¡°No! I have nothing to do with this degeneracy! It¡­ was pure luck. I was going to¡­ planned to¡­¡± Kalaisa mumbled, retreating another step back.


    ¡°Kalaisa was looking for Bogdan to apologize,¡± Anji said, smirking at the rage in her friend¡¯s eyes. Nope, not letting you off the hook.


    Kalaisa growled once more, pacing back and forth like a cornered animal. Her fingers twitched, releasing the claws¡¯ tips, and Anji¡¯s pack jumped to shield their wolf hag, only to be asked to move aside by Anji herself. She didn¡¯t enjoy it. But Kalaisa had to keep going, to improve herself, step by step. There was no shortcut to take. Mom always taught young Anji that if you have done something wrong, you must apologize.


    ¡°Male¡­ Bogdan,¡± Kalaisa corrected herself. ¡°That little talk you and I had¡­ you were right. I am sorry that I was angry at you.¡±


    ¡°Beat it.¡± Bogdan lifted his paw. ¡°I was over the line.¡±


    ¡°No. I was¡­ is an unworthy leader.¡± Kalaisa cracked one shoulder, then another, straightened, and seemed to grow taller as she pointed a finger at Bogdan. ¡°No more. I will grow to be a proper leader for my pack. I¡¯m going to become a warlord, and I¡¯m going to take my pack to the very top, and I¡¯m going to surpass Warlords Janine and Ashbringer; just you wait and see. But that doesn¡¯t change the fact that you are a stupid, arrogant, stinking male!¡±


    ¡°Love you too.¡± Bogdan grinned. ¡°Keep it up, and I just may end up naming one of my future daughters after you. Oh, I can see that: Little Kalaisa, stop being a killjoy like your namesake and let¡¯s go eat that cusack.¡±


    ¡°T-try it, and I¡¯ll rip out your still-beating heart!¡±


    ¡°Can you be quiet, please?¡± Diego returned, looking Kalaisa and Bogdan over. ¡°If you are engaged in some bizarre mating ritual, take it outside. I am contractually obligated to respect all traditions, but I will not tolerate you disturbing the rest of our patients.¡±


    ¡°We are just comrades!¡± Bogdan and Kalaisa blurted in unison, and this time, it was Anji who allowed herself a grin of vengeance at their expense, ringingly giggling like a young girl straight out of the pit.


    There was little doubt that Bogdan would find a way to get back at her, and she could already envision Kalaisa¡¯s sharp tongue teasing the life out of her during their next spar, but by the Spirits, watching them slowly turn crimson was so worth it right now! Anji stopped giggling and roared with laughter, and her pack soon joined in. Bogdan shrugged, settled Marco on his shoulder, and the two brothers added their voices to the fun. Kalaisa swung her head suspiciously from side to side, sniffing the air, then chuckled, reluctantly relaxing and enjoying not being excluded from the fun, though Anji could bet her thumb that the woman would strangle her before admitting that side of her. Oh well, work in progress.


    A buzzing noise stopped their laughter, and Kalaisa and the scout from Anji¡¯s pack grabbed their terminals. Eyes narrowed, and the two women exchanged glances, the scout baring her neck in submission.


    ¡°We have a job to do,¡± Kalaisa said, putting the terminal back. ¡°All of you, back to the base immediately.¡±


    ¡°Give me a second,¡± Anji asked, trying to get to her feet.


    Kalaisa rolled her eyes and snapped a finger against Anji¡¯s nose.


    ¡°You stay here and recover, B¡­ Anji,¡± she said softly. ¡°Seriously, we... care for you. This time I owe you lives. Besides, your warlord has arrived in the city; your pack should be fine.¡±


    ¡°We will, Wolf Hag. You have taught us well,¡± the scout confirmed, bowing. ¡°Wolf Hag Kalaisa, the orders were urgent.¡±


    ¡°You keep her here until she is fully recovered; even if you have to chain her and sedate her to do it, do you hear me?¡± Kalaisa told the doctor.


    ¡°Planet, spare me from eggs teaching the chicken. Not my first rowdy patient.¡± Diego waved his hand.


    Anji¡¯s worried eyes followed her friends as they left, and even the pleasant relief of having the tubes removed from her body didn¡¯t help to ease her worries. Who will be alive and who will be dead when we next meet? She fell on the pillows, crudely making prayer gestures with one paw, begging the Spirits to keep them safe. She wasn¡¯t stupid. There could only be one reason for a sudden summon.


    A call from the doctor¡¯s terminal distracted her. Anji strained her ears, trying to learn anything, but to her surprise, she found herself unable to pick up even a single word, and Diego¡¯s expression startled her. The once smiling and pleasant doctor had changed; an ugly scowl of pure, unadulterated hatred twisted his face, and his black eyes glowed, taking on a bright yellow hue. Anji was about to ask what was going on when fatigue overcame her and dragged the woman back to dreamland.


    This time, the dream brought another familiar nightmare. It was always the same with her; if there was one thing Anji hated in her life, it was sleeping alone. This was the time when she was losing the iron hold of her dreams, and her mind always sucked her into the same memory of her being back in the womb again, hearing the tiny heart of her brother beating nearby and sensing the warmth of his forming body. Tic. Tic. Tic.


    No. Anji pleaded, trying to wake up. I don¡¯t want to remember.


    She told no one. Anji remembered everything: every moment of her life, every second she was awake. She carefully asked other Wolfkins if they possessed the same trait, earning surprised looks at the mere suggestion that anyone recalling their time spent in a mother¡¯s womb. Several soldiers whispered behind her back, thinking the woman was mocking them or going crazy.


    But she didn¡¯t! Anji remembered it. Conscience came to her at a very early age, and she was locked in the confines of Mom¡¯s body, rejoicing every time a familiar paw proudly patted her belly. She floated in silence, unable to speak or even wave her paws. Listening to her brothers and sisters die. Stillborn. Their organs never developed. Years later, she learned that this was to be expected. The first litter was the hardest for all the females of the wolf tribe. Almost none of the cubs survived. But their deaths brought change to the grieving parent, and the next litter was full of healthy cubs.


    Anji and her brother were the lucky ones. His faint heartbeat kept her sane and kept her company. Tic. Tic. Tic. The sound was faint, barely audible, but it was a sign of life in this prison. And then, one day, it stopped. The little heart gave out, leaving Anji alone in the darkness, floating among the bodies of her family. For weeks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to be alone!¡± Anji yelled, breaking through the curtain of dreams, and Diego¡¯s concerned face welcomed her back to reality.


    ¡°You are not alone, Miss Anji. Please calm down; focus on my face. Nothing bad happened to you; it was just a nightmare, a side effect of the poison; breathe easily, yes, like that,¡± the doctor said encouragingly, holding her by the wrist. How¡­ how could she have thought that he had yellow eyes? The man¡¯s eyes were perfectly normal black.


    After checking her pulse, Diego called over a nurse, ordering the woman to help Anji eat. She half expected the usual medical nutrition paste, but to her surprise, the food the nurse brought her was something divine. She was served real crabs, mashed potatoes, a thick cusack steak, and plenty of juice to quench her thirst. Or drown a person. The smell of her unusual lunch turned the rumbling of her stomach into a wail, and Anji helped herself, forgetting her manners as she shoved the crabs into her mouth, breaking their shells on her fangs against the nurse¡¯s insistence not to eat these parts. This was the fourth time she had eaten real seafood, and she found the food simply delicious.


    After thanking the nurse for her help, Anji heard an Ice Fang fiddling with a terminal in her paws, furiously typing in request after request. The woman¡¯s legs had been replaced by two sleek metal replicas, one ending at her knee, and her body was covered in severe scalds that had burned away entire swaths of her once fluffy, silken fur. Around her neck, the Ice Fang wore a medallion with the crest of the Summerspring Household.


    ¡°Hey,¡± Anji greeted the crimson-eyed woman. ¡°Name¡¯s Anji. Any idea what is happening outside?¡±


    ¡°Greetings, Lady Anji. Malerata Summerspring, a knight-captain in the service of the late Tancred Ironwill,¡± she said in a hushed voice. ¡°Alas, I know little; the medical personnel chose to limit the patients¡¯ ability to view the Net as I have learned to my dismay, and my comrades abide by that rule.¡± The woman extended her paw, and Anji shook it before realization hit her.


    ¡°The late? Does it mean?¡± Anji asked in shock, lowering her voice. Sword Saints were equal to Warlords. To imagine one fall in her lifetime¡­ Surely she must¡¯ve misheard¡­


    ¡°Forgive me, lady; I forgot you were in a coma.¡± Malerata bowed her head. ¡°My liege was murdered today, and his killers are still at large.¡±


    ¡°You have my deepest condolences,¡± Anji said, meaning every word and clasping the woman¡¯s paw. Truth be told, she had no idea how Ice Boys viewed their sword saints, but to Wolfkins, a warlord was another mother, an eternal monolith in whose shadow one could weather a storm, and a trusted friend ready to listen and help. That was part of her problem with Onyxia. When the warlord was around, she listened and gave the right advice. The problem was that Onyxia was rarely around, trusting the judgment of her wolf hags. ¡°If there is anything I can do¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Lady Anji. Your kind words are already enough. The constant positive propaganda in the news is the reason for my sour mood.¡± The knight put the terminal aside, irritated by the limited access to the Net. ¡°Staying in here, unable to know about the situation outside, irks me.¡±


    ¡°No point in mopping about it. Say, how about a little game to pass the time? Let¡¯s ask each other questions. The rules are simple: only the truth is allowed,¡± Anji proposed. Seeing the woman¡¯s uncertain face, she pressed on. ¡°Come on, what else are we supposed to do here? The first question is yours. Hit me with anything.¡±


    Malerata pressed a finger to her lips, wondering, and then dared to speak: ¡°A hundred apologies for the frivolous question, but why is your hair white? From my limited interaction with the Wolf Tribe, I have learned that your kind always bears either predominantly black, brown, or occasionally reddish fur. Do you, by any chance, have blood of our lineage coursing through your veins, lady?¡±


    ¡°Not to my knowledge!¡± Anji laughed, picking up one of her braids. ¡°Call me Anji, by the way. My Mom once brought a dusty old comic for me to read. The heroine of the story was a woman with immaculate white hair. She was kind and smart and fierce in battle and never quit, no matter what the odds. I became a fan, and when my family visited a settlement, I bought a hair dye. Cousin, you should have seen the look on my Mom¡¯s muzzle the next morning! She thought I was cursed!¡± Anji sighed happily at the memory. ¡°My turn. Is it true that your kind needs cold to mate, and that is why you always mate in refrigerators?¡±


    ¡°What? No!¡± The knight-captain coughed. ¡°Why would you even think that? What kind of degraded and depraved mind would commit an act of love in a refrigerator, of all places? I assure you, Ice Fangs, enlightened and blessed by the Twins and the Blessed Mother, will never stoop so low. We are simply too perfect for that; unrivaled excellence, restraint, and humility are in our nature.¡±


    ¡°Well, we didn¡¯t see any of your kind jumping on the boys during the heat season, so we thought your kind couldn¡¯t do it in a warmer climate.¡± Anji hesitated, unsure if she could reveal the second part. Oh, well, she promised the truth, right? ¡°And there was this one time, a few years ago. I screwed up and was given cooking duty in the crawler. So there I was, opening the refrigerator compartment, and there were two of my cold-loving cousins, busy making new lives on top of the canned food ¡­¡±


    ¡°I need not hear more, truly, Lady Anji.¡± The knight raised her paws. ¡°On behalf of my order, I apologize a thousand times for the sight you have been forced to endure. It is disgusting in more ways than one. But¡­ what is this ¡®heat season¡¯ you spoke of?¡±


    Surprised that Malerata didn¡¯t know, Anji began to enthusiastically explain the concept to the woman, curious as to why the knight¡¯s face seemed to grow more and more horrified upon hearing the explanation.

 Chapter 82: The Breach: Part 1

    Ambassador Craven Wickedbreed stepped closer to the parapet of the Wall, breathing in the full chest of a fresh breeze passing from the west. He was a Troll, a New Breed, as the Reclamation Army misguidedly called the Blessed. His long arms reached all the way to his ankles, his skin shared the same gray of his outdoor clothes, and his face was flat and serene. Such was the nature of his group; the Trolls struggled to articulate their feelings through facial expressions.


    But deep inside his chest, there was a storm of awe. In the past, this entire region had been a single megapolis, home to billions of souls living in habitat blocks and vast skyscrapers. Steel and concrete, like a skin, had covered every centimeter of the ground until the Extinction struck, rendering supercity into a necropolis subjected to the merciless whims of nature. The sober reminder of mortality didn¡¯t disappear; the bastions of the Walls were partially built from its remains, while the earth swallowed the rest.


    It was a surreal visage. One side of the border had green pastures, concrete roads, and open stores. Beyond the dividing line was rocky ground, with bunker¡¯s emplacements entwined by creepers. The ancient tragedy had doomed ecological laboratories in the area, and their products had escaped. Humanity had eradicated the most dangerous specimens, and sentient Blessed joined settlements scattered around the globe.


    But dark blotches, green vines, crimson creepers, and more of the man-made flora stubbornly grew from barren soil, bringing happiness to the distant kingdom through their sheer abundance of edible and medicinal plants and annoyance to the Recamiers who had to burn them off the wall each morning. The oxygen produced by the Old World¡¯s unfinished terraforming projects filled Craven¡¯s lungs, and he broke from his reminiscing to face a group of children.


    ¡°What do you think about the light show in the atmosphere?¡± Craven asked in an even voice, stepping aside so the children could see.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ magnificent.¡± Young Halina pressed her fists to her chest, her mouth agape in amazement. Behind her, Sister D¨¦fenseur Peggy Dimont, clad in heavy armor, smiled cheerfully and patted the girl¡¯s head encouragingly.


    Peggy belonged to the ancient and respected Six Lames Order of Oathtakers. Charged with protecting youth by the Taker of Oaths himself, they slowly evolved into mentors, guides, and teachers as civilization had rekindled anew. Their sisters and brothers traveled the lands, offering words of advice to parents, smiting slavers with the unrelenting fury of their consecrated Heretic Bane machine guns, and returning lost or abducted children by force when necessary. Scars marked Peggy¡¯s face like medals and age bleached her hair, but there was genuine kindness in the sister¡¯s face, and she spent her journey engaging the little ones in games to build bonds.


    Halina Jovi? was the never-ending source of her worries, as the sister admitted to Craven. The girl had recently learned of her father¡¯s brave sacrifice and had shut in herself, not responding to either teasing or attempts to befriend coming from the orphans. Unlike the rest of the kids, she wasn¡¯t an orphan. Her guardian had sent the girl on this trip hoping to shake her up a little and to break this prison of solitude the girl had erected around herself out of worry of losing another dear person, and Peggy blamed herself for failing the child.


    To see her show emotion pleased the ambassador. He had come here to survey the Reclaimers¡¯ reach as their nations competed for the kingdom¡¯s allegiance, but the girl¡¯s joy was a reward in itself.


    ¡°Tch. Seen better,¡± grumbled T, a slightly overweight child, tugging at his collar in an attempt to appear serious. No matter Peggy¡¯s efforts, T had refused to tell her his full name.


    ¡°Where?¡± Halina blinked, and T startled at the genuine question, hastily trying to come up with a believable lie.


    ¡°Yeah, where?¡± Jay playfully elbowed T. Lanky and long-haired, he often assisted Peggy in bridging members of their little group together. ¡°C¡¯om, big guy, admit it. You never seen anything like that.¡±


    ¡°Fine. It is something,¡± puffed T, surrendering. ¡°What is that?¡±


    Clouds obscured the entire horizon. Not the usual, heavy and black storm clouds and not the deadly, flashing sand pools of the Ravaged Lands¡ªno, these clouds had black and blue colors mingled with red and purple, yellow and green, and glowing spheres, smaller white clouds, dotted this tapestry. The clouds swirled, jumbled, forming a living painting of a cosmic nebula in the atmosphere, hiding everything behind them.


    ¡°A side effect of a series of aerosol toxins released after the Extinction.¡± Craven stretched out his hand as if to hold the painting in his palm. ¡°The deadly reagents that doomed our ancestors are no more, but nanomachine agents still permeate the air in the region, creating this majestic sight. Such is the lesson of our world, children. Human hands forged a tool of doom, and God, in His infinite wisdom, reworked it into a thing of beauty to spare the next generation.¡±


    ¡°I wish God had saved the living today,¡± Halina said bitterly. ¡°None here deserved to lose¡­ to lose¡­¡± Her lower lip trembled.


    ¡°This is the conundrum of our existence, Halina.¡± Peggy lowered on a knee and hugged the girl. ¡°God gave us free will, the most precious gift of all. It is thanks to it we are able to love, grieve, and persevere, to overcome obstacles and build a better world, not because we follow chemical cues and physical stimuli like ants, but because we want to. It is thanks to it that some commit cruelty, and many bring light to where darkness reigned. Like a loving parent, God can¡¯t just take it away or violate individuality, even if it means stopping the wicked, as it would forever scar our souls. But in His mercy, God had sent us powers and the Blessed to help humanity recover from the catastrophe, thus subtly saving us.¡±


    ¡°Bah. Religious superstition,¡± T said haughtily. ¡°Those who died were weak. There is no God, no afterlife. Some people¡­¡± he clenched his fist. ¡°¡­ are simply not strong enough, not smart enough, or unlucky.¡±


    ¡°T.¡± Jay slapped him. ¡°You make Haly sad.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true!¡± T insisted. He glared at the rest of the kids. ¡°I¡¯m not saying it¡¯s our folks¡¯ fault, but it is undeniable! Sweet lies don¡¯t help anyone; they are dangerous! If you are strong, you live. So I¡¯ll become the strongest to protect you all. That way I¡­ you won¡¯t lose anyone again!¡±


    ¡°Thanks, T. You are very kind.¡± Halina wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.


    ¡°An interesting perspective, T.¡± Craven nodded amiably. ¡°It is very noble of you to grow into a protector, but you are missing a crucial point.¡±


    ¡°Yeah? And what is it?¡±


    ¡°There is a settlement to the north. Back when our story takes place, it was little more than a labor camp that sprang up in the Extinction''s aftermath. They lived modestly, trading mined steel and found electronics for food. Until one dawn, when a Blessed approached them, boastfully demanding women and children as tribute. A defender fired at him, and the bullet barely scratched the man¡¯s skin as his claws slashed across the brave soul, and fear rived the community.¡±


    ¡°See?¡± T stated smugly. ¡°Strong and weak.¡±


    ¡°But a priest rose.¡± Craven raised a finger, asking not to be interrupted. ¡°He beseeched people not to engage in slavery. Inspired by his religious fervor and concern for their fellows, the miners armed themselves. And when the Blessed returned, he learned that while a single gun could do little, hundreds were another story entirely. Yours truly stands here in part thanks to their decision to resist.¡± Craven laid his long fingers on his chest. ¡°Do you see that individual strength is not everything, T? Faith had kept that community together, guiding them toward the right choice.¡±


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    ¡°That¡¯s just smarts and strength of human spirit!¡± T proudly slapped himself over the chest. ¡°It wasn¡¯t belief in God that saved them, but cooperation. And the Reclamation Army has that in spades. Strength of spirit! Intelligence and might! These are the things that save nations!¡±


    ¡°Well said!¡± A voice thundered.


    Two soldiers marched through the regulars to the group. Though their size was no different from the thousands of Normies manning the Wall, Craven immediately recognized them as fellow Blessed. The first one wore a rock-colored camouflage coat, a breastplate, and a lieutenant uniform. Blond and smooth-skinned, his hard gaze resembled the mighty bastions under his command. This was Lugal-marada, the regional commander of the Provincial Army in this sector. Beside him was a sergeant of the Exotic Platoon, Sagit Wolf, a lithe and almost ephemeral woman whose coat was buttoned and black sunglasses hid her eyes. Occasionally, yellow streaks flashed briefly from behind the sunglasses.


    ¡°You are wise to trust your judgment over mindless dogma, boy.¡± The lieutenant pressed two fingers to his cap in salute. ¡°Far too many have been led astray when the answers to what is good or evil lie on the surface for all to see.¡±


    ¡°What is strength of spirit if not spirituality?¡± Craven asked, shaking hands with the man. ¡°Church has nurtured the best qualities in mankind since the dawn of time.¡±


    ¡°And brought human sacrifices in the times of ignorance. Spirituality has no correlation with an innate understanding of what is wrong and right and refusal to quit.¡± The lieutenant replied, glancing briefly at the ambassador. ¡°I grant you that the houses of prayer served as places of understanding of nature, and their prophets taught important values at one point in history, but humanity has long since outgrown that crutch. Your assumption of a divine origin for the powers rather than treating them as unexplained genetic anomalies is ridiculous. Shackles of your Oath are more of a hindrance than help. These days, to learn more about acceptance and understanding, a person could simply glean it from the Net.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t imagine any downsides to such a method,¡± Peggy said sarcastically, and a corner of Sagit¡¯s mouth twitched, but the sergeant maintained her composure.


    Craven paid no mind to Lugal-marada¡¯s words or his admission about spying on them. They weren¡¯t enemies, for everyone here wanted humanity to prosper. The lieutenant didn¡¯t trust him, likely believing that the ambassador was seeking to persuade soldiers to swear the Oath. It was fine; their nations rivaled in the past, and there will be skirmishes in the future. Time will heal these wounds of mistrust. The Oathtakers never lied. If Craven promised not to convert anyone here, he¡¯d keep his word. It was Lyudochka¡¯s task in Houstad.


    The Reclamation Army put too much emphasis on individual traits and charisma. It was the Dynast¡¯s ambition that saw to the rapid restoration of vast tracts of land. But between faith and ambition, faith always triumphed in the end. It was inevitable, for faith was an idea handed down by God, while ambition stemmed from an individual. And those never stayed around for too long. A century, even a millennium, of waiting was nothing. While faith had survived in various forms to this very day. Individual religions died, cruel practices disappeared, but faith, a belief in the benevolent Creator, persisted. If that wasn¡¯t a sign of celestial interference, Craven wasn¡¯t sure what was.


    ¡°But I was a poor host,¡± said Lugal-marada. The man introduced himself to every child, shaking their hands, and stopped at Halina. ¡°My deepest condolences. Your father is a hero.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡± Halina forced a nod. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯d love to have a dad, not a hero! I know it¡¯s selfish; he saved lives, but¡­¡±


    ¡°But nothing.¡± Lugal-marada stopped her, taking the girl by the shoulders. ¡°What you feel is human. It is not selfish, it is not wrong, and you are not a machine. Grieve as much as you need to. What matters is how you deal with it. Don¡¯t dishonor the memory of your parent; don¡¯t sink into despair and live to the fullest. Find a way to be happy, for you deserve it, and in doing so, you will also honor Mirko¡¯s memory.¡±


    ¡°You knew my dad?¡± the girl asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°But then how do you¡­¡±


    ¡°Because seeing our children grow in peace is every soldier¡¯s dream,¡± Lugal-marada told her softly. ¡°It rarely happens. But you should give it a try.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Halina said.


    ¡°About the tour¡­ sir,¡± Jay began, and the officer nodded. ¡°These clouds! The ambassador told us they are harmless. Is that true?¡±


    ¡°Correct, but you won¡¯t see them up close today. I offered you a tour of our territory, but I had to postpone it, and I wasted too much time dealing with mundane problems.¡±


    ¡°Nothing serious, I hope?¡± Peggy inquired.


    ¡°Remains to be seen,¡± Lugal-marada answered. ¡°Our scouts failed to report in time, but such things are not uncommon due to the cloud phenomena that interfere with communications. However, we found a panicked family twenty minutes earlier who claimed to be from the kingdom, and I sent them to the Investigation Bureau in Houstad. Their statements are concerning.¡±


    ¡°Is this why the Wall is on full alert?¡± Peggy pressed on.


    Craven blinked, looking around. He wasn¡¯t a military man; short of basic self-defense courses, he had never even been in action, thank the Oath. To him, the busy marching of soldiers, the working of radar antennas, and the almost lazy tracking of artillery seemed normal. What else could one expect from a military base?


    ¡°Best not to take any chances. Not when there are lives on the line,¡± said Sagit, breaking her silence for the first time. A crack accompanied her every sentence, and the woman smirked at the wide-open eyes of the children as they noticed electricity sparking from her lips. She raised her palms, and arcs of light left her hands, coalescing into images of racing horses over the woman¡¯s head to the gasps and claps of the children. ¡°We¡¯ll explore the bowels of the Wall today while our forces confirm security outside.¡±


    ¡°Aw,¡± T said disappointedly, then collected himself, as if surprised that the word left his mouth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, lad, the freak show won¡¯t be disappearing anytime soon,¡± Lugal-marada said. ¡°There will be plenty of opportunities to wander through it.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Is it true that the Wall is connected to the underground ruins?¡± Halina asked and looked down as everyone turned to her. ¡°I¡¯ve read it in a magazine.¡± She tapped her index fingers together. ¡°There are supposedly immense domes filled with various biomes deep underground and caverns filled by ruined cities.¡±


    ¡°What, really?¡± Jay¡¯s eyes flashed. ¡°Can we check out the ruins? Can we take anything we find¡­ I mean, souvenirs, sir! A skull or an ancient TV¡­¡±


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t, government¡¯s property,¡± Lugal-marada stated.


    ¡°And taking skull?¡± Peggy¡¯s fingers drummed on Jay¡¯s head. ¡°Kiddo, you must learn to respect the deceased. These fallen souls had their dreams and desires; desecrating their helpless remains is an act unworthy of a human.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I planned to honor them; trust me, sis!¡± Jay clasped his hands together. ¡°I was going to clean a skull, coat it in bronze, paint it dark, and then sell it for... Use it as a talisman, I mean! That way, a ghost could see the world and calm itself with the knowledge that life remains!¡± The boy finished dramatically.


    ¡°Even I don¡¯t believe it.¡± T frowned.


    ¡°Yuck.¡± Halina raised her hands. ¡°Jay, do you really need tokens so badly that you are willing to commit grave robbery?¡±


    ¡°Halina¡¯s right; there is a way in; we even use it to grow fresh vegetation, but the area is not safe,¡± Lugal-marada continued as if nothing had happened, steering the argument away from the morbid topic, while Peggy sighed and scrubbed notes in her notebook.


    ¡°Have to pry exotic fruits from the stalks of fauna trying to murder us,¡± Sagit explained. ¡°Good environment for honing the survival instincts of New Breeds. Not so much for children.¡±


    ¡°Agreed.¡± Peggy and Sagit exchanged nods.


    Ear-piercing cries of warning sirens interrupted the further discussion. Craven leapt to the kids, unsure of what was going on, but Peggy was already near the orphans, and a group of soldiers surrounded them. The ambassador heard humming, and the very air outside the bastions trembled as the force shield bubble activated. Hundreds of feet stomped around them, taking up defensive positions; mechanic crews brought in projectors, surprising Craven.


    ¡°Situation report!¡± demanded Lugal-marada, glancing down at his terminal and hiding it in the pocket of his coat.


    ¡°Sir! Communications with Houstad and Regional Command are down!¡± A younger soldier saluted him. ¡°We tried the emergency channel and couldn¡¯t reach anyone! The Net is unavailable either!¡±


    ¡°Send orders to use radios and recall the bunker teams.¡± Unafraid, Lugal-marada stood on the battlement and surveyed the orderly preparations of his men. His voice, used to giving orders and being obeyed, boomed loudly, overcoming doubt. ¡°Artillery crews target the cloud front; mortar crews stand by to support the withdrawal of our forces. Recon team Alpha-1236, start an immediate sortie into the Core Lands, deliver the news of this interference to the Third, and¡­¡±


    ¡°Oy vey,¡± said Sagit, joining the lieutenant. ¡°Something massive is approaching.¡±


    ¡°Affirmative!¡± shouted a soldier showing from a door. ¡°Sensors have detected seismic activity to the west!¡±


    ¡°An earthquake?¡± Lugal-marada inquired.


    ¡°Negative, sir! Not¡­¡±


    ¡°Your scouts have failed.¡± Synthetic speech came from the west, piercing through the clouds. There was no emotion in it, but every single syllable sounded loud enough to potentially deafen even a Blessed or explode windows. A second later, the dynamics of the fortress repeated it. ¡°Your security has failed. You are cut off, alone. As I speak to you, your leaders are about to be felled, and your city is burning. The only thing left for you to decide is whether to bend your knees and live, or to be brought down with your wall. The Gilded Horde is here to claim everything. Choose your fate and give your answer.¡±


    Then a new noise reached the defenders. A deep, low rumble that grew louder by the second, followed by the avalanche of stones being pulverized by something incredibly massive. A titanic shadow appeared in the clouds.

 Chapter 83: The Breach: Part 2

    It pushed itself through the veil with a grinding cacophony of a town crushed underneath its weight. A behemoth of steel that could easily tower even over a crawler, it carried itself on the great caterpillar tracks, so huge and vast that its immense bulk could not physically fit through the gate of the Wall. Silvery patches occasionally marked its hull, but its new owners had adorned it with precious metals, jewels, and gold so that it would shine like a multicolored diamond in the sun. Flags fluttered proudly in the wind, and cathedrals of weaponry were activated, almost lazily taking aim at the fortress. Laser cannons, missile launchers, artillery, plasma casters¡ªthis beast had all the murder tools conceivable.


    But that wasn¡¯t what filled Craven¡¯s heart with dread. A main cannon stretched out in front of it, an enormous spire of metal, ready to deliver its devastating payload wherever its masters wished. And from this cannon, bodies hung from the chains that wrapped around the barrel. The distance was too great, but Craven now knew the fate of the missing scouts.


    He wasn¡¯t going to let his charges fall into such hands.


    ¡°Scum,¡± Peggy hissed. A spherical force field flashed into existence around the war machine, blocking incoming artillery fire coming from the Wall.


    ¡°For little price, do you surrender your lives, Reclaimers,¡± stated the synthetic voice. The calm words were screamed out by the speech-enhancing dynamics, but this time the fortress¡¯s system did not repeat them.


    Streaks speared the clouds, parting them just long enough for Craven to see an army following in the war machine¡¯s wake, clinging to its shelter like Insectone larvae to their mother¡¯s carapace. Artillery shells and energy arcs fired from the army¡¯s mobile weapons landed directly on the bunkers. The reinforced roof endured¡ªonce, twice¡ªand then collapsed in on itself, and fire pyres billowed skyward, forming a series of torches to welcome the invaders.


    ¡°Those guys¡­¡± Jay choked on his words, wrapping his arms around the trembling Halina and another girl.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Craven hurried to calm the child. His voice never rose, and the ambassador thanked this unique quirk of his biology for an opportunity to be a pillar for the children. ¡°No one died. A series of tunnels connected the bunkers to the bastions, and our forces retreated successfully.¡± He nodded on a display that a soldier was showing Lugal-marada. On it, hundreds of dots scurried, collapsing the passageways behind.


    ¡°But why did Marada order mortar guys to cover the soldiers outside, then?¡± T asked, biting his finger to stop shaking.


    ¡°Their job was to keep baddies away from the bunkers,¡± Peggy explained, patting the boy encouragingly. ¡°Also, it is Lugal-marada, kiddo. Simply Marada means a male gender, while Lugal is a name, unless I am mistaken.¡±


    ¡°Can you not educate us in the middle of a war?¡± T¡¯s teeth drummed.


    ¡°Why miss an opportunity?¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe because people are about to die!¡± Jay snapped.


    ¡°Eh, happens all the time. You¡¯ll get used to it,¡± Peggy assured him.


    ¡°Hopefully not!¡± Craven interjected. ¡°Children, don¡¯t listen to the holy sister. Wars are getting rarer and rarer¡­¡±


    ¡°And for proof, look at the horizon,¡± Peggy added.


    Of their group, Peggy alone was unafraid. Her eyes beamed with excitement, tracing everything; one hand was already wielding her elegant armor-piercing rifle, encircled by prayer beads; and she pulled a helmet over her head, helping passing soldiers to secure regular helmets and put body armor on the kids. An Orais led them into the dubious cover of a reinforced concrete roof hanging above them, and another soldier tried to call for a lift, cursing under his breath about the virus that was crippling the bastion.


    The holy sister didn¡¯t reprimand the ambassador for addressing the Reclaimers as their own. Craven assumed that some cordiality was in order. Whoever was coming, he¡¯d rather see the children stick to more reasonable characters, even if he wished they¡¯d see the light and agree to immigrate to the Land of the Oath. Raids and techno-horrors of the past were nonexistent there.


    ¡°Such precision,¡± Peggy noted. ¡°Nearly every shell is landing straight into cusack¡¯s eye.¡±


    ¡°I bet your monthly salary that it isn¡¯t simply skill,¡± cracked Sagit. ¡°They knew the coordinates.¡±


    Craven opened his mouth and closed it, as the implication sank in. Traitors are the same everywhere, huh? Explosions spread across the wall¡¯s shield, brightly illuminating faces. The force shield wasn¡¯t bulging, and more and more impacts fought in vain to overcome it. Something had to give, and the explosions bounced back, splashing the ground in front of them. The ground was torn apart, creepers and vines caught fire, and a hellish sea came to life on the plains. Minefields¡ªdisrupted by the shockwaves, overheated by napalm, or touched by molten stone¡ªdetonated prematurely, spewing burning earth into the air.


    And into this madness, the enemy advanced. Warriors clad in power armor marched, protected by mobile force shield stations. The first machine carved a wide gap through the mountain range, and the troops surged around the ancient beast. Tall and somewhat chubby, the invaders bore little resemblance in their equipment. Plain steel-clad soldiers with mounted cannons on their shoulders rode gigantic beasts alongside warriors outfitted in pieces of various exosuits, crudely stitched together and incrusted with gold. Ahead of them bravely rode riders on hoverbikes, ignoring tongues of flames licking their feet and steeds, and their laughter reached the defenders, accompanied by the hail of energy projectiles hissing against the shield.


    ¡°Has the scout team departed?¡± Lugal-marada inquired, facing the fire of countless cannons, hands clasped behind his back. The ambassador couldn¡¯t decide whether the man was brave or foolish for exposing himself like that.


    ¡°Negative! ETD thirty seconds!¡± reported a soldier.


    ¡°Simpletons,¡± said the lieutenant. The flesh on his shoulders bulged, his fingers swollen. ¡°Once the situation is resolved, issue them ten lashes for tardiness.¡±


    ¡°You seem to be eagerly optimistic about the situation.¡± Craven swallowed nervously.


    ¡°Have faith, ambassador!¡± Peggy cheered him on. ¡°Our cause is just, and God is with us! A righteous fire burns in our hearts and strengthens our arms! Let the madmen come; we¡¯ll strike them down, one by one! If we fall, it¡¯ll be for a noble cause, and our ancestors will rejoice in heaven!¡±


    ¡°Personally, I prefer to keep them at bay and blow them to bits,¡± Lugal-marada replied calmly, raising his hand as if timing something, while keeping his eyes on the map display. ¡°Main cannons, maintain pressure on the primary target. Its generator can¡¯t sustain the energy drain of moving, supplying its shield, firing auxiliary weapons, and using the main cannon, so they are sacrificing one function in favor of the rest.¡±


    ¡°How do you know it?¡± blurted out Craven.


    ¡°Elementary, Ambassador. It hasn¡¯t fired yet, and judging by the caliber, the ensuing explosion would have vaporized their own troops. Barbarians they may be, but why send important equipment to a senseless end? No, their leader rightly understood that our own shield could gobble up a shot or two of their ammunition, thus alerting us in advance, and so he tried a different approach,¡± Lugal-Marada explained without haste. ¡°As for your question, the moment the Commander learns of our difficulties, it will be over for these fools.¡±


    But Ravager is not in Houstad. Craven was about to say and bit his tongue. No doubt Lugal-marada knew. His words were meant to inspire and reassure his troops after an unexpected interference had disrupted their communications.


    ¡°Rabble, emboldened by idiocy, dares to intrude on our land,¡± Lugal-marada continued, his loud voice heard over the vast length of the wall, despite the bombardment. ¡°What do we say to them?¡±


    ¡°Go to hell!¡± roared soldiers. The combined shout of mutants, Orais, and Normies briefly silenced the riders¡¯ jeering.


    ¡°Repel them.¡± Lugal-marada¡¯s hand dropped.


    Small-caliber artillery, snipers, and mortars answered the command, unleashing a hail of destruction on the approaching hordes. Grenade explosions sent hoverbikes flying; snipers finished the wounded; shell after shell was lobbed into the individual islands of safety represented by the mobile shield generators. No ripples appeared on their surfaces, but several spheres curved outward and soon burst, exposing those inside to the steel raining down upon them. Still, the Gilded Horde advanced, their larger vehicles closing in, protected by the projected field. For every soldier killed, ten more took their place. Enemies didn¡¯t throw their lives away needlessly; the wounded were helped into cover, and their tanks and artillery returned fire, piercing the Reclaimers¡¯ shield in several places.


    Force shields, to Craven¡¯s limited knowledge, worked on a dispersal basis. A hit would come in, and the brunt of the impact would be smoothly smeared over the surface, like walnut cream on a slice of bread. In the case of a single attack, the automatic systems running the complex calculations for the shield reinforced the damaged area, easily stopping even a potentially penetrating blow, while rapid fire from multiple sources limited such luxury. By pouring a lake-sized amount of energy and metal capable of leveling a settlement in seconds upon the defenders, the Gilded Horde had achieved the desired effect of overloading the defenses, and bodies were thrown up, losing limbs, bleeding, and dying as they were struck by shells and energy projectiles.


    Halina screamed, and one of the teachers accompanying the group pressed the girl¡¯s face to his chest as Craven stepped forward, frowning in annoyance as a shard of rock cut his cheek to the teeth. He waved away a field medic as his natural regeneration began working, quickly dragging damaged meat together.


    ¡°What about elevators?¡± Lugal-marada demanded.


    ¡°Still offline, sir!¡± reported an Orais, dragging a wailing, legless soldier away. A lucky shell that passed through the returning shield was about to hit them when a forked lightning bolt shot out of Sagit¡¯s neck, exploding the projectile in the air.


    ¡°Stairwells, then. Get the children out of here¡­¡±


    ¡°Sir!¡± Sagit alerted, pointing to the horizon.


    Dark shapes flew above the slow behemoth, and as they left the clouds, the light reflected from their diamond coating. Airships, so many that Craven forgot the pain in his cheek or his fear. Their noses resembled arrowheads, small force shields bubbled around them, and each bore the same heraldry: hungry teeth closing in on a world. The Reclamation Army and the Oathtakers had small and compact air forces, used primarily for the rapid delivery of supplies or men. Several of their air units had impressive firepower, but these were rare. Only Iterna had a fully operational fleet of bombers, interceptors, and transports.


    Until today. The air hunters rapidly closed in on the shield; black fumes steamed from their engines. Once there, they slowed down to bypass the shield unopposed while the defenders fired at them. But it wasn¡¯t enough; most of their weapons were aimed at ground targets, and the ships¡¯ shields held long enough for them to enter and unleash hell with their own gunfire. One, two¡ªwent down and spiraled into the battlements, crashing and bursting into flames. Figures broke from the wreckage, stumbling under fire and returning it. The rest hovered in the air, the compartments in their centers opening.


    Unleashing breachers.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make some widows!¡± An armored woman laughed as she spun in her jump and fired her SMG blindly. She landed amidst the soldiers, holding a two-handed black blade as if it were a feather, and it blurred in her hand, shearing through necks and torsos.


    ¡°Widowmaker! Widowmaker!¡± More soldiers jumped off the woman¡¯s ship, cheering in Common. They landed heavily, their legs trampling craters in the ground, and the group formed ranks, bringing fire to the defenders.


    Chaos erupted at the top of the wall. The Gilded Horde didn¡¯t send just ordinary Blessed or troops. These were the cream of the crop, or so Craven thought, as soldiers forcibly carried him and the children toward an open door.


    He saw a pulsating mass of toxic sludge slump from the open door of a ship and vaguely take human form on the ground. With a slurping sound, the newcomer¡¯s body swallowed bullets, disintegrating them and grenades in seconds and spewing appendages that closed in on the nearest soldiers, burning them on contact and dragging the screaming victims to be devoured. Beasts of bone and chitin shattered bones with their blows; water-wielders drowned their opponents; flying harpy Blessed screamed so loudly that armor and bodies inside cracked.


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    The Provincial Army responded in kind. Orais wrestled in the melee with the Horde¡¯s Blessed, crumpling their helmets; soldiers formed new lines of fire, supporting their comrades; Exotics stepped in. A man transformed into a pillar of light, shedding his clothes. Those of the hordemen touched by his light screamed in desperation, as layer after layer their armor disappeared and soon their flesh followed.


    An Orais gathered himself into a ball and rolled, air gathering around him. A bubble of air soon burst, piercing the enemies like daggers as the soldier laughed bombastically, even as an eight-meter tall bone monster closed its hands against the brave man. Suddenly, the hands exploded and a line of air touched the bone-covered Blessed¡¯s neck, cutting short his scream as it severed his head. The Orais¡¯ mockery was short-lived. Widowmaker closed in on the man, thrusting the edge of her blade through the air shield and plunging it into the Orais¡¯ heart, piercing his armor.


    ¡°Get lost from my Wall,¡± Lugal-marada said in-between giving the commands to the troops.


    His right arm grew, gaining a dark blue color; each finger parted from its siblings as the arm untied itself into five separate tentacles. The lieutenant swung, brushing aside a hovering aircraft as if it were little more than an annoying mosquito. Lugal-marada grew; his breastplate popped and fell to pieces; legs and arms turned into knots of slapping tentacles; his head merged with his torso to form a tall column of flesh. Wide, wet orbs of his eyes opened, and blue rays left them, overheating metal and burning four hordemen to the bone.


    A burst of automated fire from a ship above forced Peggy to shove Craven ahead and jump back, saving herself. She spun and fired at an approaching hordeman and broke his leg by landing two shots into the joint of his knee when another one crashed into her from above.


    ¡°§©§à§Ô§ã§à§à§ç, §Ò§à§à§Ý§å§å§Õ!¡± Craven turned in time to receive a heavy slam in his face with the butt of a machine gun from an approaching hordeman.


    The blow immediately broke Craven¡¯s nose and sent the ambassador rolling through the fortress door, nearly slamming Jay against a wall. Craven stood up on wobbly legs, unaccustomed to the violence, and had no idea what to do. An eye poke? As if! His opponent¡¯s oriental eyes stared at him through the visor. Peggy was busy killing a hordeman who tried to pin her against a wall with his sword and hadn¡¯t yet entered inside, while the soldier escorting the teachers and children was backhanded away.


    At least they are taking prisoners. Craven raised his hands to the barrel of the gun leveled at his face. He¡¯ll find a way to get the children to safety. Whoever these freaks were, even they couldn¡¯t be crazy enough to challenge two Great Nations at once. He¡¯d lie about the children being part of the Oathtakers and¡­


    Light appeared at the hordeman''s back, and in the next split second, he flew up and landed heavily against a wall. His helmet cracked like an eggshell, and rivulets of blood splashed against the faces of the terrified children. A hissing thunderbolt hung in the air above the dead body, and a very human leg, which had kicked the enemy to death, protruded from it. Sagit regained her human form, standing fully naked, and waved to the appeared Peggy. Electric currents coursed beneath the sergeant¡¯s milky-white skin, serving as her veins. She had no eyeballs, and electricity danced in the empty sockets.


    ¡°Get everyone down,¡± Sagit ordered. ¡°Ground level, then get the civilians into any vehicle and off to Houstad,¡± she told the bleeding soldier.


    ¡°I can stay and fight,¡± Peggy offered.


    ¡°Sow death to save the kids, holy sister,¡± Sagit said. ¡°If that God of yours is truly benevolent, it¡¯s what he would¡¯ve wanted.¡±


    ¡°Thank you!¡± Craven said.


    Sagit said nothing and fell onto her back, shifting smoothly into her energy form. She darted outside, burrowing a hole through the chest of an unsuspecting hordeman and connecting two other enemies with electricity. Their bodies thrashed as the thunder rocked them, and the ambassador heard the crack of their limbs even through all the chaos.


    It was then when the outside darkened. Craven thought it was incoming artillery, but instead a dark cloud of smoke, lined with red flashes, descended upon Sagit, quickly compressing into a multi-armed human form. Crimson arms of raging fire seized the living lightning, pinning Sagit to the stone floor. She expanded her form, and her demonic opponent responded in kind, sprouting more limbs to hold her steady. The hordeman¡¯s head jerked as a blow struck his grinning, smoking skull. A humanoid arm of flame arched from his back, rapidly growing claws.


    The two fought on, melting the reinforced stone. The Exotic Blessed, who had become a pillar of light, tried to help, but the flesh motes that had been thrown off his opponent suddenly changed direction. They flew back to the naked man with avian features, restoring his body, and he shrieked and laughed cruelly.


    ¡°Perish heretic!¡± the hordeman said, and the pillar of light dimmed, nearly collapsed on itself.


    Craven didn¡¯t linger any more. He helped the bleeding soldier to his feet and grabbed Halina¡¯s hand, leading the girl as he hurried after their guide. T and Jay helped the teachers to move the rest of the children, and their group descended a flight of stairs.


    The Wall was shaking; its gray walls no longer inspired safety and confidence. Dust swirled in the air, and soldiers ran past them to reinforce their comrades above. Sirens blared incessantly as operators calmly relayed information about fallen sections and coordinated retreats. At one point, the group lost its footing as a cataclysmic tremor swept over the fortification.


    ¡°Wh-what was that?¡± whispered the pale-faced T.


    They found the answer below. Part of an entire level was missing, exposing everyone to the sight of the raging battle approaching the bastion. The Horde was still advancing, the shield reformed, and Craven had no idea what or who could have created this perfect line of destruction that wiped out everything for at least a hundred meters horizontally. He had a more important problem to solve, as the stairs now had a gaping hole in them.


    Craven and the soldier jumped across the ruins and faced the teachers, who unceremoniously began tossing kids to them. The ambassador had his share of fears in life. That time when he had blatantly lied to his mother about attending a university for two whole years. The terror he experienced during an ambush on his office by opponents of reunification. But never had his arms been so close to defying his biology as they were now. He feared not for himself but for the death of his charges.


    In the ruins behind him, the battle raged. Scaling the walls, several hordemen appeared in the opening. The Reclaimers gunned most of them, but one invader shot two soldiers before an Orais rammed a bayonet through a crack in his chest plate. Craven didn¡¯t bother to turn any longer. He had a more important task, and when the scared children were safe, the group resumed their retreat.


    ¡°It irks me to run, abandoning allies,¡± Peggy admitted quietly, firing twice to drop a hordeman trying to break a soldier¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Adhere to the tents of your order, holy sister,¡± Craven advised her. ¡°Yours is the sacred task of protecting the helpless. Our allies are far from such.¡±


    ¡°True that.¡± The soldier wiped the blood from his bruised face. A single slap had left a gash in his chin, but the man walked lightly. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Dynast¡¯s willing, we¡¯ll beat them back.¡±


    ¡°The Dynast is not a god, young man,¡± Peggy corrected him.


    ¡°Might as well be, considering who serves him.¡± The soldier shrugged and punched in a code, opening the door into the hangar.


    They rushed into the orderly chaos of the retreating army. To Craven¡¯s surprise, the lieutenant had ordered the super-heavy tanks to charge the enemy while the medium and light armored vehicles were to retreat from the battlefield. Trucks filled with soldiers, mechanics, and doctors roared to take up defensive positions in the smaller settlements. Scouts had already left, hurrying to deliver news so the citizens could escape.


    They walked to the nearest truck, where troops and mechanics were waiting for them, when another tremor shook the fortress. Cracks appeared in the ceiling, showering down debris and covering the hangar in a dusty mist.


    ¡°No! Watch out!¡± Halina screamed and pushed another girl. It saved the kid¡¯s life, but the sizeable chunk of rock that fell from above hit Halina¡¯s shoulder, breaking it and landing on the fallen girl¡¯s legs. The wounded child shrieked in pain, the tips of her white, gleaming bones tore through her skin. ¡°I am so sorry!¡± Halina gasped, forgetting about her own pain. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to¡­ I never wanted¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, kiddo!¡± their guide said, taking the girl with the broken legs into his arms as Peggy threw the stone aside. ¡°She¡¯ll live¡­¡±


    ¡°I will be the one deciding that.¡±


    A hand broke through the dust, grabbed Halina¡¯s throat, and lifted the choking girl up. Craven hesitated, unsure where the bastard had come from, and Peggy refrained from firing, worried about hitting the child. The newcomer had crept up on them silently, defying the imagination. Thick armor incrusted with jade plates stained by red covered the man from neck to toes. He was bareheaded, his ears resembling those of a dog, his nose flattened by an ancient trauma, and his large eyes sunk deep into his skull. Hideous robes of flayed skin cascaded from the man¡¯s shoulders, and Craven nearly vomited when he saw a stretched child¡¯s face on the leather. Cuts and lacerations covered the bald head, but the intruder paid no attention to the bleeding, examining the girl in his hand.


    Two soldiers, an Orais and a Normie, charged to flank him, and the three-meter-tall man moved with incredible agility. The butcher¡¯s cleaver in his hand blurred, chopping off the Orais¡¯ head, and the return blow skewered the Normie. The dust cleared, and the ambassador saw a large hole in the wall, with more hordemen pouring in.


    ¡°Broken scapula, broken¡­¡± Halina screamed as a large finger touched her swollen shoulder. ¡°¡­ correction, cracked clavicle, several slashes, young, healthy¡­¡± the broken nose sniffed. ¡°Unripe. Forty §Þ?§ß§Ô? as it is. Six hundred §Þ?§ß§Ô? upon being healed.¡±


    ¡°Let¡­ let me go, please.¡± Tears appeared in Halina¡¯s eyes. ¡°Dad¡­ help me!¡±


    ¡°Flesh does not speak. Cry, moan, scream in response to animalistic instincts, but do not dare to speak. I do not wish to mar your skin with a whip and diminish your value.¡± The grip tightened, silencing the girl. ¡°Docility or skin.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Craven stepped in front of the angry Peggy. Now was not the time for shooting. That bastard could easily snap the girl¡¯s neck. ¡°You spoke of §Þ?§ß§Ô?. Am I correct in my assumption that this is your currency?¡±


    The pale eyes wandered to him, and the fat lips pursed. ¡°Absolutely,¡± said the big hordeman. He spoke in a mundane tone during the appraisal, completely ignoring the soldiers in the hangar.


    ¡°Let me purchase our lives,¡± Craven offered. ¡°Name your price.¡±


    ¡°Outlanders are allowed at auctions, but the flesh is mistaken.¡± The ambassador clenched his fists nervously, hearing gunshots and the clanking of metal in the hangar. ¡°Whatever you have on yourself is already ours. But perhaps your khaganate is willing to buy you out?¡±


    ¡°Not just me.¡± Craven eagerly latched on to this proposition. He can work with it. ¡°Show mercy to everyone here; treat them kindly, and they¡¯ll be bought out. At your price, noble sir.¡± He put his palms together and bowed in submission, praying to God to spare the children¡¯s lives.


    Let the bastard gloat if he wanted to. Craven would endure any torture for the sake of his allies. Peggy would understand, he hoped. There was no victory here. But the Oathtakers never abandoned their own, or those who helped them. The day will come when this slave trader will wake up to the black eyes of General Crawler hovering over him. And when the chelicerae close around his body, he will learn the price paid by those who violated those under the Oath¡¯s protection. A month of slavery was nothing.


    ¡°How quaint,¡± the man said in a perfect Common. ¡°It is a rare sight to meet a reasonable flesh. You are not lying to me by any chance, graydy?¡±


    ¡°Perish the thought, kind master,¡± Craven assured him.


    ¡°Master. Flattery.¡± The slaver smiled. ¡°I¡¯ll perish you and these whelps in the most horrible way possible if you have lied to me, graydy. Until then, you are my bondsmen. Food, water, and medical care will be provided. The price of your freedom is two hundred gold bars. Eleven inches in length. The weight and price of the whelps and your whore will be determined later. But the soldiers and your feeble helpers¡­¡± He narrowed his eyes. ¡°Their value is not that high to waste water.¡±


    ¡°Reasonable people can surely come to an agreement¡­¡±


    ¡°No. Gatherers! Exterminate¡­¡±


    ¡°Exterminate this, jackass!¡± T yelled.


    ¡°No!¡± Craven when the boy appeared over the hordeman¡¯s shoulder.


    He did not know how the fat boy had sneaked up and climbed the monster in silence, but there was a glint of steel in T¡¯s hand. The boy buried it in the slaver¡¯s neck, bleeding the man, but not a hint of panic or anger touched the pale eyes. The man dropped Halina, and Craven caught her. Then his hand moved back, fingers pointing at T¡¯s eyes¡­


    The boy disappeared with a bang, and this time there was a surprised look on the madman¡¯s face. He was turning as Peggy opened fire on him. A bullet ricocheted off his forehead, and a piece of bloody skin dangled, covering one of his eyes as the man raised his hand to shield his face. More bullets rattled his armor, denting it and sending large pieces of metal flying.


    ¡°Where is he?!¡± the giant roared.


    ¡°Suck on my balls, dumb motherfucker!¡± T laughed from the truck, sitting next to the other kids, holding a pristine, clean knife.


    Craven had no time to solve this riddle. He hurried to the track and handed Halina to the teachers just in time to hear.


    ¡°I see you,¡± said a voice full of cold fury. The slaver stepped forward and landed his cleaver on Peggy. The blade bit deep into her wrist, shattering the armor and nearly taking away the arm. ¡°None escapes Slavetaker.¡± Peggy dropped her machinegun, reached her knife, and stabbed Slavetaker into the crack in his armor before his hand touched her.


    Slavetaker broke through her helmet, blinding the holy sister when his fingers ripped open her eyes. He grabbed her by the mouth and eye sockets and pulled, tearing off a large portion of Peggy¡¯s face. Teeth and bones smashed against the floor, blood dripped from the lump of meat in the cruel hand, and Peggy¡¯s body slumped to the ground.


    The bloodshot eyes focused on the truck, and Slavetaker¡¯s legs became blurred pistons as he hurried to his prey, roaring and clenching and unclenching his hand in anticipation. Craven had no time to think. The engine was already roaring, but there was no time. The hordeman would reach them first, and the surrounding soldiers were still fighting for survival.


    So he tackled the man. It was a weak, powerless shove, but it bought the precious moments for the truck to leave, and Craven Wickedbreed coughed through the pain as the cleaver landed on him, slicing down from his right shoulder to his chest.


    Faith. Faith that his sacrifice would give these children a chance at life. It sustained his conscience as the cleaver twisted and destroyed his lung.


    ¡°You failed,¡± Craven said through the bubbling blood, gasping for air. He wished for a more heroic or at least snide remark to irritate the bastard, but nothing came to mind.


    ¡°I saw them.¡± The hand grasped the skin on the side of the ambassador¡¯s head, peeling it away. ¡°They can run to the end of the world if they want. It won¡¯t save them. We are connected. Every night while they sleep, I step closer. Every time they are out of breath, I draw nearer. Their skins are mine for disobedience, their carcasses are food for the vultures. No slave or bondsman escapes Slavetaker. As for you, flesh. Let¡¯s see how much of your hide you can lose before your heart grows still.¡±


    Screw that. Craven decided and bit into the capsule hidden in his tooth.


    The Trolls were famous for their regeneration, and it was both a blessing and a curse. The ability to regrow organs or lost limbs was invaluable in most cases, aside from the times when a Troll ended up captured by cannibals or sadists. Then a Troll often suffered months of long torture before expiring. Such a fate always frightened Craven, and he opted for the program designed to prevent it.


    His body could withstand many wounds and poisons and still heal. But a lethal dose of hallucinogenic poison that affected his brain was fatal, even for him. Ambassador Craven died, blissfully thinking of home.


    And the war still raged on.

 Chapter 84: Heading Out

    ¡°Do we know who these bastards are? What exactly is this Gilded Horde?¡± Janine demanded to know.


    Her return to the base was less than graceful. Numbness still tried to imprison the right side of her body, from the eye to the lung. It was pointless to try to hide it, and after she stumbled for the third time, Alpha had simply picked her up under the armpit and carried her like a cub. Crimson with shame, Janine had still given the order to carry Tancred back to his mansion, wrapped in a cloak. Several injured knights had wanted to stay behind and search for their dead, but Janine had tolerated none of this. They had lost enough kin for one day.


    Janine hadn¡¯t the faintest idea why Alpha had maintained her silence, staring calmly at her fellow warlord. There was scrutiny in those eyes, but not a single command was disputed, and the group had soon surfaced, facing police, doctors, and journalists. Eased by the sight of her family, Janine had given Kalaisa the task of retrieving the bodies and had briefly contacted Dragena, telling her to put Kirk in charge of public relations in her place. Out of them all¡ªsafe for Bogdan, but no one in their right mind would¡¯ve assigned anything important to that mischievous cub¡ªhe was the closest to the Normies and had a proper head on his shoulders.


    ¡°Negative, Warlord,¡± Jacomie responded, grimacing from her wounds. The lieutenant and her closest officers were admitted into the Inevitable¡¯s command center.


    Low humming and beeping from the terminals filled the room. Busy operators fed regional status updates to warlords and wolf hags throughout the city. Officers coordinated rescue efforts and oversaw military preparations. Encased in protective shells, terminals took a load off from their rebooting ¡®kin¡¯ in the city.


    Jacomie had a nasty gunshot wound, but she refused to abandon her duties or take painkillers. Dressed only in a t-shirt and pants, she expertly brought the order to several panicked divisions, approved evacuation protocols, and ignored the field medic¡¯s removal of shrapnel from her body. Zero, wearing a simple black bodysuit and helmet, had helped Alpha put on the battle suit.


    Lacerated One sat in the corner, eyes closed, paws pressed together in a prayer. As always, the supreme shaman obeyed the primary rule: to obey the warlords in everything during a war. Ygrite crouched over an operator, barking orders to her pack in a raspy voice.


    Sage Frouke Ironwill, the chief sage to survive today¡¯s culling, stood in his soiled battleplate, respectful and remorseful, accepting the warlords¡¯ orders without a word. It was beginning to irk Janine. The man had over six hundred soldiers under his command and now he was acting all guilty because he had suffered a setback through no fault of his own! Big deal; she too had trouble enduring Drozna¡¯s rage. They had to work together instead of dwelling on imaginary mistakes. Frouke should have announced himself as a sword saint long ago and established his authority over Household Ironwill long ago.


    But she quenched her bile, wary of the relationship between Frouke and Tancred. There was no place for a blind revenge charge.


    ¡°Report,¡± Janine said. ¡°What¡¯s the situation in the city?¡±


    Eled threw one glance at Janine and easily pushed her into a seat. More medics rushed into the room in response to a finger snap and began clearing acid from the eye and bandaging the warlord¡¯s wounds. An injection of something cool into her optic nerve relaxed Janine¡¯s swollen eye.


    ¡°The city was hit hard,¡± Schalk said ahead of his commander, reading from a terminal in his hand. ¡°We lost Sword Saint Tancred; may the Planet show mercy on his soul. The chief of police and his deputy have been eliminated, and Zurkov has assumed the mantle of leadership for the time being. The Third has lost a total of one hundred and twenty Wolfkins, with sixty-eight more confined to beds. Despite vehement protests from your people, the doctors refuse to allow them back in the ranks.¡±


    ¡°Keep it that way.¡± Ygrite voiced her agreement, surprising everyone. ¡°Sedate them. What about the burden?¡±


    ¡°Civilians,¡± Eled growled, meeting Ygrite¡¯s irritated gaze. ¡°Address them with respect or not at all, sister.¡±


    The two warlords faced each other, snarling. Ygrite still bore the battering given to her by Alpha¡¯s claws, but it did not seem to hinder her in any way. Her paw slipped back into the sleeve of her cloak while Eled relaxed her fingers and rolled the muscles of her arms. Soldiers and technicians working on the bridge tensed, nervous about a possible explosion of violence that would ruin the valuable systems.


    Finally, Alpha asserted her rank. She pushed between her two sisters, not even looking at them, and both Eled and Ygrite dropped to their knees, their throats exposed. Alpha merely gestured for them to return to their seats.


    ¡°According to the latest report, we have four thousand nine hundred and eight wounded, over six hundred of them children and teenagers. The numbers are constantly being updated,¡± Schalk continued in an even tone. ¡°The dead are still being counted, but at least seven hundred citizens have lost their lives. We found your missing soldier and technician, Keon. The Investigation Bureau has graced us enough to state they were killed before the attack.¡± He tossed the terminal at the table and addressed the lieutenant. ¡°Ma¡¯am, we need to declare martial law. With all due respect to the mayor and the police, they are ill suited to handle the evacuation. This attack should not have happened; the Bureau dropped the ball! Let our forces sweep in and reestablish control; let us integrate the police into our forces until this crisis is over!¡±


    ¡°What is the mayor doing right now?¡± Alpha inquired.


    ¡°Mayor Jaquan is currently giving a speech about condemning the attack, Warlord!¡± Schalk saluted her. ¡°He has already procured aid from the private clinics, appointed a new commissioner, and authorized increased patrols and the use of power armor and heavy weapons for the police force. On his orders, the police began recruiting volunteers, and the Third Army provided instructors to help train them.¡± The man nodded gratefully to Alpha. ¡°He also called in the ambassadors of Iterna and the Oathtakers; no idea why.¡±


    ¡°To request their aid, no doubt. Houstad is not just any settlement, Sergeant. Foreigners live here,¡± Janine grumbled, reading the reports and nodding in approval of Kirk¡¯s speech. Kalaisa support was weird, unexpected, but wholly welcome. ¡°Mercenary companies are enlisting in droves for peanuts.¡±


    ¡°No wonder; their relatives have been hurt, and they want to pay back.¡± Ygrite shrugged.


    ¡°We¡¯ll give them ample opportunities. Veterans of the past wars are stepping forward, ready to join the police.¡± Janine rubbed the bridge of her nose. ¡°Based on what I see, the green guys held their own admirably. Assign the veterans as their instructors; that ought to keep them away from the front lines. Taxi drivers offer their services for free; the wyrms¡¯ companies are helping; even the criminal underworld is in full swing, throttling the life out of anyone suspected of cooperating with the enemies. Stop that.¡±


    ¡°Already sent the order,¡± Dragena replied. ¡°There will be no lynching on our watch.¡±


    ¡°Good. Religious authorities are holding mass prayers to allay the fears and to speak of unity. They request Lacerated One¡­¡± Her sister opened her eyes, and Janine sighed. ¡°Can we spare anyone? And Kirk has asked that our baubles be thrown into the prayer dens.¡±


    ¡°A sister lost her arm. Let it be her last duty before she joins the ranks of the Crippled,¡± said Lacerated One. She removed the bone necklace from around her neck and examined it longingly. ¡°All that is left of my parents. I don¡¯t remember them. Such is the price of letting a male run his mouth unchecked.¡±


    ¡°Want it back? Win,¡± Martyshkina advised. She hesitated and then handed the shaman a bone ring forged out of the femur of her second soulmate. ¡°Kirk did alright.¡±


    Lacerated One embraced the warlord, showing that she held no grudge against her or Kirk. The Gilded Horde had made a lot of enemies today. And Janine intended to see Brood Lord and his ilk skinned for what they¡¯d done.


    ¡°Send distress calls to the Dynast¡­¡± Janine cringed as Eled stitched her shoulder roughly, the medic¡¯s fingers proving incapable of piercing her hide. She found herself missing Maxence and his kind hands. ¡°¡­ the Second, and the First! I don¡¯t care if it makes us weak; the civilians¡¯ safety is paramount.¡± Realizing what she had been saying all along, Janine sheepishly looked at Alpha. ¡°Forgive me for speaking out of turn¡­¡±


    It wasn¡¯t her role. Goosebumps crept up her spine at the simple imagination of what those ruinous claws could do to her. The last warlord who had dared to speak in place of Alpha¡¯s place, condemning cubs to their deaths, had been flayed, excruciatingly slowly, before the entire tribe. It wasn¡¯t easy to mutilate a warlord when the skin was trying to regrow, but Alpha was thorough. She broke the woman, forcing cries of pain from her, and then declawed her. By sheer force of will, the guilty didn¡¯t die and was later admitted into Pack Alpha as a nameless wolf hag, yearning to earn the impossible redemption.


    ¡°Approved,¡± Alpha said calmly. ¡°Lieutenant?¡±


    ¡°No objections either. The mayor has everything under control. No need to frighten people or bring further confusion while we reorganize the command structure,¡± Jacomie said, coughing out blood and wiping it out with a piece of cloth. She tried to wave away the medic, but the man ignored her.


    ¡°Forgive me,¡± Frouke broke the silence, drawing attention to himself. ¡°Knight-captains report that vigilantes and less unsavory elements have offered¡­¡±


    ¡°We are aware. Accept their aid,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Is it wise? Some of these people were involved in the most grievous acts before.¡±


    ¡°And they received a full pardon from the state after serving their sentences. As for vigilantes, couldn¡¯t care less right now.¡± Janine faced his eyes. ¡°Frouke, Tancred¡¯s duty falls to you.¡±


    ¡°We will give our lives to uphold his legacy!¡± Frouke pressed a paw to his chest. ¡°Send us forth; let us pay for the crime of abandoning our posts through our deaths!¡±


    ¡°And leave citizens unprotected? No. We lack the Ironwills¡¯ expertise in maintaining order and evacuation. But we can kill, and so slaughter we will. Stay and do your duty. Do not spurn our unlikely allies; whatever happened in the past, their families are here too.¡± Janine put her paw on his shoulder, wondering if she was right. ¡°Take the sword saint¡¯s mantle and lead your pack.¡±


    ¡°This¡­ Lady Janine, that¡¯s not how it works in the order¡­¡± Frouke tried to argue when the towering shadow was cast over him.


    Bareheaded and clad in full gear, Alpha towered over everyone in the command center. Her marbled skin matched the white of the Ice Fangs armor perfectly, while her hungry, piercing eyes searched him, fishing for any weakness or flaws. Frouke stood proudly, and a mighty claw, longer than the male¡¯s head, rose.


    ¡°First had offered me to share leadership,¡± Alpha said, her voice like grinding gears. ¡°I take him up on the offer. On my authority as a warlord and kin to you, I declare you the acting sword saint. Should you feel unworthy, step down later, but for now, hold!¡± Her claw blurred in an arc, carving deep into her thick neck. Unperturbed, she gathered blood into her palm and bathed the man¡¯s snout in crimson.


    Alpha¡¯s blood carried no divine gift like Ravager¡¯s, Zero¡¯s, or Lacerated One¡¯s. When she was cut, she simply bled like any other member of the tribe. But such was her might and skill that a sight of her bleeding was a miraculous occasion. Tens of thousands had fallen to her claws or been incinerated in the lawful heat of her plasma. To see her, of all people, willingly wound herself rendered Frouke awestruck, and the man knelt, a nobleman knighted by a monster.


    ¡°Stand tall, brother in rank and blood. Take the weapons and armor of your fallen lord. Shield the people and his wife. Houstad is in the Ironwills¡¯ care.¡± Alpha stepped aside, already losing interest in the man. Only a faint hiss accompanied her thundering footsteps as the horrible gash in her neck healed itself, emitting a thin crimson vapor.


    ¡°And we shall not fail,¡± the newly promoted sword saint promised.


    ¡°Where is Captain Cristobo?¡± Jacomie asked.


    ¡°Dead,¡± Dragena declared. Her dispassionate, almost dead eyes glared at the lieutenant. ¡°The poison on the assassin¡¯s blade had ended his life shortly after he was delivered to the private clinic.¡±


    Martyshkina had to physically restrain Janine from standing up. She ignored the cruel hook to the head that sent the whole world spinning, and the medic¡¯s protests. Cristobo died? But¡­ It was impossible! Cristobo was the sixth Normie to be personally accepted by the Blessed Mother. She trusted him to enter her den! Cristobo had loyally stood by Ravager¡¯s side all these years, and... And there was something else about the situation that Janine could not put her finger on.


    The doors behind Dragena let in a frightened woman, her entire body covered in badly healed bruises and bandaged in places under an oversized trench coat. Onyxia appeared next. Her hair moved randomly, blinking in and out of view. Streaks of shadow seeped through the gorget of her armor, giving a false impression that the armor was all that held the warlord in the corporeal realm. The normally cold and distant warlord held her gauntlets on the woman¡¯s shoulders, guiding her. Onyxia nodded to everyone and scowled at Jacomie.


    ¡°We have news.¡± Dragena pointed at the woman. ¡°Our sister and First have been busy eradicating over thirty slaver camps.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like you had a war,¡± Ygrite laughed.


    ¡°No one told me to stop.¡± Onyxia shrugged her shoulders. ¡°First ain¡¯t so bad, I must say. He kept pestering me about ¡®human rights that, human rights this, no, you can¡¯t just eat slavers alive¡¯. Bah, it was such a bother dragging their asses back to our borders! But, Ygri, you have to see him on a mission one day! Covered in blood and gore, sneaking after you with a ghost¡¯s grace, ending lives at a touch¡­ Ah, what a male! I¡¯d jump into his pants right away if his heart didn¡¯t belong to another!¡± Alpha stomped, and Onyxia dropped all pretense. ¡°Back to business, yeah. First Sunblade has left to meet his fellow sword saints and inform them of Tancred¡¯s demise. This right here is a princess¡­¡±


    ¡°I am no princess,¡± the woman whispered tearfully. ¡°A princess stays with her people. A princess would¡¯ve protected her family¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, heard that one already. Cheer up; the horrors are in the past; retribution cometh.¡± Onyxia gently patted the woman on the back. ¡°So, the princess over here belonged to a country recently conquered by the Gilded Horde¡­¡±


    ¡°They butchered everyone who resisted,¡± the woman whimpered. ¡°Brood Lord grabbed my brother, a boy less than a year old, and dragged him out. He used him to distract my father and¡­ and...¡±


    ¡°How did you survive?¡± Janine asked softly, trying not to frighten the woman. Another debt owned by Brood Lord. He had incurred too many of them already.


    ¡°I am not sure myself. One of Brood Lord¡¯s whelps had let us run. At first I thought it was a cruel trick and that they planned to hunt us down later, but... we escaped. And later, we ran into a slaver party; the bastards came to poach on our weakened home. I distracted them so my family could escape. Milady Onyxia and His Excellency First were the ones who rescued me later. I have no idea how to repay them¡­¡±


    ¡°Think nothing of it,¡± Onyxia told the young woman. ¡°Live your life, get many cubs, eat and sleep plenty, be happy, and the debt is cleared, okay? Okay. Now tell us about the Gilded Horde.¡±


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    After taking a deep breath, the trembling woman told her tale. Her homeland had first heard of the Horde from the refugees, who had portrayed it as an unstoppable force that wrathfully hammered down upon everything standing in their way, enslaving and beating the populace into submission. The king had been weighing whether or not to call in the Reclamation Army or the Oathtakers for help, worried that the soldiers might stage a coup once they arrived. There was a kernel of truth in these concerns, Janine admitted to herself. The Dynast and his rival Lord Steward had taken advantage of such situations before, though both nations had moved toward trustworthiness as the world changed.


    But the king never had the chance to choose. The Gilded Horde invaded far too soon; their minions sowed dissension in the capital, and their champions, warriors of impossible strength and incredible abilities, overran the countryside, cutting off communications to the Net and halting any attempts to call for aid. Dragena meticulously added everything the princess had said, including obvious exaggerations, and Martyshkina, Onyxia, and Ygrite narrowed their eyes at the news of a crazed preacher who mercilessly tortured humans using his control over time. Such opponents were usually left to Alpha, but occasionally one of these three handled them.


    Dragena kept asking questions about enemy numbers, but the princess was of little help. After the siege began, her father sent the girl to the inner chambers. She had heard from the servants how the purple fields around their city had turned yellow and glistened with steel as countless thousands of hardened killers arrived in full force.


    ¡°Their emissaries asked us about God.¡± The woman wiped her eyes. ¡°We told them about the water goddess, the wind deity, and even about the wise stone master, even though his faithful were never many. But they merely laughed, insisting that they were looking for one true God pretender, whatever that means.¡±


    ¡°Idiocy,¡± Ashbringer broke her silence, crossing her arms. A streak of flame left her flamethrower, heating her snout. ¡°There is no true singular deity. Otherwise, only a single religion would¡¯ve risen from the ruins, not a host.¡±


    ¡°And now they are coming here,¡± the woman said mournfully.


    ¡°This is their graveyard,¡± Janine promised her and gestured for a soldier to lead away the foreign princess. Once the crisis was over, the Dynast would probably reinstate her as ruler to secure new lands, but they had to survive until then.


    Janine remained silent as she studied the similarities in the Horde¡¯s attack. Mysterious murders preceded the invasion. They had experienced it today. The implication of it was clear: the Wall had to be fortified. Their new enemies also used chemical warfare, unbound by international rules.


    ¡°The population will need chemical protection,¡± Janine said finally.


    ¡°I¡¯d much prefer not to expose our citizens to shelling, but you are right, sister,¡± Dragena agreed icily. Janine ignored the tone. Dragena was simply incapable of expressing herself otherwise; there was no implicit disrespect in her words. ¡°Ygrite. Half of your pack still hasn¡¯t had their equipment repaired. Guard the little ones in hospitals.¡±


    ¡°Figured out their methods, didn¡¯t you?¡± Ygrite grinned. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll keep the pipsqueaks safe and sound until we can evacuate them. If Brood Lord shows up, I¡¯ll leave you a finger or two, dear sister.¡± She glared at Janine, opening her jaws wide. ¡°Although, had someone taken an enemy alive, I could¡¯ve prepared much better.¡±


    ¡°She killed civilians, Ygrite,¡± Janine said coldly.


    ¡°And yet she begged for mercy, Janine,¡± Ygrite responded. ¡°I watched the recording of your engagement. Are you a soldier or an executioner? Even the Horde shows more mercy. Terrific would be proud of you.¡±


    ¡°Imply it again and I¡¯ll rip out your fangs.¡± Janine rose. Martyshkina was by her side immediately.


    ¡°Enough.¡± Dragena stepped between them, paws behind her back, and Alpha loomed behind her like a shadow. ¡°None of us is without sin, Ygrite. I, too, had murdered my opposition. Janine, mercy is never misguided. If not for the Dynast¡¯s mercy, none of us would be standing here. Show restraint in the future. Let the courts do their job. Regardless, we know enough now.¡±


    ¡°Elaborate,¡± Alpha demanded.


    ¡°All members of the Insectoid Commune share the same pitch-black compound eyes,¡± Dragena began explaining. ¡°Ice Fangs and our people have red and amber eyes, respectfully. Even Orais and Trolls look similar to their kin. Only the Malformed experience such a variety of changes in their bodies. Judging by how different Brood Lord¡¯s offspring are from him and from each other, we can safely assume that he is a mutated Malformed himself.¡±


    ¡°Is this even a thing?¡± Martyshkina asked.


    ¡°It is a rare genetic occurrence, but it does happen. Mutants¡¯ cubs often lose the biological characteristics of their parents. Researchers will have the final word, but judging that Brood Lord¡¯s litter is smaller and less powerful than he is, I assume he shares the same anomaly. Next, the New Breeds of the Gilded Horde.¡± Dragena snapped her fingers, and a screen descended from the ceiling, displaying the results of the autopsy. ¡°Observe. The placement of the organs and the skeleton itself are similar to the Normies. They do not have subdermal armor like us, but their muscle fiber density is fifty times that of a well-trained Normie, and their fat serves as an excellent natural kinetic disperser.


    ¡°These people are clearly a tribe, like we are. Not only that, but there are Normies, mercenaries in their ranks in abundance, along with battle beasts.¡± Dragena faced the warlords. ¡°Our foe is not some warband, but an expanding empire, hungry for conquest, with leaders capable of matching us. Doubtless, all of them have their own styles and preferences for leading a war, too. Janine showed excellent foresight in calling for reinforcements.¡±


    Janine scratched the back of her head, struggling not to refute the praise. I am not that smart. I only wanted to preserve our people.


    ¡°Yet this time they had gravely miscalculated,¡± Dragena stated.


    ¡°How?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Houstad.¡± Martyshkina grinned.


    ¡°Very good. Someone¡¯s been listening,¡± Alpha snapped angrily, turning to Ashbringer, Onyxia, Eled, Zero, and Ygrite. ¡°Janine is green blood; what is your excuse? Fools. What did the princess say?¡±


    ¡°They sabotaged the capital, cutting it off prior to¡­¡± Zero clicked in understanding.


    ¡°Very good, there are still marbles in that bucket of yours, Zero,¡± mocked Alpha.


    ¡°Screw you, sis.¡± Zero chuckled good-naturedly. ¡°The Gilded Horde underestimated our scope. They think Houstad and we are the heart and the army, rather than a heart and an army.¡±


    ¡°Warlord Dragena! The contact is restored!¡± an operator shouted, and Dragena appeared beside the man with a loud thud as steel boots bounced off the ground.


    The warlord leaned toward the display, its faint green light reflecting off her faceplate. With a snap of her fingers, the incoming video feed was transmitted to the warlord¡¯s terminals.


    The worst-case scenario had happened. The once unassailable bastions to the southwest had been breached. Missiles flew over the Wall, landing at a road, burrowing into reinforced bunkers, crashing amidst artillery, and spewing out chemicals that immediately choked the defenders who had their armor fractured by the earlier bombardments.


    Numerous cannons punched holes in the reinforced concrete, reaching the barracks within. Shells rained down on the auxiliary facilities in the rear, flattening additional radar relays and communications towers. Sniper positions withered under searing napalm, and burning figures toppled from the battlements.


    Hordemen marched through the burning sea of torched, overgrown greenery to the openings in the wall, led by a gigantic, laughing figure of a woman in furs. She alone wore no armor, eagerly welcoming the defenders¡¯ counterfire as she sheathed her weapons. Sniper fire was less than a mosquito bite to her; the explosions of the surviving artillery that tore the nearest hordemen into pieces were no more than a morning breeze. Then the screen flickered as the soldier who filmed her had his neck snapped by a breacher.


    Entire levels cascaded down as the siege weapons unleashed their wrath. Their missiles had sharp drills at the end, and upon striking the target, they burrowed tens of meters deep within and exploded in flashes of light, melting cameras and sending titanic shockwaves rocking through the fortification. Rapidly advancing automated machines quickly closed in on the Wall, unfolding into heavy weapon emplacements with turrets sprouting from their bowels. Bursts of armor-piercing fire ripped through the gaping hole in the bastions, preventing the defenders from denying the enemy entry.


    The Provincial Army fought tooth and nail, refusing to surrender any corridor or room without extracting a bloody tool. Turrets were removed from the top of the wall and placed at critical points; a sudden charge of super-heavy tanks from the hidden entrances in the advancing wave caught the eager invaders off guard and bought a brief respite; the state¡¯s New Breeds mowed down their foes one by one. An Exotic gifted with the ability to shrink items helped move dozens of oversized artillery cannons into the corridors, and they sang a nasty surprise, leveling the passages and the attackers alike.


    Sacrifices of these brave souls had given the defenders enough time for orderly retreat, and many passing trucks forcibly grabbed gaping traders and civilians, taking them to safety. No audio files came along with the visual feed, but Janine understood the strategy. The officer in charge was trying to alert the smaller settlements so they could flee to Houstad. But as the state forces retreated from their borders for the first time in decades, the Gilded Horde revealed their hand.


    Bubbles formed over the section of the Wall, and it immediately changed in color. The paint washed over it in a cloud of dust, webs of cracks spread far and wide, and a massive rain of rusted steel and crumbling metal came cascading down, paving the way for the invaders. Shining gold, green, and silver, thousands bypassed the Wall, spilling into the Core Lands.


    To murder, enslave, and conquer.


    ¡°Why haven¡¯t we been informed? How did they get so close?¡± Jacomie asked, already calling her troops and ordering the formation of cordons at Houstad¡¯s entrances.


    ¡°Find a way to establish a connection with our allies. Warn the nearby settlements.¡± Dragena ordered the operator.


    ¡°Impossible, ma¡¯am!¡± the operator replied, typing furiously. ¡°Something is jamming our communications! We can see them, but we cannot send or receive a word.¡±


    ¡°Contact Till Ingo. Request his assistance immediately.¡± Dragena¡¯s helmet rapidly closed around her head. ¡°First. Camelia. Voidrunner.¡± She paused, tapping the side of her helmet. ¡°They¡¯re not responding.¡±


    ¡°Maybe their communications are jammed, too?¡± Janine guessed.


    ¡°Impossible,¡± Dragena replied coldly. ¡°Our encryption systems have proven to be superior to those of the Provincial Army, and our kin are spread far too widely for them all to be affected. Frouke just responded to me, and his supremacy had passed messages to the mayor before, so we are not the ones being blocked. No, these proud fools ignore us on purpose.¡±


    Dragena walked to the center of the room, facing the warlords and reading their intentions. Janine knew what she had found in them. Logically, the most reasonable thing to do right now was to stay here and dig in, setting traps, preparing defenses, and awaiting the Second and First armies. The state was vast, and it would take time for its armies to arrive, but when that time came, the fate of the enemies would be sealed.


    But this wasn¡¯t who they were. Not with their kin still in the field. Not with the civilians caught in the settlements in the Gilded Horde¡¯s path. The Wolf Tribe swore an oath to be both the shield and the sword for the state that took them in and cared for them. They had honored it before; they would do so again, even if it meant defying Ravager¡¯s orders.


    ¡°I understand, but disagree, sisters,¡± Dragena said calmly. ¡°Lacerated One! The enemy may attempt to use mental attacks once more. You are to stay behind to aid Ygrite and Frouke. If Drozna reappears, end him. You will use the latest power armor.¡±


    ¡°If that is your wish, Warlord.¡± The Supreme Shaman bowed, clearly unhappy about having to discard her ancient plate. ¡°His anger is but an insulting joke against our devotion.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t push it. Even sages had troubles.¡± Dragena¡¯s cold eyes found Zero. ¡°Get the Blessed Mother.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where she is.¡± Zero gulped nervously.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play games, sister,¡± Dragena pressed. ¡°Lives are at stake. Our sisters¡¯ and brothers¡¯. Do it. Please.¡±


    Zero¡¯s trembling paws reached for her helmet. She pressed several buttons in sequence, and with a soft hiss, the helmet opened, the lower part folding into the upper. A light that rivaled the Blessed Mother¡¯s in intensity illuminated the entire command deck like a newborn sun. Ravager¡­ Zero took off her helmet, ran a paw over her perfect hair, smiled, showing beautiful and elegant fangs, and gave thumbs up to Jacomie and Schalk¡¯s gasps.


    Janine struggled against the urge to bend her knees. It was not only a sign of weakness but also an outright insult to Zero, who wished to be treated as her own person. And yet, there was a feeling coming from the woman¡ªan unspoken command demanding absolute submission, every bit as strong as the Blessed Mother¡¯s.


    Looking at her face here and now, even despite knowing that Ravager wore no clothes and seeing the Blessed Mother up close, the sight still made Janine want to submit. At first glance, when Zero wore her normal clothes, maintained her normal posture, and chatted with others with her helmet on, few would associate her with Ravager. Now, without her helmet, the resemblance was undeniable. Same-looking cheeks, same-shaped cheeks, same nose, identical eyes. It was as if someone had taken the Blessed Mother, shrunk her considerably, and forced her to wear clothes and walk like a real person.


    Ravager and Zero were one and the same, two lives born of the same material, but where the Blessed Mother ascended to divinity, Zero chose not to, deliberately hindering her growth and refusing the gifts of her power. All who came from Ravager bore the same gift. The stronger the foe they defeated, the stronger they grew. Each had their own individual ceiling, resulting from the intensity of the gift coursing through their veins. But they could also stop that growth by refusing to accept the reward of their power. And Zero did just that, content to be equal to mortals rather than standing equal among gods.


    Janine noticed that only the provincial officers gasped. All warlords were initiated into Zero¡¯s secret upon their elevation. But the command crew? Curious.


    Zero leaned back and studied the hatch in the ceiling. Her nostrils moved, picking up the scent of her sister. And then she was gone, a ghost disappearing on her own hunt.


    ¡°Rouse the packs,¡± Dragena commanded, taking the Ravager¡¯s seat on the dais. ¡°The mission is to bring back our kin, save as many civilians as possible, and gather all available forces of the Provincial Army. Do not attack strongly, sisters. Five warlords are in the Outer Lands, watching over our villages, and every sister who bears life is to join them immediately, even those already in maternity hospitals. Better to have a few stillborn cubs than to lose everything.¡± Dragena took a moment of silence, waiting for any objections. No one spoke. ¡°Alpha, is she¡­¡±


    ¡°In the Outer Lands,¡± Alpha growled.


    ¡°Good. Six warlords will survive if the worst happens.¡±


    ¡°Five warlords. She is not our sister and never will be,¡± Alpha insisted, and Dragena paid no attention to her.


    ¡°No matter the losses, our blood will live on. The Wolf Tribe and the Third Army will launch the operation immediately,¡± Dragena said.


    ¡°I will go with them¡­¡± Jacomie started.


    ¡°You will rest and work with me, Lieutenant. No, Captain. Jacomie, you are promoted to the rank of the late Cristobo. Schalk, you are promoted to the rank of Jacomie. Congratulations.¡± Dragena¡¯s eyes betrayed no emotions.


    ¡°Where is Predaig?¡± Onyxia asked as Janine accepted adrenaline and anti-toxin shots from the medic. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me she croaked too¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± came a voice from the sliding doors.


    Predaig entered, clad in her armor, aside from her helmet. Her mane and fur were wet, the light in her eyes shone brighter than ever, but the most significant change was the complete absence of the gray strands. Their sister was reborn, striding with the grace of a young scout and capable of the devastation befitting a member of the first generation.


    ¡°The Horde¡¯s cruelty had incurred a blood debt. I wonder if they have enough lives to repay it,¡± Predaig said simply, as if that explained everything, moving her fingers as if to marvel at the returned agility.


    ¡°Where are your scars?¡± Onyxia¡¯s teasing nibble cleaved the air before any question could be asked. ¡°Ah, I get. Met a boy¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up!¡± Predaig slammed one end of her weapon into the floor. ¡°I don¡¯t know! I opted for a rejuvenation procedure; it was not my fault that the blasting Iternian abused my trust.¡±


    ¡°Ooh, Iternian, you say.¡± Grinned Onyxia and dodged a swing.


    ****


    Janine met her pack outside of the crawler; Bogdan and Ignacy had just returned from the city and were now hurrying to her with the power armor. Marco was among them, proudly carrying a massive helmet in his paws. Janine nodded to them, sparing no warm words today and spreading her arms in greetings of hundreds of her soldiers.


    ¡°Sisters! Brothers! The Oath calls us!¡± she thundered as her sons encased her in the combat plate, shoving chords into the sockets of the implants and filling her body with tingling electricity. ¡°Our walls have been breached, our noble city violated, our compatriots wounded or dead. Treachery has wormed its way into the heart of our defenses and taken the lives of our sisters and brothers. What answer will we give to those responsible for it?!¡±


    ¡°Death! Death!¡± roared hundreds, their voices joined by every pack. Only Martyshkina joined in late, silently paying her respects to her fallen wolf hag.


    Sheer aggression. Sheer rage. This was the way of the Wolf Tribe. They did not care about numbers or odds. Only to fulfill their duty to the letter or die trying.


    And many will die; of this, Janine had little doubt. The packs will set out fully equipped and with the best weapons possible. But in their advance, they will have little chance to resupply and almost no chance to repair their gear. Every crack, every missed shot, every cut and bruise will slowly wither them down. Yet there was no fear. There will be no single desperate counterattack into the enemy¡¯s charge. The bastards liked raids? The Wolf Tribe will give them raids, biting them from dozens of directions at once, striking without honor, but with reason, precision, and determination.


    Our pure condition. Hunters unleashed from the leash.


    ¡°Then death is what we will bring to the invaders! Many they are, but this only means more corpses to serve as fertilizer!¡± A booming laughter came back, and Janine returned the grin, the metal closing around her paws. She leaned forward, and Marco mounted the helmet that dulled her voice. ¡°The inhabitants of the Core Lands. They are soft. And gentle. Beautiful, and so full of potential. Cubs in need of protection.¡± Her armor hummed, a beast awakening, and the helmet opened so the sun could see her fangs. ¡°The future is theirs, but the coming carnage is ours! Revel in the coming righteous slaughter and rejoice in the opportunity to live our own way! Protect the weak and strangle the tyrants!¡± Anissa handed the axe to Janine, and the warlord raised her weapon and took the laser rifle from Bogdan. ¡°Let the hunt begin! Doom to the Horde!¡±


    The locks clamped, securing the weapons to her back, and Janine leaped, denting the ramp. Flying over the troops, she landed on all fours and raced for the exit, her named sisters at her side, the packs joining her. In a river of black-shelled bodies, they sallied forth through the emptying streets, the lenses of their helmets burning crimson. Bone-chilling howls filled the air, but the citizens waved at them instead of fleeing, and there was a look of hope on their faces. The troops of the Provincial Army and the policemen pounded their fists on their chests in farewell.


    Hundreds of engines revved, and the New Breeds of the Third joined this march. The loss of their soldiers to treachery and Keon¡¯s death spurred Chak and his staff to an unprecedented level of effort, and they worked overtime to repair the remaining vehicles and armor. Wounded Wolfkins cast aside superstitious concerns and demanded artificial limbs, insisting on staying and fighting. The Third was wounded but was far from dead, and now the cornered beast bristled, roaring a challenge.


    This time the army marched without the guidance of the Blessed Mother, and it was Dragena who coordinated their strategy and oversaw preparations for a siege. But there was no fear.


    Fear was what their opponents should have felt.

 Chapter 85: Ambush for an Attack

    Jack vomited blood, front teeth, and the remains of his breakfast onto the stone pavement as he tried desperately to get to his feet. His legs hurt, and he was pretty sure that the last stomp had liquefied the bones in his foot. His fingers swelled and refused to obey, forcing the trucker to use his elbows to lift himself up. A trickle of blood ran down his jawline. Lights dimmed, and his poor head ached even more than it had when the mad Orais had punched through his truck¡¯s generator that one time.


    ¡°One,¡± a mocking voice bleated, counting down the seconds.


    How did it come to this? Just this morning, he stopped at Susie¡¯s for breakfast and a chat about the coming weather, when the windows were shattered and strange freaks raced through the streets, firing at everyone. He had dropped to the floor, praying to the Planet for his life, when he saw Susie¡¯s head being blown off! Where was the constable?


    Oh... His fingers touched the brain matter of a dead friend. There he was, lying in the middle of this makeshift cage. Unknown soldiers, all suited in gold and steel armor, had dragged everyone out into the open, jeering and cheering, drinking alcohol, emptying houses, and forcing the prisoners to entertain them. Two elderly truckers were forced to run back and forth across overheated coals until their feet blackened and the poor lads fell face down into the flames. The lucky ones just had to play the tune while these hordemen rounded up the rest, meticulously checking young men and women and arguing over their share of ¡®bondsmen¡¯, ignoring the pleading cries of children deafened by the crackling fires.


    Desperate and brazen, Jack stood up and shouted obscenities at the scum, demanding they stop when two riders dragged a woman into a ruined shop. He had half expected to be shot, but the raiders¡¯ leader had burst into laughter and given the command to construct an arena of iron beams, offering the citizens a choice. If they so much as touched her, she had promised to leave them in peace. But failure to rise within three seconds meant the loss of forty lives. Elders and wounded children were lined up against a wall of their ruined town, tight nooses tied around their necks.


    Jack, the wounded constable, and five others had agreed to confront the overweight woman. Surely it could not be this difficult to touch this three-meter-tall bald ugly fiend, with burly arms and cusack steaks for legs barely concealed by armor, right? The raider had smirked, praised their bravery, and left her swords sheathed, picking up two iron staffs. The first to lunge at her and scream in pain was Jack. She simply disappeared, moving too fast for his eyes to track. The armor had scraped against the cage as she circled him nimbly as a dancer, bringing the staff down on his shoulder blade. The bitch could have broken it, but she had deliberately prolonged the fight, pulling her punches.


    For half an hour, their hapless team had chased her around the arena, getting their shit kicked and desperately trying to lay a finger on the metal plates of her suit. Their cries of pain had rang out as she had thinned the group, and soon Jack stood alone, unsure why he hadn¡¯t been murdered like his friends.


    Laughter was the worst of it. She laughed, and her soldiers laughed. The mocking voices had drowned out Jack¡¯s screams. He didn¡¯t even hear himself and wasn¡¯t sure if he wasn¡¯t hallucinating himself speaking. Laughter seemed to envelop him like a thick cocoon, never ceasing to hurt Jack¡¯s head.


    ¡°Two,¡± the raider sang, chuckling.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, lasses and lads, Uncle Jack was in a worse rumble. This? Ain¡¯t nothing,¡± he mumbled, knowing full well it was a lie. He was a trucker, damn it! The only dead body he had ever seen in his life was his old grandfather¡¯s! And now here he was, surrounded by death and blood, his pants wet, his bones broken. Still, he forced himself to raise his wobbly legs, swaying like a drunkard, and prepared his skinless knuckles for a punch.


    For there was no one else here, and Jack would be damned if he stopped before his body was broken. Strangely, all he could hear now was the leader¡¯s laughter, but even that noise was akin to a needle slowly entering his head through the eye and raking his brain. A touch. A touch. His lips whispered soundlessly.


    Jack charged at the raider, a tiny ant against the mountain of muscle and fat. Her wide lips parted in a gleeful smile, and her beady eyes followed his feeble swing, which moved so much slower than before. This time she humiliated him completely, dodging the blow as his fingers were a millimeter from the jewel-encrusted surface of the armor, promising him false hope before snatching it away to plunge him into despair. A searing hit across his back sliced through his tattered jacket, carrying away a piece of skin.


    ¡°One,¡± the raider repeated her chant, tapping him on the chin with her staff.


    I can¡¯t do it anymore. Jack cried, trying to stand up. His back was on fire, even worse than that one time when he threw it during loading. His legs simply refused to listen. And the knocking continued. Tap. Tap. Tap.


    ¡°You are boring. You bored me,¡± she chided. ¡°What say you? I give you life if you choke the life out of them? Nice deal, yes?¡±


    He froze, remembering his own mother back in Houstad. If he died here, who would bring her tea and massage her legs? Will anyone drive her to a hospital in a time of need? He was a nobody, a simple man; it¡¯s the damn Army¡¯s job to fight and protect them, and there wasn¡¯t a single one of those mouth breathers anywhere. He paid his taxes; he had dreams, and he might even do the hostages a favor by ending their suffering, he¡­


    Was a man. A human being. What was he thinking? There were kids among the hostages. What kind of vile scum was he to even consider harming them?


    ¡°I¡­¡± He heard her lean closer. ¡°Fuck you!¡± Jack forced one last smile and lunged, hoping to grab the attacker¡¯s leg. His fists closed on the empty air, and the cruel woman chuckled.


    The armored hand moved, preparing to make a swing that would slice his head clean off. The raider had finally grown weary of this mockery. And the staff came down, screaming as it passed through the air like a helicopter blade. At least it will be¡­ The strike never reached his neck, stopped dead by a black gauntlet. The first clenched, crumbling the metal steel as the attacker leapt back, shouting words in an unknown language.


    ¡°Two, whore,¡± a voice growled, and Jack looked up.


    A figure next to Jack stood as tall as the raider¡ªno, even taller! Armor of the darkest color reflected no daylight; twin crimson lenses focused at the raider, while an elongated helmet, fashioned after a wolfish head, revealed an open mouth filled with the sharpest fangs. As his savior stepped forward silently, a golden symbol of the Reclamation Army glittered on the elbow.


    A Wolfkin! Jack had seen the news of their arrival in Houstad, but before that he had worked for white-furred ones, pleasant sirs and ladies who carried themselves with dignity. When they marched to war, magnificent suits of armor shielded their bodies, and cloaks flowed proudly from their shoulders. And this one right here was their wild cousin. Rumors of their savagery were well known; other truckers spoke in hushed voices that these monsters often stole infants from cribs, devouring the crying babies to instill fear in mothers, and cannibalized anyone they encountered during certain seasons, devastating entire regions. The horrors of the Wastes and the barbaric morning star of the Dynast.


    ¡°We have secured the hostages and taken care of the trash, Wolf Hag Kalaisa!¡± an icy voice said, and Jack swung his head with difficulty toward a scene of carnage.


    The bodies of the raiders littered the ground; their suits were pried open, and many had their spines ripped off. Blood rolled down from the building where their scouts had kept watch; now, black-clad wolfish figures scoured the rooftops, crude rifles on their backs and their claws painted crimson. Several Wolfkins tended to injured civilians and freed hostages from the ropes. Drunk on stolen liquor and ecstatic over an effortless victory, the would-be slavers had lost their vigilance. There were no clarion horns heralding a challenge or the nobility of the Ice Fang order. The murder of over sixty people had been done so quietly and efficiently that neither Jack nor his opponent had noticed.


    ¡°My friends!¡± A girl with a broken arm cried out. ¡°We escaped from the Wall, but I fell, and they saved me, and then we lost each other! Don¡¯t let them die, please! Find them and run, before the Horde kills everyone again¡­¡±


    ¡°Hush, little one.¡± A soldier snatched her and pressed her to his armored chest, gently patting her head. ¡°Breathe. One, two, three. That¡¯s a brave girl! My name¡¯s Kirk, and do you know what this is?¡± He pulled a toy from his belt. ¡°It¡¯s Commander Outsider, and he¡¯s going to keep you safe. Bro, her arm,¡± he told a nearby Wolfkin.


    ¡°Not a medic, Kirk.¡± The soldier raised his hands. ¡°I¡¯ll break more than I heal. Ask her where she lost her friends.¡±


    ¡°Ask her yourself; she won¡¯t bite!¡±


    ¡°Oh no, no way, Kirk. You are the Normie-Talker, so talk.¡±


    ¡°Normie-Talker? Who even came up with this?¡±


    ¡°Soulless One bestowed this Grand Name upon you. Be honored,¡± the Wolfkin said reverently.


    Am I going insane? Jack thought, wondering if the reinforcements weren¡¯t his imagination brought into reality by a severe beating. Maybe he was slowly dying and his brain was hallucinating to cope with the harsh reality.


    ¡°Good. Commandeer trucks, bandage the wounded, pack up our people, and keep your eyes wide open. We don¡¯t want to get jumped on like these suckers,¡± the wolf hag grumbled, and hands lifted Jack, carrying him out of the cage. ¡°I want to save at least a thousand lives before nightfall!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you mean kill a thousand, Wolf Hag?¡± icily asked the smaller Wolfkin, and Jack understood from their voices that they were both women.


    ¡°I know what I said. There will be plenty of fools to sacrifice to honor our warlord and the fallen. Besides, we can multi-task; Ygrite and Jaine have taught us well. Give me a second or two. Need to work out my anger through evisceration.¡±


    Kalaisa rocked her neck and advanced on the raider. Claws slipped from her gauntlets, and the raider reached for her curved swords, seemingly undaunted by the inevitable demise.


    ¡°Two whores, you said?¡± sneered the shorter woman. ¡°One being carried away physically and another metaphorically, correct?¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± Kalaisa replied, ducking low and crossing her arms. ¡°I heard your joke. Sing me a song next.¡±


    She disappeared, blinking away, and bounced off the metal beams behind the raider, sending two of them flying. The raider shrieked in pain, stumbling backwards as one of her arms dropped to the ground, severed cleanly at an elbow.


    ¡°You¡¯re a damn hero, you know that, buddy?¡± said the soldier who carried Jack. ¡°You distracted them long enough for us to sneak in.¡±


    ¡°I am no hero,¡± Jack muttered, feeling that he was about to pass out. ¡°I even lost my trucker hat.¡±


    ¡°Are all Normies this weird?¡± The Wolfkin smirked and sniffed him. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, I¡¯ll find it.¡±


    The hacking and screaming in the cage didn¡¯t last long.


    ****


    Maria hurried through the forest, ignoring the sharp branches that tore at her clothes, leaving bloody slices on her forearms. Trees around her village had been altered during the terraforming, their branches sported long thorns capable of carving bone-deep gashes into the flesh of an unwary traveler. As a child, she had once run into one such spike, earning herself a black eyepatch for life.


    The forest was unnaturally dark; dense foliage swallowed up all but the tiniest rays of light, and the sound died amidst the shadowy bark of colossal trees. It was a place to be feared and respected, easy to get lost in if you did not use the roads. Even a government inspection had found no reason for such an unnatural change, and Maria had usually steered clear of this darkness, preferring the welcoming, green and lush forests to the south.


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    But now she didn¡¯t care. Three soldiers of the provincial army formed a triangle around them, helping Maria, an Iternian reporter Jacob Makarevich, and two kids back to their feet when they stumbled. Another kid, a boy around two years old, was pressed to her chest, and Jacob was carrying an infant. The Iternian had arrived in their village two days ago, paying well, staying impeccably kind and gentle as he filmed their everyday lives and searched for a guide to enter and explore the forest. Maria didn¡¯t know him or any of these children well, but this morning, the soldiers from the garrison had arrived in a panic, yelling at everyone to flee.


    They had barely managed to get a few people on the bus when the first strike came. A shell had fallen from the skies, cleaving through Old Ben¡¯s house. Loud engine screams assaulted Maria¡¯s ears next, and blurred bikes flashed through the square, filling it with corpses as they rammed anyone in their path. It was her cue to grab the nearest kids and flee into the woods, dragging the Iternian after her, joined by the soldiers.


    There was no more shooting or shouting from the direction of the village, probably meaning that the brave souls of the Provincial Army had lost. Maria didn¡¯t think much of it; she just kept going, her heart beating so hard she wondered how it hadn¡¯t burst by now. A sorrowful chuckle left her lips. The teacher always said she should¡¯ve taken better care of her form and cardio. Both children bore this escape better than she did, and there was not even a trace of sweat on Jacob¡¯s face.


    But I will persevere. Get the children to safety, then you can die, you stupid, useless girl! She cried, thinking of her cat back home, of the small, cozy house she had poured her life into. I am sorry, Tisha; I am so sorry¡­ Dynast, please watch over him. Take my life; preserve his, please.


    ¡°Shit!¡± a soldier cursed, whirling around.


    Horrified, Maria heard the deafening screaming again. It grew louder and louder, hurting her head¡ªa hideous sound demanding immediate submission. Flying shapes appeared behind them, weaving nimbly around the trees, their riders ignoring the spiked branches that broke harmlessly against their armor as they pursued the group.


    Jacob¡¯s backpack ballooned and exploded, spilling small terminals and data disks onto the ground. A drone hovered up and headed for the pursuers, its projector flashing brightly. A single shot ripped through the center of the unusual machine, shattering it into pieces.


    ¡°Up! We¡¯ll distract them!¡± The soldier roared, dropping to a knee and levelling his rifle.


    ¡°I wanted to see my mum,¡± whimpered another soldier, unsteadily aiming her grenade launcher.


    ¡°Get a grip!¡± her comrade said. ¡°It won¡¯t be long. Hold, for the sake of the living.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about it!¡± Jacob snapped. ¡°You¡¯ll die!¡±


    ¡°Part of the duty. Go! Dynast protects.¡±


    ¡°Dynast protects,¡± his comrades agreed.


    They ran, never looking back, missing the last stand of those who gave their lives for them. A grenade explosion nearly knocked Maria over, but Jacob held her steady, and soon a wheezing moan reached them through the screaming of those infernal engines. Maria kept moving even after the barking of the rifles and the roar of the energy cannons had died down. The younger kids maintained their pace, ignoring the long bleeding cuts on their legs.


    Think, think! She pleaded with her brain. Maria had never been smart. It was one of the reasons she had barely finished school and had to stay in her village. After the spike ruined her eye, her brain was never the same, preventing the young woman from learning new words and rendering her forgetful. But when she saw a narrow gully ahead, a smile played on her lips. She came up with a plan! And it was a fantastic one!


    She almost pushed the kids down the gully, double-checked that they had landed safely, and handed the youngest to the serious-looking girl. Smiling weakly, Maria whispered, ¡°Crawl to the left, okay? When the bad guys pass, just run until you find a policeman, got it? Nothing bad will happen. You¡¯ll get lots of cookies and people will help you.¡±


    Maria and Jacob shared a single glance at where the lights were flashing through the darkness of the forest. They exchanged no words, both understanding that whoever these people were, they were looking for runaway adults.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Maria mused and inhaled, recalling obscenities she had picked up in her career as a waitress in the local pub. ¡°Hey, you bitchless cunts! If you had finished sucking your own dicks, come and try to get us, you impotent, giggling hyenas!¡± She wasn¡¯t sure what a hyena was, or half of the words she had spoken, but the last time a trucker had used less than half of such language, he had earned himself a broken nose.


    Jacob choked back a laugh and caught Maria by the arm, leading her to the right of the gully as the first bright sparks flew through the air, burning holes in the trees. The two of them led the hoverbikes away from the children, and Maria quietly prayed to the Dynast, begging him to show her this one small mercy.


    Please. I¡¯m not clever. A spike pierced her in the shoulder, drawing blood and scratching against the bone. The wailing engines neared them, smashing small trees and bushes as the furious riders tried to get to them. I am not important. But please, Dynast, please! One single miracle! Give me the strength to save the children!


    They didn¡¯t get more than fifty meters. A spike as long as an arm tore through Jacob¡¯s thigh, buckling his leg, and another branch whipped against Maria¡¯s face, knocking her down. Her breath was hard, and her blood turned ice from fear. Maria faced their pursuers, crying, her knees giving way. Still young. She was so young. Why did these cruel blades want to hack through her and Jacob? She wanted to scream at the cruelty of the world but instead pressed her palms to the mouth, reciting a prayer to the Dynast taught to her by her mom and dad.


    Modest statues of their lord adorned every house in their village, always hidden from the eyes of outsiders. Priests and agents claimed that the Dynast himself had forbidden belief in him, but everyone knew it was bollocks. The Dynast was real, a deity who had persuaded the gods themselves to serve humanity. His gentle yet firm hand guided the restoration, and his spirit instilled bravery in every member of the Reclamation Army. There were no formal prayers to him because, as Mom had explained, as an absolute deity, he had no need for rituals to hear his faithful. A decent life was enough..


    What would Ma say if she saw me now? Oh, right. No need to guess. We are about to meet¡­


    A dark shadow slammed into the leading bike, hurling it to the ground like a battered toy. The rider had no chance to scream; a limb formed from pure emptiness snatched his head, tossing it upward. The head was still spinning as the remaining riders swerved their steel beasts to the side, aiming at the shadow.


    Their energy shots missed, lighting a faint stream of darkness lingering in the air. The darkness touched the riders, and the forest spoke. Not with the rustle of foliage or the creaking of wood. But with a roaring tornado of hail of steel that gouged fist-sized holes in the riders¡¯ armor. Dark hands seized those who tried to flee, shredding them to pieces. Vehicles exploded, throwing Mary and James onto their butts, and a shadow flickered in the hottest of pyres.


    Just as suddenly as the carnage had begun, the silence returned to the forest. No curious bird swooped in or sang a warning song. Wild animals crawled under roots and burrowed deep into holes, sensing superior predators. Even insects fled the area. The trees seemed to surround Maria, drawing closer, as if the Dynast himself had come to collect the debt. The shadow that murdered riders so effortlessly crouched at her feet, filling the young woman with dread.


    She had never seen it approach. Never heard it either. It wasn¡¯t here a breath ago, and now crimson lights streamed from the round eyes staring at her, the fangs in a mouth surrounded by thick hair gleaming pale, a set of white torches burning against the hole leading into the maw. Its skin was smooth, darkened metal with no curves. Even crouched, the thing was bigger than her, and as it rose, Maria¡¯s heart tried to hide in her heels. So big. She had never imagined anyone could be so tall! Streaks of shadow oozed from the figure¡¯s joints, resembling sepulchral shrouds.


    Silly girl. She imagined hearing those words in the rustling of the branches. You asked. You received. Pay up.


    A tree ghost, a terrifying monster from the stories Ma had told her, walked silently towards her, breaking no stone, snapping no branch, moving with the fluid grace of a dancer. Dad was wrong. There were horrors in this dark forest. But tree ghosts always hunted at full moon, and it was still day! Everyone knew that!


    Our girl. You had slipped away once, but we are patient. Eternal. Water our roots with your blood and feed us your nutrients. The trees hungrily promised her, and she thought of the sharpest thorns surrounding her on all sides, so she could not escape this time.


    The skin¡ªno, the shell!¡ªon the tree ghost¡¯s head cracked; one part moved onto its chest, and another disappeared at the back. A cloud of swirling, oily, thick darkness danced around its head, but the two amber orbs examined the people.


    ¡°Why must the spirits torment me in this fashion?¡± The tree ghost said a feminine, thoughtful voice, not mangling any words. ¡°Is this a test? Haven¡¯t I passed enough of them?¡±


    Jacob coughed, but Mary was quicker.


    ¡°I understand,¡± Maria whimpered, trying to face the end with dignity. ¡°I am ready to pay the price. Spare my companion, please.¡±


    The beast lifted its eyebrows, puzzled, looking almost comical for a second.


    ¡°We found cubs, Warlord!¡± a voice shouted.


    ¡°No!¡± Maria crawled on her knees to the massive body, breaking her nails against the impregnable shell. ¡°I was the one who offered myself! They have done nothing wrong! Don¡¯t you dare hurt them ¡­¡±


    ¡°Maria, everything is alright.¡± Jacob wrapped his arms around her and rocked her, trying to calm her down.


    ¡°You are safe, civilian; no harm will come to you. My name is Onyxia.¡± The beast knelt and touched her wound, checking it. ¡°Iternian. I suppose I had to pay your nation for their help in Houstad.¡±


    ¡°Iterna helped in Houstad?¡± Jacob asked . ¡°Why? How? Did anything happen¡­¡±


    He stopped when a claw¡¯s tip appeared against his forehead. Onyxia¡¯s arm didn¡¯t exactly move; it shifted like a body in a skipped frame of a film. A trickle of blood rolled down Jacob¡¯s face, over the bridge of his nose, and then dropped to the ground.


    ¡°Forget my words and do not investigate it, Iternian,¡± Onyxia warned, and Jacob shrugged, not afraid in the least, curiosity dancing in his eyes. ¡°Your home was attacked, am I right?¡± She addressed Maria in a softer tone. ¡°Point me to it; I¡¯m freezing my ass off sitting out here.¡±


    Freezing? Maria wanted to laugh at the absurdity of this claim. It was summer! Despite her fear and horror, her body was drenched in sweat; pleasant sunlight struggled to come through heavy leaves; warm and comfortable weather dominated the region. How could her furry savior think it was cold here in the slightest?


    ¡°There.¡± Maria pointed to the south. ¡°Thank you for rescuing us. Bad people came today, hurting everyone. There were so many of them¡­¡±


    ¡°How you tease me so,¡± Onyxia chided playfully, tilting her head. Streaks of shadow licked Maria¡¯s neck, almost tangible. ¡°More fun. Hey? What¡¯s wrong with you?¡±


    Maria fell face down into the beast¡¯s breastplate, her whole body shaking. She felt hot¡­ no, hot was an inadequate word for a flame that raged behind her eyepatch after the shadow touched her. Pain speared her body, twisting and contorting it. The pressure was so strong that she broke easily from Jacob¡¯s embrace, and to keep her from accidentally shattering her own limbs, her rescuer carefully pinned her down. Mary¡¯s throat was parched, soreness touched every finger, and her heart was pounding so hard it was pounding in her ears. A tear appeared from the corner of her remaining eye and dried immediately.


    ¡°Scout! Hold her down; the girl has a bad activation!¡± Onyxia spoke, and a set of new hands held Maria¡¯s body. ¡°I¡¯ve seen it a few times. Keep her on the ground; try not to get killed, and she¡¯ll be fine in a few minutes.¡±


    Fine? Maria wanted to laugh. Everything hurt. Her heart was about to burst into a myriad of pieces. Her lungs had collapsed to the size of a nut, her fingers were swollen, and blood was dripping from under her eyepatch. A hand reached into her mouth, protecting her tongue at the expense of her teeth. Maria was grateful; otherwise she would have bitten it off. Someone turned her on her side, and she vomited the contents of her stomach. Why did Onyxia say killed? Weren¡¯t they safe? How could anyone die here? Feverish thoughts bounced around her brain, demanding an explanation.


    ¡°Is she going to be okay?¡± asked a male voice.


    ¡°I don¡¯t freaking know, male! I¡¯ve never seen anything like that!¡± snapped a female voice. ¡°Look! A light is shining from under her eyepatch!¡±


    ¡°Should we remove it?¡±


    ¡°Keep your paws away; it might be dangerous! Dammit, her heart is pushing at the sternum! The bones are moving out of alignment! What in the Abyss is going on?¡±


    ¡°Have the Spirits touched her?¡± asked a new voice. ¡°Is she becoming a New Breed?¡±


    ¡°Impossible.¡± It was Jacob. ¡°Unless you¡¯re born one, or become one through surgical intervention, it¡¯s not possible to turn into an Abnormal. There hasn¡¯t been a single recorded case since the Extinction. I had heard theories about the influence of the Glow, but they are ¡­¡± He paused. ¡°This forest. Why do the trees here have dark bark?¡±


    Maria remembered a story her Pa had told her once. When you ask something from the Dynast or the Planet¡ªand ask truly, with your entire soul¡ªthey will often respond. But there was always a price. Often an unbearable one.


    Her missing eye¡¯s eyelid opened wide, and a brilliant ray beamed out, tearing through the cloth and narrowly missing the scout as she jumped aside. The pillar of light struck a tree, halving the number of its branches. In horror, Maria closed her eyes, trapping the radiant energy in her socket. But even with her eyes closed, she could see. And there was no emptiness where her missing eye had been.


    Thoughts flooded her mind, bringing all the words she had been told and forgotten, rekindling long-lost memories, and a vision of her parents came to the young woman. She remembered everything: the happiness of getting a kitten, the joy of eating her first ice cream, the embarrassment of the first bad grade she got after a trauma at school. Good and bad, everything Maria thought she had lost came flooding back, bringing more with it. Her muscles crept under her skin, pressing hard against it, but it was a pleasant agony, even with the tightening sensation in her chest. Bones melted and reformed, lengthening her limbs and shortening her legs in favor of her arms. With a crack, the thoracic doubled in size, nearly tearing the no longer soft skin and freaking out the soldiers even further.


    The person who stood up on wobbly legs bore little resemblance to Maria. A glowing orb shone brightly behind the eyelid; her hands touched her toes in surprise; the stomach rumbled, demanding immediate nourishment. Mighty ropes of muscles flexed, the white skin healed every scratch. Her neck was thicker than her former waist; several hearts quieted, and blood flowed calmly through the newly formed arteries. Maria¡¯s mind was clear at long last. Better than clear. She felt fantastic. But through this elation, a single worry gnawed at her, and the first words to leave her lips were:


    ¡°How are the kids? Are they fine? Not frightened? Oh! There were soldiers with me; we must find them; what if they need help!? And my cat! We must help them all; we have to¡­¡±

 Chapter 86: Price of Loyalty

    ¡°Take whatever you want and leave our people out of it!¡± Jeanne stood up to the hulking brute.


    It had all happened so fast. Just fifteen minutes ago, she and the village elder were discussing the cancellation of the festival in the Planet¡¯s honor. Yes, this year¡¯s harvest had been quite bountiful, but it felt awful to celebrate and rejoice when Just Peachy had been so badly affected. She still remembered watching the news and seeing suffocated children being pulled from under the rubble. It gnawed at her soul and Jeanne, the abbess of St Helen¡¯s Church, had decided to act.


    Truth be told, she wasn¡¯t much of an abbess. She and another nun tended to the spiritual needs of eight hundred people, half the population of her village of Dores. A modest church, built by the original settlers, watched over their home like a loving mother from a hill above. She had never left this place, not once in her life. Ever since the former abbot had found a crying infant on his doorstep and raised her as his own daughter, Jeanne had devoted her entire life to the faith, debating the divine nature of the dynast with the locals and dissuading them from the heresy that was sweeping the rural areas. Often she and the nun helped gather harvests, preferring to earn their keep and share the hardships of their flock than live off donations.


    Dores wasn¡¯t a poor place, and its villagers were a hardworking and compassionate bunch. They proudly agreed to skip the festival in favor of sending charity funds to the less fortunate souls in the Outer Lands.


    But today everything changed. A host of violent-looking thugs had arrived, thankfully not harming anyone. A few members of her flock, including non-believers, had rushed into the church, bringing their children, and she had welcomed them all and sent them into the vast catacombs left over from the time of the Extinction. Repaired and cleaned, they served as a tourist attraction. Even now, the nun was guiding them through the secret passages to an exit forty kilometers from the village, where they would hopefully reach Houstad unharmed. Jeanne, the village elder, and the constable greeted the lost souls trespassing in their homes. There were still villagers here, and it was their duty to keep them safe.


    ¡°Pretty house,¡± a bald man softly hummed, examining the icons and the yellow-painted symbol of a planet above the prayer altar. The man pushed past them and touched the icon, showing the world turning from a barren wasteland back to green. ¡°Ah. Not actual gold. Keep this shit.¡± His eyes found her. ¡°I am Caikhatu. My people have noticed a large crowd running in here. Fear not; as your new khan, I will sell no one into slavery nor touch a single girl. Any of my men and women who dare do so will burn.¡± He glanced lovingly at the rich fields outside. ¡°Iron Lord spoke true. Siding with Mad Hatter was well worth it. Such succulence! Richer than home, safer than the steppes! A worthy place to establish a khaganate!¡±


    ¡°If it is a peaceful life you desire, then disarm yourself, and I shall vouch for the Dynast before you. The state welcomes all,¡± Jeanne said calmly, trying to ignore a mutant woman dressed in a cloak of flayed animal skins. Upon noticing a small, stretched, and undeniably mutant face on this horrid tapestry, she clasped her hands together. ¡°May the Planet take you to a happier life, little one,¡± she said, weeping for the lost.


    ¡°I am not little, heretic.¡± The woman in the cloak stepped closer, the dangling fetishes at her neck accompanying her every move. ¡°This you pray for?¡± She lifted the hem of her cloth. ¡°My child it is. The Sky had stolen his breath and elevated him to his abode. Dare not sullying his soul through your chanting!¡± A hand ending in curved talons reached for the abbess. When the constable stepped forward, the woman slashed, lacerating the brave man¡¯s face.


    The mutant¡¯s long nose seamlessly flowed into an ever-closed beak that had very human, constantly sniffing nostrils. Her legs were back-jointed; one foot had only two fingers and was covered in thick, robust skin, giving it the appearance of an oversized chicken foot, and occasional feathers covered the woman¡¯s body.


    ¡°These are my people you have harmed, Jiguur.¡± Caikhatu frowned, putting his hand on a sword¡¯s hilt. ¡°Do it again, and I¡¯ll reunite your wretched hide with your boy.¡±


    ¡°Threatening me, are you!?¡± The woman turned so fast that the hem of her cloak slapped Jeanne hard enough to bruise her. Rage-filled eyes met Caikhatu¡¯s calm gaze. ¡°Wretch of Iron Lord. Forgotten you about the gifts Brood Lord Khan has laid before you! Like shreds on the wind your ilk are, flying from one master to another! It¡¯s not tolerance the Khatun preach! You lot are failing her test by not murdering or selling the infidels! Rusted your Khan has become!¡±


    ¡°It is for Khatun and Iron Lord to decide. You will address my master with the respect given to him by¡­¡± Caikhatu choked, clawing at his own throat as Jiguur raised her hand, her talons twitching. The flesh on Caikhatu¡¯s neck bulged, the muscles of his throat contorted, denying him air as if an unseen ring collared him. The man¡¯s body rose and his legs helplessly dangled, not touching the wooden planks.


    ¡°Fool and dumb you are! I give respect when it is deserved. You!¡± The crazed eyes found Jeanne. ¡°Know of God?¡±


    ¡°We believe in the Planet in this humble church,¡± Jeanne said, bending down and tearing a piece of cloth from her robe to stop the constable¡¯s bleeding. ¡°There are many different faiths in the Reclamation Army¡­¡±


    ¡°Heresy all!¡± Jiguur roared, pointing a finger at Jeanne.


    The abbess had never fought in her entire life. The closest she had ever experienced to a brawl was when a drunk slammed his fist into her face, knocking her unconscious. But what slammed into her in the chest was far worse. A series of cracks accompanied the immense agony of her very breasts dented into her body, and her left arm went limp. A faint cry of pain escaped Jeanne¡¯s lips when invisible fingers cruelly grasped her sides, breaking her ribs one by one. An unknown force jerked her from the floor, shoving her belly against her intestines. A silver necklace wrapped itself around her neck, forming a gibbet¡¯s noose and robbing her of any attempt to breathe.


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    Jiguur approached, still pointing her taloned finger at the abbess.


    ¡°Oblivious you are, Shaman.¡± The woman spat. ¡°Many faiths? How come you have no gifts, then? False shepherd! Too feeble to resist, too weak to protect! Look how the Sky has treated me! Gift after gift I was given, because my deity wooed my ancestors and earned the loyalty of their children forevermore. Where is the power of your demon, weakling?¡±


    ¡°I have no need for strength, for I wish no subjugation,¡± Jeanne whispered after the necklace¡¯s lock loosened enough for her to breathe. ¡°To treat others as we wish to be treated, to build a world of understanding and peace¡ªthese are the teachings of the Planet. It leads us to a world where everywhere ¡­¡±


    ¡°Words of the meek, infirm, and impotent! A world for everyone is a world ready to stumble and fall!¡± Jiguur laughed. ¡°Small wonder the Sky has unleashed a tornado upon your lands. The strong rule, the weak obey, and your sheepish faith won¡¯t save you. Worry not. Your children we¡¯ll strengthen. Proud they¡¯ll be, believers and conquerors. Tell me about the pretender! Tell me about God! Where is the one who tortures the Avatar of Heaven hiding?¡±


    ¡°I have no idea¡­¡± The necklace coiled around her neck, every chain biting deep, and a single movement of Jiguur¡¯s eyes splattered the mayor and the constable against the walls.


    ¡°Burn you will, but utter a word of falsehood, and I shall see your people exterminated with cruelty, deserving a legend! Your false idols¡­¡±


    The roof exploded, sending down wooden beams and stone chunks. In a flash, Jiguur cast Jeanne aside like a doll, raising her clawed hands to stop the rubble from squashing her. Jeanne flew across the room, preparing to endure a spine shattering landing against a wall and the agony that would follow as the edges of her broken bones kissed her lungs.


    Something¡ªno, someone¡ªstopped her flight. Two metal hands grasped the woman¡¯s body, and a gigantic shadow clad in dark red armor spun to carefully diffuse the impact carrying the abbess as they descended. The floor groaned under the newcomer¡¯s immense weight when steel greaves thudded, and a giant Wolfkin lowered Jeanne on a bench, exposing her back to the enemy.


    Jeanne had seen them on the news. Unlike their more cultured relatives, the Wolf Tribe were supposedly rude and arrogant people, and several television broadcasts had blamed them for turning a recent robbery into a bloody massacre. Not a single member of their tribe had seen fit to answer the journalists¡¯ questions, telling them icily: ¡®No comment.¡¯ But when the helmet slipped from the person¡¯s head, exposing an elongated head covered in very silky fur¡ª the strands adorned with a layer of ash¡ªand glowing amber eyes, Jeanne thought she was saved.


    ¡°False gods?¡± the warrior inquired in a dignified and bored voice. ¡°If they are false, then who sent me on a path to avenge crimes committed, Shaman?¡±


    ¡°You dare!?¡± Jiguur shrieked. The wooden beams around her splintered, and a spiky storm descended upon the Wolfkin. ¡°I am a priest of the Sky! The sole true deity in this world gazes through my eyes! Shaman?! For insulting me, you have earned a divine punishment!¡±


    The sharp wood splinters of wood and stone pieces struck the warrior, and she paid them no more attention than a normal person would to a sprinkle of water, raising a gauntlet hand to shield her eyes. Tongues of flame hissed from the barrels of the massive weapons strapped to the Wolfkin¡¯s wrists, and searing streams poured down on the shaman.


    Jiguur laughed madly, half chuckle, half shriek, welcoming the challenge. The heat stopped short of her body and circled her head like a halo. The shaman clamped her hands together, and the fire flew backwards, splashing against the Wolfkin¡¯s head and momentarily obscuring it from view.


    ¡°You threatened to burn a citizen?¡± the voice asked, unburdened by the heat. Jiguur¡¯s eyes widened in concern and she twisted her hands, squeezing out an invisible rag. The warrior¡¯s gorgeous power suit shuddered, but withstood the assault. ¡°Experience it yourself.¡±


    Almost lazily, the Wolfkin hefted her weapons, and Jiguur raised her arms, seeking to shield herself again as a blue inferno was spat in her face, overwhelming her every attempt. Jeanne had no idea if Jiguur¡¯s strength had failed or if there was some providence at work, but the wall of hellish flame engulfed the woman, drawing a long, desperate cry of pain as she was carried several paces away. She fell, rolling, screaming and mindlessly clawing at the benches in a futile attempt to save herself.


    It horrified the abbess. The scream, fading with the lack of oxygen, the skin cracking and blackening, the clothes burnt to ashes. What happened to the woman¡¯s eyes, she didn¡¯t even dare to imagine, and Jeanne tried to stand and fell to her knees from the broken ribs.


    ¡°Deliverance,¡± she ushered in a weak voice, facing the amber eyes. ¡°Mercy. Show mercy.¡±


    The Wolfkin closed in on Jiguur and lifted a leg, stomping down so hard that it broke both the burning body and the floor. Caikhatu and the others slipped off the walls as the force that had held them suspended vanished after the shaman¡¯s death. Screams and yells came from outside, and dozens of legs announced the raiders¡¯ approach. Caikhatu¡¯s warriors charged inside, aiming guns at the Wolfkin, and were stopped by their leader¡¯s gesture.


    ¡°I¡­¡± He coughed, struggling to stand up. ¡°Have no desire to die. None of my warriors touched even a hair on the locals. Jiguur, she is not ours; Dalantai had rotted her brains¡­¡±


    ¡°Yet you brought her.¡± The Wolfkin¡¯s claws scraped the raider¡¯s gorget, drawing lines close to his face. ¡°My pack has this place surrounded. Do you yield?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Caikhatu licked his lips. ¡°Do not know the word¡¯s meaning. Common is difficult.¡±


    ¡°Do you surrender?¡± The Wolfkin rolled her eyes.


    ¡°Yes. Spare us, and our loyalty is yours, Khan.¡± The man bowed.


    ¡°What is the worth of such a fleeting thing?¡± The Wolfkin let go of him. She picked up the constable and the mayor and carried them to the abbess¡¯ side. ¡°Do you have healers among your ranks, servant?¡±


    ¡°We do, they are needed¡­ to keep our jagun healthy,¡± he faltered for a second, calling for a henchman, and the Wolfkin grunted. ¡°Not everyone among us is so bold as to follow to the end of the world. We care nothing for slaves or bondsmen; our desire was to find rich lands. Twenty-eight of my jagun I lost crossing your stronghold. If you promise us lands for our khaganate, our lives are yours, merciful Khan.¡±


    ¡°Address me as Warlord Ashbringer,¡± the Wolfkin said and glanced at the wounded. ¡°Honored shaman, honored citizens. Rest and relax. We will take care of everything. You are safe. And you.¡± She faced Caikhatu. ¡°Tell me everything about this horde of yours.¡±

 Chapter 87: Appearing Cracks

    The southwestern corner of the Core Lands was a peculiar place. Whatever few lands or hills existed in the area had been mercilessly flattened in the times of the Old World to create space for ever-expanding launching sites that spewed small-sized spacecraft into the orbit day and night. As such, it suffered the least during the Extinction. Weaponized satellites unleashed beams of such potency that the entire area had gained a phosphorous color. Communication towers, control spires, and spaceships had disappeared in the whirlwind of molten metal. Not a trace was left of the natural life or humanity¡¯s presence even before the satellites had crashed, bringing down the full weight of kilometers of man-made steel tubes propelled by proton engines.


    Decades passed, and the Reclamation Army, led by Commander Outsider, had brought back the iron order, sweeping away the decadent palaces of Chem-King, an arrogant mutant who had ruled over the jagged wreckage. Town X-14, later renamed Quatindor, had sprung from several mining complexes that had merged in the restoration''s wake.


    Thick forests covered the area to the south, where experimental fuel testing facilities had once stood. The chemical poison that had spawned the hideousness that was Chem-King had seeped into the soil itself, and not even terraformation could completely remove it, at least not for hundreds of years. Warped and changed, the local trees refused to be cut down, growing back over months, and the Reclamation Army accepted this setback, turning the place into a resort area with villages hidden along the roads.


    To the east of Quatindor was a gaping crescent-shaped chasm with two massive bridges built across it. House Sunblade owned the mining complex that spanned the length of the chasm on either side. Rare alloys left over from compressed spaceships, ancient yet incomprehensible engines, ancient and yet incomprehensible engines, occasional untouched chambers containing the precious history that might¡¯ve shed light on the true nature of the Extinction or intact terminals¡ªthe value of this extraction couldn¡¯t be overstated.


    Since the southern route was problematic because of the stubborn forests, caravans moved through the northern bridge and then fifty kilometers across the farmlands to Houstad. The catastrophe hadn¡¯t left this area untouched, and fields of white lilies dotted the entrance to Quatindor, glowing pale at night. The town itself was famous for its love of six-legged cats, as one such specimen was found¡ªand later cloned¡ªin a ruined underground spaceship, and statues of these mischievous creatures adorned bridges and stood in the middle of fountains, water spurting from their mouths. Cats were everywhere; they were bold, unafraid of tourists, and preyed on birds in the fields, occasionally ending up as food for these mutant raptors themselves.


    This was the area into which the Wolf Tribe stormed, quietly spreading out along the front line. The Gilded Horde had already entered Quatindor, and flames were licking at the building, stripping the paint from the walls and revealing the ancient symbols ¡°X-14¡± as a reminder that savagery had returned. Houses Summerspring, Voidrunner, and Mountaintop were already in the city, while forces of House Wintersong occupied a military base to the north.


    Warlord Alpha¡¯s plan was pure simplicity itself. The Gilded Horde¡¯s vanguard alone had dwarfed the combined forces of the state, and many of the raiding parties slipped past the Ice Fangs. These became appetizers for the tribe, which sought to join Wintersong and bring down the northern bridge, forcing the Gilded Horde into a dilemma. Either take a detour through the north or funnel the army into the southern bridge. To facilitate the desired outcome, packs of warlords Martyshkina, Janine, Predaig, and Eled swept away the feeble attempts to stop them and sought to join their cousins in the city. Once united, a massive evacuation will be launched, creating an all too desirable and deceptively vulnerable target.


    For the forests were anything but quiet. Forces of Warlords Alpha, Onyxia, and those auxiliary parts led by that disgusting upstart Kalaisa were eagerly waiting for a chance to welcome guests. Confined to an area where it was impossible to use their speed, faced with a situation where their heavy artillery would lag behind, the hordemen would become targets ripe for a bloody harvest, and every kilometer to Houstad would be gained at the cost of thousands of lives. Warlords, wolf hags, and shamans stood ready to cull enemy leadership, while Ashbringer and her forces set out to rejoin the bulk of the Ice Fangs in the plain.


    It was a simple plan, but very effective in its insidiousness. If the Horde chose the long route, the Dynast will arrive at Houstad, potentially with Outsider in tow. If they chose a faster route, then death itself waited for them, ready to stall the opposition while the civilians escaped safely to Houstad. No matter what, the state stood to gain.


    But the Ice Fangs did not respond. Not a single message came through, and Warlord Janine, worried by their silence, had sent a pack to rendezvous with the Wintersongs and force their excellent ranged support to howl.


    This is how Melina ended up in her current predicament. The Wolf Hag had led her pack through the war-torn Quatindor¡¯s outskirts, sneaking into homes and stopping the breath of marauders, be they invaders or her own citizens. Six scouts were at her command, and it took all of her restraint not to act in Terrific¡¯s ways.


    Warlord Janine was wrong. Their pack should have unleashed groups of torturers to skin the garbage scavenged from the ruins and fill the sky with their desperate screams as they skinned, broke, and crucified the invaders. Concealed grenades would take their toll on the rescuers before the combined fire of dozens of shardguns would create a proper killing field. Angry, confused, and frightened prey was prone to making mistakes, and if they¡¯d wanted to lure the idiots into the woods, there was no better method.


    Instead, she obeyed, forcing herself to adopt new, inefficient, and alien ways. She had calmed frightened citizens and formed teams of the most capable among them to lead the rest to the first evacuation zone. She had snapped necks of unsuspecting fatties. Terrific¡¯s influence¡ªher legacy¡ªwas waning, disappearing, and Melina hated herself for letting it happen. The sour thoughts vanished when her pack ran into Arruda¡¯s pack, sent on the same mission.


    A situation near the bridge¡¯s entrance had halted their advance. The Gilded Horde troops were there, but that in itself wasn¡¯t unusual; the bastards were everywhere today, but this situation was fishy. A single vehicle occupied the center of the road. The machine had two cylindrical spiked wheels, large enough to break through walls, and a cage full of prisoners was attached to the back, with several more thrown on their knees in front of the lead wheel.


    They were being examined by a group of richly decorated hordemen, led by a giant of a man whose helmet was stylized into a tusked board. A cloak of flayed skin flapped in the hot wind, and Melina frowned, disgusted by such a tasteless and meaningless thing. The idiot had woven in cubs and women¡¯s faces, rather than shaping it from the strongest foes brought to despair. He even preserved the coat¡¯s skin instead of letting it rot naturally to add an exquisite stench to the gruesome imagery. Amateur. They were dealing with the amateurs, proud of their cruelty but lacking the mastery to instill true fear. It will soon be changed.


    There was a woman beside the pighead. Where New Breeds of the Horde were taking extreme care to keep their battleplates polished and rich, this specimen had a thick layer of dirt and blood covering her power armor and rows of empty sockets staring out from her breastplate where encrusted gems and rubies had fallen off. Alone among her group, she stood bareheaded on the battlefield, her face greasy and her short black hair tangled in dreadlocks, but the blade of her sword gleamed through the smoke. Dangerous, Melina decided. Like the fat piggy.


    The pigheaded bastard was chaining two kids to the spiked wheel. Sharp hooks were piercing their skin, and the boys wept and cried, trying to keep their cool.


    ¡°That was¡­ Ah!¡± the overweight, short boy yelled as the hook pierced his skin around the elbow. ¡°The worst of your plans, Jay!¡±


    ¡°Why did you stick around¡­ No!... then, T?¡± The lanky kid tried to wipe away his tears, but this simple movement stretched the skin over his arm in places where the chains held him.


    ¡°Someone with a half of a brain had to be here!¡±


    Arruda and Melina exchanged glances. There was no need for words as to guess why the hordemen were here. It wasn¡¯t torture or an intimidation tactic. Battle raged in full swing in the town. None of them seemed to guard the entrance to the bridge, and their numbers were too few. It was bait, cruel, and quite effective. The hordemen gave the intruders a clear indication that once the rest of the chains were in place, the wheel will turn, skinning the youngsters. So they offered a choice. Reveal yourself or lose. If they were the appetizers, then the main course was hiding in the houses up the street, waiting for the trap to be sprung.


    The most sensible decision was to continue with the main mission and cut their losses here. Deaths happened in wars. But it was impossible to accuse the Wolf Tribe of being completely rational, and there was one thing Janine and Terrific always agreed on.


    They had to try to save civilians, no matter what the situation. Soldiers alone could not build a brighter future.


    ¡°I have cubs back home. Four boys. About the same size as them.¡± Melina nodded at the writhing kids.


    ¡°Me too. Three. Adorable, but not smart,¡± Arruda admitted.


    ¡°Can¡¯t expect males to be. I¡¯m doing it. You?¡± Melina asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s what I am paid for,¡± Arruda shrugged.


    ¡°Zolushka, want to redeem your pathetic ass-defeat or are your guts caught cold again?¡± Melina laughed, summoning the icons marking the soldiers of the two packs on her HUD.


    ¡°Born ready,¡± growled the scout, and her paw twitched over the shardgun. ¡°After the war, Wolf Hag.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Melina said thoughtfully, forming teams. ¡°Arruda and I will provide a distraction. Take two warriors and sneak around; give the bastards as wide a berth as possible. When the fun starts, grab the kids and whoever else and retreat to the evac point. The rest of you head out to meet the Wintersongs. No matter what, do not turn back; the mission must not be compromised. Is that clear?¡±


    ¡°You are taking only males,¡± accused Zolushka.


    ¡°Yes. We do.¡± Melina smiled, standing with her back to the woman. Strong, not completely daft. A fine replacement.


    ¡°Fuck it, Melina, I don¡¯t want to settle our score this way¡­¡± Zolushka¡¯s claws scraped the surface of her helmet, carving lines. ¡°Call the Wintersongs, ask them to rain down hell, then we can strike during confusion and¡­¡±


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    ¡°Can¡¯t. Communications are jammed.¡± Melina¡¯s paw closed around the scout¡¯s neck, pushing her to the knees. Zolushka yielded, honoring her wolf hag rather than resisting.


    ¡°I obey, Wolf Hag Melina,¡± Zolushka called her by her full title for the first time in the ten years they had served together. It had always been either Melina, old timer, or wolf hag. Melina didn¡¯t want to admit it, but this demonstration of loyalty touched her.


    Janine changed the pack, softened it. She insisted on reducing corporal punishment, doting over them like a concerned mother, sending the wounded to the infirmary to heal. Terrific let the weak die and the strong survive so that the best blood could strengthen the tribe. Janine believed the opposite, and her cancerous and false belief had infected Melina. Hope. That was why she was willing to give her life for the warlord¡¯s dream, even if she never embraced such ideals.


    She reasoned it to be a natural course of things. A new warlord takes over, and a pack inevitably changes. Your pack, your rules, as decreed by the Blessed Mother. But it was a lie. Melina of the Wolf Tribe wanted to save these children. She would¡¯ve liked to spend her retirement helping out at the orphanage, administering vaccines, reading bedtime stories, cleaning floors, caring for orphans, petitioning the mayor to remove that ugly harpy from the entrance¡­ She now dreaded the inevitability of the culling. Warlord Janine brought a desire to be more than a weapon to the pack, and for that Melina cursed and thanked her.


    Was it the will of the Spirits? Melina examined her shardgun, the scarred, trusted friend that had saved her more times than she could count. There had been a time when the tribe had disregarded firearms. Were traditions mere safeguards to survive hardships? If so, was it to amend¡­ A child¡¯s scream interrupted her thoughts. There was no time to think. There was never time to think.


    The packs surged forward, Zolushka leading her smaller team to the west, avoiding the obvious ambush; the largest group surged toward the last known position of Camelia Wintersong, and Arruda and Melina struck headlong. Given enough time, they could have come up with a better strategy, but the situation had denied them that luxury. Grenades flew into the broken windows, exploding, drawing roars of pain from within as acid found its way through their armor.


    ¡°Slavetaker! Widowmaker, they¡­¡± a burly hordeman roared, stepping out of the building into four shots.


    ¡°The prey spoke in Common,¡± Melina said into the communicator as the body jerked and stumbled back.


    Arruda caught a hordeman pushing from the window by his head and closed her fist, sinking the claws deep into his skull and piercing the steel with ease. She beamed with strength and awareness, standing on the precipice of becoming a warlord. A raider shot her in the back, and the wolf hag dodged the bullet as it left the barrel, not even using the shared vision link, operating on instinct alone. She spun, fired once, and the man¡¯s visor exploded into shards of reinforced glass and bone. Another spin faced her in the previous direction, and Arruda¡¯s wrist flicked, carving three deep lines into a man breaking through a wall.


    Melina was weaker and concentrated on crippling her opponents, trusting that the males would finish them off. The trap was closing, and her ears picked up the stomping of dozens of enemies converging on their positions from their hiding places in the ruins. Zolushka¡¯s team narrowly missed them; the area of their spread was wider than the scout had anticipated, but the woman adapted immediately.


    ¡°Come, then!¡± Melina roared and kicked, denting in the knee pad of a hordeman¡¯s leg. ¡°Meet an opponent capable of fighting back.¡± Her shardgun fired, stabbing shards into the pig-headed bastard¡¯s armor.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make some widows!¡± Widowmaker rejoiced; her two-handed sword moved fast enough to become a cloud before the woman.


    Shots fired by Arruda and her team were deflected or cut in half, and Widowmaker grasped a dirty, ornate gun on her belt. A broad smile of pleasure came upon her face as she leveled her weapon and fire. The sound of the shot caused the kids to yell in pain, and even Slavetaker grunted in annoyance as the sound-amplifiers built into the weapon sang their mad tune while Widowmaker writhed in pleasure at the deafening noise. One male took a bullet meant for Arruda and fell to his knees, his partner dying a second later from the hordemen¡¯s gunfire. The last darted into the ruins to buy time and have a better chance of survival as Arruda and Widowmaker faced each other, firing at point-blank range.


    The shots of both women speared through the afterimages, shaving slices of steel from their armor. The shardgun and the pistol were dropped simultaneously, and the long blade came down on the clawed paw. Widowmaker speed was insane. Melina perceived a rain of slashes and stabs coming against Arruda¡¯s head, but the wolf hag matched every move, weaving around the attacks and trying to force her opponent into a close fight. The hordewoman used the full length of her blade, redirecting her missed strikes into horizontal swipes to keep the wolf hag at bay, and sparks flew from the intense duel.


    ¡°Are you married, Wolfkin?¡± Widowmaker shouted. ¡°Ten thousand widows have I promised the Sky for my salvation from the slave dens. You¡¯ll have the honor of being the five thousand and thirty-two! Tell me your wife¡¯s name, and I promise to spare her for the amusement you have given me!¡±


    ¡°Talk is cheap.¡± Arruda stabbed, and her claws took away a dreadlock and cut the hordewoman¡¯s face.


    ¡°So is your life, woman!¡± Widowmaker spat at the wolf hag. She turned her stab into a horizontal slash, opening Arruda¡¯s wrist. ¡°Such talent, and I can¡¯t even add you to the tally! Waste! You are wasting my time!¡±


    Slavetaker briefly hefted his own gun and left a hole in a male¡¯s chest as the soldier pushed Melina away. Two of her own shots had forced him to raise an arm as the lens of his helmet cracked and a shard nearly blinded his eye. Slavetaker closed in on her, thudding heavily against the street, and picked up an oversized cleaver in both hands, swinging it with full force. Melina darted back, unable to get the distance from her opponent, and had to use her claws to block the swing. To her shock, the blade passed through them with ease, and Slavetaker didn¡¯t bat an eye when she fired at him from point blank range, widening the already-made cracks further.


    He let go of the blade and lunged at her, hitting her with his knee with such force that it tore through the layer of exoskeleton beneath her skin. Slavetaker¡¯s hook nearly sent Melina spinning; her helmet broke, and Zolushka¡¯s report of saving the children was replaced by a hiss. Hands grabbed the wolf hag around the ankle and on her shoulder, and she was lifted up and hurled at full speed onto his knee.


    Melina screamed in agony as her backpack broke and her power armor went into emergency reserve mode. Her spine held up, but the agony of the blow reverberated through every organ, and she barely noticed as Slavetaker threw her face down on the road.


    She was up on her elbows in time to see the end of the duel between Widowmaker and Arruda. Throughout the duel, the two were evenly matched, and fresh cuts, like medals of honor for surviving so long, covered both of them equally. The wolf hag never once used her kicks, and when the hordewoman glanced at the defeated Melina, she acted. A straight kick with her claws, aimed at the solar plexus, timed at the right moment to eviscerate and win.


    It should have been the end if Widowmaker had acted in the same manner. She didn¡¯t. Like Arruda, she fed her opponent the false information, sticking to horizontal stabs and upper body attacks. And when the kick came, an incoming overhead slash was transformed into a diagonal slash that sliced through the knee joint and hacked off half the limb. Widowmaker wasn¡¯t stupid. She had used the length of her blade to gauge the distance and kept herself as far away as possible, inviting this very move, and the hordewoman executed her attack flawlessly.


    The second slash sheared off Arruda¡¯s thumb at a knuckle in her clumsy attempt to block. The wolf hag bit the incoming blade, stopping it briefly in a final act of defiance as Widowmaker twisted the hilt, breaking Arruda¡¯s jaw, and ending the fight by severing half of Arruda¡¯s head.


    Defeat. The word pounded in Melina¡¯s head as a hand grabbed her by the throat and dragged her to the spiked wheel. She tried to pull the fingers away, but even that failed. She was weak, and the last males of their team threw their bodies at hordemen, dying in vain as the crowd cheered on their leaders.


    ¡°Where are they?¡± Slavetaker¡¯s question accompanied his exhalation.


    The cheering stopped, and the crowd around the vehicle looked back, murmuring in surprise. A corpse with its throat slit hung from the roof; the chains holding the children were cut unevenly, and even the cage holding the prisoners had been opened in the chaos of the battle.


    ¡°I ordered you to watch over them,¡± Slavetaker growled.


    ¡°Mercy!¡± A hordeman dropped to his knees and crawled to the taller man. ¡°I have served you loyally for three years, never making a mistake! Mercy, my Khan! My eyes have left them but for a moment, I swear!¡±


    ¡°And only a moment you have left to live,¡± Slavetaker responded.


    He grabbed the man by the collar of his armor and tossed him at the wheel¡¯s spike. The man shrieked in pain as the sharp end pierced through his shoulder and wailed in horror as the wheel moved, grinding him against the ground. His legs disappeared underneath the wheel that pulverized his bones, his body stretched, and the spike broke through his collarbone, but the release came too late, and his remains were dragged into the spinning wheel. Melina was next.


    She was ready for the throw and grabbed the spikes, stopping the fatal spin even as her armor gave more vocal warnings, alerting her to the immense weight threatening to break it. Slavetaker¡¯s hand pinned her tightly to the metal, denying the wolf hag a retreat.


    ¡°Take what you want from the dead and prepare to give chase,¡± he ordered.


    ¡°The Khatun was right,¡± Melina heard Widowmaker¡¯s chuckle. ¡°I can¡¯t believe these idiots decided not to cooperate. I expected your plan to fail.¡±


    What? A cold sweat broke out on Melina¡¯s fur as she strained against the immense pressure of the engine pushing the wheel. It must be a ruse. Was there never any jamming? Had the Ice Fangs deliberately refused to answer their calls, as Dragena suspected?


    Did the blasted Ice Boys abandon their kin to die willingly? She wanted to howl, to rage against the inevitable. Traitors. The shamans were right. The Blessed Mother was right to keep them at bay. What fools we were!


    ¡°Yet you joined in,¡± Slavetaker said dryly.


    ¡°What can I say? I never pass an opportunity to murder someone,¡± Widowmaker said. ¡°Though I never expected to fight by your side, old hound.¡±


    ¡°It pleases me to see a slave prove her usefulness,¡± Slavetaker said. ¡°Keep it up, and I won¡¯t have to brand you again.¡±


    Melina heard the angry murmurs and the noise of fingers closing on the firing studs. Those hordemen who served Widowmaker closed their ranks around the woman, leveling their weapons at Slavetaker¡¯s servants. The slave trader ignored them, continuing to press the wolf hag against the wheel.


    ¡°My friend, I enjoy the banter, but let¡¯s keep it grounded in reality, shall we? Otherwise a curious person might test your statements,¡± Widowmaker said in a honeyed voice. ¡°Khatun¡¯s favor is all that keeps you alive. You can ask to have this favor retracted, so we can settle our modest feud¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough delusions, slave,¡± Slavetaker grumbled. ¡°Prepare to give chase; we have flesh to return¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± an emotionless voice sounded from the cracks of Slavetaker¡¯s helmet. ¡°Ignore the irrelevant children. Form ranks and attack the Wintersongs¡¯ flank while they are engaged. The fools¡¯ disharmony must be exploited.¡±


    ¡°These children¡¯s skins are mine. No one escapes Slavetaker,¡± insisted the slave trader.


    ¡°Complaints of our obsessive dog fellow aside. Khan, if we do as you say, Brood Lord¡¯s dregs will treat themselves to the town,¡± Widowmaker observed. ¡°Not that I care for it, but we bled for the mines.¡±


    ¡°Let them,¡± said the cold voice. ¡°We have a treasure in our sight; if Brood Lord wants to spend his troops for the sake of scraps, more power to him. He is conducting this war as a common thief, and as a thief he¡¯ll die when his rabble is scattered. The Reclaimers want to force the southern route on us.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that?¡± Slavetaker demanded.


    ¡°Because that¡¯s what I would have done. It won¡¯t happen. Destroy the Wintersongs¡¯ artillery, dispose of their sword saint, and I promise you rich lands to match what you lose today and slaves in abundance. As for your persistent hobby, Slavetaker¡­ The children have only one place to run. As long as you¡¯re alive, you¡¯ll get them eventually.¡±


    Melina¡¯s legs snapped at the ankles, and Slavetaker let go of her. The cruel spikes rammed against her shoulders, locking her face against the metal. I want to live. She thought as the sleeves of her armor, and then her arms, crumpled, bending her down and arching her spine until it almost snapped. Why? We always fought at the front lines; we gave our lives to preserve the Ice Fangs. Why now, when we tried to live as you? Why did you ignore our calls for help? The question, and the memories of her cousins¡¯ elegance and nobility, infuriated Melina to no end. Even the pain in her body took a back seat. We were loyal to you; we thought of you as kin even after you¡­ You¡­ Stabbed Janine in the back. A plague on your houses! I disavow you; I deny any kinship! What fools we¡­ Traitors.


    Her spine broke, and Melina disappeared under the spinning wheel, turning her body into a mess of broken bones, muscle, and steel.

 Chapter 88: Grudges and the Past

    The traitor slammed the door, angrily throwing the coat away. So close, damn it! They stormed down the hall to the kitchen. Decades of planning and preaching, years of waiting for an opportunity! They can¡¯t let it go down the drain. Not now, not ever.


    With trembling fingers, they flung the fridge open, snatching a can of cold beer. It did little to calm their nerves, but stronger alcohol might ruin their concentration. And they need to be composed! Already one of their circle had changed his mind, and they had to silence the man in secret. When one decided to turn his back on the old promise, it was only a matter of time¡­


    The traitor had never expected the Wolf Tribe to be so successful or the Gilded Horde to be so inept. The damned Wolfkins swarmed over the overstretched forces of the invaders, murdering raiders, reuniting with the rest of the Provincial Army, and rescuing citizens. Partial relief washed over the traitor because of this turn of events. Despite the burning hatred in their hearts, they had protected the people here for a long time. Some¡­ familiarity was to be expected.


    They steeled themselves. Ashbringer captured prisoners? No matter; they knew nothing of them. Losses? Irrelevant. The horde was too vast, and those who were annihilated were just expendable greenhorn fools; cusacks sent forth to be slaughtered. True veterans were kept in reserve; all the deaths so far hadn¡¯t weakened their new allies one bit. Everything was proceeding exactly as planned.


    Brood Lord thought of them as a simple opportunist, a power-hungry maniac. In a sense, he was right. The traitor was a maniac, but power? They couldn¡¯t care less about it; rank, respect, and authority were means to an end. And what a sad end they were aiming for¡­


    The traitor picked up an old photo from a table in the living room, sitting alone in a spacious apartment. Loneliness gnawed at them. Year after year after year after year¡­ An entire life ahead without ever hearing voices of their family or friends ever again. This murderous serpent did it. The tyrannical Reclamation Army had stomped on their freedom. Those bastards had taken something that no one had the right to take, and the traitor will see them burn for it, their works corrupted, their dreams shattered, and their lands ravaged. They were happy once. But their happiness was cruelly and mercilessly torn down. Now it was their turn to do the same.


    The photo depicted sixteen people. Five were the traitor¡¯s family; others were close friends. When Devourer came, they perished in flames, and the traitor remained, dragged into a reeducation camp alongside everyone else. They remembered that day well, those coils of pale silver towering over the convoy, those indestructible scales immune to any weapons, and the incomprehensible eyes that judged them, while Devourer spouted his usual bullshit about a greater good.


    Greater good, heh¡­ The screams of their dying sister, as the traitor had frantically tried to pull her from under the burning rubble, echoed in their skull to this day. Her arm came off, and that was the instant when their mind unraveled, taking in every soul that demanded just vengeance.


    The traitor refused to surrender. They were a gnat compared to Devourer, but over the years they found others who had suffered as they had. The ones who had lost everything and in whose souls hatred burned brightly. With the aid of their newfound comrades, the traitor had poured everything into constructing a plan to bring suffering to Devourer, to give the bastard a taste of ashes and despair.


    Ironic. To hurt the bastard who took away the people they loved and cared for, they would need to kill the people they came to care about. But justice merged with retribution had to be done!


    ¡°Bravo!¡± They jumped at the sound of the voice, hand on pistol. ¡°Forgive no slight; let go of no grudge. Let your bones be grinded to dust; suffer your skin melting if needed; but bring down those who wronged you. It¡¯s not over until it¡¯s over. Show these mutant freaks the strength of humanity!¡±


    A man sat in the opposite armchair, clapping enthusiastically. The newcomer was dressed in a white lab coat and had a good-natured, welcoming smile on his face. But one thing immediately caught the traitor¡¯s attention. The eyes. The man¡¯s sclera were two small pools of darkness, with two green stars floating in them. A New Breed! Was he sent by Brood Lord or had the Investigation Bureau figured¡­


    They aimed the pistol at the man¡¯s head, and the newcomer moved as fast as quicksilver, slapping the weapon aside before the traitor could pull the trigger. They fell from the chair and crawled toward the entrance, stopping at the rustle of something against the carpet. Metal tendrils slipped from under the intruder¡¯s coat and wrapped around the traitor, taking them up in a half-formed cocoon.


    ¡°No need for panic!¡± The green-eyed intruder flashed a smile, showing perfect teeth. ¡°I am a big fan of yours. That slaughter you cook up is right up my alley. Using inhumans to carry out your revenge against mutants. And best of all, they do it of their own free will! Man, I am ecstatic. Kudos to you. Love that touch!¡±


    ¡°Who¡­ I have no idea what you are talking about.¡± The traitor licked their suddenly dry lips. How did he get in here? No! Not after they had gotten so close!


    ¡°Call me Academician, my dear new friend. And there is no need to be coy.¡± One of the mechanical tendrils moved, tightening around the traitor¡¯s throat. ¡°I am not without eyes. The way the Gilded Horde struck at the various objects in the city, plus the strange communications you had weeks ago, along with the fact that these brutes seemed to have a perfect location and instruments in the area to push Tancred¡¯s buttons... one could be a coincidence, but together? No. That was enough of a clue for me to investigate your past and connect the dots.¡±


    The traitor reassured themselves. If the man wanted to kill them, he would¡¯ve done so already. No, there was another reason for this visit. Most importantly, the man did not know¡­


    ¡°That you are responsible for the murder of the police chief?¡± Academician asked, loosening the grip around the neck. The man tilted his head, smiling at the shock in the traitor¡¯s eyes. ¡°As I was saying, worry not. Take a deep breath and calm down. I really am a fan. Our goals are aligned. What does that make us?¡±


    ¡°Conspirators?¡±


    ¡°Indeed! In fact, I added a little touch of mine to the wonderful tapestry of death you weave.¡±


    ¡°It was you!¡± The traitor grabbed the edges of the metallic vise and used them as a support to kick Academician into the stomach. The blasted man simply took the knee to the palm of his hand, and his smile never wavered. ¡°You are the one who messed up our communication systems!¡±


    ¡°Guilty as charged! Replacing the subhuman virus was trivial. Did you enjoy my handiwork? Because I have plenty more gifts to give!¡± Academician laughed, placed the traitor back in the chair, and dusted off their clothes. Then he grabbed an almost empty beer can and, frowning, drained its contents in one gulp. ¡°What a piss. Just so we are on the same page, you do understand that the horde is bound to fail? Mad Hatter, strong as she is, will die in the end.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯ll do her part.¡± The traitor had no illusions about Academician¡¯s words. But that woman was a cog in their vengeance. ¡°And I will scar the Reclamation Army forever.¡±


    Academician stepped closer, holding himself by the jaw. The traitor wondered what this man wanted. It mattered little in the end. Be it tokens, favors, or servitude, they would do anything. All they needed was a little more time. The Gilded Horde will arrive in Houstad. Devourer and Outsider will be too late, and the crazy bitch Ravager will hopefully fall to Mad Hatter¡¯s blades. Or not. Irrelevant in the end. They just needed a distraction, and then Devourer will curse the day he ruined their home!


    Academician¡¯s lips moved, saying the words, explaining in detail what they had intended, and the traitor¡¯s heart nearly jumped out of their chest. No! How could it be?! They never told anyone; no one could be aware of¡­


    A cold tendril wiped the sweat off their face and put a syringe of orange liquid on their lap.


    ¡°Another gift,¡± Academician explained. ¡°When the chips fall down and your plan meets ruin, inject yourself with this and ascend, my friend. This power is a¡­¡±


    ¡°I have no need for your power,¡± the traitor stated.


    Academician sighed, exhaling a sickly green mist into their face. Panicking, the traitor tried to escape and sucked in a breath, feeling every muscle and vein in their body heat. The legs gave out, and they fell to their knees, vomiting a thick yellow substance. Blistering pimples and gangrenous growths bulged beneath their uniform, tearing at the fabric. A sudden lump of dried bile in the lungs made it nearly impossible to breathe. Fingers turned into oversized sausages, bones screamed in pain, threatening to be crushed by the swelling flesh.


    They were rotting alive. Their jowls swelled to the point of touching the chest; their eyes could barely see; and the tongue now filled the entire mouth. Nails had fallen from their fingers, and veins pushed up to the surface, looking like writhing black worms.


    ¡°Never interrupt me ever again,¡± Academician said coldly, and the traitor nodded helplessly, clawing at their neck in a desperate effort to get some oxygen in. A needle hit their body, bringing immediate relief. The swelling disappeared, liquid was flushed from the lungs through every orifice, and they took a single wheezing breath and experienced a maddening inch as their body healed back. ¡°What you just experienced is mortality. I know that feeling well. When I was a little older than you, I too thought I was invincible and omniscient. In my deluded mind, I believed myself capable of calculating every inevitability... Then fangs liquidated my skull. In a snap, in a breath, my dreams and hopes were dashed. I died.¡± Academician went to the kitchen and began pillaging the fridge. ¡°But death had no hold on me. Through my craft and skills, my older self had transcended the limitations of a single body. This is my intellect, a power far stronger than anything the Glow can grant.


    ¡°You, my friend, have no mind worth speaking of, and your skills are mediocre at best. You think that you have planned out every single detail and countered every outcome, but look at you now, trembling in fear after a single thing going out of place has unraveled your plan. No-no.¡± Academician waved a finger. ¡°Meticulously planning every detail in advance and thinking everything will go your way is shortsightedness. They will find out. A single tap can snap your neck, ensuring the demise of all your dreams.


    ¡°Learn from my mistakes, adapt and incorporate new elements into a plan, accept the gifts that fate has seen fit to lavish upon you, and be prepared to retreat. For what is defeat but an opportunity to learn? You want to get back at Devourer, and you have the right to do so. So let me help you get us both what we want.¡±


    The traitor only whimpered their agreement, too afraid to do anything else. Just a few more days. Just a few more days, and the endgame would be upon them. They had to hold out. Devourer will pay, if not with his life, then with his dreams.


    ****


    Humming a tune, Academician stepped out of a portal, finding himself in what a ruined mall. A few lights still flickered, illuminating a scene of chaos and floors covered in dark stains. He lowered himself to check the pulse of a lying body and shrugged when he heard stomping below. Curiously, his tendrils plucked a bag of chips from the floor. He tasted one. Stepping past the counter, Academician threw a few tokens at the register, ignoring the dead cashier¡¯s body.


    Mhhmm crunchy. Took a little over a hundred years, but hey, chips are back. He thought sourly, stuffing himself. So much had been lost in the Extinction. He could never forget the sheer horror of seeing gorgeous cities fall and the utter humiliation of receiving news of orbital platforms containing his precious laboratories being smashed into the side of the moon or falling into the sun.


    Academician had never been a good man in the ordinary sense of the word. He had long since lost count of the number of lives he had ruined and the atrocities he had committed. Young, old, frail, strong... They all broke on his operating table, either to be rebuilt stronger or, more often than not, to be thrown into an incinerator after he had had his fun. But he loved humanity as a whole. The death of billions had stirred a long-forgotten feeling even in him, and he toiled restlessly to save whoever he could. Worst of all, he had lost his colleagues.


    Oh, he never cared for any of those losers personally. They grumbled about the ¡®cruelty¡¯ of his experiments and tried to stop him from dissecting ¡®sentient beings¡¯. Often by force. Idiots. How could one be cruel to a scalpel or a gun? His creations were just that¡ªtools, nothing more. Just because they gained sentience hardly equalized them with humans. And only humans mattered. In the end, Academician had to join a private corporation to continue his research in peace.


    But being one of the few surviving scientists was no game. It meant that he had won their theoretical debate by default. Instead of seeing his creations crush their so-called ¡®properly raised sons and daughters¡¯ and having the buffoons bow to his genius, Academician was left all alone, without competition. And¡­ it saddened him. For true miracles were born in the struggle of competition between rivals.


    He touched a small earpiece in his ear and said, ¡°Purple Valkyrie, report. How is our ¡®pain in the ass¡¯ doing?¡± Academician approached the broken windows on the mall¡¯s second floor and looked down.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    What barbarians these mutants were. Clad in fake gold and real steel, several marauders dragged stragglers from their underground shelters.


    Mad Hatter and her horde had long since moved on and were besieging a proper town, but Academician could almost feel the woman¡¯s presence even without the many biological satellites currently tracking her from orbit. Beings like Mad Hatter had their own way of imprinting their mark on the world, and not always through destruction. They were like a storm front looming over the horizon; just by seeing one once, you instinctively knew when that dread was near.


    He admired the potential in her and grew increasingly frustrated at Secretary¡¯s refusal to aid him in capturing the woman. What marvels Academician could have pried during the evisceration! He could test his most potent viruses, keeping her barely alive and perfecting his deadly craft. Or, alternatively, simply clone her and kill her over and over, learning the secret behind the density of her bones to grow near impregnable natural armor, coating his bioweapons in shells tougher than most power armor. Sensory organs, brain matter, reflexes... A mere thought of losing this trove of knowledge quickened his heartbeat. Unfortunately, the Organization¡¯s resources were spread dangerously thin, in part because of all the setbacks they had suffered in their quest to acquire Apocalypse classes.


    And because of their sworn enemy. Now there was another mystery to solve.


    Mad Hatter¡¯s servants, well, they were another matter. Ugly, fat, boring, and mostly cruel, failed copies shaped after their mistress¡¯ image. Academician passionless eyes had found a group of three downstairs, drunk on the stolen liquor. No doubt their Khan, or whoever was in charge of this rabble, would hang them later for abandoning their posts. They pointed their weapons at the trembling civilians, clearly planning to finish them off.


    Why? What was the point of it? Slaves were useful, and the dead served no goal. No wonder Secretary wanted to scour this world clean of mutated oppressors. This filth embodied the worst traits of humanity: brutish, uncreative, never doing anything more than the lowest dreg of humanity if he happened to be endowed with their abilities. Even Mad Hatter was fascinating thanks to the vagaries of her biology rather than any character quirks. Or that Techno Queen. Even his daughter didn¡¯t use even a tenth of her talents.


    But he! He was fun. Academician¡¯s lips parted in a smile, and his tendrils released a host of warped fleas. Small creatures scurried out of the window and crept through the cracks. On their own, these creatures were useless. But when the unique transmutation fluids stored in their bodies mixed... The insects followed his will, leaping at the trembling civilians and biting them, soft enough not to cause irritation and be discovered.


    ¡°He is raging. Literally,¡± Purple said in a strained voice over the comm. ¡°Remember Site Number Six-O-Five? The one in the Ice Ocean?¡±


    ¡°A testing ground for bio-soldiers?¡± Academician scratched his chin. ¡°Dull place. What about it?¡±


    ¡°It no longer exists. There is a crater twenty kilometers wide in the ice, and the water is still boiling and widening it. Elder, you have really pissed off Spaniad this time, sir. He has already requested the right to eliminate you, and Pharaoh has supported him. Other elders are also petitioning Secretary to reign you in. And¡­¡± She sighed. ¡°We¡¯ve just lost another of our facilities; the storage units on the border with the Desolation have just gone the way of the Old War, sir,¡± she said with distress.


    ¡°They¡¯ll come around. And stop worrying; it¡¯s not like we lost anything of value.¡± He had half forgotten of these abandoned facilities.


    ¡°Apart from our creatures,¡± Purple Valkyries replied dryly.


    ¡°Oh please, I will make you new minions. Relax, Purple; loss is a natural part of life; embrace it and learn from it rather than sweat over it. Bring up the video feed. I am curious to see what we can glean from Spaniad¡¯s power this time.¡± Academician waved his hand. ¡°I take it Spaniad has left the Core Lands?¡±


    ¡°No, sir.¡± That answer raised Academician¡¯s eyebrows. ¡°He is still playing his role.¡±


    ¡°Well, shit.¡± He quickly activated cloaking devices stored in his mechanical harness, ensuring that he would remain hidden from any spy satellites or attempts to locate him through mental scrying. To be in the same land as the angry Spaniad was to play with doom. Creatures like Ravager were bad enough. The walking apocalypse was far worse.


    The fleas released the concoction developed in his labs into the bloodstreams of four scrawny humans. Unbeknownst to them, their DNA had been temporarily altered. Painkillers produced by their altered bodies had masked the fact that new organs had sprouted inside the hosts¡¯ bodies, as the mass for the transformation was drawn from the air. No one had noticed a thing.


    Shots ripped through the people¡¯s bodies, silencing their whimpering. A child¡¯s forehead and brain splattered against a wall behind him. Two more bullets liquefied his lungs. Another burst severed a woman¡¯s legs, throwing her face down into the coming projectiles. An elderly man was fully bisected; his viscera and guts spilled.


    Academician pressed his fingertips together, trembling in anticipation. What he was using now was expensive, even for him. But he had to experiment if he was ever to solve the puzzle of creating a weapon capable of taking down Ravager. His daughter¡¯s blood debt was long overdue.


    The raiders¡¯ laughter was silenced as the first of the corpses convulsed. From the wall, the ruined brain flowed, gathering bone fragments, and then vanished into the boy. The exposed guts slurped back into the split body. Even lost limbs grew back. Academician giggled like the purple-haired girl he had dated in college at the sight of cadavers coming back to life, their memories preserved, their emotions undamped. This marvelous result was not a ¡®gift¡¯ bestowed by a Glow¡¯s mutation, but the result of a carefully executed marvel of bioengineering! Success! Not just in carefully curated laboratory conditions, but in the open field!


    Ravager was a puzzle, and a tedious one at that. The demise of his older self left¡­ empty holes in Academician¡¯s personality. For one, he could no longer remember his parents. He resurrected them, of course, but seeing two clones without memories didn¡¯t help and didn¡¯t touch his soul. Well, at least he now knew what they looked like.


    Another such gap was his preference for surrounding himself with female operatives. Clearly, the original Academician could not possibly be a sexual deviant, so what was the reason for such an urge?


    These holes in his memory hindered him greatly. By all accounts, Ravager was his greatest project to date. Yet he couldn¡¯t remember how to replicate it! He had stolen Wolfkins¡¯ cubs, opened them up, and admired the craftsmanship of his older self. Several he had molded into monsters, mentally breaking them trying to replicate Ravager¡¯s evolution. No luck. Furious, Academician eliminated his toys, then cloned them and explored alternative ventures. For over fifty years, he had broken, killed, and cloned these cubs, finding new mutations in their bodies to this day. His older self had truly been a master.


    He had even captured a skinwalker and brought the creature to his lab. It... backfired. There was a reason his older self had deemed them failures. All of them possessed genius minds, eclipsing even his own without a hint of purpose or morality, doing stuff on a whim. The specimen had found a way to hack into the mainframe and escaped, blowing up valuable experiments just for the hell of it. To this day, the woman was hiding in the network of tunnels beneath his primary base, daring Academician to come and get her. He refused to oblige out of spite, leaving them at an impasse. The skinwalker couldn¡¯t hurt him, and he used her to test promising products. None succeeded.


    Academician shook his head and turned his attention back to the scene below.


    Fools that they were, the brutes stopped laughing and kept firing, trying to finish off the humans. Academician almost decided to do nothing and let the test subjects die, recording the number of times the self-healing and mass gathering could offset the incoming damage. After all, the regeneration was only temporary; in a matter of hours, the newly formed organs would shrink and wither, returning their hosts to their original bodies. But¡­


    These were the mutants, a useless deviation from the magnificence that was a human form. There was also a need to obtain fresh material for his work since the mercenaries hired by him had proven their inadequacy in that matter. And no mutant, no matter how arrogant, should dare to raise a hand against their betters. So fine, he¡¯ll play the role of the Good Samaritan today. His tendrils struck, removing the broken glass, and Academician jumped out.


    ¡°Have no fear; a dashing hero is here!¡± Academician shouted, gliding through the air, shards of glass glinting in the sunlight all around him. ¡°Upon my word, none of you will die here!¡± He chuckled slightly, enjoying the role a little too much.


    The raiders¡¯ thoughts, crude as they were, were exposed to his superior mind, enchanted by the Glow. Academician¡¯s tendrils dug into the ground, and his body weaved in the air, dodging shots aimed at his head with ease.


    Academician boots landed on a raider¡¯s foot, shattering the pavement, but surprisingly, he heard neither a crack nor a shot of pain in his opponent¡¯s brain. He dodged a wide swing of the rifle by leaning back and spinning around, carried by his tendrils to another opponent. Academician walked straight into a knife slash, dodging it at the last second to plant his elbow into the fat bastard¡¯s throat, hard enough to crumple metal and lift a body off its feet.


    ¡°Of course, I can¡¯t promise the same about the villains¡¯ lives¡­¡± Academician sanded, then darted away, saved from a wound by a thought that flashed through his mind.


    The bastard wasn¡¯t dead! There was no satisfying crunch of a broken bone, and now he had to retreat as the three opponents closed in on him, wielding knives and firing at close range.


    As amusing as this empirical discovery was, Academician found himself unable to smile as he dodged two bursts of machine-gun fire that nearly tore the idiotic civilians to shreds. He had promised to save them, and his word was iron, but would it kill those idiots to hide from a battle? He wasn¡¯t averse to a fine old-fashioned brawl, and finding vulnerable spots to take apart enemies impervious to normal blows with his bare hands was a worthwhile pastime. But it would be a poor decision; his sensors warned him of the premature end of regeneration.


    He brought the tendrils to bear, raising them like a forest around him and piercing the raiders¡¯ bodies with the sharp blades. They never had a chance; his metal limbs extended from the harness on his back, tossing debris and broken cars skyward. Hooks grabbed machine guns, ripping them from the mutants¡¯ hands, and tendrils dug into flesh, peeling away armor, piece by bloody piece, as the raiders screamed. He killed two and pumped sedatives into the last.


    Academician turned and bowed graciously to the audience, who had chosen that moment to scurry away, taking the child with them. His shoulders slumped in disappointment. Poopie. And here I was, planning to take them to Houstad. He meant it. A ride in a stolen car across enemy lines, sneaking into a besieged city, avoiding a meeting with Spaniad or Pharaoh... What a wonderful adventure it could¡¯ve been! Almost as if he were a simple field agent.


    ¡°Academician.¡± Sweat broke out on his face, and he stood at attention, not daring to move, ignoring even the spilling entrails of a dead hordeman dripping on his forehead. ¡°Why do you crave death?¡±


    A figure stepped out of the darkness of the ruined mall, reloading an uzi, and Academician wanted to squeal as he received reports of Special Forces appearing in his laboratory and taking over. His personal office was opened, the hidden chamber immediately found, and the body in the tube¡ªhis backup clone¡ªsecured. In a heartbeat, in a flash, every hiding place that mattered was turned over to the Organization¡¯s elite enforcers, and the link that sent his latest brainwaves into the data banks for storage was severed. Even the locations he had kept secret from Purple Valkyrie were found and captured.


    No! I don¡¯t want any more holes in my personality!


    Not Saurolich. General Secretary had come to judge him. The man appeared to be a simple Normie. Of all of them, he had changed the least since the Extinction. But at his command was every conceivable resource of the Organization, a force capable of destroying the entire world and the technologies of the past.


    ¡°Greetings, sir,¡± Academician said in a steady voice. His connection to the satellites was gone, his clearances revoked. Everything he had owned and worked tirelessly for had been taken from him. ¡°Pray tell me the reason for your visit.¡±


    ¡°I have come to assess your value to the Organization, Academician.¡± General Secretary heaved his uzi and aimed between the scientist¡¯s eyes. ¡°We give our agents a certain amount of freedom to carry out their duties, true. But to violate another Elder¡¯s area of operation? Assisting in an invasion of civilized lands that will inevitably result in human deaths? That goes far beyond any accepted boundaries. Breaks the roof, I¡¯ll say.¡±


    ¡°I was acting in the Organization''s best interest, sir.¡± Academician tried to kneel.


    ¡°Stand. I prefer not to force a potentially dead man to grovel,¡± General Secretary ordered. ¡°Make your case.¡±


    ¡°The growing peace movement within the Reclamation Army is a problem for our continued existence, sir,¡± Academician began talking quickly, calming himself. Yes, that visit was unexpected. But he was safe. ¡°The freedom of our operations is directly dependent on the ongoing rivalry between the Three Great Nations. As long as their intelligence services do not cooperate, the risk of us being discovered is minimal. If the Dynast backs down on his growing expansion, if his mutant freaks start taking over Iterna instead of scaring it, if the Reclamation Army is seen as a safe country for tourism, it will lead directly to a future truce. And the prolonged existence of the Gilded Horde has disrupted our operations in more than one area, resulting in the deaths of our agents. Undoubtedly, Pharaoh and Spaniad had their own ways of solving this vexing problem, but I decided to assist them to the best of my humble ability. By combining the two factors, I have effectively eliminated both problems, boosting the popularity of the pro-expansion party and feeding the Dynast¡¯s delusions without us having to lift a finger.¡±


    ¡°And hurt Ravager,¡± General Secretary said bluntly.


    ¡°That comes off as a bonus.¡± Academician grinned. ¡°When she kills Mad Hatter¡­¡±


    ¡°If she kills her. I reviewed the simulations.¡± General Secretary still didn¡¯t lower his weapon. ¡°They are tied up. Ravager¡¯s death could lead to the imbalance and future destruction of the Reclamation Army at the hands of the Oathtakers. Have you considered how difficult it will be for us to maneuver in that situation?¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t occur. Wyrm Lord is capable of replacing her; there will be no imbalance. Just a little thinning out to get the Reclaimers back on track. And my daughter will not lose!¡± Academician snapped. ¡°She is an absolute, a perfect bioweapon whose destruction awaits my hands. I will surpass her and¡­¡±


    ¡°You give her too much thought.¡± The weapon¡¯s barrel was pressed against his forehead, and Academician shut up, frightened for his future. He couldn¡¯t sense General Secretary¡¯s thoughts; the operation he had performed on the man¡¯s brain was turning against him, and this time it wasn¡¯t a pleasant thrill. ¡°I find your line of reasoning sound. Continue your mission, Elder. But the next time you cause this much chaos without my approval, it will be your last.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir.¡± Academician breathed a sigh of relief as he regained his usual control. The connection to the lab was restored; Purple Valkyrie gave him updates in a disappointed tone. His clones were unharmed, and the data flow from the satellites was unobstructed. He was alive! He had won that gamble! ¡°May I ask you where you are heading, sir?¡±


    ¡°Where humans are in danger, there you will find me.¡± General Secretary checked his weapon. ¡°I¡¯ll lead those in this place to safety. Away with you, Elder.¡±


    Disappointed and relieved, Academician moved the tendril that held his captive down.


    ¡°You are going to tell me everything you know about God.¡± He patted the large face. ¡°And then you, me, and the bodies of your friends will go on a wondrous journey of discovery. Agent Purple! Open a portal, please.¡±


    As a spatial anomaly ruptured the fabric of reality before him, Academician felt elated. For years, the Organization¡¯s agents had been battling not only the three major powers but also unknown abnormals, mutated humans with rare and powerful abilities. If this God was who Secretary General thought he was, then they might be one step closer to ridding the world of the bastard who had caused the Extinction.


    When their mission was accomplished and the mutant freaks were back under humanity¡¯s heel, Academician will see all those who would manipulate or threaten humanity brought down. Fetters and lies will be exposed and removed; the freedom of mankind will once again reign supreme in this world and beyond as their spaceships sail to the stars. And most pleasing of all, Ravager¡¯s back will be broken at his knee, her spawn exterminated, and Zero subjugated.

 Chapter 89: Flame Girl After All! Part 1

    Our honor is lost. Bertruda thought, deflecting an incoming shot with her spear.


    Around her, the defenders formed a circle, guarding the civilians inside. Shields vibrated, withstanding the never-ending onslaught of exploding grenades and fired weapons. It seemed like an eternity since Bertruda and her troops had arrived at Quatindor to expedite the evacuation of the Order¡¯s assets and personnel. What they found there exceeded their worst fears.


    Quatindor was burning.


    The Gilded Horde¡¯s advance was like a roaring sandstorm, its soldiers a living multicolored wall that swept away any defense. With communications disrupted, warnings from the Provincial Army were of little use. Dozens of heavily armored vehicles had been captured by the invaders in the hangars; hundreds more exploded into pieces as the mechanics activated self-destruct systems, denying the Horde any gains. Not lacking in dedication, but hopelessly outmatched in firepower, the state¡¯s soldiers were cut down in the streets or pummeled by artillery fire, unable to hold the line until the Ice Fangs arrived.


    Villages and hamlets on the outskirts of the town were already subjugated, unable to so much as phone the capital. Precision artillery had rained down a powerful barrage of shells on the city, leveling army bases and causing crippled men to die under tons of rubble. Siege weapons had spoken next, eliminating bunkers containing anti-infantry missiles before they could fire, then punching holes in the walls for the Horde to pour in unopposed.


    There could be only one answer for the cause of such chaos. Betrayal. Bertruda was not as effective a leader as Camelia, First, or Leonidas. But she was the first to voice her fears over the comms, and the sword saints had agreed with her assessment. The Gilded Horde had moved too fast and struck too well to attribute this success to mere coincidence. First had given his order. Preserve the future at all costs.


    Quatindor¡¯s Knight Academy, a place for their children to study the arts of politics and war in secret from the lower classes, came under fire. Praise be the Spirits, its walls had endured that hellish hail where a random ricocheting shell collapsed nearby apartments, but soon after units of the Provincial Army were overwhelmed, the infantry closed in, believing this place to be a military installation. Instructors, hired mercenaries, and teachers had fought bravely, building a barricade of corpses large enough to hide the entrance gate, but the advance of the elites had pushed them back.


    It was then that Bertruda, Leonidas, and Macarius arrived, bringing righteous fury of vengeance upon the misbegotten curs. They divided their forces and confronted the invaders in several districts, while the sages prepared the grand trap envisioned by Leonidas. Though Bertruda had originally intended to save just her own kind, she and her knights had ended up taking everyone along with them, retreating in an orderly fashion to the north. Whether Normie, Mutant, Orais, or even a disgusting, unworthy of life, Malformed, all were taken. The survivors of the Provincial Army filled their ranks, adding their shots to even the insurmountable odds.


    Defenders moved down the main street, wielding their round shields with both paws. These men and women were among the largest of the Ice Fangs, several of them approaching Bertruda¡¯s own height. Intense training had cracked and reforged their bones; their muscles were ropes of steel that matched the calmness of their nerves. A downpour of rockets, grenades, gunfire, and even the occasional shell rained down upon them. Linked together, the force fields of their shields held up, cracking slightly as an occasional shot passed through the defenses, damaging the armor.


    Reloaded by servants and assisting soldiers, rotary turrets mounted on the defenders¡¯ shoulders whirled, singing their fatal song. Guided by data from the shared visual feed, their shots vaporized three raiders down to their ankles and forced the rest to duck into the cover of their heavy mobile armor.


    Foot soldiers lurked in the buildings, finding the confused civilians and guiding them to safety. In the narrow alleys, Mountaintop Knights waited, ready to spring into action at the first sign of an overconfident foe. Not nearly as fabled as their comrades of more prestigious houses, they stabbed the hordemen into the joints of their armor, pinning them to the ground and brutally stomping on the helmets, offering no clemency and asking for none. The knights fired their handguns sparingly, conserving ammunition.


    Hunters traversed across the rooftops; their sniper rifles soundlessly firing bullets traveling at a thousand meters per second. Whatever they hit, they penetrated, ending lives or claiming limbs. Watching through the lenses of their comrades, the hunters gracefully adjusted their hunting grounds, dodging counterattacks, ducking from explosions, and peering out just in time to land a single shot through a hordeman¡¯s visor.


    Her Mountain Guard¡ªan elite group of eighteen bodyguards who handled their enormous tower shields with the same ease as if they were mere buckets of water¡ªsupported Bertruda at the front. Their double-edged axes rose and fell in an arc of deadly force, severing away the arms and legs of the assailants. Automatic cannons installed in their right wrists spat out bursts of bullets, shredding the enemy ranks.


    And still on and on they came, a sea of golden and steel enemies. They advanced not as maddened raiders but as cautious fighters, with heavy assault teams firing rocket launchers to set rooftops ablaze and drive away the lightly protected hunters. Next rushed in their version of regulars, ordinary humans in exoskeleton armor, best fit to blunt the blades of Ice Fangs on a better day. But their numbers were many, and the knights had to guard their allies, limiting their ability to maneuver gracefully across the battlefield. Bullets rattled against the battleplates, denting and cracking them, softening the Ice Fangs.


    Troop carriers accompanied this rabble, driving in to permit the regulars to retreat. Engineers swiftly replaced damaged protection on the regulars¡¯ exosuits, and field medics injected the survivors with adrenaline, motivating them to continue the assault, backed by the transports¡¯ heavy cannons. Behind the regulars advanced the killing force, the New Breeds of the Horde, each wielding a sharp sword and firing from an oversized rifle.


    The two sides met in battle more than once, and so far, the Ice Fangs have beaten back every attempt to disrupt their ranks. Their foes weren¡¯t stupid and aimed to reach the civilians, judging rightly that the Mountaintops¡¯ defenses would be crippled if they were threatened. So far, every attempt had been repelled, and several troop carriers were reduced to smoldering piles of smoke.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Bertruda anguished, seeing her knights dying, their bodies trampled. Even her Mountain Guard, the pride and joy of the Mountaintops Household, struggled, numerous cracks covering their no longer shining armor, their cloaks reduced to tatters. It wasn¡¯t how the Ice Fangs fought. The Ice Fangs were blades, capable of breaching the fortified position to swiftly reach the neck. They poured in like a flood and retreated like a low tide under the supporting fire of their artillery. Positional warfare had negated most of the advantages given to them by the unique blend of their biology, technology given to them by the state, and training bestowed upon them by the Twins and the Blessed Mother.


    Sworn never to cede even a centimeter of their homeland, to never abandon an ally, they were fleeing, dishonored.


    Knight Captain Fabian fell this day, his body torn to shreds, his unit eliminated to the last man. His squire did her best to retrieve her master¡¯s body, only to have a merciless metal greave break her gentle neck. Escaria, Scothia, and Mourntul, the venerable members of the Mountain Guard who had witnessed the founding of House Mountaintop, had lost their lives to give several families a chance to reach the defenders. Even in death, the cruelty did not end. Bertruda¡¯s eyes glowed with rage as the barbarians began to strip the noble knights of their armor, hacking at their limbs and laughing in guttural voices.


    Enough.


    Bertruda abandoned her usual restrained and composed self, embracing the raging beast that had met Warlord Janine. That rage had surprised her then¡ªnever before had the young sword saint been so hard pressed. That rage had surprised her then. Today, she willingly called upon that flawed part of herself and used her spear as a pole, leaping over her guard and landing on several attackers. The weight of her armor alone broke them, but she wasn¡¯t done yet. A stab from her spear left a hole in a New Breed¡¯s head, murdering the hordeman. Before his body understood its death, streams of energy were spat from under her vambraces, setting five hordemen alight.


    Taking advantage of the confusion, she used the suddenly freed space to spin her spear, cleaving through bodies. The sword saint advanced in a crimson mist as the defenders opened fire, annihilating the surrounding enemies.


    Too slow. Droplets of blood that looked like rose petals, pieces of flesh, and even bullets slowed to a crawl. She danced forward, evading bullets, swinging and stabbing with Elegance, reaping lives. A flick of her wrist took away a raider¡¯s hands. A simple kick left another headless. Plasma dischargers spat heat again, exploding the generators of the fallen Mountain Guard and sending them on their last journey in dignified pillars of flame that engulfed the nearby hordemen.


    Bertruda¡¯s eyes caught a fast-moving target, and she stepped aside to catch a hoverbike on her spear. The sword saint¡¯s lips parted in a cold smile as she heard the rider¡¯s gasp. Because of her sheer speed, Elegance ran full length through the crude metal toy, impaling the woman. The bike exploded, sending Bertruda back to the ranks of her troops.


    Our honor is lost. She landed on the shoulders of her guards, only to have sweet Tlan, a knight who had served her predecessor, die. An energy beam lanced through a gap between two APCs, melting its way through the man¡¯s chest. Loyal to the last, Tlan somehow kept his body upright, refusing to let his liege fall. Only when Bertruda¡¯s feet touched the ground did Tlan topple. Another pillar of House Mountaintop was lost.


    Death awaited everyone, and though he died with honor, Bertruda caught him, grieving and blinking away tears. Tlan taught her how to wield Elegance. His strict and wise drills had guided the young knight-captain to fit into the boots of a sword saint when her former liege had perished in war. Gentle and stern, the man had never refused aid or any of her requests, and now he was dead. Torn from her life. By them.


    So many. She had labored so hard, and under her leadership, the household had prospered. No longer were they the ones who had to prostrate themselves for profitable marriages with the First Houses, but the Wintersongs had sought her cousin out for a rich pact to supply the development of sonic weaponry. Bertruda had planned to put Tlan in charge of the project, both to honor his century of service and to enrich the House¡¯s gene pool. That dream was gone. Her troops, the future of the Order, were dying!


    ¡°I¡¯ll carry him, lass!¡± An Orais easily hoisted the three tons of steel over his shoulders. ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, I won¡¯t let the bastards desecrate him,¡± he said with a groan.


    Once again, Bertruda was humbled. In her arrogance, she viewed outsiders as lesser beings, not as sophisticated or strong. Allies, yes, but in general they were considered inferior. And look at them now! The Province Army troops formed a circle around them, firing their rifles to keep the enemy pinned down, while two Orais readied their rocket launchers and lobbed rocket after rocket into a crack in the APC, exploding its engine along with the driver. Their comrades threw incendiary grenades over them, setting much of the road ablaze. Everyone was risking their lives for the cause.


    Nobility exists in everyone. She reminded herself of the Protector Oath, spinning back into the battle. Prejudice was as dangerous as isolation. It clouded a fighter¡¯s focus and distracted him from making the right decisions.


    ¡°You wish to claim a sword saint¡¯s life? Why throw your lives away so uselessly, you stinking pigs? You will not be able to afford the price of such a deed!¡± Bertruda laughed, the dynamics of her helmet amplifying her boast tenfold. ¡°Run or perish! That¡¯s the choice left for vultures!¡±


    A wave of rage invigorated Bertruda, and her helmet responded to the command, slipping from her jaws. She didn¡¯t care if her enemies understood her; she turned grief into strength, fueling the hatred that burned in her chest. Elegance¡¯s swings lacked grace, but even those struck by her shaft were no longer able to stand. Bertruda welcomed with open arms a group of brave fools who charged at her, angered by the mockery in her tone. In unison, they struck, one aiming for her knee joint, another swinging at her gorget, the third launching an overhead slash aimed at her shoulder, and several more firing.


    The sword saint exploded outward, ripping a hordeman¡¯s throat with her claws. Her jaws snapped, a fang shattered, but the bite still went through the helmet of the assailant who was aiming for her neck. She caught his arms in a grip between her armpit and her arm and snapped them, biting away at his face, ignoring the rules and regulations of not exposing her open mouth to the air. A chunk of flesh slid down her throat and she swallowed, not even horrified at the blatant disregard of First¡¯s teachings.


    Was that how Janine perceived a battlefield? Was everything a weapon to her, a tool to be used to preserve life? The corpse was thrown into incoming bullets, and then Elegance skewered the woman who had tried to cut Bertruda¡¯s knee. The sword saint¡¯s burst of movement was so fast that the hordewoman didn¡¯t even register her disappearance, and her blade had passed through empty air. A twist of Elegance ended this miserable life.


    ¡°Death to the dealers of death!¡± Bertruda roared a war cry of her cousins, a war cry of her divine aunt, surprised at how easily it came to her. She fired plasma again and stepped through the flames resulting from the exploded generators of the dead hordemen. Elegance tapped the stone in time with her step, her cloak resisting the fire, and her tongue licked blood from the cuts made on her lips by the propelled steel shards. ¡°I carry a tittle of a sword saint,¡± Bertruda growled, decapitating an overly brave hordeman with a single swing. ¡°But for you morsels, I am the devil incarnate. Step forth and die!¡±


    The horde¡¯s infantry recoiled, shocked at the calm ferocity, but then the ground shook in response to her challenge.

 Chapter 90: Flame Girl After All! Part 2

    Hulking machines stepped forward, crushing concrete and the APCs wreckage beneath their column legs with every step. Six-legged, they were open harnesses carrying heavy laser cannons at their top. Arrays and metal plates formed cages around the operator under the walkers¡¯ underbellies. Pincers swung into view, collapsing a building and burying several knights in rubble. A hunter above faltered, caught in the tremors of his part of the roof. The man did not scream as he slipped into the eager pincers but shot his grappling hook and arced away from the danger, firing once at an operator.


    The man inside the cabin hissed in anger; his voice reached the sword saint¡¯s ears through the chaos of battle. His machine thudded far ahead, flattening a knight trying to get away. A brilliant ray of energy left his cannon, catching the hunter in mid-flight. The shadowy silhouette of her soldier glimpsed briefly in the yellow beam, then disappeared, and two burnt feet fell to the ground.


    ¡°Shine, Elegance!¡± Bertruda roared, closing the helmet, and raised her weapon.


    Her spear was a sacred weapon passed down onto her house by the Twins. Forged from an alloy harder than the hulls of spacecrafts, intricate designs of a long-forgotten and not-yet-rediscovered archeotech filled its shaft, ready to imbue the blade with energy superior to that of the surface of a sun. At a press of her finger, the edge banished every darkness in sight, vaporizing bullets aimed at her.


    The spider construct tried to clumsily catch her in the pincers, and a single slice of fully powered Elegance parted an arm in two, not cutting, not melting, but changing into steam whatever it touched. This was the true reason why her helmet had to be close and why she didn¡¯t unseal Elegance earlier. To fight or stay close to its star-hot edge meant to inhale fumes capable of burning even a Wolfkin¡¯s respiratory system.


    It was madness to risk using it near civilians. But alone, in the killing field, Bertruda Mountaintop was unchained. Elegance spun, drinking deep from a lesser beam of energy streaming from a cannon, using it to power itself up. A stab followed during the brief pause as the laser cannon¡¯s cooling shut it down. The deadly streak of light forced the raised pincer to disappear along with a section of a hastily put forward leg and landed at the cage, killing the bastard far too quickly. The construct erupted, ungracefully throwing the sword saint backward. She landed on her back, drawing a long line across the concrete, while Elegance hungrily devoured it before she turned it off and stood in the clouds of steam.


    ¡°Is this how you plan to stop us?¡± She laughed, throwing her head up. Hordemen closed in from every side, but the Mountain Guard opened fire, freeing her paws from dealing with the small fry. ¡°Suicide bombing me? That¡¯s novel, morsels, I won¡¯t lie.¡±


    A group of knights charged from the nearby alley, aptly taking advantage of the overextended enemy line, and the chaos ensued by the destruction of the walker. Civilians were at their backs, several children guided by a Troll of all people. The Oathtaker used his own body to shield the little ones, shuddering as two fist-sized holes appeared in the gray skin, tearing through his overalls.


    True to his name, the Troll survived. Bertruda had fought against this tribe once, but she remembered vividly how these dispassionate people calmly picked up severed limbs and pressed the mangled edges back into their stumps. Their regeneration did the rest, mending flesh first, then veins, muscles, and bones. In mere minutes, Trolls were able to walk after losing a limb. This person here wore a half-ruined tourist badge on his shoulder, and his movements betrayed his complete lack of combat experience. What he lacked in knowledge, the noble soul made up for in devotion, throwing himself like a shield before the children.


    A tall figure clad in steel and gold pushed his way out of the enemy ranks, a two-handed sword in his arm, the blade scraping against the street. Bareheaded, the handsome young man barely paid attention to a bullet that landed against his temple. The raider glanced up, showing his tongue to the hunters on the roof. Double shots came in response, and the man stumbled, laughing. The armor-piercing bullets bounced harmlessly off his brown eyes, crumbling into useless pieces of metal.


    Still laughing, the raider ran at the knights, taking swords to his chest and arms. With disgusting ease, he swung his own weapon, cleaving through a knight¡¯s shoulder, slashing through the pauldron, and stopping his blade in the chest. Then he tackled another off his feet, casually motioning for the constructs to aim at him as the knights converged on him, hacking at his neck, ribs, and arms. Swords bounced, unable to even scratch the man, and three energy beams washed over the hordeman¡¯s back, burning holes in the attacking knights and claiming the life of their captain. The invulnerable youth grabbed the falling captain by his head, severed it, and hoisted it high to the guttural cheers of his troops.


    In a blink of an eye, the seeds of uncertainty Bertruda had sown were undone, and she was again beset by the enemies, and the Mountain Guard hurried to her aid. Missiles flew down from the sky, hidden by the veil of smoke, and exploded around her. A Mountain Guard was caught between a series of explosions; her body was thrown like a rag doll, and her armor finally gave way. The generator blew up, and the shockwaves alone killed the trusted servant.


    ¡°Devil?!¡± The voice of the young hordeman rang through the chaos. His speech was thick and accented. ¡°Excellent! On this day, I shall be known as the devil-slayer! For the Khatun, onto glory and curse death!¡±


    The hordeman roared, echoing their leader in their native language.


    ¡°Lead the civilians to the encampment! Mountain Guard with me! Our stand!¡± Bertruda roared, disemboweling a hordeman''s belly. She hesitated but added a kick, ending the woman¡¯s suffering. And removed a potential threat.


    So be it. If this was where fate claimed her, Bertruda could live with it. The world stopped around her, brought to a crawl by her heightened senses, and the sword saint weaved away from the construct¡¯s line of fire. Her movements were light and precise, guided not just by necessity but by cold calculation. The beams speared through the side of a building and their own allies, missing her own troops.


    Elegance¡¯s point detached from the shaft, stretching out on the long chain. Bertruda swung, sending the blade on the chain through the enemy ranks and straight into another eager walker. Even without heat, the blade pierced the cage and hooked the operator in the chest. No mercy had been shown, and no mercy would be shown. Bertruda pushed back and dragged the weakly gasping woman through the narrow opening of the cabin. A sickening crunching sound accompanied the folding of limbs. An indignant twist of her paw sent the gruesome remains flying.


    Fixated on her target, Bertruda began making her way through the sea of screaming faces, sidestepping shots. Elegance was a blur in her paws, its chain wrapped around necks, snapping them; the blade flickered in the air, cutting through helmets; and the heavy end of her spear was breaking sternums. Wary of her murderous reach, the walkers retreated, exposing their allies to being butchered by the Mountain Guard.


    This close, everything worked in their favor. Her elite troops evaded shots, navigating themselves through the shared vision; they battered away bodies with the massive tower shields, fired, and hacked. Missed beams, shots, and explosions furthered the death toll, harming the Horde more than they hindered Bertruda and her desperate charge. Her armor trembled and screamed, her servomotors whined, but the top-of-the-line machinery kept her safe in its unyielding embrace.


    This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    The sword saint understood Janine now. It was the time of cruel and routine butchering, and Bertruda embraced gifts of her rage at long last. There were things that could not be tolerated, and for that, they had to be strong and merciless, readily sacrificing their lives. Teasing, competition, brawls served to build bonds, test the character, and improve the body. They weren¡¯t insults; Janine had genuinely seen her as a cousin before the betrayal.


    I am sorry, my sister by another mother. It was my arrogance that broke that trust.


    The laughing whoreson raised his blade, striking in an overhead arc at the troll. The strike would¡¯ve cut through the clavicle and then severed the spinal column, coming out of the back with enough force to end an Ice Fang student holding a Normie girl in his paws.


    Bertruda¡¯s eyes flashed crimson from anger; the exhaustion drained from her body as emotions and adrenaline helped her cross the threshold of the possible. She growled, half-shocked, half-elated at the unexpected aggression worthy of a Wolfkin, and Elegance was thrust forward like a ray of light, reassembling into a single form. Twins guide my arm. Blessed Mother, bestow upon me your wrath. Two raiders were skewered at the tip of her spear, and she rammed them through the enemy ranks, reaching the hordeman just in time to block his blade. The youth spun to her, eagerly slashing at the haft of her spear, clearing it of the remains.


    ¡°Came at last, devil?¡± He giggled, drunk on mirth. ¡°Name¡¯s Amal, son of Mungke Khan. Hundreds have died by my hand. And I am one soul you won¡¯t be collecting¡­¡±


    Elegance kissed him. Its blade stabbed into his chest, below kneepads, and then right into the area around the heart, piercing that pathetic excuse for a chest plate.


    Her strikes knocked him back, slamming the man¡¯s back against the building and covering him in the rubble of a broken wall. The man¡¯s body felt like an impregnable slab of iron, but Bertruda knew that Elegance¡¯s molecular blade could cut through even the thickest steel. Only special alloys, like those of Janine¡¯s axe or the weapons of her fellow Sword Saints, were capable of withstanding the ancient blade at the end of Elegance. It had failed to harm an enemy for the first time in its existence after the Twins discovered it in ancient ruins and forged a shaft and energy generators worthy of its potency.


    Amal burst free, sending rocks everywhere, laughing and coughing dust in equal measure. A knight blocked a hail of bullets aimed at her, surprising Bertruda. If this bastard was an enemy leader, his minions sure cared very little about not hitting him. The sword saint spun her blade, economically collecting projectiles from the air and sending them at the hordemen.


    The answer came to her a moment later. Bullets from his own allies ricocheted off Amal¡¯s body. His blade landed heavily on the Elegance¡¯s shaft, and Bertruda calmly headbutted the grinning face. Her HUD flashed, and a lens cracked as she took a dent, while Amal was merely pushed back again. Angrily, Bertruda slashed at his chest, sending Amal sprawling to the ground.


    ¡°Is that the best you can do?¡± he taunted, reaching for the blade. ¡°Pathetic devil, you¡­¡±


    Bertruda fired the plasma discharges, engulfing him in crackling flames. This seemed to break his composure a bit, and with a strained roar, he charged out of the fiery hell, swinging his half-molten sword. Elegance rose to meet him, gracefully and casually brushing the blade aside before delivering a crushing blow to his neck. The impact sent the youth cartwheeling to the side, his head drawing a line in the road.


    ¡°You were saying?¡± Bertruda asked coldly, trying to come up with an idea of how to kill that thing. The kid was a New Breed. She had faced those who were stronger than her, like Janine, and even those who could regenerate a limb, like a skinwalker. But never had she faced an opponent who simply never got wounded, no matter what.


    A beam of light was spotted by a Mountain Guard and the sword saint retreated, her back pressed against the Troll¡¯s and facing a burning hole in the pavement ahead. Amal rose to his feet, his body free of bruises; not even a tiny scratch marred his impeccable black skin; not a single hair was torn. He rocked his neck mockingly and ripped an axe from a nearby hordeman.


    ¡°I said that I am immortal, bitch.¡± He grabbed a pistol from his belt. ¡°And you are not.¡±


    He shot. Bertruda blocked the bullet intended for one of the kids behind her, the spear spinning in her arms fast enough to become a shield. Sensing her unspoken command, the Mountain Guard broke through the enemy''s flanks to shield the civilians so their mistress could face her opponent head-on.


    Sparks flew in the air as the spear collided with the axe, biting away chunks of it. The sword saint fought methodically, first breaking Amal¡¯s pistol and driving him back. In four moves, she threw the fool completely off balance. A strike in the leg, followed by a sweeping blow with the butt of her spear against his jaw, an effortless swing to beat aside the ugly axe, and, finally, a masterstroke to end it all. A stab with Elegance broke the flat of the axe and found its way into the laughing mouth. Noticing something akin to panic, Bertruda jammed the blade¡¯s tip into the upper palate.


    The portable flash of destruction shone for the second time in the battle, releasing the temperature of 30 000 Celsius on the foe. What Elegance could not break, it melted.


    If Amal screamed, Bertruda did not hear him. Light poured from his nostrils, mouth, and ears. His eyes turned into light bulbs. An explosion followed, shaking his body violently, and dark smoke billowed from every orifice of the man. Bertruda pushed her weapon deeper, lifting the body for his rabble to see.


    A sword saint had died. Noble Tancred had been entrusted with the safekeeping of Houstad, and foul foes had found a way to harm it, regardless. Worse still, his fair warriors had failed to exact justice and had to be rescued by the Wolf Tribe. An utter failure of all oaths.


    Keep them safe. These were the last words the Twins spoke to the sword saint before they disappeared. They were the first to see nobility in the Wolf Tribe, the first to bow to Ravager to avert the coming slaughter for dominance. The Twins worked tirelessly, introducing sword saints to warlords, talking to Wolfkins, counseling them, trying to civilize them, praising them for correct moral decisions.


    Bertruda, to her eternal shame, had at first seen nothing in her cousins worthy of respect, thinking them little more than stinking butchers, but that had changed. The Wolf Tribe and Ravager kept the Ice Fangs safe, willingly dying in droves to preserve the Order and people¡¯s lives. Misguided, maybe. Yet the Wolf Tribe had always had true nobility. A trait in them she had arrogantly rejected at first.


    The realization came when Tancred and Camelia forced Bertruda to confront what she was becoming. Even an idiot could have seen that Janine was injured after the battle, but her proud eyes blindly ignored the facts. Because she had to win to be proven right. Bertruda wanted to believe that Janine was inferior; she needed to be sure that the Wolf Tribe were inferior creatures, unworthy of the Twins¡¯ love, when in fact the living gods embraced both groups.


    A fortress was under construction in the Core Lands. A home fit for them. The Order worked in secret, knowing full well how their cousins would react to such a gift. They hated to be perceived as being in debt, their silly cousins who still hadn¡¯t learned to accept being taken care of. What debts could there be between relatives? But once completed, the Wolf Tribe would have no further need for the villages; their cubs would be safe and sound, growing up side by side with the children of the Order. It was for this reason that the Ice Fangs initially pursued profit and formed corporations. To gain the material wealth necessary to finally drag their cousins into the light.


    Her heart ached at the need to refuse the calls of her allies. But what choice did they have? The Wolf Tribe had always kept them in the rear; now, with the Knight Academies in danger, could they really trust their rough kin to prosecute this war? Warlords, even Janine, cared too much about vengeance, but now was the time to save lives. When the lives of their own children were at stake, the Ice Fang Order had to act. If necessary, Bertruda was willing to pay a price in blood later.


    A light from above distracted Bertruda¡¯s thoughts. A bird of steel swooped down from the smoke, its six engines roaring. Steel wings spread behind a long, slender frame shaped like an arrowhead. Turrets were mounted above the wings, and raiders opened fire, tearing apart knights and members of the provincial army caught outside of the defenders¡¯ protective circle. Four furious bursts closed in on a Mountain Guard; the man¡¯s armor held for four long seconds before finally yielding with a deafening crack. The knight¡¯s shoulders exploded under the onslaught of armor-piercing projectiles. His helmet was smashed deep into his chest, and the lenses exploded, releasing brain matter.


    They have airships? Bertruda thought numbly, shaking off the despair. Janine wouldn¡¯t be giving up here, and neither will she. ¡°Mountain Guard! Anti-air missiles, at once!¡±

 Chapter 91: Flame Girl After All! Part 3

    The elite of her household dropped to their knees, steel cylinders of launchers slipping over their right shoulders as the defenders intensified their cover fire. Their cousins teased the Order for being overly reliant on melee. But that was just a facade to inspire the peasants. Every knight and foot soldier trained rigorously with every ranged weapon available. The best received additional gifts.


    The missiles locked on target, exploding in a series of bright flashes around the predator in the sky, soon forming a single massive orb of devastation that sent out a shockwave that swept several fighters off their feet. Without waiting for the result, the brave Mountain Guard were already back into the fray, hacking with their axes, while the missile launchers moved back into their generators to be reloaded. Any second now, the steel wreckage had to fall to the ground, and then maybe they could¡­


    Bertruda groaned in pain as the remnants of the axe struck upward, cutting through the joint of her armpit guard. As impossible as it may seem, Amal was very much alive. He let his body go limp, tricking Bertruda into assuming his demise, but when the smoke cleared, she saw him grasping Elegance¡¯s blade with one hand, coughing madly, and swinging his broken axe again.


    Strong. She tried to break the weapon free. The boy wasn¡¯t a full match for her, power armor or not, but he refused to let go of Elegance. Energy pulses, fired by a passing rider, hissed against her helmet, and nearby soldiers hacked at the back of her leg, stopping the sword saint¡¯s retreat. Above them, the smoke could parted, letting everyone see a humming energy shield around the airship.


    ¡°I will personally behead every single one of your whelps.¡± Amal smiled into Bertruda¡¯s face, looking past her to where her knights tried to lead the civilians to the defenders. ¡°The Sky has made me immortal! No flame, no blade, no virus can harm my blessed body. I can¡¯t be stopped; I am eternal! I am the cruel and unyielding bane of your miserable nation! And you? You bleed, you suffer, you break, while I move on! Resist me and prolong your sufferings. Surrender, and I promise you a clean death.¡±


    Bertruda screamed as a laser beam sliced across her back, melting the space between the joints of her shoulder and torso. The armor sent an immediate report, notifying the sword saint that the energy blast had eaten her flesh to the bone. And the damned machine took aim at her again as she fought to push the little shit back¡­


    ¡°If we die today, you will hold a door open for our entrance into the Planet¡¯s halls.¡± Bertruda¡¯s voice boomed, amplified by the dynamics of her armor. She issued an order to her troops to retreat, intending to serve as a diversion. ¡°You said nothing could harm you. Liar. If that is so, why do you cough?¡± The sudden concern in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.


    She asked herself what Janine would do and followed the intuition, dropping the bastard onto the ground, ignoring the tingle of pain in her arm. She cast Elegance to the Mountain Guard, mournfully saying her farewells to the trusted friend. May it serve the future sword saint as well as it had served her. Then she rammed a paw into Amal¡¯s mouth, ripping away the remains of his axe. Fear briefly rendered him weak, and she used it to push the axe into his mouth, activating her plasma discharges at low output.


    Amal spoke true. Either thanks to a power or by the sheer miracle of his biology, Bertruda failed to so much as break his teeth. But as the broken axe began to melt and overheated steel poured down Amal¡¯s throat, the hordeman thrashed violently, slamming his fists into the side of her helmet and then gesturing to his soldiers to fire at her.


    The idea was simple enough. Each time he encountered dust and smoke, Amar would cough. New Breeds could survive oxygen deprivation far longer than Normies, but even they were not invulnerable. By pouring the metal over his nose and mouth, Bertruda forced him to panic. Now it was only a matter of time before he inhaled the liquid and sealed his fate.


    Clenching her fangs from the pain of bullets, hearing the aircraft above turning to take aim, and sensing tremors from the steps of the walkers bearing the laser weaponry, Bertruda conceded their bout would not be this easy. The attackers were upon her, trying to break her hold on their leader, scratching and denting her armor with gunfire and blades. She heard a laser cannon powered up. For the sake of the fallen, I will¡­.


    Before she finished her prayer, howling drowned out the sounds of battle. Two armored bodies, almost perfectly matched in size, landed on the walker and tore off its legs with their claws. The driver screamed in terror, pleading for mercy. He was given none; the shaman and the wolf hag tore him in two and leapt to Bertruda, splashing crimson over her armor as they created an uneven zone of death around her.


    Looking at them through the lenses of her knights, Bertruda reluctantly acknowledged a kind of beauty in their primal fury. The two never stood in place even for a second, fighting not like soldiers but like a force of nature. A claw tore away a jaw from a hordeman, and the Wolfkin was already gone, spreading carnage several paces away and biting off an arm. Barely bothering to kill, they preferred to maim, so the screams of the wounded filled the air, forcing the foes to advance over the still-living bodies of their allies. Cruelty unbridled. But when someone aimed a weapon at the Ice Fang student¡­ They killed. A paw mercilessly closed on the hordeman¡¯s face, crumpling it. Bertruda recognized the duo. Janine¡¯s daughters.


    ¡°Bitches!¡± a voice thundered across the battlefield, louder than the roars coming from hundreds of throats. ¡°I told you to use ranged weapons! Shaman, if you are afraid that a shardgun will dirty your pretty fingers, stay in the rear, where males belong! We are the Wolf Tribe, not some backwoods ice boys swinging swords like lunatics! We are soldiers!¡±


    Bertruda smiled, receiving not just the video feed of her own troops but also the lenses of the Wolf Tribe. The command channels of two groups joined, exchanging data. Hundreds of Wolfkins filled the roofs, pushed from the alleys, firing their merciless shardguns into the enemy ranks. A few gave slapped the hunters on the back encouragingly, praising their sniper rifles, and charged on, firing and killing, throwing acid grenades, and filling the main street with the wailing of the dead and dying.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°And, as soldiers, when you kill¡­¡± The biggest figure in a long fur cloak appeared on a rooftop.


    Warlord Martyshkina smiled through the narrow opening in her helmet, spinning her revolvers. Designed to fit the paws of a warlord, these instruments of destruction were devices of the modern age, crafted and tailored to compensate for the lack of artifact arms. Their recoil was great enough to demolish a wall after one shot, but Martyshkina¡¯s steady paws never missed. She fired, all twelve shots landing on the flying aircraft.


    The energy shield bubbled into reality and burst, unable to handle the incoming impacts. The bullets formed gaping yawns in the ship¡¯s sides and its engines, and crimson flowers bloomed over the frame of the steel leviathan. Where dedicated missiles had failed, Martyshkina¡¯s mighty revolvers easily pierced.


    ¡°¡­you gotta do it in a civilized manner! See?!¡± The warlord roared, reloading her weapons. ¡°Civilization! Progress! Booze¡­ Wait, I mean¡­ Melee is for suckers, bitches! Save our allies! I am far too curious why our cousins ignored us to let them perish! Murder! Maim! More!¡±


    ¡°Murder! Maim! More!¡± The Wolfkins repeated her roar, pursuing the retreating foes.


    Amal¡¯s skin paled at the sight of his forces escaping, and his pupils collapsed into dots at the horror consuming him. The raider pounded the side of Bertruda¡¯s armor with his palms, begging for mercy. She gave him none, keeping the molten metal in liquid form in his mouth and pinning him down firmly. And soon he gasped.


    ****


    There was a method to her leadership. Martyshkina had learned the value of restraining chaos from the pits soon after she first met Janine. Every cub had fought for a share of food and milk, but it was Jani who had pointed out that their booty was barely enough to make up for the torn skin hanging loose from their wounds. The two girls had thought long and hard and had come to a brilliant conclusion.


    They had dominated the smaller girls and males and formed their own pack, sharing the spoils and making sure that no one starved. Sure, there were grumblings over giving food to the males, but if there was one thing that united the youth of the Wolf Tribe, it was the chance to spite the humorless bitches, as the cubs called the shamans, and not be punished for it.


    Martyshkina adhered to this rule her entire life. She feigned stupidity to prompt her wolf hags to speak up out of concern for the lower ranks, pointing out errors in their ideas to help them grow, and praising them when they surprised her. Fake stupidity also served to motivate the wolf hags to learn and accept new tools of murder, for no one wanted their pack to be weak. She threw insults around to invite lower ranks to challenge her and be promoted instead of sitting on their asses out of loyalty. Nothing so motivated a female to improve as the desire to avenge an insult.


    The fruits of her labor proved true here. Even mixed with Wolfkins of another pack¡ªan irksome necessity¡ªher wolf hags meticulously planned their advance, cutting off the Gilded Horde¡¯s front line. Their explosives brought down buildings and trapped their prey. Scouts used the sewers and underground tunnels to lay ambushes in the rear. Inspired by her example, her dear bitches and whoresons fired from a distance, and that in turn gave a clue to their allies to act the same.


    Martyshkina had to correct her troops only twice today, when a newly promoted scout of the late Zlata got too excited in her quest for revenge.


    Zlata. Her death saddened the warlord. She didn¡¯t know the woman well, but she was a reliable and loyal soldier with somewhat weird hobbies, and her slow death angered Martyshkina. People died when she was angry.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± A hunter had barely finished a sentence when she was already near him, putting a paw on the ice boy¡¯s shoulder to keep him calm. Their cousins always tiptoed around the Wolfkins as if they were going to bite them at any opportunity. Which was obvious bullshit. Both parties first had to agree to a dominance duel.


    ¡°Situation?¡± Martyshkina asked.


    They were standing on the roof, with their backs to a single, miraculously surviving beer billboard. A white bird was flying, ready to snatch a lying can of beer. Very apt, and Martyshkina¡¯s throat dried up. She needed a drink.


    The hunter pointed to the street, where a half-naked man with avian features was strolling in front of the lined-up priests. The man didn¡¯t seem to care about the fallen aircraft, or that their attack had just been drowned in blood, or that Bertruda was finishing his leader. Broken and rusted forms of the Ice Fang knights lay at his legs, and Marty¡¯s eyebrows rose as she saw an Ice Boy rapidly decompressing. Fur disappeared, eyes fell deep into the skull, skin was replaced by a strange leathery parchment before it cracked and vanished into motes. Even bones turned yellow and collapsed into dust.


    The bird man asked a priest something, and when he got an answer, he pointed his finger at the priest. A strange transparent bubble formed around the holy man, and his whole body twitched inside it, jerking so rapidly that he was tearing himself. Martyshkina saw the priest¡¯s wrinkled face turn into the perfectly smooth face of an infant and then age again, all in the space of a second. When the pale white bubble disappeared, a broken, drooling mess fell to the bird man¡¯s legs.


    That¡¯s when the premonition struck a nerve. Martyshkina pushed the hunter back, certain that the bird freak was now aware of her presence. It wasn¡¯t a power; she¡¯d been tested by the best doctors available to the Reclamation Army, and they all, in unison, confirmed that this phenomenon of hers was related to her heightened intuition and resulted from the intense beating she¡¯d taken from Terrific and the subsequent changes in her brain as her body healed.


    She knew when something was about to go down. Whether it was a clever ambush or a sudden strike, no enemy had ever sneaked up on her. And so she aimed and fired both pistols, one at the bird freak¡¯s head and the other at a ground next to him, calculating the trajectory of the debris created by the projectile ahead of time.


    He spun around, pointing a finger, and smiled wickedly as the bullet stopped short of reaching him, rapidly aging back into its original components. They looked at each other briefly, and his eyes widened in recognition, though Martyshkina had never seen the freak before.


    It didn¡¯t matter, as the second bullet squeezed out the stones from the road and sent sharp fragments flying with enough force to bury a chunk of stone in the bare side of his head, damaging the brain. A follow shot stole everything above the neck.


    ¡°Wear a helmet in your next life, retard,¡± Martyshkina laughed, motioning for the priests to pick up their comrade and run to the cover of their building, where her pack would meet them.


    She was about to join Bertruda to get her answers but stopped, somewhat worried that the first bullet she had fired was still in the air, aging backwards. The man was dead; his body lay on the ground, and there was no sign of regeneration. Nor was his chest moving. He wasn¡¯t breathing. So what was bothering her?


    Ravager always taught them to trust their intuition, so Martyshkina called a scout close, grabbed her acid grenades, and threw five at the corpse, bathing it in a caustic cloud. Back in Houstad, Zlata had convinced her and Ashbringer to accompany the two wolf hags to a movie theater that was showing a slasher film. Spitting and cursing, the group had been frothing at the mouth over the sheer stupidity of the protagonists, who simply refused to pick up a hatchet and turn the ever-returning killer into a tasty mush of organs after they had knocked the bastard once again. It was best not to take any chances.

 Chapter 92: Savages

    Mungke spread his arms wide, feeling really good as his thunder bull rammed a building. The defenders, this worthless and unskilled garbage the locals called the Provincial Army, drummed against his armor and his steed, falling alongside a shower of stone. He swung his axe, killing them by score, their blood and guts sanctifying his new domain. Warriors of his tumens streamed after him, wiping out anyone who dared raise a gun against their khan and taking a bountiful harvest of captives. Mungke himself kept charging, bringing ruin to the weak and the broken.


    Iron Lord had warned him against attacking strongly, but what was there to fear here? The locals in this town were worse than slaves; they were, may the Sky forgive him, cattle. Livestock. Even slaves resisted when it was the bleeding season and the younger warriors tested their blades on their babies.


    Mad Hatter forbade that practice as wasteful, but Mungke vividly remembered the second person he had killed, a fierce enslaved woman, her body covered in scars, holding a crying baby to her chest and a sharp rock in her hand. His brother had spared her and received an axe, parting his head from his body in a show of weakness.


    Thousands of screaming fools tried to escape them, and not a single one thought about picking up the weapons of the dead defenders. If that was how much they valued their freedom, then the Horde was doing them a favor by chaining them to serve a higher purpose.


    Struggle! This was the Gilded Horde¡¯s way. Rather than lying and dying during famines and droughts, faithful sons and daughters of the Sky gathered into a raiding clan and invaded their neighbors, taking by force what the land denied them by right. Mungke himself had eradicated ten rival khans, dragging their useless offspring to burning pyres and offering the Sky the life essence of youth. Every victory brought spoils. Purebloods, Mungke among them, ate their fill and decorated their swollen bodies in gold, silver, and jewelry to show off their status and danger.


    Big was his own clan. Forty sons, not counting the perpetually stupid dog spawn Amal, subdued the outside lands. Thousands of pureblooded and dirtyblooded sons and daughters of the Sky served him, and their numbers grew with each victory, offsetting any losses as volunteers poured in from the steppe! Over forty thousand bondsmen had joined his clan, but truth be told, no one counted them. Sky riders, sky strikers, thunder bulls, siege engines¡­ He had it all now.


    Mad Hatter was a cruel mistress. She had announced her bid for superiority in the steppes one day, mercilessly slaughtering any khan stupid enough to resist her and uniting the rest. Ancient forges and long-forgotten factories were reopened and gifted to the Merchants at her command. Any resistance soon found themselves burned alive to furnaces; their flesh and bones forever merged with newly produced weapons, and their screaming souls fed the unsatiated Sky.


    But she was also generous to those in her service. Sure, a sudden word might spell your doom, and Mungke still owed his salvation to Brood Lord. But at the same time, the woman cared nothing for personal glory; her own clan was a tiny thing, governed by the elderly rather than strong-willed champions. Meanwhile, lands, slaves, food, drinks, authority¡­ everything went straight to the lesser khans. His own lands overflowed with riches, hunger and thirst disappeared, and fresh wives brought much-needed vitality to the steppes.


    Ah¡­ He smiled and split a whimpering body in half. There will be much slaughter once I die. There will be much slaughter when I die. A most glorious war that will see his true heir emerge victorious. Such was the Gilded Horde¡¯s way. Future through competition. Those who didn¡¯t want to spill the blood of their kin had to go into exile, never to return.


    The ground shuddered and cracked beneath the hooves of his thunder bull, and nearby cars shook in tune with the tremors. His eyes caught sight of a towering building at the end of the plaza. The high walls surrounding it had survived the energy waves of his heavy laser cannons. Mere scorch marks soiled their pristine surfaces even after artillery bombardment, and the most damage the attackers had done to them was occasional cracks.


    His warriors lay dead outside the main entrance. Shot or cut to pieces. More bondsmen and purebloods advanced and were swiftly mowed down by a counterattack of blindingly fast white shadows. The famous doggies! Only these weren¡¯t like their brethren the Horde had disposed of during the initial storming of this building. These doggies were clad in armor and wielded swords, pistols, shields, and proper ranged weapons. The bastards danced among his bondsmen, professionally drawing the purebloods into close quarters where a missed shot inevitably wounded a bondsman, while swords repeatedly thrust into less protected joints, injuring his elites.


    Well, that just won¡¯t do. Mungke¡¯s eyes narrowed; he had given Amal a direct order to crush the resistance in this fort, to capture the doggies¡¯ children alive and unharmed, to introduce them into his clan as purebloods, so that they would grow even stronger together. Clearly, the dumbass had run off hunting for something else.


    ¡°Call a sky striker,¡± Mungke said calmly when he noticed the fire coming from the high towers and roof of the fort. His fingers clenched the axe.


    ¡°I am sorry, my khan,¡± a warrior replied, exposing his neck in shame. ¡°Amal has just summoned the last sky striker available to¡­¡±


    ¡°Son of a whore!¡± The thunder bull rose, responding to his rage. ¡°I will drown him once the battle is won! Sky strikers are mine to command! Mine! Don¡¯t stand shaking, fool, to battle!¡±


    Mungke Khan lightly slammed the axe lightly against the thunder bull¡¯s neck, sending it into an unrestrained, maddening stampede. Manholes sprang into the air. Cars toppled to the side. Bondsmen stumbled and cheered, welcoming their leader. His warriors cleared the way for Mungke¡¯s apocalyptic passage. No more. He will tolerate this useless spawn of his no more! He had gifted him command, artillery, and soldiers, and this bastard dared to steal more precious assets and break Mungke¡¯s leisurely conquest? Fine, he will fix Amal¡¯s shit again, but it will be the last time!


    Mungke reached the stairs leading to the grandiose building, catching a doggie upon his axe. The creature whined in agony as its body was risen into the air. Its hand moved, firing a pistol at the khan¡¯s head. The bullet ricocheted off his helmet, and the Khan slammed the body into the ground. Two more were trampled by his trusty thunder bull, and Mungke laughed gleefully as the immense weight of his steed reduced them into pools of wreckage. His personal guard raced into the opening created by their leader, facing the defenders on a more equal footing.


    The khan¡¯s blood ran hot after a shot tore a chunk of flesh from his precious thunder bull. Several more projectiles pierced his armor, forcing the khan to wince in pain, feeling the bullets lodge in his fat. He threw his head high, and the display of his helmet marked several snipers on the roof. The generator at his back roared, fueling the visor of his helmet until its faceplate shone.


    A ball of energy left his head and exploded above, dousing the camouflaged fools in a heat superior to any napalm. Edges of the building reddened and melted; corpses rolled down as the khan tapped his steed, sending it into a wild dance, while he himself spun the long axe around, cleaving through neck guards.


    This place should have been his by now! Every second he and his people were busy fighting was a second Brood Lord was getting closer. Once his troops joined the fray, they could demand a share of the captured supplies and slaves, depriving Mungke¡¯s clan of their rightful spoils! The things the inhuman degenerate did to women... Dead, tortured, or wounded slaves brought no profit!


    But the damned fools fought too well! Even with their backs against the walls, the doggies still managed to form ranks and push his soldiers back here and there. Individually, they were slightly stronger than his purebloods, and combined with the fact that this fort provided them with cover and the doggies¡¯ iron discipline, the situation simply didn¡¯t allow him to bring forth the entire might of his clan upon the enemies.


    The Horde excelled at fighting in open spaces. They would strike quickly and with little regard for casualties, testing the enemy¡¯s defenses in one area, falling back in a fake retreat, and reducing the enemy to ashes with long-range weapons while the riders circled around the drawn-in enemies and struck from a weaker angle. Here in this kingdom of stone and steel, his troops felt suffocated.


    Maybe it is best to wait for reinforcements. Mungke pondered, breaking through a pathetic excuse for an obstacle formed by three doggies wielding round shields. Their rotary cannons were nothing compared to the annoying stingers of the snipers, and the bullets bounced off his faithful beast and his armor. He had lost a number of his soldiers and knew nothing of the whereabouts of his useless son.


    Perhaps Amal had joined forces with Iron Lord to usurp his father? Alas, this place was like an unguarded hawk¡¯s egg. Too tasty to let go, even despite the threat of a giant bird ready to return and devour the intruder. Unless this thorn was removed, his men were in danger.


    No. This place will be mine. At first, Mungke was opposed to Mad Hatter¡¯s plans for further expansion. But upon stepping into these lands teeming with life, touching sumptuous plains, drinking an abundance of water, and encountering deep forests, he changed his mind. His clan will settle here, and centuries from now his descendants will sing throat songs honoring his wisdom. From the natives they will learn how to craft engines of war and no longer be dependent on the Merchants. Perhaps they should try farming and raising thunder cows! This ridiculously silly, yet very cute, thought brought a smile to Mungke¡¯s lips, and he ignored the sound of broken bones as his thunder bull advanced.


    Something to tip the scales¡­ The khan laughed, full of confidence, and patiently surveyed the battlefield.


    Another doggie entered the fray, or rather, appeared. This one was taller than his brethren and dressed in a dark battle suit, towering over the battlefield like a pillar of black void. Lenses of his armor shone bright blue; a heavy cloak flowed from his pauldrons, threaded with gold. Every part of the doggie¡¯s battle plate was artistically detailed, from the elegant, overlapping segmented protection over his fingers to the long crest of his helmet and the silently working engine.


    The mutant wielded a sword that matched the color of his armor. Blows from its deadly edge sliced through entire bodies of bondsmen and purebloods alike. There was no mercy or hesitation in his movements; without even seeing foes converging on his back, the warrior dodged bullets, slashed once, and stole three lives from the khan. Not a single projectile even touched the fabric of his cloak.


    Most of the following shots flew harmlessly past the armor plates, and the few that hit them rebounded harmlessly off the dark surfaces. The warrior came to a halt, cutting nothing in the air, and a dark line remained. He danced away from it, careful not to step on his fallen troops but trampling Mungke¡¯s wounded soldiers with ease. The enemy leader¡ªMungke was sure of his rank now¡ªmoved through the pureblood ranks, carving himself a path of bodies.


    The black knight reached for grenades on his belt and tossed them around. Not hurrying in the slightest, the doggie beheaded a soldier, creating another black line, this time horizontal. And then he jumped into it.


    ¡°Fools! Back away!¡± Mungke yelled to his warriors, who were hacking at the empty space. He kicked his beast, steering it toward the first line.


    Superiors, as the priests called them, were people blessed by the Sky with unnatural gifts. Whether it was the ability to travel through space like Phaser or to cause rage like Drozna, they were generally above the Purebloods. ¡®Generally¡¯ was the key world here.


    Mungke had killed Superiors before. How could he not, when the glowing poison had polluted the steppes and warped every living thing in those lands? Whether it was an arrogant youngster from his own clan, a rival leader, or an arrogant offspring who dreamed of usurping his rule prematurely, Mungke had ended them all. Dangerous as they were, once their trick was discovered, they became manageable.


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    There were few reasons for this individual to enter the fray so boldly, and Mungke quickly discarded the bloodlust. Too professional, too classy. At first, he had assumed that the first tear was some kind of time bomb, but the bastard¡¯s entrance into his own darkness had cleared things up.


    I figured you out. Mungke smiled.


    Explosions threw his soldiers into the air and tore their limbs off. These were no ordinary grenades. Acid waves rolled after the initial shockwaves, eating through the steel and flesh of his loyal troops. Veterans of dozens of conquests recoiled, retreating from the rapidly hissing pool of destruction, exposing their allies and showing their backs to the rotating cannons.


    Mungke swung his axe, ramming the blade into the black knight as he leapt from the first window of darkness. His first strike cracked the pauldron, and the mutant rolled noiselessly aside, sparing himself the brunt of the impact. The knight took the blows that followed on his feet, skillfully regaining his footing and matching the khan¡¯s speed.


    ¡°Enough of this,¡± Mungke said calmly in Common, bottling his rage. ¡°You have cost me lives. I challenge you to a duel. Name and rank?¡±


    ¡°I am Macarius Voidrunner, Sword Saint of House Voidrunner,¡± the doggie replied, slashing the axe from his body. He saluted, touching his helmet with the flat of his sword. ¡°Challenge accepted. You are?¡±


    ¡°Your end.¡± Mungke kicked, and his thunder bull vomited at the enemy.


    Thunder bulls were highly prized animals in his homeland. Sturdy, loyal, and easily trained, they served as excellent cavalry when clans fell on difficult times and lacked access to weaponry. Prime stock bulls, like the one that belonged to Iron Lord and, to a lesser extent, the one Mungke was riding atop, exceeded their natural level of toughness after surviving severe wounds and rarely panicked anymore. When it was necessary to move goods or tear up the ground to reach the precious water, traders were always nearby, eager to sell their beasts.


    But there was one thing that truly elevated thunder bulls above other animals. They were omnivores, capable of surviving on corpses as well as plants. Toxic waste, wood, bones¡­ Acidic fluids in their stomachs digested everything, making them almost impervious to hunger. The slightest rumor of a thunder bull or cow dying of starvation was enough to summon priests to investigate, who in turn rallied the closest clans and plunged them into a righteous fury to launch a punitive raid and exterminate the clan responsible for such heinous acts. For thunder cows were another blessing of the Sky, and to misuse and abuse them despite the abundance of precious milk they gave was the height of incompetence.


    And now the contents of Mungke¡¯s thunder bull were emptied on Macarius, drenching him in caustic waters. Holes grew in the black cloak, and with a hiss it came apart, its shreds quickly disappearing in the hiss of the strongest acid known to the Horde. The doggies lenses blinked and dimmed, going offline as the perilous waters poured into the rift, frying the mechanisms inside. Mungke struck in that split second of distraction; his axe painted the figure of an eight. The first cut was blocked; even blinded, the sword saint had the instinct to save his hide. The second cut penetrated the defense, shearing off part of a vambrace.


    Simple. So simple. Mungke hummed, driving his beast forward. Lost eyesight was no problem when there were ears. But the combination of hissing and the din of battle had confused Macarius¡¯ perception. Skills? Fairness? Who needs them? Only victory matters. The bull¡¯s head knocked the mutant, and he allowed himself to be propelled backward.


    Mungke snatched his rifle from a seat and leveled it at his target. In the past, one of his stupid daughters tried to shoot him with it when he gave her hand to Iron Lord. The foolish girl had snapped her wrist after the first bullet left the barrel, unable to handle the recoil despite being a dirtyblood. When Mungke fired the weapon, he hardly felt any inconvenience.


    The ground around Macarius erupted, riddled by the mass-reactive rounds. The knight¡¯s armor shook, and fist-sized dents appeared on it. Mungke swung his axe again, intending to end the battle, and the doggie dove to the left, as nimble as a raptor heading skyward. His paw ripped the helmet from his head, and he stood tall, hissing drops falling from his joints; his armor cracked, but the sword in his paws sang its tune like a legendary bard, parrying each of Mungke¡¯s decapitation attempts. Bullets were deflected, and the khan experienced a tingle of unease as nerves visibly tensed in long knotted ropes that stretched away from preternaturally glowing crimson eyes.


    ¡°You came to our lands,¡± Macarius said, his clear voice reaching through the cacophony of war like a blade cutting through flesh. ¡°Brought death and destruction where peace reigned. For that, I, Macarius Voidrunner, condemn you.¡±


    ¡°Piece of shit,¡± Mungke cursed, hearing the empty click of his rifle.


    He directed his thunder bull to the left as Macarius came upon them. The rough hide of his current steed parted like a water surface under a single touch of the black edge, and the creature grunted, more annoyed than afraid, as the blade severed muscles and left a crack in the bone of its leg. Thunder bulls were many things, but they were no cowards. Self-preservation instincts were almost nonexistent in their skulls. Fortunately for his steed, Mungke had no intention of letting such a prized specimen disappear.


    At a snap of his fingers, his warriors opened fire at the knight¡¯s back, throwing explosives to keep the moron pinned down and stumbling. Mungke laughed, swinging his axe heavily with both arms as Macarius tried to create another of his silly portals. Here. It was the turning point. The ambush of his soldiers threw the white-furred bastards into a stupor of disbelief and then into a mad rage. They charged forward, trying to save their leader.


    And became target practice for the hordemen. Pureblood veterans flanked the counterattack, cutting the doggies off from the fort. Their cannons worked, taking a heavy toll; hulking carriers finally arrived, their massive legs shattering the stairs, and their laser cannons opened fire, mowing down the exposed opposition. Like thousands of angry bees, hoverbikes roared up the walls and reached the rooftops. Their riders flew past the surviving snipers, the spiked blades of their hoverbikes maiming and killing, reaping a bountiful harvest worthy of the Sky¡¯s attention.


    The thunder bull reared on its hind legs. Mungke¡¯s single swing staggered the so-called sword saint, lacerating his chest plate. Dozens of shots sent the fool further off balance, and with a very satisfying crunching sound of twisted metal, the thunder bull brought its healthy leg down. The impact cratered the fool, exposing his head just enough for Mungke to hack away an ear and bury his axe deep into the shoulder.


    This! This was the horde¡¯s way of fighting! Duels, honor, mercy¡ªoutlanders held these silly notions dear, but the Horde knew better. From the lowest bondsman to the highest pureblood, they were aware of a simple fact of nature. If you lose, you perish. Either you die on the battlefield, enslaved, or you flee and grow weak enough to be unable to protect your lands when they are raided. Failure invited the end of dreams, the disappearance of hopes, as your clan faded from starvation and thirst.


    To live was to win. To thrive was to subjugate and expand. To stay free was to ride forward. These were the simple rules of the steppe. Everything else was delusion. Show hesitation, indulge in procrastination, and nature won¡¯t forgive such weakness. Love, mercy, trust were privileges of subordinates and the weak to give meaning to their lives. A khan must never lose. This was the lesson Mungke intended to teach this fool before he offered his burning remains to the Sky.


    Mungke took the axe in both hands, chuckling darkly at the sword saint¡¯s futile attempts to cut himself free from underneath the hoof. The downward arc came down with enough force to topple a building. Macarius tried to block it with his sword, and the axe buried his weapon in the concrete up to the hilt, lacerating his cheek. With an almost inhuman effort that strained his armor to the breaking point, the doggie lifted the hoof and was immediately headbutted by the bull into the wall of the fort, where he collapsed unconscious, his head leaving a red stain on the stones.


    ¡°His head is mine!¡± The khan laughed, unburned by the prolonged combat. ¡°I claim his armor, his bones, his weapon, and his wives¡­¡±


    A howl silenced his jubilation. Something heavy landed on the concrete grounds, sending a web of fissures in every direction. An energy beam shot out of the rising pall of smoke, emptying the thunder bull¡¯s eye socket, and it rose in anguish. Mungke barely had time to get out of his seat before his steed was tackled back.


    The animal, heavier than most battle tanks, roared a challenge and spat a lump of acid and blood from its mouth. Its body convulsed, trying desperately to free itself from the cruel axe buried in the flesh above its groin. The guttural roar morphed into a shriek of pain as the figure in the dark power armor thrust the weapon deeper, ripping through the guts and sending the mangled beast crashing to its back.


    Mungke landed beside the corpse, axe in hand. He initially assumed that Macarius had returned to the fight, but upon closer inspection, this was a new foe. She hacked her way through the side of the deceased thunder bull; the blackness of her brutal and sharpened armor was wet with blood and tangled in entrails. The newcomer¡¯s black fur showed in the open maw of her helmet, and the axe in her oversized paw rivaled his own in size.


    A warlord. Here? Brood Lord told them that these fools were stuck in Houstad! That was part of the reason he had assaulted the place¡ªto divert the Reclamation Army¡¯s defenses and let Iron Lord¡­ Iron Lord¡­


    Damn, he was right. I chose the wrong side.


    Wasting no more time panicking, the khan ordered his troops to form up and down the newcomer. More meat for the grinder, who cares? I do. I liked that beast, you damn savage. Mungke strode forward, intent on adding another leader¡¯s head to his tally, and nearly lost his life.


    This doggie was fast! Brood Lord had told him that the fundamental difference between black-furred and white-furred mutants was that white-furred mutants were faster but had a harder time recovering from wounds, while black-furred doggies were tough and slow barbarians who fought with little skill. Yet here it was: this creature lunged at him with enough force to send rippling circles across the concrete, riddling his nearby soldiers with shrapnel that flew out of the road. Bullets and impulses pierced the space she had just occupied, while the warlord was already slashing her axe at the khan.


    Mungke took the blow on the axe¡¯s shaft, and the impact reverberated in his bones, passing through his armor as his legs sank ankle-deep into the ground. This creature¡­ It wasn¡¯t weaker than the sword saint he had fought a moment ago! No, it was even stronger! But how could that be? The spy told them about the inner structure of the Reclaimers, mentioning the five strongest warlords and sword saints. And this axe-wielding, mangy beast wasn¡¯t among them!


    ¡°Botheration¡­¡± Mungke groaned, his weapon bending. The shockwave from their collision flapped the cloaks of several Purebloods. He headbutted a bite away. ¡°What are you standing there for?! Disassemble the nuisance!¡±


    Flame burst onto the rooftops, and one of his riders collapsed, screaming. Still battling this fiend, the khan summoned a display to see what was happening, and his blood turned to ice as he received the video feed. More black-furred. Quite a lot more. Dozens, if not hundreds, were here, the oculars of their helmets lit crimson. Almost as if responding to his gaze, they announced their arrival with disorganized, bone-chilling howls, raining down grenades.


    Domes of acid appeared above his forces, separating the fighters and giving the damned black-furred a chance to recover. Not waiting for the deadly acid to dissipate, the howling packs crawled down in a stream of black bodies. They landed on the Purebloods, sinking their fangs deep into their necks or simply shooting their heads off. An explosion in the rear announced that something was happening to the artillery as well.


    But he wasn¡¯t scared. They outnumbered the foe ten to one. It was only a matter of time before they reduced the Reclaimers¡¯ numbers to a manageable level. He just needed to hold out¡­


    A long, double-bladed sword cleaved the laser carrier in two. From behind, a figure as large as the first warlord rose and tackled another carrier, easily knocking it off its six legs. Screams followed from inside the building, and his soldiers rushed out, surrounded by flames that spewed from the open arm of a smaller Wolfkin. Several soldiers turned to end the pest and were harvested by a third warlord, who emerged from the flames with a long scythe in her paws.


    A single kick sent three terrified bondsmen into a line of her swing, and their bodies came apart at the ideal cut. She roared, growled, and barely howled, lashing out like a true beast, and even her comrades gave her a wide berth.


    I am not facing a single warlord! Mungke panicked for real, trying to push the bitch away and retreat. There are three of them here!


    All he succeeded in doing was to push back the small mound of muscles pressing on him one step. The warlord responded by slicing through his weapon, tearing off a piece of his armor along with his left nipple.


    Mungke turned and ran, shouting orders for Amal to return immediately and calling for his sons to aid him. Several blasted Wolfkins jumped in his path; one unleashed a stream of fire into his eyes, and as Mungke swatted away the insignificant insect and was about to pierce his eyes with his fingers, a female jumped on his neck and bit through his armored collar.


    Furious, Mungke grabbed the woman and felt an artificial leg inside one of her armored limbs. Ignoring the revelation, he nearly crumpled her gorget to break her neck, then let go of the mutant, screaming in agony. The flame-wielding doggie had jammed its flamethrower-turned-arm into the opening of his suit, blackening his flesh, while another hurled grenades at his back, damaging the generator.


    Mungke¡¯s fist slammed into the three biting fleas, sending them fleeing. He was reaching for his combat knives when the warlord¡¯s shoulder shoved him off his feet.


    They rolled on the ground, punching each other, and the creature mounted him, letting go of her axe. Mungke¡¯s systems began powering up the sunbeam cannon in his helmet, but the process was cut short by the direct punch that completely shattered his faceplate. The Khan tried to scream as he heard his teeth crumble to dust, and the paw grabbed his upper jaw. Another massive gauntlet squeezed into his mouth and took hold of his lower jaw..


    Mungke no longer felt good. His plans, goals, desires no longer mattered. Even anger abandoned him. He pissed and wet himself, breaking his knives against the impregnable plate of his opponent, horrified at the unspeakable agony of his palate being ruined and writhing in pain at the destruction of his gums. He died when the giant warlord tore his head in two, dragging a string of his flesh¡ªon which his lower jaw dangled¡ªacross his throat and belly.

 Chapter 93: Temptation and Doubts

    Janine spat at the twitching corpse at her feet. She had half a thought to take a bite of the bastard; the Spirits knew it was a long day, and she was hungry, but she decided against it. Not out of respect. She would have pissed on the bastard given enough time. But the soldiers and cousins were watching her. Restraint and discipline were essential. A leader¡¯s self-indulgence invited the same from the pack members, and that in turn invited unnecessary casualties from otherwise easily avoided mistakes.


    There was a tingle in her legs, a slight tension in her muscles, and a pleasant rush of adrenaline coursed through her body. The reward. Ravager¡¯s legacy had deemed Janine worthy of growing a tiny bit stronger after the murder. Weird, she had thought she had reached her prime years ago. But Janine welcomed the change and the pleasant sensation of her muscles thickening.


    The warlord ignored the chuckle and the shadow form that cradled and poked at the corpse. She wasn¡¯t here. Terrific could not be here. Janine took the Taleteller from Bogdan¡¯s paws and raised the weapon high, howling to proclaim her victory. Four packs. Four packs had descended upon the town, barely denting the enemy forces. Ice Fangs and Wolfkins joined their forces, pushing the raiders back. Despite the loss of their leaders, the foes were retreating in an orderly fashion, and new officers had already taken over.


    It spurred her into action, and the first shot from her laser rifle blew holes in two hordemen on the square below the Knight Academy. Their torsos simply disappeared in crimson steam, and limbs and heads dropped to the ground. Janine kept firing, ending the lives of those who dared to wage war against the state.


    This town, called Quatindor, was quite prosperous. Economic specifics eluded Janine, but she was not blind to the sight of the extensive mining complex to the east. Food production facilities, farms, two small cinemas, a park, pharmacies, and even a fully stocked hospital. The place flourished, growing into a real trade and tourist center that no longer relied on material support to sustain itself.


    It had suffered greatly. Smoke rose into the sky, obscuring the view, and occasional flashes of red announced another rocket barrage coming down to take out a fortified position. Beasts wearing human bodies pillaged and violated the civilized lands, dragging women by the hair from their homes and enslaving or killing husbands. Shops and malls were ruthlessly broken into, their goods carried off, banks emptied of valuable metals, and entire crews stripped the dead from both sides. Shot, choked, or burned alive, people Quatindor burned to ash, their hopes and dreams joining the rising, swirling smoke.


    In their panic, the survivors flocked to places perceived as pillars of stability and safety. The police station, the Knight¡¯s Academy, and the town hall. Janine took it into consideration, dispersing the pack and assigning tasks to the wolf hags with the silent approval of Martyshkina, Eled, and Predaig. Marty¡¯s pack, reinforced with the soldiers of her friends, was to save their stupid kin near the police station and city hall.


    Monsters of a different kind prowled around Quatindor now. Those for whom this hellscape was as natural as the walls of their home tents, those who grew angrier at the sight of the invaders¡¯ savagery. Armored paws reached out from the shadows, dragging unsuspecting fools into the darkness to rend them asunder. Shardguns¡¯ flashes illuminated the darkness in the alleys during shootouts between the hordemen and Wolfkins. Claws faced claws under burning trees. Surprised families confronted the wide grins of the dark-clad warriors and males who escorted them to safety. Metal cracked, bones shattered, traps were laid, and death continued to feast.


    The town wasn¡¯t a necropolis yet, but the Wolfkins had caught the raiders with their pants down. No reason not to do it again and again.


    ¡°Scouts. Mark the enemy¡¯s officers. Hunters,¡± Janine said, looking at the roof of this so-called Knight¡¯s Academy. Janine knew almost nothing about these places; she summarized them as the Order¡¯s analogues to pits, arenas to toughen up cubs. Fortunately, her ice-blooded kin they¡¯d saved here obeyed the orders of a barbarian without question.


    You can¡¯t trust them. It spoke. The shadow that pervaded her life rose from the corpse, no longer walking behind the backs of others. It twisted and contorted, opened its dried-up mouth, and breathed out a cloud of dust.


    ¡°Fire at will; officers take highest priority.¡± Janine ignored the aberration and grinned after three raiders who tried to assemble their comrades earned themselves holes between the eyes. Damn it, Marty was right! Hunters are awesome! Spirits be my witness; one day I¡¯ll have my girls trained in the sniper arts too! ¡°Soulless One, status?¡±


    Another fireball rose near the walls, answering Janine¡¯s question better than any report. The diversionary team converged on the overexposed artillerymen, killing all they could and detonating their ammunition. Their work done, the Wolfkins slipped back into the settlement like ghosts.


    ¡°Artillery is silenced,¡± Soulless One said over the comms, surprising the warlord. There was no grudge, no burden. The shaman¡¯s voice sounded just like it had when she was a young girl, light and certain of her future.


    You have found your way, my friend.


    ¡°Good. Stalk in the shadows, Soulless One. There are citizens yet trapped in the town. Rescue as many as you can,¡± Janine ordered.


    ¡°My place is by your side, Warlord,¡± Soulless One grumbled for decency¡¯s sake.


    ¡°Your place is where I send you, Shaman,¡± Janine snapped back, not the least bit displeased. ¡°I know of your desire to save lives. Act upon it.¡±


    ¡°Will make you proud, Janine,¡± Soulless One thanked on a private channel.


    ¡°Artillery pieces inside the town are dismantled, Warlord!¡± another wolf hag reported. An explosion rang out to the north, and something gigantic began to fall from a heavy cloud of smoke. Marty¡¯s doing, no doubt. ¡°But we can¡¯t get to the bastards outside the walls!¡± The wolf hag in charge of the diversionary team shouted, and Janine summoned her video feed.


    Led by two wolf hags, the pack was busy dodging gunfire and energy blasts hitting the wall. Retreating into the ruined apartment buildings, the Wolfkins were busy rescuing wounded civilians and clearing the floors of the Horde¡¯s stragglers. Though not part of their mission parameters, Janine approved their initiative with a grunt.


    Even for two wolf hags, such a mission was dangerous, but they weren¡¯t alone. Four other shapes traveled separately from the packs, emerging from the sepulchral darkness to snatch any hordeman foolish enough to pursue them. Eled and Predaig¡¯s bodyguards, shamans who had survived hundreds of battlefields, were unleashed in full. Their faith may have forbidden them to use weapons, but in close quarters, these women used the gifts given to them by both the Spirits and the state.


    Second only to the warlords, these warriors were unparalleled in the chaos of this battle. Observing the situation through the lenses of their lesser, they leapt from the rooftops, slicing bodies in half with a single blow. Their jaws closed, ripping out throats, and the shamans roared, drawing more opponents to the carnage. Like phantoms, they disappeared after each massacre, weaving their paths around the packs. The shamans used their own allies as bait, never once stopping their own deadly hunt.


    Janine did not find it in her heart to berate them for cannibalizing downed enemies, not after one of them plucked two unconscious children from under a pile of rubble and tossed them to the warriors. If a Normie reported it later, she would take the blame herself.


    But she doubted that any of the civilians cared about adhering to these laws.


    Attacking multiple targets was the Wolf Tribe¡¯s style. In the absence of a clear enemy commander and facing too massive numbers to crush them head-on, Wolfkins sowed confusion and chaos on the battlefield, misdirecting foes and destroying vulnerable pieces. Wolf hags proudly challenged the Horde to duels, and after hoverbikes were sent to mow them down, their soldiers dropped acid grenades from burning buildings. Clad in full battleplates, the packs moved comfortably through the burning ruins, navigated by the shared and constantly updated map. When support was lacking, calls for help were sent out and well-planned ambushes were launched.


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    But these quick gains could not last. The distraction packs had already used a quarter of their ammunition, and fresh enemy forces were moving past the walls. Chaos tactics could not win them the day. Brute force alone could not turn the tide of this battle.


    There is no victory here. Fingers, unbending from rigor mortis, ran over the edge of her gorget, beckoning her head to turn.


    Bitter as it was to admit, Quatindor was lost.


    ¡°P¡­ please!¡± A wounded hordewoman raised her hand to the passing Janine, holding her intestines with another. ¡°Mercy! I can reveal¡­¡±


    The warlord stomped the woman¡¯s head flat.


    ¡°Use the sewers and retreat to the Knight¡¯s Academy. Keep civilians out of harm¡¯s way,¡± Janine ordered the distraction and diversionary packs, quelling her bloodlust. They can¡¯t save everyone. Her eyes spotted raiders charging from an alley a few blocks away. A small, white leg of a woman was seen just outside the alley¡¯s corner. A trickle of blood spilled onto the main street. The raiders headed for a family who was hiding in a general store. ¡°Predaig,¡± Janine said.


    The streets leading away from the plaza were still dominated by the Horde, but that hardly mattered when Predaig landed, sparks flying from her armor from the ricocheting bullets. Predaig¡¯s enormous blade moved too fast for Janine¡¯s eyes; all she saw was a wave of blur in front of her friend and six bodies falling, their arms and torsos cleanly cut. Predaig tossed two grenades at the survivors and shocked enemies and grabbed the family of five Orais in a tight hug, not caring about accidentally cracking their bones. A single bound brought them to a rooftop above, and to the cheers of the youngest member of the family, the warlord leapt away, taking a detour to return safely.


    In Predaig¡¯s absence, an ice fang, a warrior, and a scout perished when a hoverbike rammed into them. Their killer failed to escape; a beam of Janine¡¯s rifle ended his life, but it left a sour taste in her mouth. Orais, Normies and other groups were far more numerous than the Wolf Tribe, and even the Ice Fangs didn¡¯t have that many members. Five lives to save three. Civilians for soldiers. And who will protect the former when the latter was no more?


    This is our duty. Our obligation. The words sounded hollow. Her people were dying. Other warlords reported their own losses. The day was still young, and they had already lost over fifty females, not counting the males¡¯ losses. And not some old and burnt females who were unwilling to have cubs after outliving their first offspring. No, warriors and scouts were dying, precious souls who still had hope. Janine struggled to imagine how hard it would be for the tribe to recover from these losses.


    Melina, too, was no longer¡­ There was a lot the Order had to answer for if they couldn¡¯t prove that they really hadn¡¯t heard her calls.


    Ah. You begin to understand.


    Most warlords never counted losses among their males. They mourned the fallen and tried to give them a proper send-off whenever possible. But only Janine, Dragena, Alpha, and Ashbringer wrote letters to the families of the fallen, informing them of their sons¡¯ brave passings. On the rare occasions when Janine was home, she tried to find time to visit the relatives of her fallen soldiers to offer her condolences and ask for forgiveness, often butting heads with Alpha as she brought words of praise for the males who had died under her command.


    Their war had just begun. The packs will go into battle wild, laughing in the face of overwhelming odds, but in the end... The tribe may face its own personal Extinction. Her people, their culture, and their cousins may disappear or become a statistical insignificance on the national scale.


    We save others. Will anyone save us? No. The Dynast saved us once. Miracles don¡¯t happen twice. It is our duty, our destiny, to give our lives to those who can¡¯t protect themselves and die in the gutter, forgotten and abandoned.


    The Third was supposed to leave the Core Lands with more soldiers than it came with. But that¡¯s not going to happen now, is it? The sounds and movements around her ceased, and Janine exhaled, turning to the one demanding her attention.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± She growled.


    For you to listen. Terrific¡¯s dead eyes bore into her.


    ¡°Listen to you? A cub slayer, a rule-breaker, and a merciless torturer?¡± Janine laughed. ¡°For what, so you could lead me astray? You, hiding in my head, filling it with lies to distract me?¡±


    I do not hide and I do not lie. Everything you accuse me of, you yourself have done to one degree or another. Terrific¡¯s eyes rolled in their sockets, trying to focus on the trampled hordewoman. It is pleasing to see how much you took after the teacher.


    ¡°We are nothing alike,¡± Janine insisted. ¡°You are not here. Terrific is paying her penance, earning forgiveness through labor, and waiting to pass on to a better, happier beyond. You are nothing more than a figment of my imagination running wild. The reward!¡± she said, realizing. ¡°It changed something in my brain, and you crawled out. My guilt torments me.¡±


    If I am you, then listen to me, for I speak your own instincts through your thoughts. Terrific¡¯s legs left the ground. Her body made a full circle, and she faced Janine upside down. Think of all the times you have interacted with the Ice Fangs. How they stole your title by abusing your injury. Their arrogance left you in the dark and your soldiers dead. Or Marco. He is the curiosity, a fleeting interest for them. Don¡¯t argue. You know it is true. When the chips were down, he risked his neck to save their kind, but did they extend the same courtesy of at least getting him out of the war zone? Did they even try? They never saw the tribe as equals, never appreciated them, never asked how they were. There is no kinship. So let them drink what they have brewed. Take your soldiers and leave them to their fate before it is too late for the tribe.


    ¡°Poison.¡± The Taleteller sliced through the shade¡¯s neck. ¡°My bigotry is greater than I thought, if that is what lurks in my subconscious. Our tribes may be different, but the Ice Fangs truly care for us. There are individuals among them who are unworthy of respect, like Bertruda, but as a whole, our people will live together in the Core Lands that will one day span the entire world.¡±


    Now, who is the poisoned one? Terrific laughed. Who is the liar? Where were we stronger? The question stopped Janine¡¯s sarcastic reply. You understand it. Beyond the wall, the tribe was together, ever-ready, strong. There was no betrayal; the Blessed Mother fought in your ranks. Here you are all alone, forced to pretend to play¡ªpretend to be civilized and getting murdered for it! Think of those who lost their lives in Houstad, unarmed and ambushed! It should never have happened. Civilization will be your death. Terrific held out an arm to Janine; her legs returned to the ground, and she imagined a faint crimson fire burning behind the pale yellow spheres. Take it. Let¡¯s return you to the path that was meant for you; remove the shackles of morality from you, my daughter. Bring you back to your intended condition. Slaughter for the Dynast. Slaughter for the Blessed Mother. Slaughter¡­


    The paw trembled, its fingers unfurling with loud pops of torn muscle. Their pure condition. Janine¡¯s thoughts traced back to the days before, to her fear of Alpha and the need to enter politics, her irritation about the mayor¡¯s inability to understand why he was wrong, the need to tiptoe around the Normies, and how ungratefully they welcomed the Blessed Mother, not valuing the lifetimes of sacrifices the tribe had done for them.


    She smacked the eager paw away, remembering Marco¡¯s happiness about visiting swimming pools and reading comics, Ignacy¡¯s genuine elation about getting his artificial arm, Bogdan¡¯s love of watching prank shows, Anissa¡¯s love for that filthy, disgusting Malformed who didn¡¯t deserve her princess one bit, and even Impatient One¡¯s interest in trying to understand how the banking system worked. Civilization took a lot and offered a lot in medicine, armaments, and an easier future. To betray it, to revert to the state of Terrific, and to abandon their allies was to betray everyone who had died and the Blessed Mother¡¯s desire to integrate them into the world they were helping to forge.


    And besides. Houstad would be in bigger trouble if they hadn¡¯t been here. The Dynast, in his infinite wisdom, was right to send them here.


    Suddenly there was another Terrific, and Janine prepared her axe, angered at the tricks of her mind. That second Terrific sunk her crooked fingers into the ribs of the first, and the first Terrific screamed, shocking the warlord. Her mother had never cried from such a lover¡¯s tap. The bone was torn, and the second Terrific easily dodged a clumsy swing and grabbed the flesh around the first¡¯s neck, tearing off a sizeable chunk. The first Terrific¡¯s scream turned to a faint gasp; she pressed both paws to her neck and turned tail, running to hide somewhere deep in the plaza.


    You passed¡­ sister¡­ The second Terrific said in a hoarse voice. Keep¡­ Passing¡­ Restraint¡­


    ¡°I am restrained!¡± Janine stated, irritated by the pantomime her mind was playing.


    D¡­


    Janine shook her head, breathing freely as the world resumed and she was free from the prison of the dream. She was getting worse. Maybe she needs professional help? No, she wasn¡¯t that weak.


    She regretted for the first time that the wyrms had been left at Fort Uglo. Their mind control would have helped suppress their insanity. She had served with the blue once and was disgusted by his underhanded methods, but their might would¡¯ve turned the tables today. Still, the last time these two had been involved was in a time of crisis. Maybe proper officer training could make, if not good, then a decent person even out of Ivar. Besides, the last time the golden coward tried to help, he left a canyon in the middle of a city.

 Chapter 94: A Price of Secrets

    ¡°How is Macarius?¡± Janine inquired as a laser beam of her rifle ended another rider before he could run down Elzada and Ignacy.


    Bogdan jumped on them, gave them both a smack on the head for trying to do maintenance on the damaged prosthetic in the open, and dragged the wounded wolf hag and his brother to the relative safety of the wall. He groaned jokingly, receiving a light smack in his snout. Though Elzada held back in recognition of her mistake, her blow still threw Bogdan¡¯s head back. He bared his neck, but the wolf hag ignored the offer.


    Janine took a few breaths, convincing herself that her daughters were fine. She needed to split her own pack; Marty¡¯s own force would be understrength otherwise, and Impatient One and Anissa were among the strongest fighters available. Both were smart, fierce, loyal, and level-headed. Her princesses will be fine. They must be.


    ¡°Unconscious, Warlord Janine!¡± a knight-captain replied, stepping to stand beside her and leveling his gun sword. The first bullet shattered a hordeman¡¯s pauldron, and the second drew a small geyser of red from the exposed body. The rider cursed at his uselessly dangling arm and holstered his pulse rifle, escaping into the streets. ¡°Our lord has suffered no life-threatening wounds; just give him several minutes to recuperate, and we will¡­¡±


    ¡°Can it,¡± Janine barked. ¡°We are picking up civilians and leaving.¡±


    Half of her vision disappeared, replaced by the map and incoming reports and requests from their allies. Wolf hags were to handle the calls for aid, and the warlord focused on the overall situation, guiding the Reclaimers out of the town.


    ¡°But there are still people here!¡± the knight-captain argued. ¡°Soldiers and civilians alike! If we leave now¡­¡±


    ¡°They will suffer. Possibly die,¡± Janine replied calmly. ¡°I am not without eyes, kin. Open yours as well and look. We have civilians on our paws who will certainly die when the enemy unleashes the full force of their artillery on us. We have pushed the enemy back and damaged their command structure. And it is still not enough. Gaze into the walls¡¯ cracks. Can you see the land beneath their feet? Can you hear the roar of thousands of approaching engines? Do you understand what will happen to those under our protection if we fall? It is time to cut our losses and run.¡± She snapped her jaws before his helmet, silencing the protests. ¡°Enough. I am the senior officer here. The shame and guilt are mine and mine alone. The honor of the Order remains intact. We will withdraw.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about honor, Warlord.¡± The knight-captain saluted. ¡°There is a pain in our souls. A shame for the lives we fail by retreating and a desire for vengeance.¡±


    ¡°Hold onto it,¡± Janine advised the Ice Fang. ¡°Never forget or forgive this day; let the memories of those who died today sustain you and sharpen your focus in the days ahead. Survive, Captain. Soon the Blessed Mother will learn of the invasion, and we will return here to bring retribution.¡±


    Janine despised herself. This wasn¡¯t a simple disgust or dissatisfaction of her own inadequacy like she had experienced in her youth. It was even greater than the hatred that had tormented her when she had been irritated at Ignacy for his fear in his youth. No, she wanted to use the Taleteller¡¯s blade to ritualistically lacerate her body and then pry her ribcage open, dragging every rib backward to form wings of extinct eagles. The knight-captain had nothing to do with it, and she wasn¡¯t even angry that she had to explain herself to a male instead of biting him into submission.


    Her heart, hardened after over a century of war, strained under the burden of leadership and the necessity of sacrificing civilians. Never. Never had she imagined herself in such a situation. Always, Janine had found a way, a path, to tip the scales, be it through a reckless charge or a sneaky ambush.


    Where is Ravager? Where is the Blessed Mother? Where is Devourer? Outsider? Dragena? Alpha? Zero? Or the Dynast? Why did she have to be the one to make this call? Why was her brain planning the most optimal retreat route and not calling her to advance and die with honor? Where was First, and why wasn¡¯t he responding to her summons? She would even obey his command. Why¡­ why must she be the logical one here when cubs were dying in the town? If ever there was a time to let emotions rule, it was now!


    There was no response, no answer, save for the words of the Ice Fangs and the Provincial Army¡¯s units Army that had joined them. Officers confirmed their orders and preparations for the safe retreat were set.


    Please, Spirits, if there is any justice in the world¡­ Let me die painfully for what I have done today. Janine did not dare to lie. She wasn¡¯t forced. There was an option to die honorably here, to let civilians escape under the protection of the surviving Army troops. Some would even make it to Houstad. It would be better than letting cubs die. Inflict unspeakable agony upon my body so that my soul may be redeemed.


    ¡°Sister¡­¡± whispered the apparition of Terrific, but Janine ignored it, focusing on an urgent report.


    She faced the southeast, and her keen eyes spotted a large complex, more like a small fortress outside of the main wall. A military hospital belonging to the Order. The attackers ignored it, wary of the minefield that had cost them troops. Sword Saint Leonidas, his elite soldiers, and sages were supposed to evacuate medical personnel by any means, culling the mortally wounded soldiers and taking the rest along.


    Only¡­ None of it happened. According to the report on Janine¡¯s HUD, the precious doctors were still inside, calling for immediate assistance. The lights were shining, and there was no sign of Leonidas, nor was he replying to any calls. Perhaps in their panic, after the first shells landed on their walls, the facility began broadcasting pleas for help on an open channel.


    A channel that anyone could hear. The Horde included. There was no way those bastards would pass up a chance to capture fresh slaves of such quality.


    ¡°Where is Sword Saint Leonidas?¡± Janine tensed, reloading her rifle.


    ¡°I¡­¡± The knight-captain bowed his head under her heavy gaze. A flat of the Taleteller¡¯s blade slammed against his helmet, prompting the fool to keep firing. ¡°I know not, Warlord. Our sages have departed to assist him. Sword Saint Macarius didn¡¯t deem it necessary to inform us of the reason for their absence.¡± The knight-captain regained his footing, and she caught a hint of annoyance in his voice.


    They keep secrets even from their own¡­ Janine dismissed the treacherous thoughts at the back of her mind. The tribe had its own mysteries.


    ¡°Damnation!¡± Janine spat, weighing her options.


    Abandoning precious medical personnel was out of the question; even if the Blessed Mother despised them, these men and women saved lives, including Wolfkins¡¯, and the Order employed some of the best doctors. Their talents and skills had to be preserved.


    ¡°Wolf Hag Elzada.¡± Janine stopped, growing increasingly frustrated at her inability to bring up data on the Order¡¯s troops on her HUD. She could see through their oculars, but that was it. Names, ammunition counts, and health status were unavailable to her. Elzada¡¯s armor reported that Ignacy¡¯s repairs partially restored the woman¡¯s artificial leg, but it had suffered a loss of about ten percent in mobility. ¡°Knight-captain. It¡¯s do or die for you. Lead our people and rendezvous forces with Warlord Martyshkina. I have already informed her of our course of action. Do so without fail, or I will torture you endlessly in the afterlife. Elzada, if I die, Wolf Hag Anissa is to take my place and banish any mention of me from the pack forever.¡±


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    Tell my daughters I love them. Janine swallowed these words. Now was not the time. Their mission was dangerous, but far from impossible. A warrior preparing to die was a warrior who had already put one foot in the grave. She was ready to kill to see her children live and meet them again.


    At her command, Predaig and Eled issued similar commands to their own wolf hags and joined her. The warlords assembled a group of males and warriors to join them, taking the expendable soldiers. Janine tapped her own knee, interrupting Ignacy and Elzada¡¯s warm farewell embrace, and her sons joined the newly formed pack. Everything inside her¡ªmemories of their birth, their precious time together, the times she and Colt had read them bedtime stories or tended to their wounds after a hard day in the pits¡ªscreamed to send them away. But that was not to be. Favoritism was not allowed.


    The two groups parted ways by overloading the generator deep within the Knight¡¯s Academy as a final parting gift to the Horde. For all the teasing and jokes told among the Wolfkins, one thing was undeniable. Their composed and gallant, white-furred brothers and sisters easily kept up pace with the black-furred. Carrying civilians in their paws, the army raced into the retreat, and small parties were busy planting mines to distract the inevitable pursuit.


    Janine led her troops to the southern wall, cutting off the Hordemen, attempting to reinforce the blockading troops to the west. The coordinated assault of the divided forces had caught the enemies by surprise; whoever was in charge after the khan¡¯s death had failed to realize just how daring the maneuvers of the state¡¯s New Breeds could be, and the prolonged defense had given them false confidence.


    They died for that arrogance. Eled was the first to land amidst a large gathering that had found temporary cover in the ruins of the buildings. Her scythe slashed through everything in its path, and the debris buried her and the nearby Hordemen. A rider hurrying to assist his allies fell apart in two equal halves as Predaig stepped out of the shadows and passed him by. Her sword danced, sweeping wide arcs in the air, and people died. Behind her, Eled roared, breaking free from the rubble in an explosion of violence, her scythe little more than an extension of her own claws. The warlord lunged, slashed, and hacked half-madly, completely forgetting to use her wonderful long-range weapons but following the group.


    After them followed the main force led by Janine, driving into the unsteady defensive ranks like a stake plunged into a heart. There was no restraint in this charge; the Wolfkins matched and exceeded the savagery of the invaders. Arms, riddled full of holes or burned by acid, were gnawed off by merciless jaws, hungrily devouring forbidden flesh. A killing field opened before Janine¡¯s eyes, and she eagerly partook of such a feast.


    Her single swing took legs from under three hordemen, and the flow of the black-clad bodies stomped the wounded into oblivion. A rifle was shoved through the open mouth of a surprised youth. There was a look of pure horror on his face. Perhaps he had lost his helmet in battle or had simply taken it off to have a nasty cut above his forehead treated. It didn¡¯t matter, because at the touch of a finger, the weapon heated and turned his pierced head into a mixture of molten flesh and bone. The shot connected the rifle to an officer, and a grenade in his hand dropped under his legs next to his arm.


    They pushed through the blast, an avalanche of metal moving too fast for artillery to target. Another sun flashed at their backs, and the Knight¡¯s Academy disappeared, sending a massive shockwave through the ransacked town, shattering windows and collapsing the nearest buildings. There was a loud cheer as the Horde approached the widening crater left in the place of learning, and Janine smiled. The fools were concentrating on the wrong thing.


    Each swing of the Taleteller splashed small pools of blood across the hordemen¡¯s visors. Normie, New Breed, or something in-between¡ªnone of it mattered in the slightest to the warlords and their troops. A hurricane of shrapnel ripped through suits and ended lives; several walkers and hoverbikes exploded, but Janine and her named sisters stepped through the burning flames, wreaking havoc on those who tried to retreat from their path.


    Drenched in blood and gore, supported by the warlords¡¯ unhinged ferocity, the pack crushed the enemy resistance and pushed toward their goal.


    ****


    Bertruda looked down. Amal was still clawing at his mouth, trying in vain to pull out the metal clogging his airways and lungs. His eyes were two white globes, his pupils rolled under his eyelids. No air will ever again reach his lungs. Bertruda expected to enjoy the bastard¡¯s suffering, but now she found herself feeling disgust and pity at his desperate attempts to survive.


    Just die already. She faced Martyshkina, who had landed on the destroyed airship, laughing contemptuously at the retreating foes. The warlord had briefly left her side after their forces had rejoined and returned later, showering praises upon the soldiers and ordering her troops to form up a defensive perimeter. They were in luck; after getting hit hard, the Horde chose to ignore them. No doubt those bastards were bringing in heavy vehicles and their own champions, but a reprieve was a reprieve, and they used it to tend to their wounds.


    ¡°What a day! Your soldiers are excellent!¡± Martyshkina¡¯s laughter stopped abruptly, and her lenses focused on Bertruda. ¡°Whatever your beef is with Janine, you sure can fight, Bull-Slayer.¡±


    ¡°There is no beef.¡± Bertruda bowed gracefully, pressing one paw to her chest and pushing the side of her tattered cape away with the other. ¡°Thank you for the high praise, but it is your troops who have earned our undying gratitude. And the title Bull-Slayer belongs to another.¡±


    ¡°Belonged until you stole it.¡± Martyshkina landed heavily on the ground and stepped closer. ¡°Listen, I loved the Twins,¡± she said warmly, and then her voice changed to a low growl, full of barely contained bloodlust. Her helmet closed around the snout, and the warlord spoke on a private channel. ¡°For the sake of our blood ties, I will not exact my retribution for your disobedience. Let the big guy handle it. But know this. The Wolf Tribe does not forget and rarely forgives.¡± Her claws lightly scratched Bertruda¡¯s helmet. The warlord snatched Elegance from an approaching knight-captain, swung it once in the air, and handed it to the sword saint with a respectable grunt. ¡°They never offered to make us anything. Guess at the end of the day, they viewed us differently. As outsiders.¡±


    ¡°Or they never had the time,¡± Bertruda argued. ¡°Those years were hard. The Blessed Mother never gave us any gifts, either.¡±


    ¡°Was her favor, her hide, her kind word not enough? Were our blood and bodies not enough?¡± Martyshkina pointed to where her deceased soldiers were being stripped of their armor, their ammunition already equally shared among the pack.


    The armor was then crudely mounted on soldiers of the Provincial Army who had implants. Though cumbersome to the point where the soldiers looked like children in adult suits, the battleplates gave them newfound strength and speed to help carry the wounded. Bertruda was about to vomit when a scout unceremoniously sunk her claws into the neck of her dead comrade, ripping the head off. The head was then placed in a pack, next to grenades.


    ¡°Look.¡± Martyshkina grabbed the back of Bertruda¡¯s head, and she had to nod to stop her Mountain Guard from interfering. ¡°Look what you did. What the stupidity and arrogance of your Order has done. We can¡¯t carry back bodies, so heads will do. This is war, girl! We don¡¯t have time to play in a wounded pride, and the only reason I haven¡¯t murdered you yet and spent time trying to make you understand is because Janine thought you had what it takes to be her equal.¡±


    ¡°She¡­ she did?¡±


    ¡°Before the duel, yeah. The goof was itching for a chance to test her axe against your spear one day. After that, it was mostly warnings not to skin you alive to avoid tensions.¡± Martyshkina opened her helmet and spat on the ground.


    Bertruda kept her silence, gesturing for the medic to treat the wounded and not her. It wasn¡¯t disrespect, as she had already understood. They were sisters, and what sister doesn¡¯t fight or argue? But a stab in a moment of weakness¡­ I can¡¯t fix it right now. Bertruda shrugged off the guilt and went to her troops, giving commands.


    ¡°Collect ammunition from their fallen.¡± She stared at her dead knights, remembering the cruelty the Horde had inflicted on their noble bodies. ¡°And their heads.¡±


    ¡°But Sword Saint¡­¡± a knight-captain gasped.


    ¡°Do it. Part of them deserves a proper burial,¡± she said in a steely voice.


    Martyshkina tapped against her helmet, listening to something. Her cloak, undamaged by flames or bullets, flapped in the wind like a whip when an explosion thundered from the direction of the Knight¡¯s Academy. The incoming gale was so great that a sea of flame rolled over the wreckage onto the buildings.


    ¡°Great. Those bastards have found a way to jam us, and without technicians or a crawler nearby, we can¡¯t stop them. I do so wish to skin you alive for the troubles, cousin.¡± Martyshkina¡¯s words on a private channel. Then her helmet opened again, and she smiled brightly, patting a passing knight. ¡°Rejoice, everyone! Supreme Warlord Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t joke like that or Warlord Alpha will kill my mom!¡± Wolf Hag Anissa asked worriedly, and Shaman Impatient One nodded in agreement.


    ¡°Then use shardguns next time!¡± Martyshkina hugged both women. ¡°Anyway, Janine has sent us an order. We are to scram while she charges to the military hospital¡­¡±


    ¡°What?!¡± Bertruda cried out. Janine joined Macarius, so why didn¡¯t he brief her?


    ¡°Scram. You know, pick up your legs and¡­¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care for your idiotic jokes, moron!¡± Bertruda yelled, the barrel of a revolver pointed at her forehead. ¡°Shoot if you dare, but first listen! They must stay away from the hospital!¡±


    ¡°Elaborate,¡± Martyshkina demanded. She moved her weapon aside and fired, killing a hordeman with a rocket launcher who had somehow crept up on them through the ruins.

 Chapter 95: Ambitions and Delusions

    Iron Lord calmly observed the debacle unfold in the settlement, unmoving and unbreathing like a statue. Were it not for the occasional snort of his steed, he could easily be mistaken for an automaton. His personal guard formed a semicircle around their leader, clad in the finest combat plates that the Merchants¡¯ arsenals and his own mind could provide. Rivers of gold formed the shapes of a hand breaking an arrow and a cruel jaw, devouring the world on their chests; their shoulders and vambraces glittered, encrusted with diamonds, rubies, and gems. Some wore cloaks, more painted parts of their armor to stand out.


    In comparison, he was a beggar against them. Complete grayness covered every millimeter of his gigantic power armor. The lenses of his bucket helmet were gray, and so was his glaive. Even the field of distortion around its blade shared this color. There was no trace of soot or dirt on the smooth curves of long cannons mounted upon his shoulders, and the generator at his back worked silently. A simple and somewhat shy yellow symbol on his shoulder, scrawled by children¡¯s hands, spoiled the ideal gray image. Nevertheless, no sane hordeman would have dared to mistake him for anyone but the Grand Commander of Mad Hatter, the Subjugator of the Nations, and a great khan. There were many more titles the priests, sycophants, and khans had lavished upon him, but he didn¡¯t deem it worthwhile to remember them. The three were enough.


    Wires connected directly to his brain carried data feeds from the battlefield. Human, ordinary eyes of Iron Lord had long since proven their inadequacy. They were slow, quickly tired, and unperceptive. Pure information streaming into his cerebral cortex allowed Iron Lord to see through his own lenses and the visors of his troops.


    He was with a hordeman who brawled against a doggy in the ruins as the two exchanged brutal punches and lacerations before the pureblood had snapped the doggie¡¯s neck. His triumph was short-lived; a shadow reached out of the smoke, and the connection was severed. Dead. He had been there when the artillery had gone up in a series of blasts, their crews caught unaware. He saw Camelia survive as Widowmaker¡¯s blade missed her heart by a hair. His eyes watched and directed the main advance, patiently accepting the folly of Brood Lord¡¯s minions and adjusting his plans.


    Mungke had been told not to attack recklessly, but, as expected, the fool had utterly disregarded his advice. Fair enough. A lone missile left the walls, fired by a surviving group of defenders. Iron Lord¡¯s thunder bull barely batted an eye when the missile exploded against the repulsion field surrounding the Khan. An ion cannon on his shoulder moved to aim at the tracked target and barked orbs of energy. Upon hitting the section of the walls, these orbs expanded into large bubbles, trapping the soldiers inside. The bodies were lit for a millisecond and burned away entirely.


    There was grumbling of his warriors guarding the artillery cannons. They too had caught the urgent requests for aid and were impatient to plunder the hospital, confident in their ability to disable the minefield. Short-sighted idiots. It was true, doctors were valued more than gold, more than technicians even. But they failed to understand why Iron Lord had forbidden any approach to the building and why he was biding his time.


    Patience was Iron Lord¡¯s credo and the name of his glaive. Reclaimers weren¡¯t that incompetent, he had concluded from their resistance. Where were the guards of the hospital? Why were their fortifications silent when the Horde pulverized them to dust? Negligence happened in war; he had seen it numerous times, but a complete lack of response suggested a trap. Mungke had already flattened himself with his daring charge, and Iron Lord was willing to bet his own life that this juicy target had been left exposed on purpose. It would be child¡¯s play to demine the area and send a team to investigate, but Iron Lord chose a different path, one that involved exploiting the eagerness and mistrust of his current enemies.


    Every land they conquered, he, Mad Hatter, and Brood Lord meticulously studied beforehand. Whether it was another pathetic faith, culture, or technology, they tried to account for every scrap of knowledge. The Reclamation Army was an enigma; their traders and travelers rarely visited the far west. Sky Lord¡¯s demise and early losses were both infuriating and enlightening, shedding light on the Wolf Tribe¡¯s tactics. Like the Horde, they favored speed and were capable of similar cruelty. Unlike the Horde, however, their true potential was shackled by a silly notion of honor that belonged on a stage play, not in war.


    Iron Lord listened to the prisoners, gleaning clues and information even from their insults. He never tortured, seeing such depravity worthy of degenerates like Brood Lord, and seeking to eradicate such rot from the orderly forces of the khaganates who submitted to him. Drugs loosened tongues just as well, with no danger to the health of his future bondsmen and slaves. No soldier cooperated willingly, even when offered freedom, impressing and enlightening Iron Lord about the potential quality of the Reclaimers¡¯ elites.


    Mad Hatter was the one who, after interrogating three different prisoners, proclaimed that the Order and the Wolf Tribe would never work together. Iron Lord didn¡¯t follow her reasoning and continued the war assuming she was wrong, but events had proven her right. He still had no idea how she had come to that conclusion. The khatun¡¯s brain worked very differently.


    The spy¡¯s information was the last part of the puzzle. Ice Fangs and Wolfkins. Two sibling breeds of Purebloods. It didn¡¯t matter if they competed among themselves out of rivalry or mistrust. What mattered was the white-furred¡¯s brief visit to the hospital and their swift retreat. His troops had failed to make visual contact, but that fact alone cemented Iron Lord¡¯s conviction of the trap.


    Then the unexpected charge toward the hospital puzzled him. He thought he had given the enemy too much credit, but then it dawned on Iron Lord that he had ordered his engines to disrupt communications at all costs.


    They didn¡¯t know. These valuable targets, these warlords, had no idea of the true purpose of the location. The extent of mistrust between the two groups was far greater than he could have ever hoped for. Even he occasionally assisted Brood Lord¡¯s troops, coordinating their joint advances. How amusing. Usually it was Brood Lord¡¯s influence that caused the rot. Here, it was good old-fashioned pride. To further entice them, a light artillery barrage was unleashed on the hospital.


    The hour to reap the rewards drew nearer. His oculars pierced the distance of several kilometers, showing him figures of the warlords plowing their way through Mungke¡¯s troops.


    Good. Three valuable targets. Irreplaceable in the short term, unlike Mungke.


    The sensors of his armor detected a familiar stride behind. Iron Lord refused to turn around, calmly observing the battlefield and reading through reports. Positions of his part of the Horde were reinforced by automatic turret emplacements, which had already thwarted one attempt on his life by the white-furred. Any imitation would meet the same fate. His loyal sons and daughters stood ready to guard his back.


    ¡°Where is Dalantai?¡± he asked at last. The priest insisted on visiting the place to persecute the unbelievers. He had become overly eager for his duties after Mad Hatter had spared the surviving clerics in the last realm.


    ¡°Got himself killed by a warlord, Khan,¡± came the answer of the cursing soldier. The man had been in charge of ten men and now ended up leading two thousand. ¡°That idiot didn¡¯t even wear a helmet.¡±


    Iron Lord decided he liked this individual.


    ¡°That won¡¯t keep him down.¡±


    ¡°Khan?¡± The warrior hesitated. ¡°Dalantai is dead.¡±


    Brave enough to speak his mind. It would be a shame to let him die under Brood Lord.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see,¡± Iron Lord promised. ¡°Where is the warlord?¡±


    ¡°She joined a sword saint who murdered Amal, and the bitches are on their way to the southern bridge.¡±


    ¡°Acknowledged,¡± the khan responded. ¡°Do not pursue them. Form your ranks and secure the place. If any of Mungke¡¯s sons try to be uppity, inform him that he is going against me. Don¡¯t be rude so that I don¡¯t have to kill them, for my wife loves her brothers, but don¡¯t let them run roughshod over you either.¡±


    How should he inform his precious about her father¡¯s death? She hated the old fart, so maybe a basket of local wine and a moonlight dinner would do the trick? Hopefully she wouldn¡¯t mind becoming a khatun. There was no reason not to have another khaganate under his rule.


    ¡°As you wish, Khan!¡± The man¡¯s relief was audible.


    The news about another warlord warranted his attention. A warlord working with a sword saint? He raised his fist and signaled the technicians to increase the output of the communications jammer, filling the settlement with white noise. The tremors that rippled across the ground announced the approach of the Sky¡¯s Wrath.


    ¡°And here goes Mungke. How very sad,¡± said Brood Lord, standing beside Iron Lord.


    The reports of his rival¡¯s injuries were proven to be exaggerated. Brood Lord¡¯s green power carapace had already been replaced; fresh protective plates covered the fiber muscles over his six legs. His blade rested on his shoulder, the visor glowed, showing the smirking face within, and the man himself moved nimbly, nearly prancing despite his impressive weight.


    ¡°I warned him against the headstrong charge. His idiocy is not my bother,¡± Iron Lord replied in a bored tone, the dynamics of his helmet synthesizing the speech into bombastic mockery.


    ¡°To think that he and I had such great plans¡­ Eh, things of the past.¡± Brood Lord shook one shoulder. ¡°You know, Iron Lord, there is a thing that keeps bothering me. Mungke and his troops were always a bit reckless. Kind of strange sending this rowdy bunch in the first wave against an experienced opponent, doesn¡¯t it? I know that some of your clan also went missing, but by the Sky, some might say that you are declawing me while sacrificing the dregs to maintain an illusion of innocence¡­¡±


    ¡°Illusion? Let¡¯s talk about delusions. Your senseless escapade was supposed to scare the Third into staying in Houstad. But here we are, and the black-furred had prevented my troops from claiming the life of a sword saint. Their auxiliary units are on the horizon, raining hell on the crucial bridge. If you have failed to achieve this much, if your hounds are so undisciplined as to ignore valuable advice, then the fault lies with their immediate master. I am not their wet nurse.¡± Iron Lord traced the prize¡¯s movements. They reached the edge of the minefield and ventured in unopposed. Curious. Their armor must have emitted an identification signal that his jammers couldn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°I would¡¯ve never dared to imply that your leadership or skills in any area are so impressive¡­¡± Iron Lord briefly activated cameras on his arm and spotted a sly smile on Brood Lord¡¯s face. ¡°Say, with Mungke¡¯s demise, his alliance between you and him is moot, right? Do you still have any use for his daughter? Because if not, I heard she¡¯s quite a¡­¡±


    Patience¡¯s scream rang through the air, the quivering disruption field of its edge stopping just short of Brood Lord¡¯s neck. Iron Lord sensed the rising tension in the troops accompanying the bastard and a surge of rage streaked from Drozna, threatening to disrupt his concentration. The implants in his brain kicked in, lessening the effects of the emotional manipulation to a manageable level. Priests and Brood Lord¡¯s minions shouted loudly, demanding Iron Lord to stand down. Phaser dropped into a crouch, preparing to open portals; the clowns near him brandished their daggers, and Iron Lord¡¯s personal guard closed in, eager to put an end to the dispute between the khans.


    Purebloods waited. Those of them who had sided with Brood Lord approached hesitantly, ready to support their leader. But most of them shared the same sentiment. How dare he!? It was fine. This was the era when monsters ruled the world. Gifted with unparalleled abilities by biology itself, these Purebloods considered themselves above normal humans. Such as Iron Lord.


    He wasn¡¯t of their kind, a Dirtyblood, or even a Malformed like Brood Lord. He was a Normie, a Merchant, a human of the caste that produced weapons and vehicles for the Gilded Horde. Mad Hatter snared him when the Merchants tried to resist her rule. She asked him then¡ªa living god standing over the lowliest of humans¡ªif he was ready to admit defeat. He spat in her face and said he wasn¡¯t.


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    The Khatun laughed away the insult and released him under the condition that he would join her army, as she was curious to see how far his stubbornness would carry him. Iron Lord burst into the Merchants¡¯ Council chambers, posing as a messenger from Mad Hatter to gain access to the secret chambers containing his people¡¯s most prized technological secrets. It was a risk, but he was done losing. There he had assembled his first suit from the ancient schematics and had been updating it ever since.


    Many were awed by the size of his armor, but few noticed how close his oculars were on the helmet. Beneath his steel was a human body, whose longevity was extended far beyond natural limits thanks to the implants and artificial organs.


    Amusement brought a smile to his hardened lips after he remembered the surprised faces of his wives when he revealed his true body to them. Political marriages were a tradition among the khaganates, and Iron Lord was married to sixty beautiful women whose devotion and acceptance of him had earned them his undying loyalty.


    Iron Lord didn¡¯t particularly care for his offspring. If they ignored his teachings, fooled around, and died, it was on them. But their frailty was his responsibility. A union between a Pureblood and a Normie gave birth to a Dirtyblood, and a Dirtyblood and a Normie in turn produced a Normie. Weakness begat weakness; hence, in nature, the strongest beasts claimed a right to bred. And knowing of his inferior pedigree, khans offered him their Dirtyblood daughters. Only the smallest were willing to part with their Pureblood children.


    He rectified the crime of failing his children by grafting strength onto their bodies. Their bones were melted and replaced by sturdier analogs. Implants accelerated their reactions and perceptions. Artificial organs and medical injectors stood ready to save them from near death. Technology elevated them far above a common Pureblood.


    Iron Lord intended to show Mad Hatter just how strong the normal humans could be.


    Brood Lord rolled his eyes, mockingly trying to push away Patience¡¯s edge with a single finger. The fool knew of its sharpness when the portable generator was active, and he still dared to try to irk him even now.


    ¡°It is pleasing to see a spark of emotions in that coffin of yours,¡± remarked Brood Lord. ¡°With all that beeping and peeping, wires and oil, I was wondering if there was a Normie there still, or if that is all metal now.¡±


    ¡°Of course you wouldn¡¯t dare to imply anything,¡± Iron Lord mundanely continued the earlier conversation, ignoring the insult. ¡°Because, unlike you, I never slip up. The only reason you and I haven¡¯t met in a circle is because your ambitions serve as an amusing diversion from the daily routine of inevitable victories. But I grow tired of jokes. It is time to end this foolish charade of resistance. Brood Lord Khan, do the honors, since your troops are so incapable.¡±


    Iron Lord removed Patience away from Brood Lord¡¯s neck and smacked him lightly on the back with the glaive¡¯s shaft.


    ¡°Sending me headfirst into a battle, eh?¡± Brood Lord grinned, running a finger over the edge of his curved blade.


    Iron Lord glared at him.


    ¡°Fine, fine, here I go again, claiming lives for our glorious Khatun and fixing the mess of the incompetent and the cowardly. But do hurry to join the fray, will you, Iron Lord Khan? Otherwise, people might mistake you for a rust-lord Khan.¡± Brood Lord laughed and gestured for his crew to follow him.


    Phaser, always eager to please, jumped forward, tearing the space before Blood Lord. The twins joined their master, while Drozna stomped right up to Iron Lord, leaning closer and sniffing the steel. Drozna growled at the thunder bull¡¯s grunt, and in response, the shoulder cannon shifted, its barrel trained on the monstrous mug.


    ¡°While you were hiding in the rear, Brood Lord Khan collected the head of a sword saint and trampled two warlords into the dirt. Show my master due respect, Khan.¡± Drozna clenched his fists, filling the air with wet pops of his joints. ¡°Or someone might just crumple that pretty helmet of yours while beating it into you.¡±


    Is this your game? Iron Lord wondered calmly. He wasn¡¯t of the Horde. He didn¡¯t share their values or ideals, and the priests knew it. Mad Hatter didn¡¯t care, but with Dalantai indisposed, they might act. Not alone, but Brood Lord¡¯s personal guard was here; his troops were drawing near, while Slavetaker and Widowmaker, the champions of Iron Lord, were far away. His forces were committed, while his rival¡¯s were conveniently converging on this location. Angered by his treatment of a khan of his rank, a hand would strike and¡­


    It wasn¡¯t a big deal. Even alone, he would struggle, fighting to the last alongside his children. But he wasn¡¯t foolish either. While Brood Lord was away, the negotiations were completed and the pacts were made. Iron Lord left nothing to chance.


    A light shone down upon them, and Drozna looked into the sky, shielding his eyes with an arm. A figure descended from above, wreathed in a cloak of flames and smoke, easily matching Drozna in both height and stature. He landed softly, immediately setting the grass around Iron Lord ablaze and heating the Khan¡¯s chain mail cape. An intense heat emanating from the fiendish figure drove Drozna back, even melting a few coins from Brood Lord¡¯s armor.


    Crimson claws of pure blaze slipped from the newcomer¡¯s fingers. His body had a humanoid shape; stripes of red and dark equally separated his body parts, running from his legs to his skeletal head. White eyes, burning as brightly as the dawn, looked at Drozna, and as the jaws opened, the burning man spoke in a voice that resembled a crackling magma pouring from an erupting volcano.


    ¡°Scurry away, Drozna, lest you want to be reminded of your place in the pecking order.¡± Blue fire flashed from Horkhudagh¡¯s eyes, changing the very ground around him into glass. ¡°By Khatun¡¯s command, Iron Lord was elevated above us. To disobey him is to disobey her. Serve or pay the price of disrespecting the Sky¡¯s daughter.¡±


    ¡°No disrespect was implied!¡± Brood Lord said hastily, putting a hand over Drozna¡¯s mouth. His smile never wavered, but a thoughtful and mischievous expression appeared in his eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll gladly clean up the mess created by another and claim myself a town if no one else is capable of such a feat. So, this is your answer, honorable Horkhudagh? I shall endeavor to remember it.¡±


    ¡°Answer?¡± The crackling of the volcano subsided as the khan tried to speak cheerfully. ¡°But I don¡¯t recall any questions. Either way, you have a job. Do it before I turn your minions into cinders to motivate your lazy ass.¡±


    Horkhudagh leapt into the air, flaming wings sprouting from his back, and hovered above Iron Lord, spreading his wings far and wide in a silent threat. He lowered his heat so as not to burden his new master. The khan paid him no more mind than Brood Lord, and raised his hand, addressing the artillery crew.


    He heard its movement even now. The thundering sounds of gigantic tracks dragging the mighty engine of war across the plains, the groan of the ground trying to bear the titanic weight, the spinning of its many large-caliber turrets. Forged in times before the Extinction, the main cannon of this behemoth was capable of sniping spaceships in low orbit. When used as a mundane artillery piece against land targets, its intricate guidance systems could lock on to even the smallest target within a hundred and fifty kilometers, delivering an apocalyptic charge with pristine accuracy, leaving massive craters in its wake. So far, no shield, wall, or bunker had ever withstood a shot. This was a city-killer, ruthless and merciless, flattening everything in its path.


    ¡°But my Khan!¡± A Pureblood in charge of the artillery rushed to him, falling on one knee. ¡°Our forces are still in close proximity! And slaves! Once the Sky¡¯s Wrath speaks, whom will we enslave?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s precisely why it won¡¯t fire on the town.¡± Iron Lord fixed the man with a glare. He was disappointed. The fool had served under him for thirty years and still hadn¡¯t learned to guess his khan¡¯s intentions. ¡°My rapacity drives me to a tastier meal.¡± He pointed at the hospital. ¡°This is but a few drops of spilled milk compared to the main dish. Hardly worth mentioning, but the trio inside are valuable. Let the main cannon sleep and use the turrets to level the place.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± a voice said, and Iron Lord immediately dropped off his steed on one knee. Brood Lord bowed his head, and the priests prostrated themselves. The Iron Guard and Brood Lord¡¯s mongrels fell silent, fists to their chests, and even Horkhudagh swooped down.


    There was no command in this voice, merely a complete certainty that denied any other course of action than her own. Mad Hatter was here. The khatun stood on the Sky¡¯s Wrath main cannon, her back to the rising sun, her nostrils inhaling the soothing breeze. Her hands toyed with a terminal; she plucked off a dead soldier, but even from afar and from that distance, there was no safety from her sheathed sabers.


    ¡°May I know the reason why, Khatun?¡± Iron Lord asked. The priests grumbled, angered by his impertinence, but a ringing laughter reached their ears and quieted the gathering. When the Sky¡¯s daughter was happy, it was hard not to share her mirth.


    ¡°Oh, Ismaeel.¡± She alone dared to use the name he had discarded. ¡°Ever thirsty for knowledge. Loosen up; there is more to life than gains and losses.¡±


    ¡°For pleasure''s sake, then,¡± he clarified.


    ¡°So tense. It narrows your vision,¡± she chuckled, and Iron Lord relaxed, understanding that the Khatun was teasing him. ¡°The lives of your soldiers are as valuable to me as they are to you. I won¡¯t spend them in vain.¡±


    ¡°A bait,¡± Brood Lord raised his head and dared to turn. ¡°Am I right? They are bait.¡±


    ¡°Though you didn¡¯t bring me the head.¡± Mad Hatter¡¯s voice changed to ice, and the khan crumpled in shame. Cameras of Iron Lord¡¯s suit zoomed in how the corners of her lips went up. ¡°I¡¯ll answer. Your hunch is correct. Three is a nice number. But five is better. If the rescue is impossible, no one will come. If the situation is dire¡­ Onward. Create the inevitable temptation for a situation worthy of my attention to occur.¡±


    Against his will, Iron Lord¡¯s heartbeat increased, infected by Mad Hatter¡¯s eagerness. She hadn¡¯t changed since the day he brought the Merchants into the fold, uniting them as she had united the Khans. Despite being robbed of her sleep, Mad Hatter¡¯s clarity never wavered, her genius and dreams of conquest shining as brightly as ever.


    He sat in his seat, taking to the field himself. On his order, there was no more jamming to lure more lambs to the slaughter. His cannons spewed energy bursts ahead of the artillery, shaking the ground with explosions of detonated mines to create gaps in the minefield wide enough for the Horde to pass unopposed. Brood Lord galloped ahead of him, flanked by Drozna and the fastest of the hordemen.


    It was within his calculations. Let them be the first to pay the price. His rival was also correct. The Horde valued results, and it was time to prove himself.


    As Iron Lord charged, he felt pressure at the back of his mind. Mad Hatter, Khan of Khans, Slayer of Beasts and Humans, Ruler of a New World, and the Sky¡¯s Avatar was coming. And no one could stand in her path. Not now, not ever.


    ****


    He couldn¡¯t see the future. It infuriated and frightened him more than the suffocating darkness that surrounded him, than the inability to draw a single breath or the complete numbness of his body. Emptiness. He drifted in emptiness, seeing a black firmament devoid of stars.


    How could he explain in words what it meant to him to be unable to see the countless paths leading to the future? To be unable to understand how actions shaped them? It was worse than going blind; it was tantamount to losing part of his intellect, to losing something so integral to his personality that mere existence without it was maddening, unimaginable. He knew he could do it, so why was the sight closed to him now?


    The future had first graced him in his mother¡¯s womb. There he had seen the same thing repeating itself over and over: murder over religions and territories for centuries to come. It was pointless to watch, so he had fantasized about changing the events. Kill this rapist here; stop this priest from calling for genocide. To his surprise, his blessing obligingly showed him the changed paths and how the path of life would be shaped if he wiped away the troublesome figures.


    It was the revelation, the greatest touch the Sky had bestowed upon him, and he had opened the womb, ignoring the screams of his mother, and stood at full height before the shocked priests. They were expecting an infant, but time was his plaything, and his God had already enlightened him about his role in the world. Sacrifices were needed. Not to please the Sky. Their God had no need for meaningless prostrations.


    His goal was far nobler. His enemy was cruelty itself. Eliminating it was impossible, but he had to control it for future generations. As proof of concept, he had used his vision of the future to orchestrate the removal of false religions from the steppes, eliminating one of the reasons to wage war. Carefully sifting through countless futures, he had helped bring forth a daughter of his deity, weeping in happiness at her first cry. She was the answer to the problem of lessening the world¡¯s cruelty.


    The united world. A mere idea sounded ridiculous; even as he had watched in the past, it had never been implemented. But a servant of true God never feared hard work. He tried to guide the young demigod, subtly at first, then more openly. She pushed against him, easily guessing his plan and resisting even his divine gift. That was to be expected. What he hadn¡¯t expected was that his vision would be blurred. Used to knowing exactly what his actions would change, the fear of uncertainty chained him as the same vision repeated itself in his dreams.


    The strong rule, the weak obey. It was a simple rule, based on natural order, a system where everyone knew their place. In a way, it was kind to the weak, freeing them from foolish delusions. He was aware of Iron Lord¡¯s hidden intentions of disobeying it and of inverting the Gilded Horde into another pathetic kingdom, but he didn¡¯t dare act against him as Mad Hatter favored the fool. As cruel as he was, Brood Lord was on the right path and represented the ideal for the Horde to strive for.


    Although the situation was untenable, he still had the upper hand over Iron Lord. Unlike the fool, he wasn¡¯t mortal.


    His remains flailed, unable to function as the muscles and even the bones were gone. He of today was dead. But the Dalantai of yesterday and the day before were still alive, and he reached into the past, pulling himself into the present. His flesh reappeared, popped, and bubbled as the acid cloud lifted from his body. Then the smoothness returned. The bones in his limbs shot toward each other, fixing themselves; his muscles reknitted under the restored skin, and nerves carried sensations back to the brain. Dalantai inhaled as his skull reformed and rose, banishing the renewed clouds of acid around him. A shard of stone slipped from his head as the last of his injuries disappeared.


    The white, black-headed raven from his visions, the figure blocking his path, threatening him. I know who you are. Everything was clear at long last. He will face his destiny, and once she is destroyed, the gift of future vision will be returned to him, clear and unobstructed. Then he will correct every mistake.


    Dalantai walked back to the camp. He must overcome fate and build a kinder world.

 Chapter 96: A Rift

    Janine was the first to reach the edge of the minefield, kicking up whole swaths of ground in the air. She stepped undaunted to test if the ID codes transmitted by her power armor were enough to allow them to cross. The mines were already primed, but unlike the simple and crude acid traps used by the Wolf Tribe, the Provincial Army¡¯s equipment was unnecessarily more sophisticated. Such innovation, the mayor and lieutenant explained to her, was used because local cubs had a nasty tendency to stick their necks into danger.


    No explosion harmed Janine¡¯s armor, and the warlord spearheaded the advance of her pack. They ran on all fours, covering the distance to the field hospital fast enough to evade artillery shelling. Several shells landed next to them, knocking soldiers to the ground, but their armor held, and the paws of their comrades helped the fallen back to their feet.


    The raiders had been shocked to face a counterattack coming from what they thought was a conquered town. Most had been too late to raise their arms, and their bodies had been ripped apart by the sharpest claws. A wave of darkness had swooped down on their ranks and swept them away, littering the ground with corpses as a reminder of the Reclamation Army¡¯s wrath.


    The field hospital was a sturdy complex of reinforced concrete. Resilient against natural disasters and bombardment, it barely suffered a few cracks when explosions ripped through its walls, lighting up the surrounding area. Janine didn¡¯t waste any time letting the electronic device at the entrance scan her ID, and with a single mighty kick, she crumpled the metal door and sent it tumbling down the corridors. She entered, facing white corridors devoid of personnel, and sniffed.


    Recycled air, now mixed with stone dust falling from the ceiling, filled the corridors. There were potent smells of blood, pus, and medicine, indicating that the place was in use. Bodies in plastic bags or covered by sheets lay in the corridors. Janine opened a bag with a flick of her claw, and the metal on her gauntlet shifted, exposing the paw so that her fingers could touch the deceased. Two were cold. One, a woman, still had a faint warmth around her neck. The injuries were severe¡ªa punctured lung, a shattered knee, gunshot wounds to vital organs¡ªbut that wasn¡¯t the cause of her death. There was a dagger wound in her temple that ended her life quickly and mostly painlessly.


    ¡°Proper,¡± Eled growled, struggling to reign in her berserker urges. ¡°They euthanized patients.¡±


    ¡°Bastards,¡± Ignacy mumbled, and the warlord paw closed around his neck.


    ¡°Better that way than whatever fate meat would¡¯ve done to them,¡± Eled said to the soldier, letting him go at Janine¡¯s glance.


    ¡°Marty? Have our forces left the town?¡± A buzz of static answered Janine¡¯s question when she tried to contact her friend. She tapped on the helmet and called Ignacy over, who fished a terminal from his belt.


    ¡°Communications are being jammed,¡± her boy announced. ¡°We¡¯re still getting the distress signal, mostly because they broadcast it on every frequency. And even then it comes in weak, despite our proximity.¡±


    ¡°Where are the doctors?¡± Predaig demanded to know, storming inside.


    Her lenses examined the deceased bodies, quickly coming to the same conclusion as Janine.


    ¡°Fucking Ice Fangs,¡± Janine said. There was no scent of fresh sweat or panic inside. There were no hushed voices or footsteps deeper in the hospital. The place had already been evacuated long before they even got here. ¡°Everyone, inside!¡± Janine yelled, hearing rockets and artillery shells flying.


    A fiery hell surrounded the hospital. Hundreds of artillery shells rained upon it, rocketing its walls and exploding the minefield. Flames surrounded it from every side, turning it into a candle. The building¡¯s very foundation shook, lights flickered, then went out, and the Wolfkins were plunged into darkness. Widening cracks began to cover the walls, while outside, whole mounds of earth were tossed skyward by the force of the blast.


    The Gilded Horde unleashed their fury on the warlords, firing everything they had at the hospital, collapsing section by section to clear the way for their forces. There could be no glorious last stand at the entrance, for there was no entrance to guard. Ceilings collapsed, driving the pack into the center of the complex. Debris threatened to bury them, and the warlord aided his soldiers by throwing large pieces out of the way. Janine feverishly tried to deny the whispering voice in the back of her mind, hoping, against any reason, to meet any doctor in here. Her pulse quickened at the thought of leading her troops into a death trap.


    But as they stepped into a spacious hall for lightly wounded patients, it was impossible to deny the truth. She didn¡¯t roar and calmly ordered her troops to spread around to secure the place. Everything clicked for her. The reason the Horde hadn¡¯t overrun the place already and¡­


    The Ice Fangs. Always the Ice Fangs. Favored by the Blessed Mother, kept in the rear, pampered, protected, gifted the best gear¡­ Bastards who claimed to be their kin. Betrayers. There was no better term to explain what had happened here. Janine had forgiven their initial charge. Abyss, she would¡¯ve done so herself if cubs of her Tribe were on the line! Or just to save the citizens.


    But this? No. Icy rage, fit enough for her so-called cousins, filled her veins. Never again would she be fooled by the so-called nobility the Blessed Mother and citizens saw in the white-furred bastards. Here, in this room, was the full scope of the Ice Boys¡¯ treachery.


    Explosives. They were gathered in the center of the hall, locked in steel crates. The ticking of their detonations sounded more like a clock ticking down the seconds they had left to breathe. The walls continued to shake from the shelling, and Janine called up her HUD, frowning as it at last registered the presence of the state¡¯s detonators and confirmed that the coming blast would level the entire complex. She tried to turn off the countdown or at least extend the time limit to come up with a solution.


    Access denied. Command codes are not accepted. Came the answer.


    We saved your leader. We bled for you in every battle, and this is how you repay us?! Janine wanted to roar, to rage, to tear. Bertruda kept silence, the bitch. Macarius¡¯ whelps said nothing, the traitors. Irrelevant; focus on the task. The detonators showed eight minutes and thirty-eight seconds remaining. She turned to Ignacy.


    ¡°Can you defuse the detonators?¡± Janine asked, stepping aside so that Ignacy, Bogdan, and several other males could rush to the explosives. ¡°Spread around the hall! We will make our last stand here!¡±


    Either the explosives will kill us, or the enemy will. She wanted to laugh but showed no hint of nervousness, standing guard near one exit while Eled and Predaig covered the other two. She would not disgrace her soldiers by throwing a tantrum. Instead, she weighed her options.


    Their original plan was to enter the hospital, meet with the doctors, and then call in their own artillery barrage from the allied Ice Fangs forces on the other side of the canyon. Scout... Wolf Hag Zolushka had reported that they had met and established contact with the Wintersong troops and that the bridge was going down. That option was no longer on the table, as the Gilded Horde did not charge through the minefield. They were waiting, encircling the place, and she had missed that. That, and she would never rely on the Order for anything.


    The Ice Fangs had purposely left the facility essentially wide open, hoping to bait the hordemen into first spending their lives across the minefield and then meeting their demise inside. To that end, they had turned on a signal calling for emergency relief and left it on the open frequency for the invaders to hear.


    It was a war crime; Janine knew much. Even though the Gilded Horde had never signed any agreements with the Reclamation Army, the mere act disgusted her as it went against every rule of war agreed upon by the Reclamation Army, the Oathtakers, and Iterna.


    Theoretically, this tactic could succeed. Yet the refusal to cooperate between the two groups had ensured that the state¡¯s forces fell into the allied trap. Practically speaking, the Order were idiots for trying it in the first place. There was not enough information about the invaders to plan elaborate traps.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    Janine had two choices left. She could lead her pack outside and face their end in the open field, where artillery and ranged gunfire will thin out their numbers even before they engage in the melee. Additionally, they would also indirectly save the enemies from the explosives inside the complex. Or they could participate in this war crime, staining their honor by knowingly helping to turn a place of healing into a mortal trap.


    The insidiousness of this one last insult dawned on her. It wasn¡¯t enough for Bertruda to humiliate her and steal the hard-won title. It wasn¡¯t enough for the tribe to be mocked and treated like an afterthought by the scum who pretended to be their kin. The Order had to force the Wolfkins into breaking a vow to the state.


    ¡°Ignacy, Bogdan,¡± Janine said on the private channel. ¡°I am sorry it ends that way. I love you both. Always did. You were always light in my life.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not over until it¡¯s over!¡± Ignacy replied quickly, ripping off the detonator panel. ¡°Dammit, dammit, dammit! Just a little more time! I won¡¯t let it end like this!¡±


    ¡°Brother. It¡¯s okay.¡± Bogdan said calmly, putting his paw on Ignacy¡¯s shoulder, but the smaller Wolfkin shook it off.


    ¡°Fuck you! I won¡¯t let my nephews and nieces grow without a father!¡± A piece of rubble fell from the ceiling, and Ignacy backhanded it away from Bogdan¡¯s head. His voice dropped, growing weak and broken. ¡°I know I wasn¡¯t a good son or much of a son at¡­¡±


    ¡°Lie,¡± Janine cut him off. ¡°You are a joy in my life. All of you.¡±


    ¡°Finally!¡± Predaig, bareheaded, smiled to her soldiers. She dropped her usual professionalism, squared her shoulders, and stood as energetic and eager as a young, brash female in anticipation of her first battle. ¡°Sisters! Brothers! Ready yourself, for we will meet our loved ones soon enough.¡±


    ¡°Anni, Elzada, Yennifer, Marco, Dad, Mom¡­¡± Ignacy was reciting names, checking his flamethrower.


    ¡°It¡¯s our go time, bro,¡± Bogdan said.


    ¡°Yeah. Guess so. Think Dad is keeping the place warm for us?¡± Ignacy hugged his brother.


    ¡°Warm? By now, he is probably setting up a whole bonfire to welcome us!¡±


    ¡°Sorry, dears, mommy won¡¯t be bringing souvenirs.¡± Eled slammed the helmet back on Predaig¡¯s head and brandished her scythe. ¡°Listen up, you lot! Every life taken here is another moth drawn. Die angry, die afraid, die remorseful, but die killing! Rage against the inevitable and cling to life! Take their heads and their flesh to honor our ancestors and our tribe!¡±


    Standing tall, Janine faced the fifty soldiers under her command. ¡°My kin. My foolishness and trust have led us into a mortal trap. Thousands are coming, eager to claim our lives, the fools. Even now I hear their legs stomping through the barrage, and it pleases me.¡± She smiled boldly. ¡°The Order has betrayed us, but the day is far from over. The Blessed Mother will uncover this treachery and make the guilty pay. But that will happen later, and right now it is our duty, the duty of each and every one of you, to kill as many as possible so that our sisters, our cubs, and our brothers would face an easier tomorrow, a tomorrow in which the Gilded Horde is forever shaken by the savagery of our last stand! Spirits look down upon us. Wrath walks by our side, and carnage awaits! Murder for a better world! Reunification!¡±


    ¡°Murder! Murder for a better world!¡±


    Explosions shook the building, and she heard war cries. The shells stopped falling, and in their place, the raiders stormed in, breaking through the freshly collapsed tunnels, searching for the pack. It was just a matter of time. The detonators¡¯ displays showed five minutes and forty seconds.


    The pack howled, drowning their worries, hopes, fears, and dreams in rage, inviting the foes to battle.


    Janine raised her voice, shouting over the howls. ¡°Soldiers of the state! Proud warriors of the Reclamation Army! Soon we will meet again in the Great Beyond, and there we will know peace. But here and now, I command you this. Fight to the last! Duty is our life!¡±


    ¡°Duty to the end!¡± Everyone roared; Eled and Predaig¡¯s voices joined those of the soldiers.


    ¡°Let the slaughter begin!¡± Janine roared, spotting shadows racing through the corridor. A searing laser beam hit them, illuminating four-legged bodies and burning through one. The next screamed and became a pillar of fire as Ignacy blasted from the center of the room, no longer concerned with conserving ammunition.


    Shardguns barked, downing the raiders and the four-legged Malformed, halting their entrance into the hall. The Wolfkins didn¡¯t expect to survive, so no one cared about holding back. Acid grenades and clouds of shards tore the already dead bodies to shreds. A raider, almost as tall as a warlord, barged through the ceiling and died before his legs touched the ground. In a single, almost elegant and fluid motion, Eled drew an arc through the air, slicing the bastard from groin to head. She swung her scythe back, howling mindlessly, and jumped, taking the life of the next breacher as the fool peeked down. The helmet landed in Eled¡¯s paw, and she tossed it into her mouth, devouring brain and metal.


    ¡°Come if you don¡¯t value your life,¡± Predaig said calmly.


    She raised her left fist and filled another corridor with a burst of automatic fire from an autocannon mounted on her wrist. The weapon was more fit to be placed atop a battle tank than on a human body. Linked to the warlord¡¯s back, its eight barrels spun nonstop, spewing 30mm rounds at a rate of seven thousand rounds per minute. Predaig still had enough ammunition for twenty minutes of sustained combat, and now she unleashed Abyss upon the enemy ranks, leveling both human lives and stone walls.


    A bullet struck Bogdan on the brow as a Malformed with swords for arms broke through a wall. The helmet endured, but the Malformed and two more hordemen were on Janine¡¯s boy in an instant. Bogdan dodged the sword arms and caught both in the space between his armpits and torso, biting the Malformed¡¯s face away. A blazing flame and eight bursts of shardgun fire from Ignacy and three males ended the hordemen, and Bogdan kicked the Malformed away, finishing him with a shot.


    Their ranks dwindled. The Wolf Tribe had always looked down on the Ice Fangs, considering them slow and weird in combat. But there was one area in which the Order was undeniably superior. Defense. Many people confused the Wolf Tribe¡¯s view on patrol routes and defense. A defensive tactic implied planting your feet and mowing enemies as they came. A kind of positional warfare, a favorite of Janine¡¯s tactics in the official duels. However, the tribe¡¯s patrols around the Outer Lands and the villages were anything but that.


    They placed mines around villages and places under the Tribe¡¯s protection, true. Mines were useful for sowing discord among the intruders, alerting everyone around. Packs would then descend upon the prey from every side, often jumping from above, never stopping in one place, ever maneuvering, biting, firing, and slashing. Such was the way of the Wolf Tribe¡ªmobility above all. Even on a defensive mission, they found a way to turn a defense into an efficient offense.


    Here they faced the opposite. They were the ones who had to face attacks from all directions, while their soldiers were few. It was almost suffocating to be confined in this dark hall. Burdened by the need to protect their comrades, the packs could not fight to their true potential and stood their ground, becoming easy targets for gunfire. Weapons on both sides had equal potential to pierce armor.


    Four males died from pulse rifles. Two warriors became donuts when automatic fire hit them dead in the center. Another warrior was slain by a steel figure¡¯s two-handed axe that smashed through the wall. Bashing another warrior¡¯s head with the hooked knob of his axe, the hordeman¡¯s laughter boomed through the dynamics of his round helmet. Two massive pulse cannons mounted on his shoulders spat out deadly discharges, wounding a female, while the defenders¡¯ fire merely dented the giant¡¯s thick steel plates.


    Janine was on the hordeman instantly, meeting his axe with the Taleteller. Her power suit groaned, surprised at the sudden strength of the opponent¡¯s blow, but his blade was found wanting. The Taleteller cleaved through the hordeman¡¯s axe, shearing away one cannon. The warlord grabbed the bastard by his shoulder.


    She crushed his helmet with a headbutt, hearing bones crack. Janine craned her neck, dodging a burst of energy aimed at her face, and stomped on his foot, trapping it long enough to slash at his shoulder. In a torrent of hissing sparks from the cut wires and blood gushing from the gaping wound, the shoulder and arm came off. A web of cables wrapped around an unnaturally blue bone surprised the warlord. Is he a man or a machine? The man roared in pain and anger, punching Janine with enough force to shove her off his foot.


    The hordeman clutched at his wound, turned to flee, and Bogdan threw grenades at him. His roar turned to a scream of agony as the acid ate through the exposed flesh, penetrating deeper into the body. The acid hissed on the surface of the armor, failing to damage it, but the huge legs buckled and the body collapsed to the ground, convulsing weakly as more of the man¡¯s insides melted away.


    Janine swung a wide arc around herself, killing a raider aiming for Ignacy¡¯s back. Her backhanded swing drove a wave of wind fast enough to knock down two more hordemen. They never got up; her legs crushed the heads of both into bloody smears, and she ventured on, picking up her energy rifle and using the axe like a butcher. Kill and be killed; this was all left for them.


    Our pure condition. Janine bitten away a woman¡¯s face along with her faceplate and swallowed it, finding that she no longer cared about breaking the laws of the state that only chained their potential. Our killing ground.


    ¡°From blood we come with screams and rage,¡± she roared to the enemies. ¡°And it is with rage that we leave this world. Come now, weaklings, and see how the warriors of the Wolf Tribe meet their doom! Relish this sight and become the offerings of our passing! We will neither hide nor cover! More, send more! There are not enough of you yet to buy our lives!¡± A beam from her rifle speared a hordeman¡¯s head, and Janine returned to her surviving soldiers, drawing the enemy after her. Right into the line of fire. Rich will be the harvest to honor the Spirits today.


    ¡°Warlord Janine!¡± An unknown voice broke her concentration. She recognized it. It belonged to a breathtakingly beautiful Sword Saint Leonidas. The supposed protector and arrogant upstart whose hubris had led to the deaths of Ashbringer¡¯s soldiers.


    ¡°Traitor,¡± Janine hissed, furious that a white-furred scum dared to distract her in her final hour. She ordered her HUD to block him.

 Chapter 97: Above the Sky

    ¡°Warlord!¡± Ignacy yelled, pointing at the explosives. She followed his paw and saw the numbers on the display dying, one after another. The detonators went offline.


    She felt her heart stop. Their plan, this whole massacre, to lure the enemy closer, their dedication to laying down their lives¡ªall of this ended up being for naught. Was there a limit to the Ice Fangs¡¯ treachery? Why did they hate them so much? Had the Sword Saint tried to contact her just to gloat?


    ¡°Janine, I know you are pissed.¡± Martyshkina joined the communication; shots of revolvers accompanied her words. ¡°And trust me, so am I. But you must listen to me. I can¡¯t come to your aid; there are too many enemies in the settlement, and I have civilians¡­¡±


    ¡°Marty,¡± Janine said softly, splitting a hordeman in two in two. She spoke quickly, too afraid that the Ice Fangs would cut off communication. ¡°It¡¯s ok. You are not to blame. Pull back from Quatindor. Save the civilians. Don¡¯t ever trust the Ice Boys. They betrayed us. Please watch over my pack and my family for me, and forgive me for drinking all the vodka on your birthday¡­¡±


    ¡°So it was you who did it, bitch! I mean, shut up, you big buffoon!¡± Martyshkina roared. ¡°Yes, our cousins screwed us over! But they are trying to help us now! Leonidas and Macarius have joined forces to reach you! Reinforcements are on the way; wait¡­¡±


    She noticed it thanks to the video feed coming from a male¡¯s lenses. A crack in reality opened above her head. First it was a thin blue line, fast as a laser beam, ripping through the empty air. Like a flash of lightning, the line expanded into an oval shape to let a long, curved sword pass through it. Its point was aimed at the back of her neck.


    ¡°Sleeping on the job, mutant?¡± hissed a mocking voice from above, and Janine spun around.


    She parried the thrust with her rifle, slowing it long enough to bring up her own axe at the expense of her rifle. Her opponent fell from the opening, kicking with two of his six heavy legs across her shoulders. Brood Lord springboarded away from Janine, his legs sinking deep into the ceiling. His armor was repaired; there was a handgun in his hand, pointed at her soldiers.


    In a span of a second, the two of them exchanged eight blows, bludgeoning each other with very little grace and putting their full might into every swing. Brood Lord frowned as his finger squeezed the trigger, but half of his handgun was already missing, cleaved away by the Taleteller¡¯s return arc after he had blocked an attack. A shard of still broke away from his blade, and the khan noticed Eled approaching him from the left. Wordlessly, he darted away across the ceiling.


    Another portal opened in front of Eled, spitting out the clowns involved in Houstad¡¯s butchery. Accompanied by the musical laughter, the bastards leapt at the warlord, aiming their daggers at the joints. Eled joined her maniacal laughter with theirs, ruining their symphony and repeating the feat by blocking four stabs with the scythe¡¯s shaft. Her blade sliced through the afterimages.


    ¡°Fun!¡± Eled chuckled, using her weapon like a stick to knock her opponents aside. ¡°Go!¡±


    Bursts of shardguns highlighted her armor and the jumping clowns. The sharpest spikes dented and scraped against the warlord¡¯s plates, bouncing away and spinning in the air. But where Eled herself remained unharmed, the Horde¡¯s killers cursed, hiding their pain behind obscenities. Caught in mid-air, they bled like cusacks and stumbled visibly as they touched the ground and rolled away from the scythe¡¯s reach. Their suits were torn, dozens of shards entered their bodies to near half-length, and the brother and sister said nothing, scurrying away. Eled chose not to pursue and concentrated upon the closest hordemen, collecting her grim harvest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t run away this time,¡± Janine asked Brood Lord, taking the axe in both paws. ¡°We do have a score to settle.¡±


    His brows rose behind the visor, and a pleasant smile spread across his face. Jumping from the ceiling, he blocked an incoming shot with a careless swing of his blade.


    ¡°Janine! Is that you hiding in that ugly pile of junk? A surprise, but a welcome one.¡± One of his eyes glanced at the explosives, and Janine saw a flicker of HUD reflecting off his retina. ¡°Is this your contingency? Going out as a suicide bomber¡­ Ah, no imagination. You disappoint me.¡± He snapped his pincer, and a portal swallowed the explosives. ¡°Well, we robbed you even of that. Don¡¯t be sad. Your misery is just beginning.¡±


    Brood Lord lunged at Janine, bringing the full weight of his body down on her as their weapons collided. The ground cracked beneath her leg, but with a titanic effort she pushed him away, and he circled around her, shearing away an upper part of a male¡¯s head with a snap of his pincers. Chuckling, Brood Lord charged around the hall, oblivious to the gunfire drumming against his bulk. His skittering legs trampled the Wolfkins in his path, bulging steel and rupturing organs. Janine ran after him, maneuvering around her own allies to avoid knocking them off their feet and exposing them to the enemies.


    ¡°Once again, you rely on others, too weak to face me yourself!¡± Brood Lord sneered. ¡°Have you no shame? How many must die for your cowardice?¡±


    Her opponent had no such limitations. He jumped up, bounced off the ceiling, and landed five paces away from Janine. The cruel blade impaled a warrior, lifting the dying woman to use as a shield against Janine. She did not hesitate, honoring her soldier¡¯s devotion. The Taleteller¡¯s edge cleaved through the brave soul, ending her suffering, and scraped against the curved sword as the remains dropped onto the floor. Brood Lord tried to close his pincer at her waist and Janine slashed with her claws, forcing him to yank back his hand, shaking it in surprise at the bleeding over a cracked chitin.


    They pressed against each other, taking their weapons in a two-handed grasp again, and the familiar orange irises appeared from behind the khan¡¯s eyes.


    Smoke poured from the back of Brood Lord¡¯s armor when a mechanism around his shoulders broke under the strain. A flicker of electricity ran down his ornate sleeves, but the man¡¯s grin never wavered as he pushed against Janine. The stone floor cracked underneath them, and a small fissure separated the fighters. Unencumbered by his poison and supported by her own plate, Janine found herself equal to him. Not just equal, superior. The state¡¯s technology surpassed that of the Horde, and given enough time, his junk will break.


    ¡°Impressive. It¡¯s been a while since I had to work so hard to score a kill.¡± The khan looked past her. ¡°Your worst-case scenario is here.¡±


    Janine did not turn. Through the shared vision with another soldier, she saw Bogdan, two warriors, and a male caught by Drozna¡¯s hands. The bastard had stepped out of the portal, seized them, and brought them closer to his chest, teasing Predaig into firing at him. His feet slowly crushed a fallen warrior against the floor as he waved a finger at the warlord, standing alone in the hall without any weapons or protection, shielded by his enormous muscles and bone growths. The flame of Ignacy¡¯s flamethrower splattered harmlessly against his back.


    ¡°Let Bogdan¡­ Order your beast to let my soldiers go,¡± Janine pushed the sword away, drooling as she pursued the khan. ¡°Or your death won¡¯t be a pleasant one.¡±


    ¡°Bogdan¡­ Bogdan¡­¡± Brood Lord clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he examined the captured Wolfkins. ¡°Four¡­ two females, and Bogdan sounds like a man¡¯s name. Which one is he? Who is he to you? A husband? A lover? A son, perhaps, or a brother? Specify, Janine. We don¡¯t want me to be mistaken, right?¡± He laughed at her silence. ¡°Oh well, it doesn¡¯t really matter. You have already told me everything I need. I¡¯m sure I will find out who exactly this Bogdan is and how you two are related when I skin them alive! Drozna! Whatever happens, don¡¯t kill the whelps and don¡¯t let them die.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯ll cost extra, Khan,¡± Drozna grumbled, and the khan sighed. Suddenly his visor slipped into the helmet.


    His lips formed an ''O'', and Janine ducked under the spit aimed at her exposed mouth. She uppercut the bastard into the jaw, but the khan escaped the skewering by jumping. His body whirled in the air, his legs stuck to the ceiling, and he touched his chin, frowning at the pierced part of his helmet and a slight cut on his jaw.


    ¡°Let¡¯s play a game, Janine,¡± he said nonchalantly. ¡°For every cut I receive, this Bogdan of yours will lose a pound of flesh. Speaking of. Drozna!¡± He roared, banishing the false pleasantries from his tone.


    Janine dared not break their fight, blocking the incoming slash. That was what he wanted¡ªto force her to try to save Bogdan, exposing herself. This way, both will lose. But it was hard. So damned hard. She swore she would never be like her mother, and in the end, she abandoned her cub like that woman.


    Flashes of memories, so sweet and innocent, filled her mind. Bogdan and Ignacy had been cubs of a medium-sized litter, so furry, hungry, and demanding. Janine had hugged them, trying to be gentle as she lay on the overheated stones, praying to the Spirits in thanks for their survival. That lifegiving wasn¡¯t effortless. Their local shaman, Starstruck One, had to work her claws and fangs to help the little ones out, and Colt had force-fed his wife cusack meat and milk to help her recover, while the young girls had examined their siblings, suggesting names. Janine had soon stopped hugging her cubs as they whimpered and cried for milk. Her instincts had been running wild, as usual, and both Colt and the girls had acquired some impressive scars from the bites of their worried mother.


    But their family was happy. That was all that mattered¡ªthe weeks of celebration and how they had checked the family lineage to make sure the little ones would have proper names. Bitter and merciless wars were forgotten, and the whole family celebrated life and played with the little ones.


    The mere thought of losing her cubs hurt. She kept her focus only because the loss had tempered her many times before. Part of her soul was dead. Her cubs had died in the past, and it was inevitable that it would happen again. Death was an eventuality in the Wolf Tribe.


    ¡°Predaig,¡± Janine said, matching her opponent¡¯s flurry of cuts.


    ¡°Janine,¡± her named sister interrupted her. ¡°You trust me?¡±


    ¡°Always.¡±


    ¡°Then don¡¯t worry about a thing.¡±


    Predaig shot at Drozna¡¯s leg, stopping as the bullets ricocheted off the bone plates. Several tiny cracks were left in the unnaturally durable bone, and Drozna smirked, unleashing a wave of rage. The Wolfkins in his hold howled and thrashed, clawing at his arm and trying to bite each other. The giant claws shifted, ready to obey the khan¡¯s command and gouge lines into the soldiers¡¯ bodies.


    The autocannon retreated behind the Predaig¡¯s wrist, and the warlord shrugged, taking her double-bladed sword. Janine couldn¡¯t tell whether Drozna¡¯s power had affected her or if her named sister¡¯s will was too great. It hardly mattered. Predaig was of the first generation; in the course of her life, she had defeated far greater foes than this foolish beast could ever imagine. She swung, filling Janine¡¯s heart with dread as the captured Wolfkins¡¯ necks ended up in the direction of this seemingly simple attack.


    Drozna noticed it too and grinned in anticipation. The grin turned to a flash of pain and then fear as he stumbled back, letting go of his captives and pressing both hands to a large gash on his neck. The edge of the sword had phased through the Wolfkins and landed at the foe.


    It was impossible. Predaig had no power; her weapon was crafted from a simple wreckage of a spacecraft she had found in a desert, and it took Janine a moment to realize what had happened. The sword was blurred from sheer speed, but it wasn¡¯t the warlord¡¯s top speed. In the very last split second, she had shown her true abilities, redirecting the attack so that it went over the allies¡¯ heads and then back down again, nearly doubling its original speed.


    So this is the secret behind her mysterious splitting of the hostage-takers. Janine grunted.


    ¡°Bitch!¡± Drozna roared, both to let out fear and to check if he could speak. Two more blurred arcs sliced away parts of bone and muscles from his arms.


    ¡°Step closer,¡± Predaig sang, her voice relieved of any burden. ¡°Step closer, child, and play a little. The day was long, and I thirst.¡±


    ¡°You should have thirsted for living longer rather than angering me!¡± Drozna roared. The rage stopped tugging at Janine¡¯s nerves. ¡°Enough of it. I don¡¯t need to hear this shit! I don¡¯t need any fancy armor or weapon to tear you down!¡±


    ¡°All I hear are words, silly boy.¡± Predaig smiled.


    ¡°Soon all you will hear is my fingers crushing your skull.¡±


    Drozna charged at Predaig, and a shimmering sphere of overlapping sword strikes enveloped her. Not a single move was wasted; when the claws scraped against steel, the warlord used it to turn a parry into a counter cut. Thrusts flowed elegantly into slashes. Missed slashes were reverted into parries or blocks and the dance began anew. This was Predaig, a woman from the dawn of the tribe¡¯s birth, radiant in her prime, just as she had been when she had faced a skinwalker and lived to tell the tale after a day¡¯s battle. The weight of years had been shed, and she fought like the legend she had been in her youth. Several Wolfkins of her pack turned on the cameras, expending precious energy reserves to immortalize the last hunt of their glorious leader.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Eled was a pure rage unrestrained, and Janine relied on honed skills, while their sister was a perfect blend of both styles, driven by instinct. The animalistic behavior of her opponent was met with an explosion of aggression that was more reminiscent of an animal seeking to bleed the larger prey rather than brawl with it and risk losing.


    And Drozna pushed through it, barely batting an eye about his wounds and roaring when his attacks missed. Usually, New Breeds gifted with strength relied too heavily on it, but in the case of the hordeman, it served to complement his lethality. With a tenacity worthy of a Wolfkin, he closed the distance between the fighters, biting into Predaig¡¯s own bite with his own teeth. There was a loud boom as two maws closed simultaneously and Drozna¡¯s arm swiped at Predaig¡¯s breastplate, shattering it and wrapping around her arm. Before the hold could tighten, Predaig leapt back, escaping the forced close combat, and sliced deeply into Drozna¡¯s arm as the fighters separated.


    Predaig¡¯s helmet had a gaping hole; she had lost the skin on her left cheek to Drozna¡¯s bite; several of her own fangs had fallen out. Blood gushed from four lacerations across her chest. Her opponent fared no better; his bleeding ribs were visible, and dozens of crimson rivers flowed across his body, turning white bone plates red. Drozna chewed Predaig¡¯s flesh in her mouth, preparing to lunge.


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you asking me to step closer?¡± Drozna asked. ¡°Strange to see you running away.¡±


    ¡°It was just a fluke. Don¡¯t let it bother you.¡± The warlord gathered her blood in a paw and drank it, throwing her head high and bursting into loud laughter.


    Janine smiled too, joyful despite the situation. Ignacy helped Bogdan to his feet, and they retreated with the others to the center of the hall. Eled was a whirlwind of death, sucking in the unfortunate victims and sweeping across the hall like a natural disaster. Predaig reverted to her older self, no doubt guided by the ghosts of her family. What a perfect day to die!


    ¡°Why are you laughing?¡± Brood Lord asked, their weapons clashing against each other. Sparks from his sword lit up his mocking face. ¡°Is the stress finally getting to you? Or is it sheer desperation? Help me here; your forces are dwindling while ours are endless. Is dying in this ditch¡­¡± He groaned.


    It was a well-known fact that a person could often put more strength into something if their mouth was closed and their mind was focused on the task at hand. Janine had let her opponent run his mouth, ignoring shots landed on her armored bulk. And when she judged that Brood Lord was distracted enough, she had put everything into one blow, drawing a long line across his chest.


    ¡°You talk too much, coward.¡± Janine continued to smile like an idiot, driving him back. Part of his mustache was cut off, and a scratch under his eye was bleeding. ¡°You have the privilege of seeing how Wolfkins die. Rejoice! For your yellowbellied, wretched, rotten carcass and soul will be my offerings to those who have lost their lives in this war.¡±


    ¡°I will see you die; that much is true. But before that, I will take everything from you and drink deeply of your despair.¡± Brood Lord landed on the ground, and his front legs kicked Janine in the left knee with enough force to dent metal into flesh.


    Brood Lord rose on four legs, using his sword to keep Janine¡¯s axe in a clench. Then he delivered a kick with his left leg against the side of her helmet, lifting the Warlord off the ground. She did not resist the impact, letting go of her weapon with her right paw and grabbing Brood Lord¡¯s leg, dragging the bastard along to the floor.


    Before she could lift her snout from the stone, Janine kicked the bastard in the stomach, piercing his armor and scraping her claws across his flesh. The force behind their combined attack sent them flying, knocking fighters from both sides down with their bodies. Janine rose, grabbed a hapless hordeman, and crushed the man¡¯s head in her paw. Brood Lord was on his six legs as well, wiping his face clean with a pincer.


    ¡°Amusing,¡± Brood Lord chuckled. His voice changed again, returning to a royal and almost friendly tone. ¡°I ought to be angry, but at the same time, this is the best fun I¡¯ve had in the past week! No, in the entire month! Thank you, Mutant Janine, truly. I am looking forward to breaking you.¡±


    ¡°The feeling isn¡¯t mutual, Malformed,¡± Janine responded. ¡°I don¡¯t need to see you broken; all I want is to see you dead.¡±


    ¡°What¡­¡± He stopped, baring his needle teeth. ¡°What did you just blurt out? How did you call me?¡±


    Janine stopped in her tracks, her mocking response stolen from her. The sounds of battle, Brood Lord¡¯s words¡ªeverything faded. She was a little cub again, desperately searching for her mother and never finding her anywhere. The joy of battle, the determination, even the willingness to fall¡ªnothing mattered anymore.


    She had felt this way before. The first time it happened was when she had spoken with Ravager on that misty mountain and demanded that she kill that wretched Eugenia for what that bitch had done to her son. Then she had seen the person behind the Blessed Mother, or rather the progenitor herself, but not as a broken and crazed animal, but as a collected and thoughtful individual who had gathered the splinters of herself to assess the situation and learn what had happened. The effect that had touched her spread. Brood Lord licked his lips, Drozna was nervous, Eled blinked, the hordemen lessened the intensity of their fire, and the Wolfkins looked around in worry. It wasn¡¯t a result of a power. This feeling stemmed from being in proximity to something truly divine.


    Blessed Mother?


    The shattering of the ceiling jolted her out of shock, and she looked through the lenses of her surviving troops. The black sword cleaved through a body, and Macarius Voidrunner¡ªwearing a knight-captain¡¯s helmet too small for him¡ªblitzed several hordemen, taking up a position in front of the wolfkins and parrying incoming shots. Five headless bodies fell in his wake.


    ¡°Away, filth!¡± Leonidas thundered, breaking through the ceiling and swatting Drozna away from Predaig with his shield. His gauntlet, its electric claws twitching, sliced through the sternum of another shocked hordeman. ¡°Not one of your soldiers dies today, Warlord Janine. I swear it on my honor!¡±


    The unexpected appearance of two sword saints turned the tide of battle, and the hordemen found themselves slowly pushed back out of the corridor. They still fired but no longer charged forward, more afraid of losing their lives than of their leaders.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have it, traitor.¡± Janine allowed them to join the linked vision, but she herself was done showing the Ice Fangs courtesy. Brood Lord retreated behind the ranks of his soldiers, gesturing for them to come at her. It didn¡¯t work. ¡°Many of my soldiers have already died. You have ruined our trust.¡±


    ¡°I will restore it!¡± Leonidas roared desperately. ¡°House Summerspring will repay for every life; we will mend every broken bond and¡­¡± His lenses whirled, focusing on the invaders preparing to tear a lone Wolfkin to pieces. The sword saint¡¯s footprints left a mark on the stone as he propelled himself forward, batting the enemies away with his shield and splitting the bodies into several pieces with a single swipe of his gauntlet. ¡°Not a single one of my kin will die today anymore! Not one! If necessary, I will pay with my life to reunite our groups and restore the trust! Macarius, open the¡­¡±


    A gray orb crashed through a wall next to Eled, silencing Leonidas. The sphere struck the warlord in the side, and the armor plates that could withstand artillery fire turned to dust in its path. Janine recognized this energy; she had seen it used several times by the Dynast¡¯s bodyguards. The idea behind it was well known; it wasn¡¯t an energy field, but vibrating sonic frequencies that shattered molecular bonds, rendering most alloys useless. Because of its energy consumption, disruption technology wasn¡¯t widely used in the Reclamation Army.


    Twin bursts of energy engulfed Eled from the darkness of the broken wall. They darkened her fangs and silenced her roar by severely burning her windpipe. The blow to her side had finally penetrated the plates, and the end of the glaive was buried in her ribs. She had to retreat, but the berserker¡¯s fury had taken over the warlord, and Eled stubbornly brought her scythe down on the approaching foe. Another burst of energy had completely melted her helmet, burning much of the fur, and a hand thrust through the opening, grasping her head. Fingers pierced the damaged eyes, reaching for the brain, and the glaive had found the heart; the disruption field ripped it apart before the blade could touch it. With a single spasm, Eled exhaled her last breath and was no more.


    ¡°Next,¡± came a synthesized speech as the steel boot trampled the body of the dead warlord.


    Their grievances abandoned; Janine, Predaig, Macarius, and Leonidas charged at the steel titan, entering the ruined hall. He easily rivaled Drozna in size; as he moved, there was no creaking or grinding of his power armor; he stepped nimbly and fluidly, unexpected for such a large suit; the cannons over his shoulders tracked the approaching opponents but hadn¡¯t fired yet. A force field bubbled up around him, blocking the shots of Eled¡¯s grief-stricken soldiers.


    ¡°Feast.¡± They heard a voice and thought it was him.


    They took a single step and were thrown down as the entire roof of the hospital building disappeared. It was uprooted, the hordemen above were tossed aside, away from the rubble, and the reinforced concrete was gone faster than they could blink, opening a view of the sky hidden by the swirling smoke above.


    There was another figure among them. She stood, dressed in regal purple furs, held up by golden belts studded with diamonds and rubies. A simple leather belt around her waist held two sheathed golden scimitars; threads of jade, silver, and gold were woven into the mane of black hair that flowed from beneath the thick leather cap that covered the woman¡¯s face up to her nose. There was no armor on the woman. Her pupils shrank and dilated, trapped in the web of red vessels, and blood trickled down the eyelids.


    She smiled, and Janine found herself exhilarated against her will. The woman was taller than anyone else here. She was burly, but her skin was bulging with barely concealed muscles. A single punch to the sky ripped a hole in the darkness, letting the sun shine down as she spread her arms and Janine gulped. The Gilded Horde had a Ravager of their own. A demigod capable of defying the laws of nature, a divine incarnation of their own god. And she was here. Looking at them.


    Predaig was the first to react and the first to die. It was the HUD that registered her lack of a heartbeat; the warlord was still running toward the woman, trying to stab the tip of her sword into her bloodshot eye, when the HUD marked her as deceased. The curved scimitars appeared in the woman¡¯s hands, but there was no movement¡ªat least nothing that Janine could register. A tornado of air swept past them, dragging the warlord and the sword saints across the floor as Predaig fell into two ideal halves.


    Leonidas died next; his wordless cry of indignation at the deaths of his allies never left his lips. He was decapitated faster than anyone could breathe. His head blinked several times as it hit the ground, looking pleadingly at Janine. She didn¡¯t know what he was trying to say. Then his shield crushed the head as the headless body lost all its strength.


    A cloud of smoke hidden their killer and was banished by a single snap of her fingers. Her hands were once again empty, and Janine heard a scream beside her. Macarius was no longer standing; his arms and legs had been cleanly cut off, reducing him to a stump. The sword saint was biting his lower lip, trying to cope with the agony as the newcomer took the first step.


    An air of fear emanated from her, almost visible and incredibly oppressive, mimicking a similar feeling when standing in the presence of the Blessed Mother. Her pupils narrowed to the size of a grain, and the sclera was now crimson. Her eyes met Janine¡¯s through the lenses, and she smiled.


    Around them, the people were knocked down, unable to stand in the aftermath of an apocalyptic landing. The hospital shook one last time and collapsed, opening them to a full view of the Gilded Horde¡¯s armies surrounding the place. The invaders and the Wolfkins climbed away from the rubble, and Janine found herself alone, standing unharmed in the circle of safety this woman had created.


    ¡°Mad Hatter!¡± Cheers rang out. The steel giant added his voice to theirs, busy ripping Eled¡¯s head from his body. ¡°Khan of Khans! Khatun! Avatar of the Sky!¡±


    Mad Hatter raised her hand, and the cheers died. She extended her hand to Janine and beckoned with two fingers.


    Janine needed no further invitation. She clenched her fangs and brought the Taleteller in a diagonal arc toward the towering woman. Mad Hatter must have been at least six or seven meters tall; even without her power armor, she easily towered over Janine, smiling with bright red lips at the advance. She could have killed the warlord at any moment. Size was one of the things indicating danger, and Janine had killed bigger opponents.


    No, what jarred her senses to the point where she wanted to scream and escape was the sheer pressure coming from the woman. She felt... unnatural, alien, like some kind of abnormality or singularity that had appeared in reality. She was like a bright, poisonous insect; everything about her was a warning to stay away or die. Mad Hatter was the predator. Strength clothed in a human body.


    A finger stopped the Taleteller, and the khatun flicked Janine aside, sending her rolling. Mad Hatter examined her finger, nodding at the slight cut as the warlord charged at her again. The swing passed through the empty air and a blast of wind slammed into Janine¡¯s muzzle. Mad Hatter was behind her, leaning against Janine¡¯s body and holding a warrior in her hand. The khatun examined the Wolfkin and tossed her aside.


    ¡°Soft,¡± Mad Hatter spoke, her voice rough and bored. ¡°I expected more from your chaff.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± Janine spun around. Once more, Taleteller parted the sound boom.


    ¡°Tell me,¡± Mad Hatter asked from behind, looming over Janine, ¡°have you ever seen the Sky?¡±


    Hands grabbed Janine under her armpits, and the world changed. She found herself looking down at the hospital, which was getting smaller by the second. Then she saw the ranks of the approaching army, the town, and even the retreating Reclaimers. She shook her head, wondering about the feeling of floating, and then realization hit her.


    She was in the air! Her body was slowing as she passed through the cloud. Impossible! She thought, hastily remembering what Ignacy had told her a few years ago. High clouds usually travel about five or fourteen kilometers above the surface, and checking the time on her HUD, Janine confirmed she was facing Mad Hatter on the ground no longer than three seconds ago. It was inconceivable; it defied her imagination; she could not have been thrown this high in such a meager span of time!


    Pain came next, pulsing from where Mad Hatter had grabbed her. The grip had shattered the armor, sending several shards into her skin and creating wide cracks around the entire suit. Her body slowed at last, and with the ancient horror woven into her very existence, Janine understood she was falling.


    Normies enjoyed flying; their eyes often burned with excitement at the chance to board one of the planes that now circled between the Reclamation Army, Iterna, and the Oathtakers. Fools. What goes up always comes down. It didn¡¯t matter if people liked it or not. And when you fall, you only hit the rocky ground.


    Every Wolfkin was afraid of falling. Not of heights, no. As long as the tip of their claws touched a mountain, there was little to be afraid of. Even if a Wolfkin slipped from a mountain, she could still hold on to a slope. But to be utterly helpless, a prisoner in the confines of a plane in the air, subject to the terror of falling... That was something to be afraid of.


    Janine had thought that Terrific had beaten this fear out of her by throwing her and other cubs from a hill over and over. Terrific didn¡¯t care if she broke her bones. After a fall, she would check their snouts and force them to look into her eyes. At the slightest sign of fear, the cruel training resumed. As it turned out, the training didn¡¯t help, and Janine¡¯s heart threatened to stop as she plummeted to the ground at terminal velocity.


    When she finally crashed, merciful darkness swallowed her whole world, devouring her fears for her pack and her sons.

 Chapter 98: In the Jaws of Madness

    A wave of sand carried Janine along. Often the wave completely submerged her, but the movement never paused; it persisted in carrying her in a single direction. The grains of sand gathered in tangled patterns, replaying scenes from her past, confirming that there was a spark of life beating in her body. She didn¡¯t try to resist or break free from the unconsciousness, knowing full well the futility of such an action. Nothing here was real.


    Bogdan. Ignacy. My soldiers. Are they alive?


    Had you been stronger, you¡¯d know for sure. A shadow stepped onto the river of sand and walked effortlessly along the warlord. The creature resembled Terrific when she was alive, but there was a sense of falsehood about her. Her limbs were too thick and inflexible; she walked on two short legs; her fur lacked the lush darkness; and her eyes were dimmer than they should have been. It was not a ghost, but another aberration, and Janine didn¡¯t see the point in arguing.


    The sand washed over her, painting another scene from her memories. Predaig sat on a cliff with her back to the two approaching Wolfkins. Gray streaks were in her hair and mane, but not on her body. She wore an officer¡¯s leather coat that had been stitched too many times. The fabled killing machine played curiously with three cups placed in front of her, carefully placing tea in each, adding sugar, pouring water, and then using a tiny spoon to stir it.


    ¡°A tea, seriously?¡± Martyshkina asked instead of greeting.


    ¡°Amazing, isn¡¯t it? It was all but lost about fifty years ago.¡± Predaig tapped the spoon on the rim of the cup. They were alone on this mountain cliff, high above the sandstorm passing below. The honorable warlord brought no weapon and said nothing about Janine¡¯s axe or Martyshkina¡¯s revolvers. ¡°Today we have many flavors. I decided we should try the stuff we helped to restore.¡±


    ¡°I am more of a fan of alcohol.¡± Martyshkina sat while Janine kept standing at attention.


    ¡°It helps to forget,¡± agreed Predaig, and pushed a cup into Martyshkina¡¯s paws. ¡°At ease, Wolf Hag. No ranks tonight, just sisters.¡± She waited for Janine to sit and gave her another cup. Janine took it carefully, more worried about the precious porcelain of the pre-Extinction era that belonged more in a museum than in the harsh wilderness the tribe lived in. ¡°Congratulations, Martyshkina. Hail to the new warlord!¡±


    ¡°Cheers!¡± supported Janine, enjoying the sight of the blushing Marty.


    ¡°That was more spur of the moment. The w¡­ wolf hag kept pushing it,¡± Martyshkina grumbled, tasting the black tea. ¡°Hm, not the worst piss.¡±


    ¡°As she should.¡± Predaig nodded. ¡°Martyshkina, we must always be in flux, ready to change and adopt new ideas. I see uncertainty in your eyes. Good. Let your caution help you navigate the right path for your pack. Listen to your gut and pick what works. You think shardguns are the way to go? Then force you pack to practice with them. And don¡¯t fret about your former leader holding a grudge.¡± She took a teakettle from a campfire, ready to prepare more tea. ¡°No one should expect to stay on top forever. Soon, age will dull my reflexes and senses, and I will be defeated.¡±


    ¡°Soon,¡± Janine laughed. ¡°You were ancient when I was born!¡±


    ¡°Heh. True,¡± Predaig agreed. ¡°Speaking about spur of the moment.¡± She inspected Janine¡¯s axe and narrowed her eyes. ¡°I know what you did. You disappoint me.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t happen again.¡± Janine hung her head in shame. ¡°Never again will I disobey¡­¡¯


    A violent slap knocked her to the side. There was still noise and stars in Janine¡¯s eyes when Martyshkina was already standing; her paw grabbed the revolver and brought it up to aim at Predaig¡¯s shoulder. Impossibly fast, the warlord¡¯s paws grabbed Marty¡¯s wrist and yanked the barrel toward Janine. Martyshkina hesitated, trying to break free, and received a blindingly fast elbow to the solar plexus that sent her tumbling from the cliff¡¯s edge.


    Janine lunged at Predaig, bringing up the Taleteller in a double grip. The elder warlord didn¡¯t dodge, but grabbed Janine¡¯s ankle and pulled her off her feet, headbutting Janine so hard that she flew away and rolled on the ground, flattening sharpened rocks. Janine stopped at last and gasped for air, stubbornly standing up in challenge. How strong was that woman? Predaig treated them like cubs while sitting cross-legged!


    ¡°What was the big idea?¡± Martyshkina roared, climbing back. ¡°You called us here for a meeting of sisters, and you dare betray our trust¡­¡±


    ¡°It is you who are betraying the trust! The trust of the tribe!¡± Predaig roared, holding the tea cups from falling. ¡°How dare you not encourage your friend in her time of need? And you!¡± She locked eyes with Janine. ¡°How dare you show submission over a correct judgment? If I ever dare to break a law, I expect my pack to tear me apart. Terrific taught you well; don¡¯t you dare betray her teachings!¡± She ran a paw through her mane and motioned for them to sit. ¡°Martyshkina, Janine, my sisters, you do not yet understand; you cannot understand because you are young. I do not blame you; I was the same decades ago. Listen and learn.¡±


    She resumed preparing the tea, her aggression gone as suddenly as it had appeared, and the warlord approached her warily. Predaig didn¡¯t bother to see if they might team up against her.


    ¡°Every generation is shaped by its times. We are no exception. The First Generation clings to their grievances and sticks to the methods that worked in the past, wearing them proudly like medals and bristling at those who try to bring forth change.¡± Predaig handed them the tea, smiling cordially. ¡°Ravager was wise to encourage change. The world does not stand still, and to survive, we must adapt. Listen to tradition, but do not adhere to it blindly, sisters. We are the past; you are the future. One must not dominate the other; balance is needed. Your task is to ensure the tribe¡¯s survival by using your own talents.¡±


    The image broke apart, and sands of memories rushed past the immobilized warlord. That night, she decided to never again hold back and listen to her dedication.


    Ah, Predaig, ever so righteous, never wavering in her morality. The shadow crouched, patting Janine¡¯s forehead. Much good did it do to her in the end. She had the experience, but she let you lead.


    The sands closed around, swallowing her answer, pouring down the throat. There was no fear. The past had already happened; it could no longer hurt her. There was a new pattern in the grains that filled her vision, and she recognized herself, sitting in the tent, bandaged against her will, her paws shaking. A gathering of the wolf hags and scouts prostrated before her, baring their necks in acceptance.


    ¡°Every injured into the infirmary at once,¡± the Janine of the past snarled.


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Winced Melina. ¡°It isn¡¯t necessary¡­¡±


    Her paw grabbed the woman and dragged her closer to bite her neck, fangs sinking deep. Melina whimpered, relaxing her body as streaks of blood soaked her fur. Janine shoved her away, stopping her attempt to get to her knees with a snap.


    ¡°You can lead by example and see that there is nothing scary in a medical den, Wolf Hag.¡± Janine smiled at the pure hatred in Melina¡¯s eyes. She didn¡¯t want to break the woman. ¡°Have a nice, long sleep; read a book or something. All soldiers in my pack, female or not, are to properly eat and sleep.¡± She placed a paw on the ground, weakened by her wounds. ¡°Yes, it includes the weakest and the cubs in training. Feed them milk from your tits, if you must; coddle to their quirks, but they are to stay healthy. There will be no more decimation in Pack Janine.¡± There was no challenge, and she relented, surprised that no one hated her for what she did. ¡°Next, equipment. Ours are in desperate need of an upgrade.¡± She stopped, glancing at Anissa. ¡°You are still a scout.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Warlord,¡± her daughter replied.


    ¡°Correct it.¡±


    What have I done? Her paws trembled.


    There was much to decide then, and she refused to take a second¡¯s rest. Their armaments were sent to repair, and thinking back, it was probably how Anissa met Chak since Janine had given the assignment to her and Ignacy, but only Ignacy was seen in the armory. Reports to petition larger rations, demands for increasing firearm training, requests for instructors from the Normies¡¯ ranks, reviewing the extent of injuries of her troops... the tasks kept piling up, and the warlord shook her head feebly when she heard stomping footsteps entering the tent.


    ¡°You are the one who took her from us.¡± It was Eled. ¡°How long do you plan to hide in this den?¡±


    ¡°Long enough to solve my pack¡¯s problems,¡± Janine said. ¡°About Terrific. I am sorry.¡±


    Eled didn¡¯t respond and walked around the tent, sniffing the scent marks. She halted when she reached for the former warlord¡¯s jacket and poked it with a finger.


    ¡°Your lousy crybabies were running around as if they were whipped¡­¡±


    Janine sprang into action, swinging a paw at the scornful snout. Eled caught her blow, grunted in approval, and held the warlord at bay. She jerked her head, dodging the bite, and embers of rage flashed in the yellow eyes as the corners of Eled¡¯s lips curled up, baring fangs.


    ¡°Insult my pack ever again, and I¡¯ll see your guts on the ground,¡± Janine promised her.


    Eled smiled. She let go of Janine and raised her paws up, calling for a truce, then pointed a finger at the warlord.


    ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± Eled said. ¡°That¡¯s what I want to see. You are a warlord now, sister; act like it! Don¡¯t sit in your tent; come out and proclaim your rank for every ear in the tribe to hear.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± Janine faltered. ¡°I thought you hated me.¡±


    ¡°Hated? Why?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I killed her. Took Terrific away from us. Betrayed my...¡±


    A warm embrace was around her, and Eled pressed Janine against her chest, unafraid of any bite. She deliberately exposed her neck and said nothing for several long minutes, and the two simply stood, Janine leaning more against Eled and relaxing, letting go of the tension and exhaustion the wounds had brought her, while the other woman held her steady.


    ¡°No one here hates you, Janine,¡± Eled said softly. ¡°No one, Terrific¡¯s soul including, thinks you are a traitor. She was the one who went overboard, not you.¡± She let go of her and knocked lightly at Janine¡¯s sternum. ¡°But you can¡¯t sit here and brood. Go. Your sisters are waiting to tend to your wound. The Blessed Mother is waiting for a confession. Don¡¯t be a second Terrific; be the first Janine and don¡¯t change. You are sad; I can see that. It¡¯s normal. Let us mourn and send her on her last journey together and then celebrate together.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± It was as if the weight of a mountain fell from Janine¡¯s shoulders. ¡°I will.¡±


    She wasn¡¯t shunned or despised; there was a place for her in the tribe. The warlords, those of them who were on duty in the Inevitable, had waited outside the tent, but it was Eled who had entered and almost dragged her out by the ear.


    But I broke the promise. I changed and showed less mercy, trying to fit into Terrific¡¯s boots, mixing her style with my own to preserve her legacy. I lived in her shadow. Janine realized.


    Eled. Be it war or peace, she was always too emotional, prone to losing control. It was her strength and her flaw. Tsk, tsk, it also is the reason for her failure. The shadow said, watching the past unfold.


    ¡°You judge them too much.¡± Janine craned her neck, facing Terrific. Or was it her, wearing Terrific¡¯s hide? ¡°If you are so much better than them, how come you died first?¡±


    How should I know? The shadow shrugged. I am you, the part you locked away, disgusted at how weak¡­ The shadow brightened, the darkness vanished, and a Janine appeared, cradling a silver metallic body and whispering words of reassurance. Or how strong you can be. The darkness returned, hiding the woman comforting the lost and desperate child. In her place came a warrior, pushing the falling entrails back into her body and swinging her axe, murdering Blood Graf¡¯s minions by the score. This is you. Good and bad, flawed and flawless. The shadows swirled again, reshaping themselves into Terrific¡¯s form. Feelings are not weakness; the lack of control over them is. It is time to wake up. We have a job to do.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Janine agreed.


    ****


    An ocean of pain greeted her in the real world, and she found herself strapped to a metal harness suspended in mid-air. A metal beam pressed tightly against her spine, denying her any chance to shift her position. Her arms and legs were bent back to the point of breaking and secured with chains. Solidified steel held her fingers and toes in inescapable vices. Meat hooks pierced the skin between her ribs and her exoskeleton, threatening to scrape against her lungs if she tried to escape.


    She blinked, realizing that she was in a vast, dark hall. Blood and tears still seeped from her eyes, answering her that she hadn¡¯t been unconscious for too long. Twisting her neck as far as she could, Janine managed to get a quick look at her body before the suffocating collars around her neck forced her to look away.


    The armor was gone from her body, torn away piece by piece along with chunks of hide. Cuts, dark purple bruises, swollen welts marred her body, and there were several broken bones. Nothing life-threatening. Her neck pulsated from agony, but the swelling subsided, and she breathed easily. A few of her implants had been replaced by gaping holes in her chest, and she felt at least two more such wounds at the base of her neck and under one shoulder blade. The blood coagulated, stopping the bleeding, and a soft membrane grew over the wounds, protecting them from infection. Her muscles itched under the skin, growing back little by little, and her body burned through its internal reserves to heal the most severe damage.


    A scratching noise of a nail scraping against metal forced Janine to raise her head. There were figures in the dark. She recognized Mad Hatter straight away, even though the woman had swapped her fur robes for a white tunic and plain green pants with silver trim. She was sitting on a slab of gold, carved in the shape of a throne and inlaid with simple gems. A mask of a weeping maiden adorned the khatun¡¯s upper face; five feathers streaked from the top of the mask. White and brown battled on her skin, creating an unusual coloration¡ªa web of visible arteries ran from her eyes to under her mask and then down her neck, where they disappeared into the thick skin. Breathing heavily like an exhausted animal, she sat nonchalantly, one leg dangling. But her sharp eyes never stopped tracing everything in the hall. The warmonger feigned inattention.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Two collared servants in plain gray robes stood by her legs, dwarves compared to the seated giant. One had to use a chair to reach the Khatun¡¯s face with a broom to wipe away trickles of blood to prevent them from staining her garment. Another, a woman wearing the insignia of a Reclamation Army officer, held up a plate with disgust and self-loathing on her face. Fruits, drinks, and meat were on the plate, but what drew a growl from Janine¡¯s lips were two halves of Predaig¡¯s head in the center of this feast.


    Mad Hatter tore an ear from Predaig and tossed it into her mouth.


    ¡°I take it you are awake,¡± she said in a relaxed voice; her words came in like a soothing breeze. ¡°Can you speak? Anything overly hurts?¡±


    ¡°You are a dead woman,¡± Janine promised her.


    ¡°Because of this?¡± The Khatun pulled out Predaig¡¯s eye. ¡°Silly child¡­¡±


    ¡°I am older than you.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Mad Hatter conceded, patting the officer. ¡°The §Ô§Ñ§â§Þ§Ñ§Ñ had told me of your rejuvenation technology. Don¡¯t blame her. She had agreed to fifty years of loyal servitude to save the rest of her unit from death.¡±


    ¡°It was the wise decision.¡± Janine complimented the officer, ignoring Mad Hatter to infuriate her.


    ¡°Petty, careless, moronic. What if your posturing forces me to renege on my deal?¡± the khatun inquired.


    ¡°Are you this childish?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Mad Hatter smiled, and her joy reached her eyes. ¡°I already love you, Janine. My word is the word of God; I will sooner break than lie. But back to the topic. Age is a poor indicator of maturity, girl. Can you tell the schematics of a plasma engine or biological reasons for the Troll¡¯s inability to form emotional expressions?¡± She waited. ¡°What I see, I understand. What I understand, I can replicate. In terms of intelligence, I am superior. Your indignation over my evening cuisine amuses me. Your tribe eats their enemies, so what¡¯s the harm in me honoring your fallen in the same manner? Though I admit, uncooked meat no longer appeals to me.¡±


    ¡°Why do it, then?¡± Janine asked. ¡°To make a point?¡±


    ¡°Oh, please, you sound as Brood Lord now.¡± Mad Hatter laughed, and her eyes opened wide, splashing drops of blood for her slave to catch. ¡°The comparison insults you. My apologies; it wasn¡¯t my intention. I have moved beyond statements and embraced theatrics.¡± She ran a finger over the corpse. ¡°This one is special. As I ended her, my muscles clicked. It¡¯s been years since I¡¯ve grown stronger from a victory, and to see it happen again was ecstatic.¡± She clenched her fist. ¡°I¡¯m still not at my upper limit. If a daughter gave it to me, what prize awaits me from her mother?¡±


    ¡°Annihilation,¡± Janine assured her. ¡°You speak of intelligence, but all I see is an idiot. The Reclamation Army has many great champions who can smite me. The Blessed Mother, Wyrm Lord, Devourer. Stand against them not, if you want to live. But there is one who is an absolute end, whose might surpass yours in every conceivable way. And you have angered him. It doesn¡¯t matter if you run; it won¡¯t matter if you stand. Your existence is over, done.¡±


    ¡°More bravado,¡± Mad Hatter yawned.


    ¡°Observation,¡± Janine corrected her. ¡°You claim intelligence, but all I see is stupidity. How many soldiers had your Brood Lord grinded down in vain? How many rounds of ammunition have been wasted for the sake of self-indulgence?¡±


    ¡°Plenty,¡± Mad Hatter said, not angered in the slightest. ¡°And irrelevant at the same time. The efforts of the Reclamation Army have provoked the wrath of vast armies of scum who long for the days of yore. As we speak, slavers, bandits, and crushed tyrants are rushing under the Sky¡¯s banner, hoping to feast on what will soon be a corpse. More armies stream from the steppes, reinforced on every kilometer of the way. Our vassals send their own to impress and join in on the conquest.¡±


    ¡°How unfortunate,¡± Janine remarked. ¡°It will be a bother to bury them afterwards.¡±


    Mad Hatter stood, and Janine expected herself to be smashed, but no strike came. The khatun gestured for her servants to stay and circled around the prisoner, running her finger over the wounds and edges of the implants, not increasing the damage, not tearing or ripping. There was a scent of curiosity and confidence about her.


    ¡°You understand then. It is the era of demigods, a wondrous time when champions of gods meet in battle to decide who will rule the planet. We live in the era of individuals,¡± the khatun said. ¡°In the past, a leader had to tread carefully around their followers, worrying about the possibility of dying from poison, being overthrown, or being assassinated. But when an individual can turn the tide of war by themselves, what need is there for politics or intrigue? I take what I want when I want, and it just so happens that I desire to rule the world, and so I shall.¡±


    ¡°And enslave ordinary people.¡± Janine looked at the captives.


    ¡°Why should I care about the lives of mortals?¡± Mad Hatter asked sincerely. She tilted her head, listening. ¡°I hear the lamentations of the locals, their words whispered. Tears roll down their cheeks. Do you know why they are crying? Not because they have lost you, but because their precious protectors are gone. The lesser, the weak¡ªthey don¡¯t value us for our personalities; they don¡¯t care about that. To them, we are not people. There was a time when no one said as much as a word to me, except in retort to show off their sharp tongue. All that changed the moment I ripped the skin off one of their faces. Suddenly I had friends, companions, drinking buddies... I didn¡¯t let it confuse me. I was valued for my strength and the threat I posed, so they sought to get in my good graces, hoping to use me. But there are those who can treat you equally, regardless of your differences. Once I solved this conundrum, life became simple.¡±


    Her fingers touched Janine¡¯s shoulders, rubbing into the stiffened muscles, easing the tension and sending a fresh wave of relaxation. Mad Hatter¡¯s head neared the warlord¡¯s ear and whispered:


    ¡°I can teach you the same lessons, Janine. You are an individual, not my equal, but a pureblood nonetheless. I can appreciate you as a person; let you off your leash. How many times have these gnats you call allies come to check on you in your hour of need? They don¡¯t value your personality, don¡¯t care about your suffering, but crave your strength.¡± She moved in front of Janine and pointed at a barely concealed hatred and hope in the eyes of the enslaved officer. ¡°See this? She is praying for you to accomplish what is impossible for her. Such dependence is toxic, unworthy. You can do so much better. Join me. Gain freedom and take back control over your destiny.¡±


    Janine laughed in her face, unafraid to die. There was no punishment, no rebuke, no demand for her to stop. Mad Hatter waited for her to finish, then took a glass of an unusually smelling liquid and offered it to the warlord. She drank hungrily, and the khatun refilled the glass, offering the strange mixture of milk, honey, and alcohol again. Janine accepted the small grace.


    ¡°Of course they don¡¯t care about me.¡± Janine tried to shrug and frowned at the pain in her ribs. The khatun finger tapped her on the forehead, warning her to be careful. ¡°I don¡¯t even think about every single person in the state; why should I ask the others to? It¡¯s idiocy.¡±


    ¡°Why serve, then?¡± Mad Hatter pulled her throne closer and joined in the drinking.


    ¡°Because we live in this world together,¡± Janine answered plainly. ¡°As life improves for ordinary citizens, it improves for us. My tribe no longer starves.¡±


    ¡°You could achieve the same result by raiding,¡± Mad Hatter pointed out.


    ¡°Are you retarded?¡± Janine asked. ¡°Look what the Reclamation Army has already accomplished by cooperating. Our lands are being terraformed, our factories produce valuable and soulless augmentations, and medical complexes heal the wounded and sick. Poverty has taken a backseat. I¡¯ve seen nobility, not born of lineage, but real nobility, as citizens who never knew the hardships of the Outer Lands mourned and sent aid to those who live there. Is it bad that so many cubs hunger no longer? That diseases no longer claim settlements? Or what New Breeds and Normies don¡¯t oppress each other? Yeah, we are not perfect, but why harm this process? Everyone benefits from it.¡± She spat blood and licked her lips.


    ¡°Peace is an illusion and stagnation. The Old World fermented in its peace, and our species nearly died to the first fomented conflict.¡±


    ¡°I deal in facts,¡± Janine said stubbornly. ¡°You deal in delusions. My destiny is aligned with the dreams of my tribe and the wills of the Dynast and the Blessed Mother. We suffer so others don¡¯t have to. I will never betray His Excellency¡¯s ideal.¡±


    ¡°There is no arguing with indoctrinated.¡± Mad Hatter shook her head. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll fix your people. Since you spurned my offer, your fate is almost sealed. Tell me¡­¡± Her fingers touched the necrotic area around the implants fabricated by Janine¡¯s firstborn. ¡°These crude toys. They harm you. Why keep them?¡±


    Janine didn¡¯t respond. There was a promise of death in Mad Hatter¡¯s words, but not at her hands. Something worse or better awaited her, and she saw no reason to divulge details of her personal life to this maniac. The khatun¡¯s pupils dilated, filling the entire white of her eyes, then returned to their normal size as she exhaled wearily and picked another slice of meat from the plate.


    ¡°Sentimental,¡± she said, and Janine blinked in surprise. ¡°Made by your family.¡± The warlord experienced a cold sweat. ¡°Son. Your son did it.¡± Mad Hatter smiled in her face. ¡°Good. I learned you. Answer my next question or your pack will be flayed alive and dragged through a salt field.¡±


    ¡°Where are they¡­¡± Mad Hatter thrust a finger into Janine¡¯s mouth, ignoring the futile attempts to bite through her skin and scrape her tongue.


    ¡°No questions. You have lost that privilege. Be an obedient doggy, and answer me this: Do you know God?¡± She removed the finger, wiping it against the floor.


    ¡°Which one? Spirits, Planet, Champion¡­¡±


    ¡°The sort who whispers lies to you.¡± Mad Hatter paced back and forth, pressing a trembling hand to her face. ¡°He lays out poisoned gifts, begging and pretending, offering unrivaled power in exchange for acceptance. His lies never stop, never end, robbing you of your sleep.¡± She swung an arm through the air, knocking the slaves off their feet with the sheer force of the wind. ¡°Crimson-eyed, white devil, whose very form is allure.¡±


    ¡°Never heard of your God,¡± Janine replied honestly.


    ¡°Not mine!¡± The woman screeched; her voice broke unexpectedly, returning to the rough and angered warrior tone. ¡°Look at me! I am the Sky¡¯s daughter, elevated above any living being. And that filth denies me sleep to ensnare me in his servitude? Ha! I will never bow to anyone but my father, never honor anyone but my mother. I¡¯ll scour this world, overthrow every nation, and drag the lying demon into the light. And then I will sleep.¡± Her lips twisted into a dreamy scowl.


    Shaken from the healing of her body, twisted from the hooks that had bitten deep into her, and still suffering from the concussion, Janine imagined that she could see two new figures. One was very familiar. Terrific lurked in the darkness, her mangled body creaking as shattered bones scratched inside. Dim, pale eyes looked past Janine.


    The second figure was new. A white mist floated in the air, roughly the proportions of a human body. Ephemeral arms wrapped around Mad Hatter¡¯s too-thick neck, pale lips whispering intimate words into her ears. Crimson dots flashed through the mist, focused on the captive, two burning portals to the depths of the Abyss itself. She had seen her share of psychos and lunatics. This thing surpassed them all; the boundless cruelty and glee in its eyes were unmatched even by the khatun. It derived pleasure from the very act of her suffering.


    You are afraid. It spoke in a sublime, angelic voice, and time ceased. Mad Hatter stopped in her tracks, frozen as she offhandedly helped her slaves to their feet. The fabric of the clothes, the wind in the hall, trickles of blood and motes of dust were frozen in place, and every color was sucked into the white form, filling Janine¡¯s vision with gray. But Terrific remained in that sea of gray, walking behind the figure as if unaware of her presence. Loss. The figure continued. Since you have graced reality with your first cry, all you knew was loss. Your mother. Children. Future.


    It floated closer, sending a jolt of strength through Janine. Her muscles flexed, ready to burst from the prison of her body; her heart pounded, sending rivers of blood in a fierce flood through her body.


    Then she saw her soulmates. Colt was among them. They were joined by her smiling cubs. One by one, they grew older; injuries covered them, and soon they disappeared into the gray. Eled, Melina, and Predaig appeared briefly, standing beside their lost friends. Like a curtain, the gray consumed them.


    You sacrificed so much. The white shape said sympathetically, patting her head like a caring parent. And will continue to sacrifice. But when you need help the most, when you are alone and defeated, there is no one at your side to help you stand. Is this any way to live? The figure held out a hand, and a radiant glow appeared in its palm. Take my blessing. Embrace me as God and bring retribution upon the leeches and parasites that inhabit this husk!


    A vision came to Janine. She broke free of the harness, healing all the damage in nanoseconds. There was no fur on her body; it disappeared, replaced by gray skin that was both solid and liquid, tougher than any known alloy. She and Mad Hatter exchanged blows, and her fist broke the khatun¡¯s knuckles, surprising her long enough for the jaws to tear off the arrogant head.


    She didn¡¯t stop. A single blow leveled the entire building, and her fury spilled out upon the Horde and its captives, upon all who had betrayed her, used her, or abandoned her. Their crimes and insults were millions, so there was not a hint of mercy in the unrestrained cruelty itself as she first choked Brood Lord and then ended his offspring. The town became a graveyard as she roared into the sky, ending the Ice Fangs for their treachery, razing villages and hamlets to the ground, punishing the unbelievers. The Blessed Mother tried to stop her, and Janine ate her limbs for refusing to aid her daughters in the hour of need. Then she visited the Dynast, ending his wretched lie of violent reunification, quieting every word on the surface and below, and new servants worshipped God in the right way. Guided by His love and¡­


    ¡°Sister,¡± Terrific croaked, and Janine bit her lips, resisting the aberrations¡¯ wills.


    She is she! Janine of the Wolf Tribe. A warrior who pledged her life to the state! And she will be damned before she ever reneges on her vows. Under the Dynast¡¯s vision, the world will recover. And a day will come when every subject of the Reclamation Army will know peace, and together they will travel to the distant stars to learn and spread humanity far and wide.


    A pity. The white shape replied, extinguishing the light in its hand. You are infected by the most unworthy gift. Hope. No matter. Either way, humanity¡¯s doom will be sealed by one champion. He glanced at Mad Hatter. Or by another.


    The white shape returned to cling to Mad Hatter like a parasite, resuming its whispers. In a blink, reality resumed. The grayness disappeared, Mad Hatter returned to her throne, and Janine tasted smells and breathed. What she had seen just now was an illusion concocted by her exhausted brain. Nothing more. Only the Spirits were real.


    ¡°Why are you doing this?¡± Janine asked Mad Hatter. ¡°Waging wars, I mean. Surely it is easier to try sleeping pills.¡±


    ¡°I tried them.¡± The khatun picked up a glass sourly. ¡°They don¡¯t work anymore.¡±


    ¡°Why wage war at all?¡± Janine ignored the pain, genuinely trying to understand. ¡°I get the impression that you don¡¯t care much for ruling. You want to sleep. That God prevents it.¡± Or you are imagining him, you stupid, murderous whore, she wanted to say, but ignored the desire. ¡°If you are so hellbent on finding the bastard, why not ask around? Why fight, purposely slowing yourself down your search?¡±


    ¡°Ask?¡± Mad Hatter laughed. She pointed at the slaves and reached out to move their clothes aside, revealing daggers and loaded pistols. ¡°The slaves ask; they plead, afraid to act. A human act. Strength comes in many varieties, and will is my favorite. Am I to kowtow and court for a favor? I impose my will. Had people not sinned so much, the Sky would not have unleashed such a great monster as I to feast upon them.¡±


    ¡°If you are so strong, what need do you have for slaves?¡± Janine mocked her. ¡°A strong person uses her strength to better the lives of everyone. That Horde you created? It isn¡¯t strong; it¡¯s a ravenous group of rabid freaks, ready to scatter at the first sign of trouble. Unlike you lot, the Dynast doesn¡¯t have the petty desires of being surrounded by slaves. He builds technological marvels, restores forests to the world, and eliminates hunger. This is the true strength, the one that surpasses us both.¡±


    ¡°You, perhaps,¡± Mad Hatter murmured, amused. ¡°I am not bound by such limitations. And you attribute too much to your sire, ironically ignoring the contributions of the small folk that you claim to love so much. It wasn¡¯t the Dynast who founded your cities, nor any of his generals.¡±


    ¡°What happened to my pack?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Again, you seek to irritate me, acting as if you are free, when your life is forfeited.¡± Mad Hatter tapped her fingers on the throne and gestured for her slaves to eat their fill. ¡°But I don¡¯t find a desire to end you. Curious. Your comrades have been captured, and their fate lies in your paws. I no longer wish to make you into a khan of your people, but a token of submission can save them. Save you.¡±


    ¡°A token?¡± Janine asked, deciding to play along, sensing tension in the air. Someone nearby was unhappy.


    If Mad Hatter asked her to bow, of course she would. And the moment the woman¡¯s gaze left her, she would lead her soldiers on the run, back to the tribe. The Ice Fangs might frown upon such deception, but the Wolf Tribe knew it was foolish to honor a word given to the dishonorable. The Gilded Horde were insane and cruel, and Janine will see them meet their doom.


    ¡°We have one of your¡­ sword saints,¡± Mad Hatter chuckled, ¡°in our possession. He is hardly the man he was, armless and legless as he is now. And we also have an abundance of civilians. Among my people, it is customary to seal deals with blood. The strong do not bleed; they force their lesser to do so for them. And that is the price I expect. Bleed a thousand lives to create a worthy pool of blood in which to drown the Sword Saint. Do this, and our pact is sealed.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Janine spat into her face, stiffening the slaves with fear. There was no retaliation; the khatun could have easily dodged the spit, but she stood her ground. ¡°I know what you are, Mad Hatter. You are neither a god nor an avatar of one. You are a human masquerading as a monster, a subjugator. Heed me well, Mad Hatter. Whatever monster you may think yourself to be, the Blessed Mother is the Slayer of Monsters and Dominator of Dominators. Bow your head, accept the punishment for your crimes, and you may yet live as an eternal servant. Resist, and you will meet her.¡±


    ¡°That is exactly what I want. I will do more than just meet her,¡± the woman said calmly. ¡°I will end her and ascend. Brood Lord.¡±


    ¡°My khatun?¡± Brood Lord stepped out of the shadows, flanked by two smaller copies of himself, a male and a female, both four-legged. The khan smiled at Janine; his wounds had already healed.


    ¡°My offer has been spat upon. Janine is all yours.¡±

 Chapter 99: Lord of Iron Part 1

    Flashes of sparks reflected in Iron Lord¡¯s lenses as he stood over the assembly line. His dearest kinsmen, the Merchants, had finally unclenched their pearls and dared to bring their precious mobile factories closer to the front lines, sparing them the hassle of organizing convoys to supply their advance. The Council agreed to this drastic, unprecedented measure after he promised his people wouldn¡¯t be put in harm¡¯s way and the gigantic, six-story-high trains snaked across the freshly conquered lands. He further sweetened the deal with an offer of materials and a surplus of purchased qualified personnel from the ranks of the enslaved Reclaimers. While they had taken the materials, the stubborn old farts had refused the slaves, sticking to the outdated tradition of not offending any existing nation.


    It had protected them before, so he had ignored the subtle insult hidden in the refusal of his gift. They worried that his, or rather the khatun¡¯s, leadership skills might be inadequate and feared reprisal. A most understandable precaution, for ordinary men had to be careful not to be swept away by the passing desires of the powerful. Iron Lord had to balance his loyalties to the Khatun and the Merchants to ensure the prosperity of his allies.


    Mechanical craned arms assembled walkers, installing generators to feed their impressive laser cannons. Rows of basic exoskeletons were carried past Iron Lord, ready for distribution to even the lowest bondsmen. Furnaces never rested; the overseers rotated the working crews to provide maximum output. The unskilled laborers sifted through the wreckage, and the experienced craftsmen toiled, fixing the damaged equipment and building new machines of war.


    There was no place or tolerance for illness or physical weakness in Iron Lord¡¯s private forge-train. Any worker who fell ill was immediately replaced; the faulty bondsman was then sent to the healers to recuperate, or his damaged body part was removed and replaced with a smooth steel augment. Small celebrations and prayers to the forbidden deities were both permitted and ignored by the guards. The most obedient slaves were regularly promoted to bondsmen and allowed to start families. Loyalty invited loyalty, as the khan had learned in his conquests. His army was a machine in which every cog was well-oiled and knew its place.


    The second manufacturing plant had the shape of an incomplete bulge separated into sections. Overseers patrolled the catwalks, eagle-eyed for any sign of malfeasance. There was no smoke; the walls were immaculate, scrubbed clean of any soot or rust. Assembly lines carried raw materials for processing or finished units to be sent into the field, while personnel breathed bland and safe filtered air. Bondsmen in white hazmat suits carefully prepared capsules filled with deadly gases for artillery in sealed spherical laboratories. Children hurried to deliver rations to the workers, and the Merchant in charge gave Iron Lord a thumbs up to confirm they were on schedule.


    Mad Hatter¡¯s reign would rewrite the world¡¯s history forever, and he already tasted the scent of change in the air as he prepared to impose his vision on the lesser clans. The worries of his people, squabbles of fame-hungry khans, irritated him. Fools, every single one of them.


    Thudding of six legs against the floor and the accompanying tremor snapped him out of his thoughts, and Iron Lord contacted his personal guard, summoning them from mourning to stand outside the doors of the secondary manufacturing plant.


    ¡°I thought you were playing with your new toy,¡± he said.


    ¡°All in due time, my friend,¡± Brood Lord¡¯s barytone laughter silenced the din. Drozna entered the room and leaned on the wall near the door.


    The six-legged maniac was out of his armor, but wore a simple portable camera over his left eye. Was it because he believed his better would not dare hurt him first, or perhaps he had a misguided belief that with Dalantai in the camp, the priesthood would tear Iron Lord apart if he tried? Either way, it didn¡¯t matter; the jester was useful. For now.


    ¡°Does she still have limbs?¡± Iron Lord asked, barely caring.


    ¡°Of course,¡± purred Brood Lord. He was relaxed and in a good mood, a venomous snake ready to strike.


    ¡°Foolish. A slave of her caliber will try to escape. If I were her, I would have tried already.¡±


    ¡°And that is exactly why the guards know exactly what I will do to them if Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°Slave,¡± Iron Lord cut him off. Slaves had no names and deserved neither a past nor a future. Their fate was servitude. And the sooner they realized that, the better.


    ¡°Janine,¡± Brood Lord continued with a smile, ¡°disappears. My friend, you know nothing of cruelty! Your mundane methods serve to create cripples, while mine are so much more delicate and long-lasting. As long as Janine has her limbs, there is hope of escaping me. That tiny, desperate thought will sustain her even in the darkest of times, and any torture I inflict on her will be much more painful because I would be tormenting a human being, not a living corpse. With persistence and effort, even mountains will crack, and Janine will end up as a proper pet, eating from my hand and killing at my word.¡±


    ¡°Wasteful and morbid. You spend your time obsessing over an individual rather than acting your rank,¡± Iron Lord replied.


    ¡°I manage my time well enough to gain a town and a chew toy simultaneously.¡± Brood Lord tilted his head. ¡°But enough of my accomplishments. Let¡¯s talk about the horror that you are obsessing over.¡±


    He faced the frame that was assembled behind an armor-glass screen. The Merchants coveted secrets and tried their best to stay outside of the clans¡¯ politics. They supported no one outright, even trading with outlanders in pursuit of a prosperous existence and technological advancement. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for them to purchase important slaves and bondsmen captured in raids and then release them in exchange for access to abandoned laboratories.


    Mad Hatter¡¯s reign had changed the situation to a certain extent, but even now, they refused to reveal the full scope of their secrets. Self-replicating, evolving viruses, mutagens, cybernetic marvels, exotic weapons¡ªnot even Iron Lord knew everything. What was deemed dangerous or uncontrollable was hidden from view, and he supported this initiative. Better to err on the side of caution and lose than to rule a kingdom of death.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    But Iron Lord¡¯s standing among the Council had improved, and they deemed it fit to reveal some of their most precious mysteries and the Merchants¡¯ history to him. This compartment served as an isolated cell, complete with its own generator and surgical and assembly mechanisms. Tendrils of steel nimbly constructed a four-armed battle frame of alloys, cables, generators, and bundles of muscle fibers. There was no room for a pilot, not even a Normie. No adult torso could fit in the chest cavity.


    On a metallic slab next to it lay another body fused forever to his armor. Iron Lord coldly checked the boy¡¯s vital signs and pumped him with more painkillers so he would not suffer. Mehmed was a bright sabb, but he was always eager to prove himself and often took unnecessary risks. Iron Lord hoped to use him to turn the Brood against their father. His eyes weren¡¯t blind to the developments between his son and his new friends. Unfortunately, his child once again disobeyed his father and charged ahead.


    Acid destroyed his lungs, spine, heart, and everything around them, turning them into a mush of flesh, metal, and bone. An arm was missing, his head suffered extensive trauma, and implants around his body malfunctioned, keeping him alive and causing further deterioration to his body. Doctors, both of the Horde and the captives, stated that there was nothing they could do for Mehmed. Perhaps if Trace was with them¡­ But curse be fate; the agent had allied himself with the wrong khan and paid for it. Iron Lord had no intention of keeping what was essentially a vegetable alive.


    Mehmed¡¯s loyalty deserved better. His mother deserved better. So he used his son for an experimental treatment. Craning arms descended from the ceiling, their hooked appendages ripping away the helmet, sparing the pale head.


    ¡°What a baby-sized pumpkin,¡± chuckled Brood Lord. ¡°I often forget that your kids are little more than weaklings inside their coffins.¡±


    ¡°Shut it.¡±


    ¡°Then start talking,¡± the khan pouted. ¡°I am bored.¡±


    Arrays of saws, needles, scalpels, pliers, and other instruments shimmered in the light and began their grisly task of first removing the skin and then sawing through the skull. Iron Lord called for another report, confirming that the room was still sterile. With surgical precision, saws severed the connection between the brain and spinal cord, and scalpels cut away the useless eyes.


    After carefully extracting the still-living brain, the agile appendages submerged it into the nutrient solution, locking the capsule inside a reinforced jar. A display showed an increase in beta waves and a decrease in alpha and gamma waves in Mehmed¡¯s brain. Blinded and emotionless, he panicked.


    You are better than this, son. You can do it. A body is nothing; a mind is everything. Embrace the cybernetic strength. Iron Lord resisted the urge to put an arm against the glass. No show of weakness in front of Brood Lord. Give him nothing to exploit.


    Wires came next, piercing the frontal lobe and connecting the person to the single camera installed in the jaw. A faint green light glowed, and the small devices thrashed around, never stopping for a second, like a convulsing patient struggling against restraints. The display showed a slight drop in beta waves, satisfying Iron Lord. His son lived.


    Long tendrils carried the jar to the assembled frame, pushing it into the socket installed in the chest cavity. More cables connected to the sockets on the container, connecting Mehmed to his new and perfect body. Artificial fibrous muscles enveloped the object, forming a protective membrane and serving as secondary nerves. A metal finger jerked, set in motion by a human thought.


    ¡°Something the Merchants bought from a group known as the Bento Tribe,¡± Iron Lord lied. ¡°Supposedly, this technology allows a brain to control the steel suit as easily as its former body. Though the sellers had warned us not to proceed directly with brain implantation, recommending a gradual cyberization to ease the future process.¡±


    There was no trade, but Iron Lord would¡¯ve sooner died than admitted the failure of his people. The Merchants had an infallible reputation to uphold; anything less was a mark of weakness, and the clans waited eagerly for any sign to dominate them completely.


    In truth, the Merchants had hired a group of mercenaries upon hearing rumors of a nation of cyborgs. An entire nation consisting of humans elevated far beyond their natural limits by sheer technological knowledge. Stronger, faster, able to analyze structures or perform complex calculations on the fly, with metal shells that would allow them to thrive in hostile environments. The Merchants rightly desired this knowledge to secure their independence. To say that the mercenaries had failed was to say nothing. Not only had they been captured, but they had told everything, and the elders, the rulers of this mystical tribe, crossed the continent and arrived in force at the Merchants¡¯ capital, throwing the Council into disarray.


    Their arsenal had failed to stop the steel golems that invaded the private chambers; steel skin absorbed energy beams; viruses had no effect; and the elders walked through rockets and gunfire unharmed and unhurried, admiring another inquisitive culture. The Merchants had been preparing to detonate nuclear and antimatter munitions to escape torture when the elders sat at the table and offered a deal. The Merchants had sworn never to reveal the location of the Bento Tribe and gave up all the secrets and knowledge of technology they had collected. In exchange, the elders gifted some of their own knowledge to Iron Lord¡¯s people.


    This transaction benefited greatly both the Horde and his people. Artificial lungs, organs, and even hearts were produced in abundance, saving countless lives. But Iron Lord had his eye on a larger prize. Deep down, he was human. Despite his augmentations, he knew his days were numbered. Handicapped by his own body, Iron Lord was already showing signs of cognitive decline. It was becoming difficult to remember the birthdays of his sons and daughters, every treaty he had signed, and the plots he was pursuing. Sky, he was even starting to forget the name of his first wife!


    To earn profit, one must always adapt and improve in body, mind, and soul. The Merchants lived by this creed, and Iron Lord came to appreciate this rule after his new oversized fist had introduced an arrogant Pureblood to the ground. It was more than exhilaration; at that moment, he felt divine. He, an ordinary human, had defeated a divine freak! The experience enraptured him more than any drug could. He loved the beeping of his systems in the midst of a fierce battle; the scraping of blades and bullets against his plates sent a rush of adrenaline through his old, wrinkled body, and there was nothing that could compare to the omnidirectional vision or the intake of information flowing into his brain. It was intoxicating, tantalizing.


    He wanted to live forever. Barring that, even a hundred more years would be nice. If his mind could be freed from the meat sack imprisoning it, it would be possible to prolong the brain¡¯s existence using the methods described by the Bentos. But they also warned of dangers. Iron Lord intended to live as his own person, keeping his personality intact like Mad Hatter, who refused to give a millimeter to her twenty-five-year-long insomnia.


    ¡°Gradual?¡± Brood Lord raised a brow. ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I suppose we shall find out soon e¡­¡± The systems of his armor sounded a warning, alerting him to the presence of a spatial anomaly. One that threatened to split him in two.

 Chapter 100: Lord of Iron Part 2

    Thrusters spat blue flames at Iron Lord¡¯s back, sending him into a spin faster than an eye could follow. The cameras in his arms caught the tear in reality; his hands closed on Brood Lord¡¯s neck, and he slammed the bastard into the wall with enough force to dent it. Drozna took a step, and the repulsion field slammed into his ugly mug, shoving him back and forcing the worthless minion to wipe tears from his eyes. With a clanking sound, turrets unfolded from the ceiling; industrial saws, three rotating blades the size of a flat, moved up from the recycling area, ready to assist their master in his hour of need.


    The shoulder cannon spun, firing at the portal, and Phaser screamed in pain from the other side, hastily closing it. Brood Lord¡¯s legs whipped, pushing the metal on Iron Lord¡¯s wrist, but he refused to yield, activating the thrusters on his legs, and drove himself and the fool back a little from the wall, then rammed him again, drawing a groan from the freak.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of you!¡± Iron Lord punched Brood Lord; the hydraulics in his limbs sped up the fist to bullet speed, bleeding the lips. He glanced at the tense Drozna. ¡°Step up to me and be dismembered.¡± He hoped the degenerate would ignore the threat to settle things, but his rival raised a hand, stopped his lapdog, and smiled innocently.


    ¡°So sensitive,¡± Brood Lord chuckled. ¡°It was a harmless joke to test if you still had the courage to stand equal to me.¡±


    ¡°Try me again, and it¡¯ll be your last,¡± promised Iron Lord, cursing at the reports of artillery aimed at his train. Remove the rival and break the promise to the Merchants. This scum wanted to see him back down. ¡°In war, we go as a united front. My hands are busy coordinating this conquest. I have no time to babysit you. One more prank and I will chop your head off; consequences be damned. Are we clear?¡±


    ¡°Crystal, Iron Lord Khan.¡± Brood Lord bowed his head, not once stopping smirking.


    Iron Lord choked harder, desiring to smash in this smiling face, to hear the bones cracking, teeth pulverizing, and eyeballs bursting. Brood Lord was an upstart, a mutated Malformed who had murdered and betrayed his way to the top, where he had wisely submitted to the Khatun, pretending to be useful as he built his little empire. Eyeing Iron Lord¡¯s position and lands, he plotted to persuade lesser khans to join him, spending wealth and testing his limits. Alas, the little sadist had his uses.


    ¡°Father¡­¡± A voice groaned from behind the screen, and Iron Lord dropped the trash, turning to the frame.


    It moved! Mehmed lived as nothing more than a brain, controlling the convulsing metal fingers with nothing but his thoughts! Legs moved, trying to stand up, restricted by the tendrils as the frame was still being assembled. The chest hatch opened and closed like the jaws of a cornered, desperate animal. The four arms moved, clawing at the torso, trying to reach for the brain container, stopping short, not daring to pry the fibers away.


    The frame shook, swaying in the harness, trying to break free. Brood Lord pressed a finger to his lips as the noise came from Mehmed¡¯s dynamics. Iron Lord frowned inside his armor, startled by the strange sounds. The stable connection between brain and machine should translate an attempt to speak into synthesized speech, just as a biological body would for an ordinary human.


    Was there a malfunction of some sort? He ran the diagnostics and found no fault. Perhaps an infection? Impossible. By performing the operation and saving hundreds of bondsmen¡¯s lives, he had produced practical proof that the programming of his medical-surgical automatons was up to the task. Why did Mehmed sound like he was about to swallow something?


    ¡°Mehmed? Son, how are you? Can you function?¡± Iron Lord asked, adding reassurance and confidence in his voice.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Mehmed forced out a word. ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡±


    ¡°Shit,¡± said Brood Lord, no longer smiling.


    ¡°Yes, you,¡± Iron Lord agreed eagerly. ¡°Don¡¯t be afraid; don¡¯t worry; you¡¯re alive; there will be no pain anymore. It¡¯s over; you are saved¡­¡±


    ¡°Breathe¡­¡±


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t breathe!¡± Mehmed wailed, his synthetic voice echoing off the walls as his fingers tried to tear holes in the metal neck. ¡°I can¡¯t swallow, my lips¡­ Body, body, body! Father, why can¡¯t I feel anything?!¡± The frame broke free of the harness and stood up on two arms, legs dangling helplessly on the floor. ¡°Anything, please, oh Sky, please let me feel something. Just a taste, a touch¡­ Pain, warmth, cold, drool on my lips, anything, something¡­¡± His dynamics continued to spill pointless pleas. ¡°AM I ALIVE?!¡±


    ¡°You are alive,¡± Iron Lord tried to reason with his son. ¡°It is unusual, perhaps, but to save you¡­¡±


    Walking on his metal knuckles, Mehmed approached the medical slab, his inactive legs scraping against the floor. Disconnected wires spat electrical sparks. Mehmed grabbed his former body with his upper arms and lifted it into the air, screaming as his three-fingered hand convulsed, shattering the empty skull and splashing some bone and blood against his armored corpus. Another hand crushed the leg, snapping it like a straw. Mehmed raised the body above his head, dripping blood into the open hatch.


    ¡°Flesh¡­¡± He said longingly and screamed again. ¡°It¡¯s me, right?! Why can¡¯t I feel anything?! Father, father, I can¡¯t feel a thing!¡±


    ¡°You have been reborn, Mehmed.¡± Iron Lord attempted to calm him. ¡°Everything is fine. You are beautiful, a perfection incarnate. In time, you will come to appreciate the might of your new form¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me die!¡± Mehmed dropped his body and slammed his fists against the screen, cracking it. His synthesized voice broke over and over, trying to translate his emotions into words. ¡°I beg you! Just end this!¡±


    ¡°And here is the reason,¡± Brood Lord chuckled and bowed mockingly. ¡°My deepest sympathies, Iron Lord. The boy went mad. Do me a solid if I ever end up like him, just off me, will you? I mean, we have our differences and all, but surely¡­¡±


    ¡°Useless,¡± Iron Lord spat, hovering a finger over the self-destruct button. None of his children ever dared to interrupt him; he drilled that lesson into them with mother¡¯s milk. Then he stopped. Why should he waste a perfectly good suit of armor? ¡°Mehmed. Do you remember the one who ruined you?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Mehmed bellowed. ¡°She took my arm! She took my flesh! And her mutated, misbegotten kin bathed me in acid!¡±


    ¡°They are the reason you are now locked in a steel coffin. Will you let them be?¡± Iron Lord continued, and Mehmed stopped flailing; the lenses on his head focused on his father. ¡°Mehmed, my boy. The Sky has given you a chance for retribution. By its will, you have been reborn, stronger, better, and faster than ever before. With this body, you can end their entire bloodline and be reborn in the Sky¡¯s embrace! Will you refuse this gift?¡±


    ¡°N-nooooo,¡± Mehmed stretched out the word, breaking into a sob and trying to cover his ¡®face¡¯ with his arms. Iron Lord was disgusted by this sight of weakness. But he continued to stare at his son, burning him into his memory and warning him of the dangers that lay in cyberization. ¡°No one else shall become like me.¡±


    ¡°Ensure it through your might. Brood Lord Khan will provide targets once your body is adapted. I¡¯m sorry it ended that way.¡± Iron Lord said his last soft words and cut the audio feed and control away from Mehmed, trapping his boy in darkness as his frame was returned for assembly. ¡°He is all yours,¡± he told Brood Lord, dropping him a remote control. ¡°Toss him into a trash bin or pit him against the slave; I don¡¯t care. I don¡¯t want to hear his name ever again.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t ask, but sure, I¡¯ll take it. Where are you going?¡± Brood Lord asked.


    ¡°To the front lines. Some of us have a war to prosecute.¡±


    Iron Lord left the compartment, flanked by his personal guard. What did he learn? First, the procedure was safe enough. Second, the subject may go mad. Will he be affected? Iron Lord still had functioning reproductive organs and a functioning body, though augmetics had replaced several organs. He loved his wives and enjoyed the precious days they spent together. Whether it was cooking, caring for their useless children, or making new ones, it was difficult to give up those sensations altogether. His loved ones never judged him for not being a pureblood; to them, he was a man, a Merchant, not an Iron Lord Khan. Will this attachment scar his psyche enough during transference to a new state of existence? He could not sever his ties with his wives, no more than he could have killed himself. They were a part, the most important part of his life.


    More tests were needed. He had the brainwave data from his son¡¯s failed operation; he had the hard data on how to preserve the brain perfectly. After the conquest, it shouldn¡¯t be problematic to procure enough willing slaves from any flesh market in exchange for freedom for their families. Then he will cut away limbs and organs from his voluntary test subjects, replacing them with augmentations to learn the exact limits of how a mind must be adjusted to ascend into a perfect union of steel and flesh.


    Horkhudagh joined him on the ramp leading outside. The fiery khan had taken on the appearance of a burned victim. His skin was perfect black bark, cracking with every movement and spilling motes of dark ash everywhere. Hellish flames danced in the open cracks, licking the bark before it closed. The khan¡¯s lips curled into a white-toothed smile, and his fingers touched the temple in greeting.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    ¡°I take it Mehmed didn¡¯t make it?¡± Horkhudagh asked, handing Patience to Iron Lord. ¡°My condolences.¡± He bowed to the personal guard, and they returned the gesture.


    ¡°Beat it. He should have heeded my warnings. What is the situation?¡± Patience wasn¡¯t overheated. The weird man controlled the temperature of his body and his surroundings to a frightening effect.


    ¡°Mungke¡¯s troops bolstered our side, and warriors grumbled, annoyed at missing the raping of the town¡­¡± Iron Lord tapped the ramp with his glaive, stopping the pointless chatter of self-evident information. His sweetheart refused to become a khatun, preferring to stay and raise their adorable daughters and sturdy sons, but one of her brothers was not incorrigible and understood the value of cooperation. ¡°Brood Lord¡¯s forces are swelling with the parasites arriving from beyond the wall and the rabble he has found here.¡±


    ¡°Expected.¡± Iron Lord faced Horkhudagh. ¡°What lands do you desire?¡±


    ¡°A forest,¡± the burning man answered instantly. ¡°There was a legend back in my clan. Of a mysterious, bronze hut standing deep in the dark forest. A hag lived there, offering advice and training to the future heroes, but those who failed to impress her never returned from an inferno unleashed by a snap of her fingers.¡± He smiled, and the corners of his lips cracked. ¡°There was no forest near my home. But I always wanted to live the legend.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Iron Lord was surprised. ¡°No rich mines, no beautiful wives¡­ Just forest?¡±


    ¡°Khan, there are less than two thousand men in my khaganate; what use are mines to us? Should we spend our years fighting to keep them?¡± Horkhudagh asked. ¡°Forests mean an abundance of game and water, a perfect place for my clan to grow.¡± He glanced at the guard, and Iron Lord surrounded them with a force field, preventing any words from getting out. ¡°And what woman would survive the thrust of my spear, eh?¡±


    ¡°Then your sons and daughters¡­¡±


    ¡°Adopted,¡± Horkhudagh scratched his head, unleashing a pillar of liquid flame that solidified in more black bark. ¡°Love them to death, the little squeakers, but my three wives knew what would happen if we tried to have legitimate ones. We chose a few kids blessed with fire talents and added them to the wives¡¯ children. And so I have heirs and an illusion of credibility. Surprised?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to be a virgin,¡± admitted Iron Lord. ¡°If there is anything else you wish for your service, name it.¡±


    ¡°Reclaimers turned tail and ran.¡± Horkhudagh shrugged and let a cloak of flame envelop him. ¡°Frankly, I expected more. Wanted more.¡±


    ¡°Fear not; the time will come when the Flame Whip of the Sky will grace the field with his presence.¡±


    Horkhudagh nodded, satisfied that his hint had been understood. He craned his neck and said: ¡°There is also another matter. I had a thought of solving it myself, but¡­¡± he pointed at the khan. ¡°I have a master now. Your servants are causing a ruckus.¡±


    Iron Lord listened to the news, neither exploding in anger nor approving. It was merely another situation for him to resolve, and he marched to the edge of the sprawling war camp, near the makeshift barracks that Slavetaker had occupied and converted to hold the prisoners. From a distance, they could hear angry shouting, threatening cries, and then a desperate shriek preceded by a whipping strike of a sword coming from a smaller camp near the fresh market. The shouting intensified, and Iron Lord heard rifles being cocked.


    Pre-industrial tents and ritual ceremonies juxtaposed the advanced field hospital and mobile workshops. The Gilded Horde was a nation of contrasts. Several Purebloods sipped lazily from dirty mugs, observing the bondsmen cleaning their advanced power armors in the mud. Half a kilometer away, engineers laid new minefields, and patrols rode to the horizon, ready to repel any unexpected counterattack. Dirtybloods danced on cheap wooden tables, singing national songs in the shadow of hastily installed radar systems. Partially naked men and women tested their skills, slamming opponents to the ground to the cheers of the crowd. Doctors interrupted priests¡¯ ceremonies to drag away the wounded.


    The Khatun and Iron Lord¡¯s inspectors visited individual war camps. Some were shielded by deceptively fragile wooden palisades, inviting challengers to test their khans, while stone walls bristling with artillery encircled others. The inspectors ventured in unopposed, buying off the enslaved doctors, engineers, and similarly valuable personnel, along with their families. After a period of loyalty training, these slaves were given their freedom and helped maintain the Horde¡¯s efficiency. Nomads and city dwellers blended into one.


    There were no visible tensions between the Purebloods and mutants. Even the abominable Malformed were ignored. It had less to do with tolerance; racism was very much present in the Gilded Horde. If a child was born a mutant, his parents would often discard the brat. But as long as the mutant was strong and useful, no one cared, and they often reached a khan¡¯s rank.


    This camp belonged to Skull Lord Khan, another rising upstart who claimed his share of glory after the untimely death of Sky Lord Khan. Though the Khatun had saved Sky Lord¡¯s khaganate, Skull Lord had wedged himself in the dispute between Brood Lord and Iron Lord, skillfully exploiting the strife to secure the allegiance of several clans and build up his forces to become a threat. He sat on his thunder bull, wielding a shield and the electric claw he had taken from the dead Sword Saint, his beady eyes watching the scene at the center of his camp from behind a metal mask that had been welded into his own bones. Skin grew over the thing, distorting the man¡¯s face into an ugly, intimidating scowl.


    Slavetaker stood unmoved, his hands on the shoulders of the cause of the chaos, a pale and frightened young woman dressed in rags. The slave trader, known for his unhinged cruelty, was almost gently sharing some of his confidence with the girl. Widowmaker was nearby, cleaning her sword of the guts of a dead Pureblood. She nodded to Iron Lord.


    ¡°No one cheats Slavetaker,¡± the slave trader said.


    ¡°I will be the one to decide the limits of my troops,¡± Skull Lord whispered hoarsely, his gauntlet twitched when Iron Lord stopped, examining him as if he were a curious insect.


    ¡°Is that the meat?¡± Slavetaker kindly asked the woman, who barely reached his waist. He nodded at the nervous Dirtyblood near Skull Lord. ¡°Who dared to spoil my goods?¡± He waited patiently as the woman swallowed a pain-filled cry and hid her face in her palms. ¡°You have nothing to fear. Is that him?¡±


    ¡°¡±Slavetaker, we are adults; I am sure we can come to a beneficial arrangement. Come on, man, you can¡¯t trust her over me; I paid, dammit!" shouted the Dirtyblood, but the trader paid him no attention, and the man turned to Widowmaker. ¡°Don¡¯t you hate that bastard?¡±


    ¡°Yep,¡± the freed slave answered.


    ¡°Join me, and we can cut off his legs and leave him crawling in the dirt, bleeding and crying as he dies!¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t.¡± Widowmaker ran a finger over the edge of her sword. ¡°Hate scum like you worse.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the woman said finally, and Slavetaker patted her on the back.


    ¡°You and your family are free as of now,¡± he told her.


    The Dirtyblood began apologizing, offering the compensation, and trembled as Slavetaker raised his head and glared at him with the unhinged ferocity of a rabid dog. The ground shook with the thud of the run, and Dirtyblood and his comrades feverishly tried to reach for their weapons. Widowmaker was around them, ahead of her hated partner; her sword sang, opening people from belly button to throat, and she laughed as she collected her tally. Slavetaker was on the culprit in an instant, burying his cleaver in the man¡¯s shoulder to the hilt.


    Hands gripped the sweat-covered head, fingers penetrated the skin, and in a single motion the Dirtyblood¡¯s face was hanging in the fat hands as he rolled on the floor, howling in pain. The leg lifted and trampled him into oblivion.


    ¡°The payment is acceptable,¡± Slavetaker said, pushing his trophy into his belt pouch. ¡°Let this be a lesson to your khaganate if you are unwilling to teach them yourself.¡±


    Skull Lord¡¯s claws drummed against his armor-plated knee, rage boiling in his eyes. Iron Lord waited patiently, ready for any outcome. They were outnumbered a hundred to one in the middle of a rival camp. But with Horkhudagh at his side, victory was far from certain. Besides, there was a way to turn the unruliness of his servants into a profitable endeavor by showing the arrogant khan his place.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t over,¡± Skull Lord promised.


    ¡°Agreed. You still have duties to perform. Go forth, brave warrior.¡± Iron Lord lenses focused at the enraged eyes. ¡°These are foreign lands. Do not repeat the mistake of Mungke Khan.¡±


    ¡°I have no need in your lessons, Iron Lord.¡± The khan raised his gauntlet, summoning his army to war.


    ¡°The boy won¡¯t forget this anytime soon,¡± Horkhudagh said as the hordemen left the camp and headed northeast.


    ¡°More woe to him, then. Our warriors are on alert, medicine, food, and water are regularly checked, and our patrols are ready. Send your men. Let¡¯s see how many warriors and clans we can take from him now that they know he will not protect them.¡± Iron Lord turned to his servants, spreading his arms. ¡°Be prepared. Things will change after the war. A transformation awaits the Gilded Horde. Old ways will die out.¡±


    ¡°It sounds like you want to civilize us. Make us more like the Merchants,¡± Slavetaker remarked, handing his cleaver to a soldier for cleaning. His eyes watched the Iron Lord calmly as the wind ruffled his cloak of flayed skin.


    ¡°Would that be so bad?¡± Iron Lord inquired. ¡°To not have to worry about a possible raid, to have a nation that stretches from one dry sea to another, to have our standards proudly raised above every city. No vassals, no failed clans, no rejects forced to compete for scraps.¡± There was not a hint of anger in Slavetaker¡¯s tranquil face. ¡°No slaves,¡± he addressed Widowmaker. ¡°Only the Gilded Horde, proud and evolved, fed, content, powerful, with us to lead it as we see fit. Are you worried that you will not find a place for yourself in the world?¡±


    Widowmaker laughed and sheathed her weapon, while Slavetaker rolled his eyes and said, ¡°We adapted once. We can do it again.¡±


    ¡°Iron Lord Khan, I have sworn to serve you, but I will not try to take on the Khatun,¡± stated Horkhudagh. ¡°You treat us well, but there is a line between loyalty and wanton suicide.¡±


    ¡°I tread this line carefully.¡± Iron Lord nodded amiably. ¡°The Khatun have little desire to rule. Once her goal is achieved, those who remain will shape the future.¡±


    ¡°Hate to break it to you, but there is still Dalantai. The fanatic is a bitch to contain and can¡¯t be killed,¡± Widowmaker cautioned.


    ¡°Anyone can die,¡± Iron Lord assured her. ¡°It is why we must guard our Khatun. She is the guarantee of our glorious future.¡±


    Cheers from the looming building to the south of the town distracted him. Mad Hatter was already departed, roaming the land in search of a worthy opponent, or perhaps simply for her own amusement. In her former palace, Brood Lord¡¯s warriors were gathering wooden planks and hauling in the famous golden bull, preparing for the night¡¯s feast and eager for attractions. Slaves were bought to please the women and men of the Horde, and Iron Lord tightened his grip on Patience, well aware of the kind of fun these degenerates preferred.


    He had killed countless people in his lifetime, often using cruel and downright gruesome punishments, either to uphold tradition or to instill fear and deprive his new subjects of hope. But his every act was for a higher purpose, to achieve his ambitions, and never for pleasure. He wasn¡¯t¡­ like them.


    ¡°Waste of fine meat,¡± Slavetaker said, expressing what they all felt.


    ¡°Should we stop it?¡± Widowmaker asked. ¡°I don¡¯t enjoy the prospect of fighting alongside the dog, but we all know the bout is inevitable. Why put it off until later?¡±


    ¡°Degenerates, junkies, and thieves are useless for the army,¡± Horkhudagh supported her. ¡°Unless treated, rot tends to spread and poison the rest of the body. Not to infringe on the wisdom of our glorious khan, but I wouldn¡¯t mind a roasted side of Brood Lord for dinner. Just nod, and I¡¯ll serve it.¡±


    ¡°Ignore them,¡± Iron Lord commanded, hoisting the glaive to his shoulder. ¡°We have a nation to conquer.¡±

 Chapter 101: Family and Duty

    Janine struggled to breathe, hearing laughter and cheering above. Shortly after Mad Hatter had spoken to her, Brood Lord shouted orders, and his minions dragged in the last of her pack in. Twelve of them were still alive. She had been relieved to see Ignacy and Bogdan among the survivors; both had been beaten, and someone had ripped off Ignacy¡¯s artificial arm; they were very much alive and had a spark of anger in their eyes.


    She and the soldiers were on the solid black floor, covered by thick layers of wooden planks. Several dozen soldiers from the Provincial Army had also been thrown into this meat grinder, and surprisingly, two Ice Fangs were present too: a hunter and a knight who had been captured during the battle or forgotten during the retreat.


    The Horde bastards sat on the planks above, slowly splattering the bodies of their captives against the floor. Hundreds, if not thousands, of hordemen poured into the hall, celebrating their fleeting victory. And their drunken rejoicing had brought the first deaths. A Normie soldier gave a faint cry; his arm was crushed into a pancake and his ribs were broken, piercing a lung. His faint pleas fell on deaf ears; their captors showed no intention of mercy, while his comrades tried to comfort him with words. In a few minutes, his body was broken and blood poured from his mouth, nostrils, and ears before the sweet release of death took him.


    His name was Jacob. Janine intended to remember it.


    More and more soldiers were dying. Spines had broken against the stone, organs ruptured, eyes stabbed by splinters of wood¡ªlying here was pure Abyss. Occasional light flashed from between the planks into harried and panicked eyes. Drops of food and drink fell on the bodies¡ªthe genuine joy above that created maddening contrast to the suffering of those below. It played tricks on the mind, tricking the poor soldiers into thinking they were in a nightmare. Janine strained her muscles, ignoring the pain in her own body and the hooks between her ribs, and tried to hold on to the whole new floor with all her might.


    My responsibility. She heard more screams and bones snapping. I am sorry. She could not speak, the air barely coming to her lips. So sorry. She bit her lips to the bone and flexed her muscles as hard as she could to withstand the damn hooks. Sorry was no excuse. The citizens of the state had a right to her protection, and she would give it her all! Her cubs were here, and for their sake, she would give her all!


    Treacherous thoughts crept into her thoughts. Maybe a thousand lives were not such a high price to pay; perhaps her value to the state exceeded that number by far; maybe she could have cheated somehow and escaped without harming a single civilian... It was pointless self-recrimination, unworthy of a warlord. She could not, would not, live with herself after such a heinous act, and Mad Hatter would never take his eyes off her until her paws were soaked red.


    The Ice Fang groaned, fighting to survive the immense weight. She looked at him without anger or pity. It felt... strange. Before, she had thought of the Ice Fangs as part of her extended family. Now she wasn¡¯t sure who they were. The paws of their masters had severed the bonds between the Tribe and the Order, and Janine concluded that ordinary Ice Fangs counted as ordinary citizens to her. One thing was certain. She must try to save them.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± a nearby male from Predaig¡¯s pack croaked, ¡°stop. You are killing yourself.¡±


    Janine ignored him, her muscles bulging and experiencing her lungs expanding and cowardly retreating from contact with the hooks. The wooden ceiling rose. A millimeter, but it did. Then there was a kick, and she groaned, thrown back. The Ice Fang, his bones more brittle than a Wolfkin¡¯s, let out his last gasp. A plank above him cracked, and a part of it pierced his exposed throat. As he died and his muscles relaxed, his body simply collapsed under the immense weight; claws were pushed out of the fingers, and his legs spasmed several times as if trying to run away.


    May you find peace in the next life, soldier. Janine thought.


    Strong. Terrific had made her strong. Doctors had worked on her body, healing her. Brave people had given up their lives so she could live. Some of the best technicians had designed her battle armor. And how, oh how, did she repay them? Unable to save even a single life. Janine drank deep of self-hatred, inviting the desire to harm herself. And through that desire, she pushed herself to new limits, lifting the planks higher and higher.


    She imitated laughter, too exhausted to exhale when Bogdan bit a careless hordeman. The drunkard must¡¯ve forgotten how dangerous Wolfkins were and had slipped a hand down to poke a Normie in the eye for fun. Immediately, Bogdan had turned his head and sunk his fangs deep into the shrieking man¡¯s wrist, grinding against the bone. Her boy arched his neck, twisting the arm as the planks shifted again, wounding the murderer and taking the entire hand below the wrist, trapping the arm itself as a splinter pierced an elbow joint.


    Come on, you weakling! Her fangs tore through the lower lip as Ignacy wheezed. He was the furthest away from her, and with a missing arm¡­ Don¡¯t you dare. Weakling. Pathetic. Is this the extent of your love? You claimed to love him, but all you ever wanted was a normal son, right, Janine? Wrong. Janine wasn¡¯t sure where the sudden surge of power was coming from. It felt as if a dam had burst inside her. Focusing on the pain and whipping herself through the self-hatred, Janine gave another shove, lifting the planks again at the cost of almost tearing her muscles.


    Hold, Janine. Many people have had worse endings. She persisted, keeping the entire floor of the planks away from the soldiers, matching the weight of the drunken rabble above. Cubs born dead, never to taste life. Innocents slaughtered for sport. Compared to them, you lived a good, proud life. And now this is it. This is the wall you must hold. A pang rang in her shoulder, heating her body. A torn muscle, big deal. And you will hold it. Hold the line, Janine. Damn it! For the sake of your cubs, for the sake of your soldiers and Normies, and even for the sake of that woman over there, hold it at bay!


    The planks moved aside at one point, and a hand dropped to grab the necks of two soldiers.


    ¡°What are you doing, Dokholkhu?¡± Brood Lord¡¯s drunken voice sliced through the cheering.


    A small replica of Brood Lord, an ugly towering beast on four insectoid legs, shuddered a little and stubbornly pulled the soldiers out.


    ¡°He is merely getting a few slaves for himself,¡± a female voice hiccuped drunkenly. ¡°Father, come on, surely he¡¯s earned that much?¡±


    ¡°Eh, fine, they are yours, bull!¡± Brood Lord laughed, and Janine gasped as she heard the wooden plank above crack under the khan¡¯s leg. The tip of the insectoid leg stomped on her belly, driving shards of wood into her hide. A trickle of blood ran down her nose from the pressure. ¡°The party¡¯s growing stale! I long for the main event; what say you, my warriors?¡±


    ¡°Main event!¡± Drunken voices roared, their feet shaking the planks. ¡°Main event! Main event!¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s light up this party!¡± Brood Lord stomped with another leg, and a warrior next to Janine died; the broken sternum lodged in her heart.


    The hordeman removed planks, pulling the captives above into the spacious hall of the emergency shelter. Tables were shoved further from the hall¡¯s center and carried above the placed spiked steel walls. Hordemen scurried like rodents into the opening slits and took their places along the wall, loudly demanding more food and drinks from the slaves. Brood Lord and several of his guards stayed to control the prisoners.


    ¡°Women are all alike,¡± the khan said quietly, waiting for the crowd to assemble. ¡°Incubators, unfit for war. Incapable of making tough choices, unfit for leadership. We, men, think not with our feelings but with our brains, calculating what will happen and the consequences of our careless actions.¡±


    ¡°Strange words coming from a sycophant in the service of Mad Hatter,¡± Janine said.


    He turned to her, motioning for the two guards to hold her upright. Brood Lord¡¯s face neared hers, hovering just outside the reach of her bite, examining her eyes.


    ¡°Mad Hatter is neither woman nor man. She is no longer of this world,¡± he told her, snapping a pincer close to her nose.


    ¡°Then you and her are alike,¡± she told him. ¡°You too are neither man nor woman, but a walking corpse spouting nonsense.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give much thought to individual slaves, but with you, I have developed a kind of attachment. Twice I have tried to kill you and failed, a rare occurrence. Fate bound us together.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps you are right,¡± she admitted, and his smile widened. ¡°You are bound to die by my hand, Malformed.¡±


    The guards nearby stiffened, and the second set of irises emerged from behind the first. Brood Lord¡¯s lips curled, exposing his needle teeth and veins on his neck bulged. Janine tried to bite his hands as he grabbed her by the neck, almost choking her, and closed his pincers to her head.


    ¡°How did you call me?¡± he whispered, poison bubbling in his throat.


    ¡°Malformed.¡± She thought he was going to do it. His pincers closed, cutting her skin, but then Brood Lord relaxed, a smile returning to his face as his eyes overlapped each other.


    ¡°Naughty. It won¡¯t end that easy. Observe!¡± He spread his arms.


    There were fresh faces among the hordemen. New Breeds and Malformed, many of them freed from the local prison. Drozna sat in the midst of such a crowd, his wounds already closed. The hulking beast of a man drank heavily and fondly stroked the natural armor plating of an uncomfortable-looking soldier beside him. A crowd of Normies celebrated among the invaders, and with disgust Janine recognized the insignia of the Provincial Army on the new uniforms of these traitors.


    Fodder. That¡¯s what they were. She hazarded a guess that the Horde absorbed everyone into its ranks and Brood Lord showered them with gifts, giving them a taste of the false promise of endless decadence. It was a common tactic of many tyrants. Once his ranks are replenished, they are marched straight into the next slaughter.


    The murderous duo from Houstad stood apart from the main crowd. Bandages covered the twins. They leaned against a wall with stony expressions and refused drinks. Should¡¯ve let us kill you. Heika¡¯s lips said wordlessly. Can do nothing now, stupid beast.


    ¡°Our lives are shaped by our choices!¡± Brood Lord addressed the crowd, slapping Janine to the ground. She frowned as the hooks scratched her lungs. ¡°Don¡¯t believe me? Ha-ha, let me enlighten you. You, my fellas, are free, liberated, fed, and cared for because you¡¯ve made the right decision to join the winning side. This one here was offered a khan¡¯s position by our leader herself, and... Well, she didn¡¯t choose wisely.¡± He pointed at the corpses dragged from under the planks. ¡°Fifteen¡­ no, seventeen had died. Because Janine refused not even to sacrifice but to be free!¡± He lowered his face to Janine. ¡°Who is the guilty here? You are! You knew you were signing their death sentences and spat at the khatun¡¯s offer, anyway!¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Planks exploded as he scurried to a warrior and easily lifted the snarling and fighting woman in the air. His human hand drew a curved dagger from his belt and buried it in the woman¡¯s chest, avoiding rupturing a lung or heart. The Wolfkin clenched her fangs, denying the killer the sound of her voice or gasp.


    ¡°This,¡± Brood Lord continued to the hordemen¡¯s cheer. The knife moved, drawing a bloody circle on the body, ¡°is the result of your actions. Watch her die as the waters of life escape from her wounds. She could have been sitting and rejoicing with the others. Are you happy with it? Is this what you wanted?¡±


    ¡°You will die,¡± Janine promised him, catching the light dying in the eyes of her soldier and saying her silent farewells.


    ¡°Wrong. She will die. Already dead, in fact,¡± Brood Lord chuckled. ¡°And so too will others. Why did you choose so? You can¡¯t plead ignorance, for I trust you are old enough to understand how things work.¡± He looked at the forcibly kneeled prisoners. ¡°Can any of you shed light on such a decision? Anyone?¡± He let go of the corpse and stepped on the Wolfkin¡¯s head, crushing the skull. ¡°Choices! Everything always boils down to it! Submit to the illustrious Mad Hatter and prosper! Resist and suffer! Be weak and suffer! Be strong, join strong and rule! These are the only true choices left in this world!¡±


    ¡°The strong rule!¡± The crowd roared, stomping, their voices intoxicated with alcohol and drugs. ¡°The weak obey!¡±


    Initiation. Janine calmly observed the scene. This wickedness had a purpose.


    Brood Lord raised his hands high and snapped his fingers. The slaves hurried, untying knots of ropes, and something huge came down, accompanied by the thunder of cracking wood, and when the dust settled, a glimmer of yellow revealed a golden bull standing on a dais. The statue¡¯s legs were spread wide, and there was a small hatch on its belly, and under this hatch stood a bowl. On the wall, the twins¡¯ faces changed to disgust; the female spat on the floor, and her brother took her by the shoulder, and together they stormed away.


    ¡°Bad food?¡± Janine heard Drozna asking.


    ¡°Shit show,¡± the twins said in unison.


    Janine immediately realized the purpose of this torture device. Iron maidens, oubliettes, blinding and cutting, slow burning, death by exsanguination, starvation, slave collars... Janine had seen a lot of wickedness in her service, learning the positive and negative aspects of torture from Terrific. This, while being far from the worst, was a device to instill a sense of utter helplessness along with desperation in a victim before slowly murdering them. Doubly so if a victim was a New Breed or had artificial lungs that prevented a quick release by asphyxiation.


    Hordemen rushed to the statue, throwing broken planks of wood into the bowl and pouring alcohol over it. Brood Lord pointed at a Wolfkin, a Normie and the Ice Fang knight, ordering his soldiers to bring them to his knees.


    ¡°You were given a choice, Janine,¡± Brood Lord said sweetly, patting the Wolfkin head and lifting the chin of the terrified Normie soldier, his pincer closed near the Ice Fang¡¯s ear. ¡°You chose poorly. It happens. But there is always a price to pay for making the wrong choice. Fortunately for you, I¡¯m a magnanimous human being and don¡¯t hold the insults and wounds against you. To prove it, I will let you choose again.¡±


    He left the prisoners, passing Janine, whose heart froze in fear. Brood Lord picked Bogdan like a toy, chuckling at the desperate attempt to bite him, and carried him to the prisoners. His grin widened in realization of her weakness, but she didn¡¯t care.


    ¡°No,¡± Janine whispered. ¡°Please. No. Take me.¡± Janine tried to crawl, but the cursed harness stopped her.


    My son. My blood. Not again. Please, Blessed Mother, Spirits, Dynast, someone, anyone¡­


    ¡°Now, where is the fun in that? If you are anything like me, the fire will barely warm you,¡± Brood Lord scolded her. ¡°Heh. I hardly had to torture those bitches to find out who Bogdan was. Ain¡¯t that cool, boy?¡± He shook Bogdan. ¡°Your own kin told me everything in exchange for quick death!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t blame them,¡± Bogdan coughed, restoring his breath. ¡°I would have done the same, just to escape the need to look at your ugly face any longer. And that stench emanating from you. It makes me want to puke. Oh, what the Abyss¡­¡± A stream of murky water poured from Bogdan¡¯s mouth into Brood Lord¡¯s face. A punch to the stomach was his reward, but the soldier laughed, spitting blood. ¡°What¡¯s that, a tickle?¡±


    ¡°Something like that, yeah,¡± Brood Lord joined in the laughter. ¡°Choose, Janine. Who will it be? Your son? Or three randoms?¡±


    Janine thrashed in her harness, ignoring laughter, the screams of her soldiers, and the pain in her ribs. Her son! Bogdan! Memories of happier days flooded her mind. His first prank, when he had served highly spiced food to Impatient One and Anissa, resulting in both girls fighting over the precious water while he rolled on the ground, laughing. Janine had to treat his blackeyes after the sisters had given him a piece of their minds.


    It didn¡¯t discourage him. Bogdan had learned from it, becoming sneaky in his pranks. An accidental discharge of a paint explosive that suddenly messed up Impatient One¡¯s prayer materials, a jumping insectoid drone to surprise Ignacy, or Anissa waking up to find her fingers in water, Bogdan tried everything and mastered the art of avoiding being found for as long as it took for his siblings to stop wanting to kick him.


    Such behavior bothered Janine, and she hadn¡¯t been sure what to do. Hit, slap her son? It seemed wrong; no one was permanently hurt, and in a way, Bogdan had been polishing the important lessons of becoming a proper soldier, helping Ignacy to socialize and the girls to learn how to command unruly males. But Bogdan had tested his limits, wounding girls who had tried to hurt his brother, and that could not end well. He would have been killed one day. Janine deeply despised the way Terrific had raised her and thus had invited Colt for a talk. Together, they had sat Bogdan down and considered what to do as a family in a very non-Wolf Tribe manner.


    It was Colt who came up with a punishment and a lesson. Bogdan¡¯s latest prank had injured a girl who was dominating Ignacy and cost them tokens to nurse her back to health? He suggested the boy earn back the tokens they had spent. Her husband had taken their young son to a Normie village where they worked together under the scorching sun on a cusack farm, raising calves, cleaning stables, doing butcher work, and filling milk bottles.


    The insufferable brat had continued to work on the farm even after he had earned back the tokens he had spent, casually greeting his Normie friends and bringing all sorts of journals back to their tribe to share with the other cubs. The shamans even had to confiscate some of them for the sake of decency.


    Colt did not stop there, dragging Bogdan by the paw to a field hospital. With no medical training, both father and son had been given dirty and tedious manual labor. They had cleaned toilets, removed waste, and washed paralyzed patients. Colt admitted to Janine a month later that his plan to shock and discipline their little boy had failed miserably. Bogdan had enjoyed the hospital, learning skills, chatting with the young cubs, and learning more about the Wastes.


    Bogdan was never afraid to talk to anyone, never shying away from starting a conversation with the females first or even asking wolf hags in private to train him. His future would have been so great if he had been born a female. And his cubs! So young and foolish. How will his wife raise them without him? Will any of them even remember Bogdan¡¯s face? Janine tore at her bonds again, widening her wounds. How could she... how would she ever look at her granddaughters and grandsons after this?


    ¡°Pick already,¡± Brood Lord said. ¡°Or I will take them all.¡±


    There could only be one correct choice. Her blood. Her son. His future. She earned that much. He deserved nothing less.


    ¡°Mom,¡± Bogdan said. Ignacy clenched his fists to the blood, looking down. His breathing intensified, and a female near him howled, fighting against her captors to divert attention. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare. Three is bigger than one. You know what is right. And don¡¯t you dare cry! Silence is a virtue¡­¡± He gasped as Brood Lord closed his human arm around Bogdan¡¯s neck.


    Don¡¯t¡­ don¡¯t I deserve even a single miracle? Janine looked around in despair, seeing only mocking faces. How many times had she saved others from similar situations, storming into the slavers¡¯ camps, guns blazing and ending the bastards, reuniting families? She had dedicated herself to the state and to saving lives; can¡¯t the Spirits grant her a little miracle here? Please. Someone. Anyone. Help me.


    There was no answer. Then again, there never had been. And Janine knew the right thing to do. She thanked Ignacy for his silence. Bogdan¡¯s last words... His order wasn¡¯t meant for her alone.


    Each of the three had a family or someone waiting for them, or at least their lives. Even that white-furred bitch. And Janine had no right to take that away.


    ¡°Bogdan,¡± she said.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Brood Lord pressed a hand to his ear. ¡°Bogdan what?¡±


    ¡°Take him.¡± Janine locked eyes with him. ¡°Take his life. If you dare.¡±


    The pride of seeing her son¡¯s first kill. Her clumsy attempt to comfort him after the death of one of his brothers. His shock and fear at the insectoids screeching near their tent on long nights. Bogdan¡¯s beaming smile after he earned enough tokens to throw Impatient One a birthday party and the punishment she administered to him for trying to ¡®corrupt¡¯ her. They laughed so hard when Bogdan was forced to eat the entire table of food himself and passed out, satisfied that he had elicited a chuckle from his cold sister. Janine tried to remember and relive it all, to cherish those silly and precious moments until the end of days.


    ¡°You heard it, boys and girls, we have a winner!¡± Brood Lord roared to the cheers of the crowd. Two of his soldiers forced Bogdan to go to the golden bull. ¡°For those of you who have just arrived from the steppes or who have joined us recently, here is the explanation. In goes the whelp.¡± Brood Lord pointed at the hatch. ¡°And then we lock him inside. Don¡¯t worry, he won¡¯t suffocate for lack of air.¡± The crowd laughed. Brood Lord¡¯s cubs stood in silence, more terrified than joyous. ¡°A simple tube goes through the bull¡¯s mouth into its stomach, allowing our brave volunteer to breathe. Once he is comfortably inside, we light a fire under the belly to heat the construction... Those of you seeing this for the first time are in for a treat, friends! Some deaths are unforgettable. Ah¡­¡± He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, bowing to the crowd. ¡°I wish I were young, foolish, and passionate again to experience it fresh.¡±


    The guards stopped Boggan, and the creature called Phaser stepped forward, looking as if someone had recently tried to cook him. Fresh burns covered his ugly skin, but the bastard mercilessly cut off Bogdan¡¯s claws, bleeding the boy. He gestured to the guards, and they produced tongs, holding the soldier¡¯s mouth wide open as Phaser ripped out fang after fang, dropping them callously to the ground.


    Scum. Janine stopped fighting and started memorizing faces. She knew why they did it. These bastards were making sure that her little boy would have no way to end his suffering prematurely. She took a breath and commanded herself to live.


    It was one order she wished to disobey.


    Finally, they threw her ruined son into the bull and slammed the hatch shut.


    A flame crackled, and Janine slammed her head against the wood, hating herself for her weakness. Brood Lord gripped her neck, forcibly craning it so she would keep looking at the flame licking the sides of the bull.


    ¡°You know what¡¯s funny, Janine? If you¡¯d never said his name, I¡¯d never have known he was your son, and his death would have been a lot easier. You set him up, you made it personal, and now you¡¯ve chosen him to die. Like I said, women are dumb. You should have tried your best to help everyone die the easier deaths as our butt-seats. The Sky knows I am prone to spending the lives of my kids myself, but you are something else, my dear,¡± Brood Lord whispered into her ear. ¡°You make others pay for your mistakes. You have lost your freedom, leadership, your men, and now your son. What else should I take? What else are you ready to lose?¡±


    When she heard the first screams coming from the bull, her heart broke again. That, too, was something Janine was all too used to. She kept looking, steeling her eyes to deprive Brood Lord of the pleasure of seeing her cry, and engraving every second, every sound, every scream into her memory.


    ¡°For the Dynast!¡± Bogdan¡¯s mangled words sounded muffled coming from the bull¡¯s mouth; his speech was broken into a howl of fangless pain. ¡°We march on, bringing a brighter¡­ AHAHA¡­ It¡¯s not hurt! Future to the oppressed, the forgotten, and¡­. AAAA¡­ the weak! Never regret! Never surrender! Spirits... To our dream, we¡¯ll uphold the state! Live to the fullest! ... Hahaaaraghueh¡­ And that Malformed crab can go fuck himself! I go painfully, but I¡¯ll be remembered! Nobody will give a shit about your sorry ass!¡±


    Pincers clicked over the warlord¡¯s ear, and she heard a hiss.


    Janine shrugged off Brood Lord¡¯s lies. These might have worked on a cub or an emotional person. Janine, for all her pretending otherwise, was too emotionally burned at this point. First mission. Secure a route for the safe evacuation of her soldiers. Next, the retribution. Then¡­ the duty will guide and sustain her.


    And so, with Bogdan dying in front of her, with Brood Lord whispering his poison into her ear, Janine blinked and allowed her old, no, her true self, to reappear. She looked around with calm, dead eyes. Planning and waiting, hungry for a dish she desired above all others. Revenge.

 Chapter 102: Janines Path, Part 1

    As his brother''s body was ruthlessly dragged from the golden bull, Ignacy''s paw spasmed, closing and opening, claws slipping free and immediately retracting. He coughed, hiding the tensing of his muscles behind the grief, and then leaped at the guard, trying to close his jaws on the woman''s neck. But the armored bitch slammed the butt of her rifle into his throat, sending him sprawling. Thank the Spirits, he remained silent.


    Situation. Janine pondered, looking at Bogdan. She resisted no longer; her breathing slowed, and she concentrated on letting her body heal, accepting the unacceptable. Her son, her beautiful boy, was mutilated beyond measure. Pieces of his hide remained glued to the walls as he tried to break free, and wet flesh glistened on blackened ribs. Scorch marks covered his body. Red heels, exposed bones, an eyelid so swollen it had blown the eye out. Half an hour. That was how long her son had endured this nightmare before succumbing to his injuries. I am locked in a harness. Unable to free fingers. The hooks are touching my ribs.


    Armored hands closed on the members of her pack, taking the Wolfkins away. Janine was left in the company of the captured Normies, who jumped to her and tried to free her. The hordeman didn¡¯t seem to care, and Brood Lord¡¯s pincer decapitated Bogdan.


    ¡°Amusing as it was, the night is still young, and we thirst for further excitements,¡± Brood Lord chuckled. He stretched out his human arm, and a guard hurried to his side, carrying a portable heater with a pot of bubbling liquid built into it. The khan broke Bogdan¡¯s head over the pot and poured scalding hot gold on Janine¡¯s head. ¡°Savage you may be, but a queen deserves a crown. Let me help you get one.¡±


    Janine welcomed the clarity brought by pain as the first drops splashed against the top of her head. The metal hissed, spreading unevenly across her solid head, short-circuiting a lone implant in her temple, melting through the membranes of her closed cuts and scratches, hissing near her ears, and setting fire to the outer layer of her skin.


    The reward had brought many changes to her body. Her muscles had hardened to the point of immunity to warriors¡¯ claws; subdermal armor had grown over her bones, fusing her ribs into a solid and elastic structure. Every injury hardened the skin further, and each illness she overcame improved her immune system. Not even radiation posed a threat to her health. The doctors showed her pictures and explained the transformation of her heart. It was now square, full of new chambers pumping blood through the blessed vessels of her body.


    Flamethrowers and plasma had tested her in many wars, and she had survived. It paid off today; the outer part of her scalp pulsed in agony, but her fur and inner layers of skin resisted, stopping the spread of the heat and halting its advance long enough for the gold to cool. The stream flowed over Janine¡¯s left eye, and she closed it, shutting out half the world.


    It was poetic and fitting. Bogdan was a part of her life, inseparable and precious. She deserved to suffer this much for failing and losing him. The molten metal dripped onto her snout, reaching her nostrils and sealing them. It¡¯s okay. Bogdan. She thought, addressing the lingering ghost of her baby inside the metal, ignoring the giggling raiders burning the corpse. It doesn¡¯t hurt. I will carry your soul out of here myself.


    ¡°There, much better!¡± Brood Lord laughed and kicked her in the chest.


    The impact knocked her upright, scaring the Normies away. A series of clangs preceded the relief as the hooks fell from her sides one by one. Janine didn¡¯t roar; her fingers broke through their restraints, her unleashed claws shredded the chains holding her in tatters, and before the steel beam tormenting her spine touched the ground, her swing was already aimed at Brood Lord¡¯s face.


    It didn¡¯t reach him, and the warlord narrowed her eye. Her arm was still in a half-bent position, but she knew the swing went full length! She couldn¡¯t explain it and jerked the arm back, thrusting both paws at his neck. Again, they stopped at a certain line, refusing to go near his grinning mug. Janine moved around him, attacking relentlessly, and found herself unable to touch the khan.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter?¡± he asked. ¡°Scared? I thought you hated me.¡±


    ¡°Coward!¡± thundered the crowd of hordemen. ¡°Wuss! Pussy! Raptor shit! Craven!¡±


    ¡°Let that be a lesson to you, Janine,¡± Brood Lord said. He pointed to a person on the wall whose long beak for a nose gave him a hawk¡¯s resemblance. ¡°The high priesthood stands by my side. There is no situation I can¡¯t turn in my favor. I murdered your son¡­¡± He sipped lazily from a goblet, ignoring attempts to tear at his throat. ¡°¡­ and took away your ability to fight. You belong to me now.¡± A tear opened behind him, and he stepped through it, reappearing atop the wall. ¡°Behold, my friends! A queen, humiliated and reduced to a plaything. Alas, I must interrupt the festivities and inform me, with a heavy heart, of a treachery most foul.¡±


    The crowd fell silent, and confused people turned to Brood Lord, sobered by his words. Pressing his palms together, he wore a somber expression as he walked toward the New Breed that had pulled the soldiers from the trap earlier. The younger man shuddered and hugged his knees to his chest, trying to look smaller. With a sudden burst of violence, Brood Lord¡¯s hind legs kicked his son, forcing him to stand upright.


    ¡°Yes!¡± the khan roared. ¡°Treachery! My attention was drawn to the mysterious disappearance of our prisoners. In my wisdom, I had suspected my son¡¯s involvement and had assigned a servant to watch over him. Imagine my surprise,¡± he punched his son off the wall, ¡°when my servant disappeared on the same day that the slaves I had secured for myself escaped! My own flesh and blood helped them! Out of pity! And more!¡± The khan clapped, and the roar of engines filled the hall. Three hoverbikes stormed inside, circling around Janine. Fifty invaders armed with melee weapons entered cautiously behind them. The riders wielded long spears, their tips crackling with energy, while the foot soldiers brandished long swords and raised shields. ¡°In the wake of the noble Mungke¡¯s death.¡± Brood Lord sobbed theatrically, pointing a finger at the troops below. ¡°These, pardon the expression, Purebloods, abandoned the chase and fled the battle. Deserters and weaklings!¡±


    Janine said nothing to this development and motioned for the soldiers of the Provincial Army to hide behind her, waving away their offers to bandage the torn wounds in her sides. The wounds itched madly. Her punctured bones and damaged lungs were healing, and thin skin was growing over them, accompanied by the rumbling of her stomach, which demanded immediate nourishment to keep the healing process going.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    A request she would gladly oblige. Her mood craved for maiming and killing.


    ¡°Traitors!¡± the crowd shouted.


    ¡°Father¡­¡± The Malformed rejected prince whispered shockingly.


    ¡°Yes! Traitors! But simply killing them is no fun.¡± Brood Lord kicked a blade to his son, and the air trembled around the arena¡¯s edges. ¡°Dokholkhu! Weaklings! Earn forgiveness through the deaths of your foes and the lamentations of their friends! I have bled the warlord for you; secure the kill or die trying!¡±


    Brood Lord hadn¡¯t even finished speaking when Janine acted, closing in on the nearest rider. The woman barely had time to process what was happening before the jaws closed on her shoulder, tearing through pauldron and bone. Indulging her cannibalistic urges, the warlord grabbed the screaming raider, snatched the hoverbike, and pressed the prey to her chest, devouring the rider¡¯s head.


    The raiders charged, screaming war cries and shouting to inspire themselves. A rider drove toward the guardsmen, retreating to the wall. Janine recalled the sharpness of the vehicles¡¯ cruel blades, capable of slicing through the Wolfkins¡¯ bodies with contemptuous ease. And she had no intention of losing any of her allies. They were getting out. Together.


    She hurled the hoverbike, swatting the charging rider aside and sending both vehicles crashing into the wall¡¯s force field. The Provincial Army trooper hurried to pick up the fallen weapon, while the remaining rider rode briefly into the rising clouds of smoke and charged at the eating Janine, pointing his spear at her single open eye.


    Janine inhaled heavily, chewing on the meat and calmly assessing the situation. It was surprisingly annoying to fight without the simple ability to breathe through the nostrils. But there was no reason for panic; the combat proceeded according to her plans. By staying in the center, she invited the hordemen to attack her, and the rider had doubtlessly planned to time his attack with the assault of his allies. Well, no dice. Dropping the half-eaten corpse, she charged at the rider, hearing his scream of horror as her paw caught the spear under the blade and her claws hooked the spear. In a single spin, she sent the machine flying toward Brood Lord, seizing the spear for herself.


    The bike flew a good sixteen meters, heading for the unmoved khan, who raised his hand, ordering everyone to remain seated. The explosion of the crashed bike obscured the khan from her vision, and the warlord noted the force field¡¯s stubborn refusal to bulge. She won¡¯t be able to overload it through her might.


    The cheers of the crowd brought her attention back to the task at hand. The infantry finally reached her, and Janine met them head-on, a hurricane of violence breaking through their ranks. Her enemies wore armor suits of the Gilded Horde, dwarfing normal humans and making them look like cubs.


    To her, they were no more than Normies. The trophy spear struck, impaling a hordeman through the mouth and kissing the forehead of the one behind him. Her swing clawed through the torsos of two more, and she eagerly caught flying flesh, feasting on the battlefield and continuing killing, seeing every blow and hearing every step. Their fear was palpable; it intoxicated her bloodlust and fueled further aggression. She didn¡¯t bother to block, simply dodging the incoming blows, advancing deep into the crowd of her opponents, surrounded by a faint halo of splattered blood and bright sparks flying from the ruined suits.


    Not enough. Their deaths weren¡¯t close enough to satisfy the desire for vengeance; not even the sight of bodies ripped apart by her claws pleased her.


    They had no chance. Even wounded, starved, and mentally exhausted, Janine was simply superior to the raiders. Realization crept into their minds, and with surprise, Janine noticed that the battle had stopped. Years of training halted her paw. A dozen and a half hordemen still lived, and Dokholkhu stepped ahead, motioning for them to stay behind, not unlike she herself had ordered her allies to do several minutes before.


    ¡°We give up,¡± Dokholkhu said in the clean Common.


    ¡°What?¡± Janine nearly choked on the meat of a dead raider in her paws. She closed warily to the Malformed, bewildered.


    ¡°We surrender.¡± Dokholkhu dropped his sword. ¡°We can¡¯t defeat you¡­¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s why!¡± Janine shouted, throwing the corpse away. Her paws closed around his neck, claws digging into his skin. ¡°You invaded our lands, murdered and plundered, and now that the tables have turned, you get cold feet and beg for mercy? Is that it, boy?¡± Her jaws opened.


    ¡°Please,¡± the man pleaded, crying. He grabbed her fingers, trying to break the grip. ¡°I never wanted to be here. I never had a choice.¡±


    This isn¡¯t just. You indulge in revenge, not upholding justice. Camelia¡¯s words echoed in her head. Janine tilted her head, wondering why her conscience was bothering her now. This creep was another murderer; a Malformed was bad enough, but a servant of the Horde was scum incarnate by default. A sack of meat fit only to fill her stomach, this creature knew no honor or justice and deserved none. He stood by as her son... Bogdan¡­.


    Step away from the prisoner. Another memory touched her. She and Martyshkina had aimed their shardguns at the surprised Terrific, preventing the warlord from touching the strung-up Troll prisoner.


    ¡°Wolf Hags,¡± Terrific said then, ¡°I give you one chance to submit.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± it was Janine who answered; her paws had leveled the shardgun first.


    ¡°You forget yourself, girl.¡± Terrific growled, stepping toward them. ¡°You will address me as a warlord, or I¡¯ll see the color of your guts.¡±


    ¡°Then act like one, Terrific!¡± Janine snapped back, holding a finger on the trigger. ¡°Obey the state¡¯s laws or step down. The prisoner stays unharmed!¡±


    Colt said he had never been prouder of her than on that day.


    Janine, mercy is never misguided. It took all her willpower to keep her fingers from twitching and cutting the carotid artery. Dragena spoke the truth, didn¡¯t she? The Dynast¡¯s mercy had saved them, and later he had given them a shelter, food, and a purpose. The Blessed Mother had spared Wyrm Lord, and he became one of the greatest champions in the Third Army, a potential commander whose actions had already rescued tens of thousands of lives. Countless times, the state had turned former enemies into allies and citizens. Vile cultures and religions had been spared, reformed, and integrated, ensuring peace and prosperity.


    ¡°He is your son,¡± Janine said to Brood Lord. ¡°What will you give me for his life?¡±


    ¡°A bowl of meat soup, if you kill him.¡± The khan shrugged, and his daughter beside him quivered as if struck. ¡°Do whatever you want with him. The boy¡¯s boring.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Janine replied calmly, facing Dokholkhu. The amber light of her eye reflected in his horrified ones. ¡°You belong to the tribe.¡± She looked at the surviving hordemen. ¡°Your hearts beat because I want them to. You breathe because of mercy. From now on and forever, you are the servants of the Dynast and the Wolf Tribe.¡±


    She let go of Dokholkhu, turning her back on the hordemen and begging the Spirits to spur them into action, to betray her, so that she could let her claws drink blood and banish the thoughts of her precious boy turned to ash. To let her bloodlust save her from the gaping hole in her soul.


    ¡°A slave owning slaves?¡± Brood Lord laughed.


    ¡°Let me do them in.¡± Drozna rose to find a hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°Sit,¡± the khan said coldly. ¡°I¡¯m enjoying this. Don¡¯t spoil my fun, friend. Dokholkhu, get up here, boy,¡± false warmth returned to his voice. ¡°You are off the hook for the amusing spectacle. As for you, Janine¡­ Here is someone who is itching to meet with you!¡±


    A wall of darkness rose behind Brood Lord, and the nearby crowd moved aside as the new fighter leapt through a briefly opened hole in the field and landed with enough force to send splinters of wood, broken weapons, and bodies flying upward. A roar worthy of a Wolfkin rang out across the arena.

 Chapter 103: Janines Path, Part 2

    ¡°You! You! Yoooooou!¡± The hulking mass roared, his lenses trained on her.. ¡°You took everything from me!¡±


    ¡°And you are?¡± Janine asked coldly.


    Something was off. The five-meter-tall freak, clad in a suit of dark steel, stepped towards her, shaking the ground as four oculars spread evenly around the round helmet, flaring. A gorget concealed thick wires running into the helmet; arms and legs had too many mobile joints, and the chest swayed, turning easily. Two sharp toes, easily mistaken for blades, adorned each leg. The suit lacked edges; every curve was smooth and round, so that incoming blows would graze the plates rather than bend them.


    Power armors of the world shared a common design choice, a backpack storing the generator on their backs. It wasn¡¯t much of a vulnerability, as the plates helped a user to dominate regular battlefields, ploughing through opponents. Iterna¡¯s models had no generators and received their energy via wireless transmission directly from their many satellites. But that country never sold such advanced equipment, and no one was able to reverse-engineer their encrypted systems.


    There was no backpack on the man¡¯s suit. Janine¡¯s ears caught the hum of a working generator in the chest cavity of the approaching brute. But... this was madness. Where would a pilot be? Had they sent a dwarf against her? She examined further, paying closer attention to the wires, artificial fiber muscles, and cables that gave the appearance of blood vessels and sinews. Gears shifted below them. Too thick to contain a person.


    A remote-controlled robot? Or was there a Malformed or a mutant of an unusual shape inside?


    ¡°I¡¯m... I¡¯m Mehmed, I think.¡±


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t ring a bell.¡±


    ¡°You took my arm. You robbed me of my senses, my body, and even my breath!¡± Mehmed screamed, his synthesized voice sounding inhuman. The suit stopped, and a burst of noise imitating sucking poured out of the dynamics. ¡°Give it back. Pleaaase¡­ A single breath. I beg you. Give me my feelings back,¡± he said longingly.


    ¡°You are crazy, boy,¡± Janine said softly. The Tribe tolerated true lunatics, deeming it unworthy to hate the poor souls no matter what they did. In the worst cases, they killed them swiftly. Soothsayers, or therapists as Normies called them, claimed that certain insanities could be treated. Janine didn¡¯t believe that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t¡­¡± Mehmed chuckled, and a shiver ran through his body. ¡°Don¡¯t you know that when you kill someone, you have to do it properly? And not make wrecks?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know you. Whatever your beef is with me, know that the mutant bastard up there is using you¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me feel again!¡± Mehmed charged.


    A metal arm thrust, filling the air with a scream as rending claws sliced through an afterimage left by Janine¡¯s evasion. The limb slammed into the ground, splintering both planks and the concrete floor. The warlord grabbed Mehmed¡¯s elbow and drove the trophy spear into the joint of his torso and waist. Her attack barely cut a single protective fiber, and the spear itself bent and exploded as its miniature generator fractured.


    Undaunted, she tensed her muscles and tightened her grip, hearing the whine of the crumpling vambrace. He backhanded her with a lower arm, reopening the wounds on her side, and then there was a click. Janine stopped twisting his wrist on instinct, and it had saved her hide as his upper arms suddenly swapped places with the lower as the arms swung in wide arcs, his clawed fingers tearing at the ground.


    Inhuman movements. The sets of arms switched positions again, but she was already charging at the center of his mass, relatively safe from the swipes. She caught his kick between her palms, and the warlord jerked Mehmed off his feet, raising a paw to smash through his faceplate. Flames spat from his back, setting fire to the surrounding wood, and he headbutted Janine, flying up. His arms fixed their positions, and a double blow threw her backward.


    Janine deliberately didn¡¯t resist the impact, letting herself be cartwheeled away. A hidden jetpack. Enough strength to match me. Indignities were irrelevant, but the information she gained could save her life. She landed on her feet, grabbing two swords belonging to the dead hordemen, and dodged as Mehmed brought his four arms about, unleashing a flurry of stabs. At first, his moves betrayed uncertainty and inexperience. The man was unused to fighting using bare hands; she could bet her life on that. No longer. The more he fought, the better he adapted, eschewing wide swipes and smoothly flowing his missing stabs into attempts to hook her skin.


    Faced against the maddening desperation, Janine waited calmly for Mehmed to expose himself and slashed at the unprotected cords on his wrists. The Horde¡¯s swords, capable of piercing the state¡¯s armor, shattered in her paws, turning into useless handles that were hurled at the blazing lenses in vain. Janine met the next thrusts with her own claws, sinking them into the unusually resilient wires.


    ¡°Please.¡± Mehmed backhanded her away. ¡°Let me feel anything. I¡¯ll do anything, anything you want. Even death is okay. Return what you took!¡± He raised his lower arm, looked at the cables spitting hissing sparks, then fixed his oculars on her, clenching his arm into a fist. A finger moved a little slower. ¡°Sparks? Where is my blood? D-damn you. Just¡­ why couldn¡¯t you simply kill me?! Why this?! Why?!¡±


    Her paws and his upper hands closed against each other, fingers intertwined, claws deeply lacerating flesh and shredding metal. Groaning from the exertion, she began pushing him away.


    ¡°Die, die, die, die, die, DIE!¡± His lower arms slammed into her sides, dropping Janine to a knee. ¡°I won¡¯t let you turn anyone else into this!¡±


    ¡°I am done entertaining this madness!¡± roared Janine and rushed at him, kicking Mehmed and denting his chest plate. Their lock broken, she slashed at him, scraping the smooth metal surface and carving small grooves. A pain forced her back as his lower hands stabbed her in the stomach. Her abdominal muscles saved her from the worst, preventing the blades from reaching her insides.


    It wasn¡¯t a losing battle. Mehmed possessed the advantage thanks to his extra arms; their strength was evenly matched, and the fatigue dulling her combat instincts was negligible. The damage she had suffered, in addition to the inability to breathe through her nose and the diminished field of vision, threatened to weigh her down. She had to end it soon.


    He kicked with the flat of his foot, unused to having clawed feet. Janine took the blow to her wrists and stepped back, feeling the reverberation in her bones. It was all right; she had him where she needed him. The leg slipped ahead, and she grabbed the ankle, threw Mehmed over herself with enough force to slam him face-first into the ground, and leapt at his back. Right into the stream of flame.


    It was futile trying to break his leg. Even an idiot would remember the blades on his other leg. Mehmed was encased in a rigid shell, but there was a way to get to the vulnerable parts. Janine planned to break through the extended jetpack, and her plan paid off. Her skin withstood the intense heat, and she was almost ready to plunge her paw into the device when a light flashed at the back of Mehmed¡¯s head. Another camera.


    His upper body swung around and landed two elbows on her forearm, raised in defense. His blows numbed her fist, bulging the skin inward, but the warlord wrapped her legs around his, gripping his arms and attempting to break them. Mehmed tried to claw at her, but the impact rolled them across the floor, throwing his aim off. She heard the metal give way, the lenses of the suit dimmed, and he stopped moving; the hum of his generator was no longer audible, and the pillar of fire no longer spewed from his back. Janine ignored this, still trying to break his limbs when a foot crashed into her side, throwing her off the tin-can man.


    ¡°Enough fun for one night,¡± Brood Lord said, and Drozna pushed her face down, and more hands joined in, tying her up.


    ¡°Coward,¡± Janine said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ¡°Are you so afraid of a wounded and lone Wolfkin? Have you no faith in your champions? Face me if they can¡¯t give me a decent challenge!¡± Drozna punched her, almost breaking a fang.


    ¡°Janine, don¡¯t get so angry. You won; be happy!¡± Brood Lord jumped nimbly from the wall. ¡°As a reward, I shall spare your people. For today.¡± He smiled, flashing his needle teeth. ¡°Fret not; decades of miracles await you. Return the prisoners to their cells! Sing and drink, friends! We have a nation to conquer; let¡¯s lift our spirits with the spoils of our victory!¡±


    ****


    Janine desired to murder any invader who touched her, but unfortunately, Drozna took on the task of dragging her. Trying to gnaw at his bone-covered limbs was pointless, so she wisely relaxed, using the brief respite to allow her wounds to close.


    Brood Lord was a fool. Decades, was it? Soon, very soon, the Blessed Mother would stir from her slumber. Devourer was no doubt already on his way back, and the dreaded Outsider would not stand aside when danger threatened their homeland. The Horde was finished; they were dead men walking to their slaughter. She had half a thought to remain the prisoner, to enjoy firsthand the realization and panic settling in Brood Lord¡¯s eyes as every ounce of control was taken from him. But it was an unworthy thought. She was responsible for Ignacy¡¯s well-being and the other captives. She had to get them out and sacrifice enough invaders to placate Bogdan¡¯s soul.


    Janine groaned slightly as Drozna shoved her into the cell, keeping her limbs pinned while his minions were busy securing them with the oversized shackles and durable chains. Ignoring them, Janine surveyed the place. Previously, this area had served as cold storage; she could smell the scent of cusacks in the air even through the metal in her nose. Anything of value had already been taken by the invaders, who had later set up several cages here. One held Normies, another Wolfkins, and Janine was in the last cage. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Ignacy chained to the iron bars. Ignacy blinked several times at irregular intervals.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    I am well. He said it with silent speech, bowing his head in a sign of acceptance and grief. Invented and implemented by the combined efforts of Dragena and Alpha, this form of communication closely mimicked a state of confusion and distress in captured Wolfkins, often fooling their captors.


    Your brother. My fault. Janine blinked back several times and spat at Drozna, earning herself a hit. She spat at the cretin¡¯s shoulder in response, frowning from a heavy blow to her stomach.


    Fool. Stop messing around. Love you. Ignacy bit his lip several times, forming the message. The last part of the wordless dialogue meant an admission of love between two soulmates, but Ignacy deliberately wounded his lower lip to show that he meant the blood ties.


    They didn¡¯t dare speak to each other out loud. Not after what had happened to Bogdan. It was a cruel lesson, but one that Janine¡¯s cubs had known since birth. Never reveal family ties or a friend in captivity, for they could be used against you. A lesson she had learned at the cost of the lives of four of her children. And a lesson she had failed to keep.


    Bogdan. I am sorry. So sorry.


    ¡°Keep an eye on her, boys,¡± Drozna hiccuped, stepping aside. The man reeked of drink. He gave the chains a quick tug to see if they would hold, then stomped for the exit.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be staying with us, Drozna?¡± asked a hordeman.


    Drozna moved and smashed the hordeman¡¯s head against a wall.


    ¡°Drozna? Drozna? I am no Malformed, no stray for you to call by name. Brood Lord made me an officer! The next one who calls me by my name is gonna be eaten alive!¡± He glared at the terrified guards, then smiled and helped the wounded hordeman to his feet. ¡°I met a real cutie tonight. He and I are going to spend a night in the outskirts, enjoying stars.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ the woman, Brood Lord said¡­¡± the wounded man wiped blood from his ears.


    ¡°The big bitch is beaten and broken. She ain¡¯t running. Stay away from her. As for the rest, have fun¡­¡± Drozna walked out of the room, and several guards hurried after him, begging the giant to reconsider.


    ¡°Warlord?¡± said a Normie, pressing his face against the bars. Unlike the Wolfkins, the guardsmen were not tied to their cage. ¡°You saved us. We owe you our lives.¡±


    ¡°You owe your lives to the state, soldier,¡± Janine replied. ¡°For its eternal glory, I will see you survive and put them to good use.¡± She smirked through sorrow. ¡°If you want to repay me personally, name one of your cubs Bogdan.¡±


    She tested her own restraints, drawing a claw over them. A rare alloy of some kind, one that resisted her attempts to leave a mark. But¡­ She turned her paw around, calculating the size of the shackle¡¯s hole. Yes, it was possible. If she broke her paw, she could pull it free. It¡¯ll hurt more than a little, but the bone structure will inevitably recover after a period of recuperation, so she¡¯ll be in fighting shape¡­


    ¡°Cousin,¡± said the Ice Fang knight, bowing her head. The woman¡¯s hair was evenly colored in black and yellow, and her eyes were dimmer than usual. ¡°I am sorry about your¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up, bitch,¡± Janine told her, letting out the boiling rage inside her. ¡°Take your fake condolences and shove them up your ass. Your treacherous masters brought this upon us. Call me ¡®kin¡¯ or ¡®cousin¡¯ again and I will murder you, Ice Fang. Name¡¯s Janine, warlord of the Wolf Tribe. I am no kin to the honorless traitors.¡±


    ¡°C¡­ Warlord,¡± the Ice Fang corrected herself. ¡°What has happened was horrible, but I¡­¡±


    ¡°I, I, I, it¡¯s always the same with you, parrots, always I and your damn honor. Stop making everything about yourself. Let me think.¡± Janine bared her fangs and deadened her ears to the words of the white-furred traitor.


    Beside the knight was Sword Saint Macarius. Chains bound him to the iron bars as his arms and legs were missing. Bandages covered the stumps, but her nose caught the smell of pus coming from the blood-soaked cloth. Her eye stopped briefly at the swellings on his shoulders and near his waist.


    Infection. He would be a dead weight in the war, and she doubted they would be able to wake the bastard up and keep him conscious long enough to open a portal to his mansion. Annoying. But it was her duty to save his life, since the state¡¯s medical services can save his life. If she can get the traitor out fast enough.


    If. Too many ifs. Could she pull it off? It was pointless to doubt. The Reclamation Army can¡¯t afford to lose more sword saints or warlords. Her tribe needs the lives of her soldiers. That and¡­ Janine admitted she wanted to see Bogdan¡¯s cubs, apologize for failing their father, and help them grow up. So. What can I work with?


    Drozna is out tonight. Brood Lord is one of their major khans; he will have to join the front. How long can he afford to stay? The Horde did not seem like an entity prone to staying stationary. Does that mean he plans to take them along? Not necessary; with this Phaser fellow, he could return and torture her at his leisure.


    Janine began to count the seconds, ignoring the knight¡¯s words. Eventually, one of her soldiers advised the Ice Fang to be silent. Can we afford to stay and wait for a more favorable time to escape? No, Macarius might die. He ranks above me in martial prowess and possesses a power. Chances are his cubs will share the talent. Just because he is an idiot does not devalue him in the state¡¯s eyes. Foolishness is curable. Death is not. Janine compared the shackles and chains that bound the soldiers to her own. At a glance, theirs appeared to be ordinary steel. It made sense; an alloy impervious to her claws must be incredibly rare. Her fangs would do the job.


    So, what were the options? Dokholkhu and the raiders she had spared? Too risky; Janine couldn¡¯t be sure of their assistance. The best-case scenario was to wait an hour and break her paws. How long would she be unable to stand and walk properly? If she¡¯d been in her prime, Janine could have recovered in an hour. Now she wasn¡¯t sure, but two hours sounded about right before some mobility returned. Could she face the guards as a cripple? Yes.


    Her saliva had scented Drozna, allowing her to sniff it from kilometers away. Another potential asset in their escape. Where to run? Not to Houstad, with the two armies battling nearby, they wouldn¡¯t be able to cover the ground and enter the city. Not south, Macarius needed urgent medical attention. That left her with a single choice.


    The Oathtakers. The corners of her mouth twisted. Janine had experienced the displeasure of meeting them in battle, losing some and winning more. She had even been captured once and exchanged for a New Breed of equal value. Still, it was a viable option. Perhaps Lyudochka would vouch for her.


    Their rivals were nothing like the Horde. Respectful of their prisoners and not known for excessive slaughter, unless some unfortunate soul happened to run into Crawler. The worst thing she could think of them was that accursed Oath, that heinous, unnatural curse borne from a power.


    It was an invisible binding, linking the New Breeds who accepted it. The Oathtakers¡¯ founder had created it, and based on the data and theories of the researchers, the Oath subtly influenced people, prompting them to abandon thoughts of corruption and lessening their aggression towards their fellows, drastically reducing the number of accidents caused by drunken brawls. Abusive parents who swore by it changed for the better, alternative paths in life opened up for former ruthless murderers and scumbags of all kinds. In moderation, it was a healthy medicine, though Janine never expressed this opinion to anyone.


    For the Oath robbed people of their free will, violating the most sacred thing. No nation had the right to rule with such a tempting crutch as mind control. In time, it would be inverted and altered to serve the upper classes, corrupting those above and below. The Dynast tolerated shady practices for the sake of unification, but this was a step too far, even for him.


    Regardless, their nations were at peace, and the Oathtakers had helped in Houstad. With any luck, she might be able to persuade them to let her go so she could join the war effort, as they keep former prisoners as ¡®honoured guests¡¯. It was clear that the Oathtakers would use it to advance their agenda, but any gains would be political.


    Half an hour passed. A slam of the door distracted Janine from her planning as she waited for her wounds to heal. Dokholkhu and two guards approached.


    ¡°Leave us,¡± the Malformed demanded haughtily, approaching Janine. Keeping a safe distance, he landed a heavy kick into her stomach, causing her to twitch in rage at this betrayal. ¡°She and I have a score to settle.¡±


    ¡°Dokholkhu, just because Brood Lord¡­¡±


    Dokholkhu turned around, standing high on his hind legs. His front closed around the hordeman¡¯s neck, tightening up enough for him to struggle to breathe. His comrade reached for his weapon, and the Malformed pointed his own pistol at the man.


    ¡°Either let me take my vengeance on the butcher, or I will extract a pound of flesh from you to quench my thirst. Which will it be?¡± Dokholkhu asked calmly. The hordemen blinked nervously and nodded.


    The Malformed turned his back on them, holstering his gun and taking out knives. Two of them struck her shoulder, slicing through the skin as the guards closed the door. Janine tried to bite the bastard and received a kick to the jaw, accompanied by a chuckle.


    ¡°So much for not wanting to be here,¡± Janine spat in his face, marking him and preparing to break her paws.


    ¡°I have spoken to the soldiers I rescued,¡± Dokholkhu¡¯s arrogant and hateful voice changed to a calm and shy tone. ¡°Is it true that your state accepts Malformed?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Janine responded, catching on to the game. ¡°The Reclamation Army accepts pretty much anyone who wants to live peacefully.¡±


    ¡°Even those who have done something truly cruel?¡± Dokholkhu asked cautiously.


    ¡°If you are tired, rest. If you have sinned, repent. As long as you are alive, there are all kinds of opportunities.¡± Janine tried to shrug and failed because of chains. The kid removed his knives from her shoulder. ¡°How old are you anyway, Dokholkhu?¡±


    She felt stupid. Someone like Ygrite or Zero could build a rapport with even the worst scum and get them to confess without lifting a claw. Janine herself had trouble with small talk, but she had to try to emulate them. What was most important? To dissuade a prisoner of the idea that they were beyond redemption. The aim was to offer a little leeway in return for better cooperation.


    ¡°I lived for two thousand and eighty-eight days.¡± The Malformed slapped his chest.


    ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± Janine looked him over, horrified, recognizing the childlike gleam in his brown eyes. ¡°Five years old?¡±


    ¡°We grow up really fast,¡± the kid sighed. ¡°Die fast too.¡±


    ¡°A cub? I killed children?¡± Janine whispered, remembering the Malformed she had executed in Houstad. Damn it. How old was she? War was the Abyss, but the Wolf Tribe held itself to a higher standard. The standards she had broken. I will turn myself in later. Helping him is the priority. ¡°Listen to me, Dokholkhu. Drop everything. Literally drop everything you are doing and leg it. Right now. Find a Wolfkin, any Wolfkin, and surrender. You are a clever boy; you know Common; it should not be difficult. No one will hurt you if what you say about your age is true. Forget any crimes you may have committed; none of them matter. You can¡¯t stay here. Your fucker of a father will kill you. But there are people out there who can help you. You have no idea how many. If you¡¯re afraid of Reclaimers, find people known as Oathtakers, or better yet, Iternians; they won¡¯t hurt any cubs either.¡±


    ¡°And if you set us free, that¡¯ll count as a bonus,¡± Ignacy said.


    ¡°How do I know you¡¯re not lying and won¡¯t rip my head off the moment I do it?¡± Dokholkhu asked.


    ¡°Do we look suicidal to you?¡± Ignacy pressed his snout against the bar. ¡°I have a lot to live for.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ don¡¯t,¡± the boy admitted, pointing at Janine. ¡°But she does. I saw her leap into flames! Not even to save anyone. Who does that?¡±


    Son of a whore!


    ¡°She does it a lot,¡± Ignacy said. ¡°I struggle to wrap my head around it.¡±


    Don¡¯t you dare take his side!


    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to die in here,¡± Janine assured the cub. ¡°You said that you didn¡¯t want to be here.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t blame the kid one bit; it is horrible here,¡± the Ice Fang said.


    ¡°Shut up already, traitor,¡± Janine told her. ¡°This is your chance, Dokholkhu. A chance to be free and happy and away from the shadow of your cruel parent. If you just reach out and do what¡¯s right, it¡¯s yours.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry.¡± The Malformed took a step back. ¡°But it¡¯s not that simple. Give me¡­ time. We will speak again.¡±


    ¡°Boy¡­¡± Janine started, but he was already at the door, calling for the guards. When they came, she played her part, spitting drool and cursing him, vowing to flay him alive and eat the remains.


    Cubs. Spirits, forgive me; I didn¡¯t know! Never, I will never become another Terrific.


    I am Janine. And this is my way of doing things.

 Chapter 104: Janines Path, Part 3

    Janine let go of the worries pervading her mind and slowed her breathing to think. She rarely recited prayers to the Spirits, preferring to persevere through her own abilities, but now she needed the focus and clarity granted by their embrace. Ignoring Terrific¡¯s ghostly apparition lurking in the shadows of their prison, the warlord began the Prayer of Rage.


    Blessed Mother. Deliver me from the temptation of self-pity and set me straight on the road of betterment. Let righteous rage fill my veins and invigorate me; mold me into a tireless instrument of the state and a defender of the weak. Of this I ask you, Blessed Mother.


    The door opened again, and several raiders stumbled in, wearing incomplete sets of their suits and reeking of cheap booze. A faint smile spread across her lips as she noticed the bastard¡¯s ranged and melee weapons. Her prayer was answered. Perfect.


    ¡°Think their women are like the town¡¯s whores?¡± A raider hiccuped, nodding at the Wolfkins.


    ¡°Brood Lord took two,¡± said another guard, stepping closer to the cage. ¡°They didn¡¯t last long, but he boasted they were exactly the same. What, you want to try them? The big one belongs to the khan.¡±


    Spirit of Rage, stay your claws, I beg you. Janine intoned, moving a finger to her wrist. Good, she can reach it. A second finger followed. Let me breathe for a while. Let me stay sane until the deed is done. I am still needed in this world. Avert your gaze, and I will sacrifice hundreds of lives in your honor.


    Talking to the Spirit of Rage was the height of stupidity. It had no other goals than to spread destruction and death. Its creations, skinwalkers, possessed genius minds and unrivaled ferocity and lacked any moral restraint. Had Impatient One been privy to her mother¡¯s thoughts, she would have attacked her with the full intention of murdering the warlord, family ties or not. No one should pray to the mother of skinwalkers. You do not tell it your name; you do not think about it, let alone speak of it. These were the rules, paper-thin barriers to stay safe. But superstitions ran deep in the Tribe, and every warlord performed self-invented prayers to this cruel thing, hoping to protect their packs.


    ¡°Who gives a raptor¡¯s ass about the big one?¡± the first raider answered, licking his lips as he looked at the Ice Fang. ¡°Check her out. Such curiosity.¡± He stepped inside the cage. ¡°Crimson eyes, fur like white silk, and such delicate arms. What a unique sight!¡±


    ¡°Let me go, and I will show you such tenderness,¡± the knight sang, a murderous light dancing in her eyes. ¡°Come, there is nothing to fear, sirrah.¡±


    ¡°I have heard that the white-furred are nobles among their kind,¡± the second hordeman said. ¡°She¡¯ll murder you if you let her loose.¡±


    ¡°Then we won¡¯t. But we must give her a proper greeting. How about we give her a taste of real men? Brood Lord Khan won¡¯t mind, as long as she¡¯s alive¡­¡±


    Ignacy lunged forward as far as the chains would allow, and the man screamed. He recoiled, but Ignacy had already sunk his fangs into the guard¡¯s ear and part of his neck. A single twist of the jaw tore off a considerable chunk of flesh. The Wolfkin laughed, spitting the lightning back into the face of the enraged and panicked guard. Even a heavy kick to the stomach that slammed Ignacy¡¯s body against the bars couldn¡¯t shake him from his mirth.


    ¡°Sorry. Just wanted to try a real man.¡± Ignacy smiled through the pain.


    ¡°You fucking cripple!¡± The wounded guard roared, kicking Ignacy in his groin and adding another blow as the soldier thrashed in his restraints.


    ¡°Takes one to know one,¡± Ignacy groaned. ¡°By the way, you taste like shit. Then again, you look like a pile of excrement. Guess that was a given.¡±


    ¡°Bastard!¡± The raider kicked Ignacy between his legs again, drawing blood. ¡°Mutant! Filth! My ear! Slave!¡± A kick accompanied every word, while the other raiders laughed.


    Janine¡¯s fingers rested on her wrists, each against the bone she needed to dislocate. Silently, she stood on her toes, preparing to pull her legs through the narrow shackles and break her feet. She wouldn¡¯t let anyone take her son from her. A claw slipped free, unseen among the thick fur. Its tip pierced the skin, reaching the bone.


    ¡°Give me tongs! I will rip out his fangs and torture him until his screams are heard in...¡±


    A shot silenced his yelling and the laughter of his companions, stopping Janine from freeing herself as she tried to understand what was going on. The hordeman¡¯s head had a gaping hole in its temple. His eyes rolled up, and his body sagged to the floor. His companions immediately reached for their helmets to raise the alarm, their hands tightening on their rifles.


    Drinks or no, they reacted too late. Bursts of gunfire riddled the exposed parts of their bodies as the unexpected rescue team entered the prison. Nine raiders clad in full power armors, accompanied by four Malformed who leapt nimbly to the ceiling, firing single shots from their pulse rifles. The guards¡¯ screams were useless; the front door slammed shut, and their questions and pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Efficiently and swiftly, the attackers gunned down both wounded and surrendering guards and spread out, opening cages and releasing prisoners.


    Dokholkhu approached Janine¡¯s cell, pressing two trembling fingers to his forehead. The boy and his siblings wore an abomination of technology. Sleeves of their suits were too big for their forearms; steel plates connected by cables hung loosely around each leg; helmets barely covered the top of the head, but miraculously the things worked, and his fingers broke through the cage door with ease but faltered when trying to pry open their shackles. On his back, safely hidden beneath the generator, was a large container.


    The boy raised his eyebrows at the wet spots on her wrists and drew his sword, aiming for the bonds.


    ¡°They are too durable. Use a key.¡± Janine nodded at the dead guards, and Dokholkhu hurried to get a key ring. It took him several nervous attempts, but finally the shackles fell from her limbs, and he stepped back, smelling of nervousness and sweating with desperation as a paw rose. ¡°You¡¯ve made the right choice, Dokholkhu.¡± Janine patted his shoulder to calm him and faced his group. ¡°I thought I had spared more.¡±


    ¡°Not everyone agreed to join,¡± another malformed replied. He approached, carrying the Taleteller and handed it over. ¡°We¡­ we had to take precautions.¡±


    ¡°Is it true? Can your state keep us from the Horde?¡± asked a hordewoman.


    ¡°Keep? Girl, when we are finished,¡± Janine swung the Taleteller and cut through the chains that held her before, ¡°there will be no more Horde. Just the state. Have you attacked civilians? Violated our people?¡± She studied the woman¡¯s face, remembering the trickle of blood she had seen.


    ¡°N¡­ don¡¯t know,¡± the raider gulped. She removed her helmet, revealing a stocky, pale-skinned, fear-stricken face covered in a network of scars. ¡°We came from the steppes, and Mungke threw us first at your walls and then at this town. We fought our way to the square, then Mungke went on and got himself killed, and we panicked and tried to hide because of the beasts lurking in the smoke... I do not know if we attacked your civilians or not. There is not even my khaganate anymore; we are all from different clans,¡± she said, as if that explained everything to Janine. ¡°Listen, I am in charge of these buffoons. Punish me if you wish, but spare them.¡±


    ¡°Appreciate the honesty. We are all getting out.¡± Janine nodded, deciding to hold back her wrath. The woman was too frightened to lie. Let the Investigation Bureau earn its keep by determining her guilt. Unlike the Malformed, these were adults, and while some leniency will be shown for the rescue, a prison sentence awaited them if they had harmed civilians. But there was no need to say it out loud now. Dokholkhu¡¯s container made a series of noises¡ªneedles scraping the surface. ¡°What¡¯s in it?¡±


    ¡°Family,¡± Dokholkhu replied quickly. ¡°I am not leaving them.¡±


    ¡°Are we working with the Horde now?¡± The Ice Fang massaged her wrists and stomped on the dead guard¡¯s face.


    ¡°Correction: We are escaping the Horde¡¯s captivity thanks to the brave and timely aid of our new allies.¡± Janine pointed at the corpses. ¡°Shut up and arm yourselves. Everyone, put on whatever armor you can. Guardsmen, you get any weapon left¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord¡­ These animals.¡± Ignacy pointed at the hordemen. ¡°These animals burned their way through our lands; they killed¡­¡±


    ¡°Enough,¡± Janine stopped him before the boy could blurt out anything important. She still didn¡¯t fully trust her ¡®rescuers¡¯ either, worried that this might be Brood Lord¡¯s trick. But a chance was a chance. Janine put a hand on her son¡¯s shoulder, wishing she could grant him her strength and take away his sorrow. ¡°We will watch their backs and work with them. Because we need them to survive and escape, and they need us for the same reason. That is an order.¡±


    Ignacy met Janine¡¯s eye. She calmly accepted whatever blame or hatred her son might have thrown at her. Was it not her orders and lack of foresight that brought them here? She was too weak to save Bogdan from this terrible fate. Suddenly, Ignacy bared his neck, and the warlord relaxed, happy that she didn¡¯t have to knock him out if he had tried to take revenge. Ignacy examined the former hordemen¡¯s suits and sighed, clumsily adjusting several parts to provide better protection, and gave the Malformed advice on how to better fold their cables to avoid being fried by an occasional discharge.Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    ¡°I thank you for your assistance, even though it wasn¡¯t needed, sir.¡± The Ice Fang bowed to Ignacy.


    ¡°Beat it, traitor,¡± he told her. ¡°I am already engaged to the best woman in the world, so paws off me.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my intention, and I¡¯m no traitor,¡± the knight said slowly, massaging her temples. ¡°My congratulations, sir. Pray tell, must the Wolf Tribe always reduce everything to the degeneracy of carnal pleasure?¡±


    The warlord checked the pulse on the neck of the unconscious sword saint. Bad. His skin was hot, his lips were dry and his heart barely beat thirty times a minute. It was tempting to declare the bastard beyond saving and snap Macarius¡¯ neck, but that would betray everything Bogdan had fought and died for. Even breaking the bastard¡¯s nose was impossible; in his condition, he could easily die from additional stress.


    Irrelevant. There will always be time for it later. She re-bandaged his wounds using relatively cleaner pieces of the dead guards¡¯ clothing and secured him to his back with her own chains. Pus oozed from the cuts and bruises on Macarius¡¯ body, alarming her. The infection should not have spread so quickly. She intended to save him to spite the Horde and uttered a small prayer to the Spirits, asking the Blessed Mother to help the man endure.


    ¡°Are there any other captives nearby?¡± Janine asked Dokholkhu.


    ¡°Not that I know of.¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± Janine swung, testing if there was any weakness in her arm. ¡°Here¡¯s the plan. Cubs, stay with the guardsmen in the rear. New Breeds, and we will cut us a path¡­¡±


    ¡°We better steal a Sky Carrier.¡± Dokholkhu noticed a raised brow and quickly explained, beaming. ¡°It¡¯s an aircraft. The Gilded Horde has three of them; they are used to transporting goods. Fa¡­ Brood Lord was given one for his service, and it is currently undergoing maintenance in the hangar after being damaged in the last battle. The Sky Carrier has no weapons, but it flies fast. It also has a shield, so if anyone tries to shoot at us, we have a better chance of surviving.¡±


    ¡°And you have any idea how to pilot it?¡± Janine clarified.


    ¡°I¡­ No.¡± Dokholkhu looked down.


    ¡°I can!¡± A hordeman raised his hand. ¡°I was a pilot for Mungke Khan back in the steppes before his son kicked me out.¡±


    Janine considered the idea for a second. Her original plan had been to steal a Horde vehicle, drive it to the edge of the chasm, and drop down. It was risky, but the Wolfkins were skilled climbers who could save themselves and their allies. Then they would have travelled north in the safety of the depths. But that plan was risky, and Dokholkhu¡¯s proposal promised better chances of survival for their Normie allies, and depriving their enemies of rare equipment was too tempting. Perhaps it might even get them to Houstad safe and sound!


    ¡°Tell me how to get to the hangar,¡± Janine told the boy.


    ¡°Why are we in the rear?¡± She heard a Malformed hissing after their preparations were complete.


    ¡°She thinks us children,¡± Dokholkhu whispered back with a mixture of confusion and annoyance, loading his rifle.


    ¡°Is she dumb? I lived for three thousand days!¡±


    ¡°Three thousand divided by three hundred seventy-five¡­¡± whistled a guardsman and sized up the Malformed.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Surprised,¡± replied the guardsman. ¡°Quiet, kiddos,¡± he said as Janine raised her paw.


    She was done sinning. Cubs of any race, no matter how they looked, were untouchable in times of war and peace. Accidents happened, but just because the Horde had resorted to such mindless cruelty didn¡¯t mean they had the right to abandon their laws. Much to Ignacy¡¯s disappointment, she told him to stay in the back.


    Their unusual group stepped into the corridor in silence, and Janine tore a piece of metal from one of her nostrils, along with a piece of skin stuck to it, and sniffed the air. The stench of alcohol from a tunnel ahead alerted her to potential hostiles, and the pack took a detour to avoid exposing themselves unnecessarily. She sniffed again as they reached the shattered windows, picking up the faint scent of Drozna in the distance and many more reeking of sweat and blood. Cries of dozens of people being dragged away to be sold like cattle at a market. Proud conquerors walked through the ruined streets, overseeing the restoration by the enslaved population.


    I will come back for you. She led her group ahead, listening to the sounds of civilians crying and screaming and the boastful laughter of the invaders. Failure. A total failure of the state. How many will die because they cannot bear the abuse?


    Dokholkhu had explained to them that the prisoners were held in the west factory. The site had been converted from civilian to military use, and the engineers had set up workshops and assembly lines in the hangars. Cracks and crimson stains on the wall indicated that several units of the Provincial Army had made their last stand here, protected from artillery fire. Janine continued to use her nose, remembering her days as a scout as they approached the largest ¡®hangar¡¯.


    Occasionally, the party encountered a patrol. The first time, the hordewoman had distracted the guards long enough for the Wolfkins to sneak up close and mercilessly dismember them. The second patrol had been wiped out by the deserters themselves, who had approached the drunkards and spoken briefly before stabbing them in the necks.


    They had only halted their flight once when they heard the clatter of moving gears filling the corridors and faint wailings. A group of intoxicated soldiers had taken over a small room previously used by workers to rest and were hanging a civilian¡¯s hands from the ceiling, whipping the poor man for their amusement and betting on how long his heart would last. Janine sensed the anger in her Wolfkins and guardsmen. Good. It was better than fear.


    Led by the Ice Fang, two males sneaked up behind the torturers and plunged the stolen knives into their necks. Two simultaneous twists ripped through arteries and bones, killing the prey instantly. The three remaining guards turned just in time to be greeted by a blindingly fast quick-draw from the Ice Fang. The inelegant Horde blade decapitated them, and the knight shook it to clean the blood from the edge, glancing scornfully at the falling bodies.


    Janine nodded in respect of the knight¡¯s skills. It was so easy to forget how dangerous the Ice Fangs were. Behind their opulent gowns and perfumes were incomparable warriors, their feral instincts waiting for the right opportunity to emerge and wreak havoc. And judging by the hungry glint in the crimson eyes, the knight itched for an opportunity to unleash the true carnage.


    ¡°P-please,¡± the civilian whimpered as Ignacy gently lowered him on the floor and guardsmen began bandaging the horrible lacerations at his back. ¡°I didn¡¯t want¡­ We didn¡¯t mean¡­ It was a joke; there was never any treasure buried here, but they¡­ they killed everyone¡­¡±


    ¡°Hush,¡± Janine pressed a finger to his lips. ¡°You are safe.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± His panicked gaze focused on her, and the trembling hand gripped her waist. ¡°No one is safe. They are here¡­ Please, a quick end, a¡­¡±


    Mad. Too scared to move on. The pack had no choice. Leaving him would spell his doom, and Janine closed her paw around the man¡¯s neck, choking him out into unconsciousness. Another sin for her to atone for.


    ¡°I can carry him,¡± the Ice Fang volunteered.


    ¡°Your paws are needed for battle. Ignacy, take him,¡± Janine said.


    Shadows greeted them as they turned to the left in the corridor. Concealed from her nose by rubbed-in oil and standing perfectly still, the four-legged offspring of Brood Lord revealed themselves, blocking the path to the steel gates leading inside the hangar. Each Malformed carried a heavy machine gun leveled at the Wolfkins. Their bodies tensed in readiness to jump at the walls at the first sign of aggression.


    Their leader, a woman whose long hair was tied back in a tight knot, stepped forward, armed with a plasma discharger ripped from a provincial army vehicle. Two gagged and bound soldiers, rescued from the arena by Dokholkhu, followed her. A layer of oil covered them.


    ¡°Jaliqai?¡± Dokholkhu tried to push past Janine, but she stopped him, wary of what might happen. ¡°What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Waiting for you,¡± Jaliqai answered. ¡°Father never trusted you. He assigned me to spy on you, and you did a spectacularly poor job of stealing from his treasure trove. And then I caught these two trying to steal a hoverbike. The question is, what do you think you are doing, you idiots? Do you have any idea what Father will do to you for this?¡±


    Janine recognized the Malformed. She had stood beside Brood Lord in the arena earlier, and her voice had drawn the Khan¡¯s attention away from her brother. Even now, she never raised her voice but used her legs to push two soldiers in front of her, using them as a shield.


    ¡°I am getting our family out of here, Jaliqai.¡± Dokholkhu replied.


    ¡°You are betraying the Brood,¡± Jaliqai said with a stony expression.


    ¡°What is there left to betray?¡± Dokholkhu clenched his fist. ¡°The Brood is dead. We are finished. Culled almost to the last.¡±


    ¡°It happened before. New ones will¡­¡±


    ¡°And you wish them to live a life like ours? You said it yourself; it happened before.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± she hesitated. ¡°No, of course not.¡±


    Dokholkhu pressed a hand to his chest. ¡°It will happen again. You will die. I will die. For what? Screw it, and screw him! Jaliqai, please step out of our way, or better yet, join us!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too late for me, brother,¡± the girl said. ¡°Too late for us all. The things he made me¡­ us do¡­¡±


    ¡°Maybe so. But it is not too late for them!¡± Dokholkhu pointed at the container behind his back. ¡°Will you let them take them back? To mutilate them, to torture them, to raise them in his image? So they will always be afraid? Are you willing to sacrifice me for him?¡±


    Janine kept looking at the girl¡¯s weapon and the way the barrel was pointing down. An energy weapon. Almost soundless. But should her kin fire¡­ The entire facility will be alerted.


    She turned her eye to the Malformed, noticing torn chitin plates from their upper bodies, wide scars, a few missing fingers or ears, fresh cuts, and bruises. Regardless of their age, these were veterans of many battles¡ªpeople who had survived impossible odds and who had devised a plan to sneak up on them. So why didn¡¯t they attack them right away? Janine sighed as she finally understood the reason. A genuine family, after all.


    ¡°Put down your weapon,¡± the warlord said softly. ¡°If it was too late for you, you wouldn¡¯t care. You¡¯d shoot immediately. But you hesitate. You want to be punished, killed, and let these cubs escape, right? You think that will redeem you?¡± Jaliqai¡¯s look told her the answer, mirroring the same expression she had seen in her own eyes many times before. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way, kiddo. Earn it. You can chicken out and refuse to try to redeem yourself. Or you can dare to fly into the unknown. Trying to make up for your mistakes and crimes might be hard. But you¡¯re clearly not happy here, and dying won¡¯t solve anything. It will only further fracture your family. Why not try to be with a family that cares about you, instead of dying for a family that spits on you? Live.¡±


    ¡°Who is here!?¡±


    Jaliqai¡¯s finger moved to the trigger, and Janine tensed, preparing to bring her axe down on the woman. But instead of firing at the group, the four-legged woman turned to the left and burned a hole in the chest of the approaching guard. The man barely had time to realize what had happened; a gasp escaped his lips before his body collapsed.


    ¡°Well, that answers it.¡± Jaliqai released the guardsmen. ¡°Guys, we are officially joining the mutants. Fuck Brood Lord.¡±


    ¡°Sister¡­¡± a male Malformed near her started talking.


    ¡°What?¡± Jaliqai loosened her hair and tied it back into a knot again before hugging Dokholkhu. ¡°Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re going to turn on me.¡±


    ¡°Nah. Fuck Brood Lord and all that,¡± the boy chuckled. ¡°Just¡­ Jaliqai, Dokholkhu, we better hurry. There are a lot of people in the hangar.¡±


    ¡°Leave it to us,¡± Janine told him, grabbing the energy weapon from Jaliqai. ¡°Cubs ought to play, learn, and be safe. Stand back and let us work.¡±


    ¡°But we are not cubs,¡± Jaliqai argued, snatching a spare gun from one of her brothers.


    ¡°Trust me, it is better not arguing,¡± Dokholkhu whispered to her. ¡°They are weird. They think someone who has lived for three thousand days is a child.¡±


    ¡°The wise and merciful khatun is not wrong,¡± said the hordewoman. ¡°You are children.¡±


    ¡°Madness is contagious,¡± Jaliqai muttered.


    ¡°Enough chatter,¡± Janine said, cracking her neck. ¡°Time to go home.¡±

 Chapter 105: Takeoff

    A kick crumpled the iron doors, sending them flying and opening the full view of this ¡®hangar¡¯. The place had served as a maintenance depot for the various trucks coming in from the Outer Lands. Now it fulfilled a more insidious function, and workers toiled away, repairing damaged mobile walkers and artillery pieces. Industrial lines moved, carrying details and entire vehicles from one side of the hangar to the other; mechanical suits in various stages of assembly hung from the ceiling, and cranes moved vats of molten metal, unnerving the personnel.


    Their prize stood proudly on the opposite side of the hangar, nestled in an intricate web of makeshift catwalks and scaffolding. To bring in the Sky Carrier, the invaders had removed part of an entire section of the factory complex, and a familiar twilight sky greeted the group, as if the old friend rejoicing at a sudden reunion.


    The Sky Carrier had a long, inelegant, and bulky fuselage, standing on three landing ramps. Exquisite jade ornamentation covered the tubular aircraft; a proud eagle¡¯s head formed the cockpit, allowing the pilots to see through its eyes. Operators calmly guided rows of empty energy canisters away from the ship. Four engines on the ship¡¯s belly almost touched the ground, patterns cascaded down their surfaces, and a cluster of six more on the back of the Sky Carrier was ready to propel it ahead. As the boy had said, there were no turrets or cannons of any kind on the ship, but hopefully the refueling process had already been completed and, more importantly, the hull was intact.


    Janine fired the plasma discharger before the doors could touch the ground.


    A superheated blast of plasma swept above the workers¡¯ heads, kissing ammunition crates of a mobile artillery unit, detonating it and scattering tatters of its crew everywhere. The vehicle¡¯s engine exploded next, setting off a chain reaction that shook the entire room as four more mobile artillery units disappeared in erupting blasts, knocking people off catwalks and setting scaffolding ablaze. Many of the Horde personnel and guards chose not to wear their full protective gear and celebrated their victory even here. They paid for such carelessness in full as shards of torn metal sliced through their bodies and debris fell on them from above.


    ¡°So much for infiltration,¡± said a guardsman, leveling his rifle.


    ¡°We just need the Sky Carrier intact. Advance! Slaughter anyone in our path!¡± Janine roared, leading her people in.


    ¡°§³§ï§â??§Ý§ï§Ô!¡± a hordeman screamed, pulling a machine gun from his back. He ducked to the left, hiding from a burst of energy that melted his chest plate.


    They charged into the shuddering hangar, keeping the pilot in the middle of their formation. Cracks ran above them, and Janine added to the commotion by firing at the ammunition crates, detonating them. Small lakes of flame washed away fleeing personnel and licked at the Sky Carries¡¯ hull, terrifying the workers standing on it. Armored guards emerged through the smoke, some of them bareheaded, and the coughing and cursing humans paid with their lives for such arrogance as the Wolfkins filled their heads full of holes. The Taleteller sliced, outpacing the whipping slash of the Ice Fang, and split halves toppled to the ground.


    ¡°Murder! Maim! More!¡± Janine shouted the war cry, grunting at bullets blooming crimson holes in her hide. Rather than dodging and exposing Macarius on her back or her allies, she trusted her body to hold on and hurled her axe.


    It spun in the air, shattering a surprised raider so hard that only his bloodied legs remained and then toppled three more, filling the warlord¡¯s ears with the sweet music of their desperate screams. Their agony was short-lived as her legs reduced them to smears.


    The panic that erupted in the hangar cleared a path for them, though Janine occasionally kicked pieces of equipment aside. A worker appeared on the Sky Carrier ramp, dropping an industrial drill as the Wolfkins approached. His cooperation saved his life, and the guardsmen moved into the ship, accompanied by their New Breed and Malformed allies. A brief burst of gunfire announced the end of the enemies hiding inside.


    ¡°Hurry!¡± Janine ordered, melting the crane holding a vat and drenching several hordemen in molten metal. Her nose picked out the major source of trouble from the multitude of scents in the air. Drozna. The bastard was coming, ramming entire buildings, a distant wall of destruction closing in on them, and she wasn¡¯t sure she could take him on.


    With a shrug, Janine slipped the chains from her shoulders and dropped Macarius into the Ice Fang¡¯s paws. She motioned for her soldiers to take cover and headed down the ramp, weapon in each paw, grinning wildly as rows of hordemen tried to charge her down, seeking to retake the precious toy of their leader. And the angel of vengeance stepped to them.


    The Taleteller¡¯s swing sliced through two bodies faster than an eye could follow, and the axe¡¯s pommel was already returning, denting a helmet as a blast of superheated plasma decapitated another fool. Janine burst through the ranks of her enemies, surprised and shocked by her recklessness. She spun, parrying bullets and hacking, her rapid kicks eviscerating anyone in her path. Incompetent rabble. They should have taken her claws when they had the chance. They should have taken her limbs if they had hoped to hold a warlord hostage. She was a wrathful storm, a splinter of death incarnate in this world, and this rabble was her rightful prey!


    Parts of the stone roof collapsed, and the warlord, not bothering to dodge, weathered this impact, biting at the desperate faces trying to escape beneath the rubble. She parted the obstacles as if they were water, never ceasing to kill. Normies and New Breeds stumbled through the smoke, ending up closer than expected; her plasma discharger fired small spheres as bright as the rising sun, and they died. Clad in simple exoskeletons, bondsmen posed no threat. Some of them fainted or dropped their rifles, and Janine accepted these feeble surrenders, ignoring them. New Breeds, Purebloods as they called themselves. These were her primary targets, and she opened their bellies, biting mercilessly through their necks and advancing in a hurricane of blindingly fast cuts.


    It would be easy to descend into savagery now. To refuse accepting surrender and chop off limbs, kick away the resulting ¡®barrels¡¯ to horrify their comrades, and let the cripples bleed out. And Janine wanted it. Spirits forgive her; she wanted more than to kill her enemies; she wanted them to suffer in excruciating agony, to repay every pain and every burn they had inflicted on her precious boy. To raise their cries loud enough for Eled and Predaig to hear in the Great Beyond.


    She stayed her paw, acting like a proud soldier of the Wolf Tribe and not letting herself be Terrific anymore. For Bogdan, Eled, Predaig, and all those who had died would not approve of her shedding her morality for the sake of vindictiveness. She had promised to be herself. Her integrity was worth a thousand times more than the existence of that filth. No more lies, no more pretending to be what she wasn¡¯t. Janine, the dishonored and betrayed warlord, set about keeping her promise to the Spirit of Fury, sacrificing lives in its name.


    Explosions rocking the hangar, failing rubble, and smoke made it impossible for the hordemen to concentrate on her. Thick, dark clouds swirled around her, obscuring her, and thermal scopes went wild, unable to locate a single target in the released heat. But Janine sensed them, and her amber eye was the last the guards saw as the Storyteller¡¯s swings tore them to pieces. And so she murdered them mercilessly and efficiently, wielding her plasma discharger as a club once its power cell was depleted.


    The hordemen weren¡¯t cowards, but neither were they fools. Four times they tried their best to form ranks to bring her low, and four times she scattered them, unleashing a bone-chilling howl that could be heard through the local apocalypse unfolding in the hangar. When one of their officers raised his hand, she held her blade, understanding the order to retreat, even though it was in the unknown language. There was a brief moment of understanding between them, and her laughter accompanied their panicked retreat.


    Most of Terrific¡¯s methods of psychological warfare disgusted Janine. But there was wisdom in them. A cornered rat will bite and scratch to the end. Let them flee and spread exaggerated rumors of former prisoners escaping and stealing from their khan. It was a blow to his authority, and she had no doubt Brood Lord would punish the cowards. But the stories would remain.


    The upper section of the wall exploded into dust and stone, and a steel-clad figure broke through. The newcomer almost landed on his own escaping allies as thrusters flashed on the back of the brown and purple armor and he flew over them, landing with a thud and raising a hand-mounted autocannon.


    Whoever it was, Janine was quicker. She lunged, disguised by the heat, and slashed at the cannon, shattering it and several metal fingers.


    ¡°You!¡± a female voice, thick with accent, boomed, and gray lenses focused on the warlord. ¡°You¡¯ll pay for what you did to Mehmed!¡±


    The thrusters roared again, carrying the woman away from the Taleteller¡¯s swing, and she thrust her own spear, aiming at the sole eye. The blade met the rising axe and faltered, going aside. Janine chased after her opponent, throwing her empty rifle at the helmet with enough force to dent it and gouge out a single lens. Suddenly the thrusters changed direction, and the woman rammed a knee into the warlord¡¯s chest, knocking the air out of her and slamming her spear into the Taleteller. The open jaw grazed the helmet, tearing off a chunk of metal, and claws scraped at the shoulder, twitching in pain as the woman landed a heavy blow on the recently closed wound in her side.


    ¡°I¡¯ll incinerate you for what you did to my little brother!¡± The woman roared, her broken fist pounding against the warlord¡¯s ribs like a jackhammer, extending, landing a blow, and returning to the wrist as she tried to use the thrusters to knock Janine over.


    ¡°Warlord! Step back!¡± Janine obeyed without question, headbutting her opponent and retreating just in time to avoid a shower of molten steel raining down on her.


    Ignacy had used one of the work consoles in the room to operate the machinery and brought a vat above the hordewoman. She walked out of the overheated stream, her helmet crumpled. Her thrusters whined and exploded, but she still tried to raise the spear.


    ¡°I¡¯ll do you in¡­¡± came hissing, ferocious words from her dynamics. ¡°Even if we both die. Nobody messes with my family and lives!¡±


    ¡°Admirable.¡± Janine raised her axe, preparing to end it in one blow. ¡°Sleep well, unknown fighter.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Wait!¡± A man threw himself between her and the prey, stopping them both. He screamed, approaching Janine closer than she¡¯d liked after the hot lake touched his boot. Triangular gears and necklaces of mechanical devices covered his rich brown robe, giving the impression of religious symbols rather than utilitarian tools. ¡°Noncombat! I mean, noncombatant! We! Not fighters. Not a threat. Surrender, yes?¡±


    ¡°What about her?¡± Janine pointed at the woman trying to walk around the man, and more people in brown robes joined in, forming a line between the opponents. The man took a terminal from his belt, pressed several buttons, and the woman¡¯s suit hissed; her generator died, and she stopped, entombed inside her armor.


    ¡°How dare you?!¡± the woman yelled, and Janine¡¯s ears picked up the noise of a fist slamming against something. ¡°She ruined Mehmed! Let me go, you bastard; I¡¯ll kill her! Set me free! You have no right!¡±


    ¡°Niece,¡± the man said and pointed at himself. ¡°Lost a family member. Don''t want again. Won¡¯t bother you. Swear. We sell things. Traders,¡± he said, looking at the axe. ¡°Never harmed your people. Just selling!¡±


    ¡°Humans?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°No! Worth too little. Not our trade. Gear, sell gear. Unimportant.¡± The man gulped, facing his reflection in her amber eye. ¡°Please. Have family. Won¡¯t act against your clan. Have mercy. Please.¡±


    I had a son, too. Janine hesitated. The man wasn¡¯t telling her the whole truth. He could have been one of the leaders of the Gilded Horde, and even if not, these bastards had killed Bogdan. Tortured her soldiers. Wrought ruination and doom to the civilians, showing no mercy.


    What would Bogdan say, looking at you now? Asked a voice in her mind. The voice of the Blessed Mother, stern and calm, sounding so unlike her usual tone. What example will you set for Ignacy, Anissa, or Marco? Are you a monster or a human?


    Human. She would not stoop to the level of these barbarians.


    ¡°The place is about to fall.¡± Janine glanced at the ceiling. ¡°I suggest you escape.¡±


    ¡°We will! We will, oh mighty and honorable khatun.¡± The man bowed. ¡°Never will we forget your mercy or unrivaled beauty.¡±


    ¡°Curses! Iron Lord promised to keep us out of harm¡¯s way!¡± complained a woman with cameras for eyes. She and her comrades fled to the nearest exit, abandoning their trapped niece and confident that her armor would survive the collapse of the hangar.


    Beauty? The sheer inanity of this suggestion stopped Janine in her tracks. Here she was, bleeding from dozens of wounds, bruised, her hide ravaged, the splattered golden blob stuck to the head, hiding one eye, her arms far too long compared to her legs¡­ What was beautiful about any of it?


    ¡°Ready!¡± a warrior shouted from the ship¡¯s entrance.


    A crowd clung to the central ramp, stopped by Ignacy¡¯s raised paw. Her son crouched, listening to the noise of different languages. The warlord lowered her axe, noting no aggression but fear, desperation, and agitation. These people wore workman¡¯s overalls; a dozen or so wore black bodysuits, simple stun batons, and shotguns pressed to their chests. She tightened the grip on the shaft, recognizing the Horde¡¯s jaws on the bodysuits. Muscles to keep the prisoners in line.


    ¡°Alles klar, gib mir eine Minute,¡± Ignacy barked and turned to Janine. ¡°Warlord! Unexpected development. The Merchants¡¯ slaves are asking for help.¡±


    Not our trade. She bared her fangs, frightening the nearest workers. They didn¡¯t sell slaves, but they certainly used them. She half wanted to turn around and go after the bastards, slaughter the slavers down to the last.


    ¡°You understand them?¡± Janine asked instead. Her boy wasn¡¯t stupid. He deliberately generalized the group.


    ¡°Badly. Picked up a few basic words from Soulless One when she helped me translate a manual we had found in the ruins.¡± Ignacy scratched the back of his head, oblivious to the potential danger of the overseers carrying shotguns. ¡°The gist of it, if I understood these two here, is that Rongo and Mairearad are begging us to let everyone escape with us.¡±


    ¡°Overseers too?¡± Janine asked, and Ignacy shrugged. ¡°Haagh¡­¡± She wanted to tell the overseers to get out of her sight, remembering her prayers to the Spirits and how helpless she was. ¡°You know how the saying goes. The more, the merrier.¡± She glanced at a warrior, silently ordering the woman to keep an eye on this colorful group.


    The ramp moved, folding back into the ship¡¯s belly as the engines roared, spilling fire onto the floor and widening the surrounding inferno. Janine stayed on it until the end, watching as the entire wall collapsed, broken by the monstrous swings of bone-covered arms. The body followed, racing towards the ship.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare run, mutant!¡± Drozna yelled, saliva on his fangs evaporating in the surrounding heat, his every step creating rippling waves of destruction across the floor. His simple shirt and trousers caught fire, but he pushed and jumped, sending a sonic boom through the ruined hangar.


    His face changed from rage to surprise as the shield bubbled into existence, shoving the man away, and Janine laughed, flipping him off.


    ¡°Thanks for the ride, sucker,¡± she said loud enough for him to hear.


    The Sky Carrier rose higher into the air, its powerful engines defying the rules of gravity. Drozna let out a pointless roar of frustration and hatred, completely lost in the flames pouring down on him. A single turn of the ship rammed it through the wall. Against Janine¡¯s worries, their transport continued to gain speed and altitude.


    Before the ramp fully closed, she saw numerous people running around the complex and a massive land-train standing beside it. Its caterpillar tracks dragged the machine over the ruined town wall and across the destroyed buildings. Unlike normal trains, the control center of the land train was located atop its middle section, and Janine prepared herself as she watched sixteen huge turrets and a multitude of missile launchers rotate and lock on to the Sky Carrier. Familiar brown-robed figures stepped away from the closing observation windows in the control center as armor plates slid down. A slaver pressed a terminal to his ear, and Janine could¡¯ve sworn the man gave her a polite nod.


    The ramp closed, accompanied by the noise of rubble falling off their ship, and Janine shrugged off her fear, walking down the narrow corridor to check on everyone. Strapped into their harnesses, the rescued slaves sat beside the guardsmen. The muscular man, Janine assumed him to be Rongo, and the female overseer assisted a guardsman in treating the civilian¡¯s wounds. Further down the corridor, Malformed, New Breeds and Wolfkins secured themselves in half-empty cargo compartments.


    Their pilot lay back in his seat, operating the ship based on the information on the displays rather than using the view ports to navigate. Ignacy joined him, dutifully pulling levers at the New Breed¡¯s command and bombarding him with questions about how to fly the Sky Carrier, and the hordeman chuckled, promising to teach the young man if they got out of here alive.


    Janine shook her head and headed for the cargo bay, accompanied by the aggressive hum of working engines. Apart from insects and birds, no living creature was meant to fly, no matter what the teachings of the state said. It was heresy to try. And falling hurt. She could testify to that firsthand.


    The Wolfkins pulled several containers together to form a sort of bed for the unconscious Macarius to rest on. Jaliqai and the knight tended to his wounds, using medicine from a found medical kit, and had already injected him with antibiotics. The sword saint growled, barely audible; every breath he took was a struggle.


    ¡°Will he live?¡± Janine asked Jaliqai.


    ¡°No idea.¡± Shrugged the girl. ¡°I can treat broken bones, cuts, and internal bleeding, but this is beyond my skills.¡± She nodded at the pus oozing from the wounds. ¡°Father¡¯s handiwork. He poisoned him to keep the wounds inflamed and to hinder the immune system, causing the suppuration. Not sure what the point was. Usually he does it to prisoners to keep their minds from escaping in exchange for medicine. I¡¯m surprised he didn¡¯t do it to you.¡±


    ¡°Our bodies are resistant to poisons. Maybe that¡¯s why,¡± Janine said simply. ¡°Thanks, Jaliqai.¡±


    ¡°Haven¡¯t done anything yet!¡±


    ¡°The Sword Saint can¡¯t die,¡± snarled the knight. ¡°If you let Lord Macarius perish, I¡­¡±


    ¡°Pipe down, traitor, or I¡¯ll toss you off the ship,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°I am no traitor! I have fought and bled by your side, damn it. Must you be so stubborn? My name is Thyia Voidrunner.¡± Thyia pressed a paw over her heart and bowed. ¡°I apologize for my outburst, Jaliqai. Stress and worry have undermined my confidence. Warlord. On behalf of House Voidrunner, I thank you¡­¡±


    ¡°As if anyone cares.¡± Janine walked past her, hitting the knight with the blunt side of her axe.


    Fought beside them, as if! Thyia joined them out of necessity; at the first opportunity, she¡¯d sell them out for fame. The Ice Fangs were nothing more than a bunch of glory hounds. The Wolf Tribe should never have considered them kin, and she was an idiot for not trusting the shamans¡¯ warnings and wisdom. Their Normies allies had ten times more nobility than any Ice Fang could ever hope for and were loyal friends and true kin to the Tribe. Bogdan, Melina, Eled, Predaig... How many more will die because of the Ice Fangs¡¯ arrogance? Did their pack still live?


    The ship shook gently, and Janine pushed past Dokholkhu, who sat with his arms wrapped around his strange container. His brothers and sisters scaled the walls on their insectoid legs and rested on the ceiling, silent.


    In the pilot¡¯s cabin, Janine studied unfamiliar letters on the terminal. Try as she might, neither the letters nor the pilot¡¯s input told her anything, but the schematics on the display told her enough. The force shield surrounded their steed that blinked rapidly. Four generators powered it, and two similar symbols were black. The field itself blinked on and off, occasionally letting a shot through.


    ¡°Do we have problems?¡± Janine inquired, looking out of the observation window.


    The soldiers of the Gilded Horde went mad, whipped into action by Drozna¡¯s anger. They climbed on top of buildings, firing rocket launchers and pulse rifles. Bullets ricocheted off the field, and explosions shrouded the Sky Carrier in darkness. The train stopped, its turrets no longer tracking the ship, and Janine thanked the Spirits for this mercy. The exploding factory complex behind them prevented the Horde from bringing in their land vehicles, but occasionally the shield shook from a fired shell.


    ¡°The morons forgot to reconnect the generators to the control panel! Bunch of cretins!¡± Ignacy howled, tore away the panel, and disappeared there, almost up to his waist in wires. ¡°Here!¡± Janine helped him out as the Sky Carrier shook and a new symbol joined the rows of active generators. ¡°What in the Abyss? One? Both are refueled and operational!¡±


    ¡°it¡¯s okay, fine, friend Ignacy,¡± said the pilot, and the cluster of engines on the display blinked. ¡°Our hull is durable enough, and we no longer need landing engines¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you calm me, bastard!¡± Ignacy slammed his paw on the panel. ¡°Two! It should be two! Not one, not one and a half, two!¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, horrible indeed,¡± the pilot agreed, and Janine snickered to herself. ¡°We are gaining speed and should escape before they can pull out the anti-air guns¡­¡±


    The man stopped and looked at the radar, where the green screen showed several missiles approaching from the ground. But one dot was much larger than the others, moving slower, veering around the surrounding ordinance, steadily gaining on the ship. Janine looked up and heard heavy thumps as the dot reached them.


    ¡°Someone just landed on top of us when the shield was overloaded again,¡± Ignacy said.


    ¡°Janine!¡± the familiar synthesized voice cried. ¡°C-Come out! Or I will destroy the engines!¡±


    ¡°Mehmed.¡± Spat Janine. Her amber eye spotted a hatch between the compartments. ¡°Lock the doors. I will remove our freeloader.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere with those injuries!¡± Ignacy grabbed her by the arm.


    It disgusted her, but she experienced a desire to bite him. A certain amount of cordiality was allowed and even encouraged between males and females, especially if the situation involved a family. But in life and death situations, a male had to obey a female, asking nothing. The shamans taught this to the younger generations in the pits, giving many examples of how deviations from these rules led to greater disasters and practical proof that females were naturally smarter and had greater fighting instincts.


    Janine had learned to doubt this theory. Perhaps it was true when food and water were scarce, but behavior had changed over the years. She and Colt often bickered for fun, only showing their severity in public and trying to treat their cubs as gently as possible, rarely clawing. As for the difference in strength, the change was happening, and perhaps if Ignacy got his paw on one of those big metal suits, he would do better than an ordinary female.


    How would Colt handle the situation?


    Rather than punish her son, Janine hugged him, accepting his concern and soothing his worries.


    ¡°I will come back,¡± she promised. ¡°As a warlord, it is my duty to lead my pack to victory. I can¡¯t do that if I¡¯m dead, can I? Trust me, Ignacy, and go fix the generator on our birdy, champ.¡±


    ¡°Will do!¡± Ignacy stood at attention, slightly embarrassed by his words.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about a thing,¡± she grumbled as she climbed the ladder and opened the hatch. Her body quivered with the ancient fear of heights. ¡°Should be over in a moment.¡±

 Chapter 106: What Goes Up...

    Janine climbed onto the outer hull, hearing the clack of the doors closing, and an intense, howling wind greeted the warlord, blowing dust from exploding missiles and smoke into her snout. Explosions danced across the shield like fireworks. She sunk the claws on her feet deep into the hull, facing the mountain of metal that was Mehmed.


    His own claws pierced the hull to keep him steady; the plates on his back opened akin to petals to fully release the engine that had brought him here. Mehmed¡¯s hands spasmed, closing and opening, accompanied by the whirring of the ever-moving gears on his helmet.


    ¡°Off my ship,¡± Janine told him.


    ¡°N-no,¡± Mehmed stuttered, focusing his lenses. ¡°This ship belongs¡­ belonged to my uncle.¡±


    ¡°I stole it fair and square. Mine now.¡±


    ¡°Your people can go. They can even take the ship. I-I killed a lot of people before and was, no... is, a vile man, but now I understand the gravity of what I have done.¡± He raised an arm, examining his twitching fingers, his voice cracking as the dynamics struggled to produce desperation. ¡°Locked in this tomb, feeling nothing, being turned on and off¡­ Like a clock! And I am not undead! I live! I don¡¯t know how, but I am alive! You did it to me! It is because of you that the Sky has recreated me in this form! You took everything from me, but I will not; I cannot do the same to you!¡±


    ¡°Because you are too weak,¡± Janine teased him, hoping to bait him into making an opening.


    ¡°L-laugh all you want. I am strong now. Gifted with this unholy power, I can unmake you. And I will, and I will wear your skin as a cloak, mark my word. But turn you into me? No, never. It is not just. It¡¯s beyond cruelty!¡± He clutched his head. ¡°Everyone should feel something, should be someone. Not like this. Janine. Let me kill you, and I swear to let the rest go. Only your destruction can bring me s-s-succor and salvation. P-please. D-die.¡±


    ¡°Never. I have people to live for.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Mehmed¡­ Who are you, really?¡±


    ¡°Retribution incarnate!¡± roared the hulking suit, advancing on her. ¡°I will rend the flesh from your bones!¡±


    Mehmed¡¯s engine spewed flames, carrying him forward as he dragged his lower left arm across the hull, collecting debris and hurling it at her eye. Janine craned her head aside, patiently waiting for his upward swing to almost scrape her stomach, and sidestepped the blow, bringing the Taleteller down on the exposed joint of his arm.


    Forged in ancient times, the unnaturally sharp edge cut through the thinner defensive scute and continued on, slicing through cables and machinery, taking his arm away cleanly at the wrist. She stopped the axe¡¯s momentum, sparing the ship from its attack, and leaned back, unable to avoid an elbow that forced her back.


    ¡°Big fucking deal,¡± Mehmed said, stopping his flight and hopping sideways at Janine.


    His torso spun, his left upper arm scraping the edge of the Taleteller as his shortened arm crashed into her ribs, bleeding sparks. He rammed the crippled edge into her body, forcing a groan of pain from her as the steel carved through her hide, nearing her ribs, and a surge of electricity followed, shaking her repeatedly and cauterizing the wound.


    Trusting her instincts, Janine refused to retreat, wary of the gaping emptiness behind her. She had her fill of falling and pushed back against Mehmed as the metal man strained his legs and increased the output of his engine, intending to carry them both off the ship. His right arms struck, and the Taleteller¡¯s butt landed on them, deflecting the blows. His helmet almost closed to her head, and Janine thought about taking a chance and jumping aside as her eyes focused on the surrounding chaos.


    Missiles. Several of them were approaching.


    ¡°Ignacy! Shield down, two seconds!¡± Janine laughed, calculating the speed and trajectory of the incoming projectiles, and her opponents grunted, enraged at the mockery.


    She briefly assumed that her son didn¡¯t hear her, but then the bubble around the Sky Carrier disappeared, inviting the missiles, and several of them streaked past the fighters, with one exploding against Mehmed¡¯s back with such force that it almost knocked them both to the edge. He swayed, surprised at the lack of support from his ruined engine, and Janine pushed him back.


    They came up against each other, claws facing the axe, his legs automatically biting into the hull. The mantle of billowing flame spread sideways from Mehmed¡¯s back, forming another trail of smoke, and several plates broke and flew away as his suit tried to close the breach.


    The weapons collided, and Janine narrowed her eyes, searching for any sign of instability or flaw. No luck. Mehmed met her undaunted, slicing and blocking, oblivious to the inferno at his back. Janine cursed under her breath and dove to the side, breaking the stalemate. The ship¡¯s speed and wind pressure caught up with the warlord, sending her spinning towards the main engines. She had to use her free arm to stop herself. But the gambit paid off. Her back was no longer facing the empty sky.


    She stood up, coughing from the throbbing pain in her side. Weary. She had lost too much blood. The exhaustion caught up with her. Janine noticed how deep Mehmed¡¯s feet were in the hull, and an idea formed in her mind.


    The Taleteller struck, shearing away a slice of metal from just as Mehmed charged toward her, beating up huge chunks from the hull. She faced him halfway, denying him the chance to reach his maximum speed. Caught in the blinding exchange of thrusts and cuts, she landed a strike against his lower arm, but the smooth surface of his limb turned the brunt of her blow aside.


    ¡°I am no longer bound by the limitations of a h-human body,¡± Mehmed half-whimpered, half-laughed, and his intact lower arm curled back at the joint, completely avoiding the second blow as his remaining arms hammered down. Janine frowned, feeling a bruise growing on her shoulder as she failed to evade the blow.


    Mehmed¡¯s forearms rotated, turning his upper arms into drills, and he caught her incoming blow on one spinning arm. In a blast of sparks, he jerked her axe up, exposing her body. Eager to deliver the killing blow, the last drill went in and missed its mark as Janine chose not to fight in their previous stalemate and smashed the Taleteller¡¯s pommel into his helmet, shattering two of his lenses.


    His lower arm punched, shattering her nose, and Janine retreated, wildly swinging the axe once before herself, breaking more of the hull. Her breathing quickened; she let her tongue hang loose and opened her eye wide.


    From anticipation. So simple to mistake for fear.


    ¡°Y-you are br-breaking do-down!¡± Mehmed laughed, pummeling Janine.


    His blows flowed in and out in perfect synchronicity and yet at irregular intervals, perfectly preventing even a minuscule joint¡¯s exposure. With some insane prediction and reaction, Mehmed¡¯s forearms began spinning a moment before every counterattack, deflecting each cut and rewarding Janine¡¯s efforts with incoming bone-crushing blows. Janine took another step back, fighting for every breath and feeling the weight of her weapon striking against the metal surface as Mehmed swatted it aside.


    Bruises covered her torso, long welts spread on her arms, starting at her knuckles where his drills grazed her hide. On one shoulder, her skin fluttered wide where his claws had hooked it. But best of all, she had him right where she needed him.


    ¡°Y-yes, t-that¡¯s right, Janine,¡± Mehmed said. ¡°Into the fire we p-plunge, together. There the two will become one, and so I could be reborn like a p-phoenix by the Sky¡­¡±


    There was more to being a warlord than just being a fighter. Some strong individuals never fully understood this until it was too late for them. When a warlord fought, she paid attention to every detail, coordinating the assault of her pack, acting like a skilled smith, shaping even unwinnable battles into inevitable triumphs. Traps, situational awareness, feints, and teamwork¡ªeverything that could be used was used. This was the lesson Janine was about to teach Mehmed.


    He took a step, and Janine pounced on him. Mehmed wasn¡¯t a terrible fighter, but he had unwittingly hindered his skills by laser focusing on her. And that had cost him victory, for his leg kicked against the torn hull plate and, unable to find a foothold, slipped away from the ship. Desperately, the metal giant grabbed the ship with his lower arm and threw a clumsy punch, trying to drive her away.


    Janine stepped into his range, evading this pathetic attempt, and buried her axe in his knee joint, enjoying the sweet music of his fiber muscles tearing. Another swing tore through an arm, exposing the chest. Wielding the Taleteller in one paw, Janine grabbed Mehmed into a hold and mercilessly began slashing. At close range, the hordeman¡¯s own long arm prevented him from swatting her aside; his occasional elbows no longer had the precision and confidence they once had, and Janine unleashed her precious hoarded fury, switching from defensive to offensive.


    The first swing split his helmet in two, and sparks set squirting oil aflame. Mehmed thrashed; his arms closed around her torso as he tried to roll off the edge alongside her, and she heaved his form back onto the middle of their ship, not bothering to break the hold. Her next slash sliced away his arm at the shoulder, and it flew backward, drumming once against the engines. More and more cuts rained down on the metal man, tearing deep gashes in his breastplate. Her leg stomped on his remaining foot, damaging it.


    ¡°You wanted me? Here I am. Come out.¡± She flexed his muscles, delivering a powerful cut to the hatch in his chest, twisting the blade as it pierced the metal.


    Pure horror looked at her through a single camera inside. There was no human body, no monstrously twisted Malformed, but a diabolical amalgamation of human brain encased in an armored casing and soulless devices operating the combat suit. Artificial hands held the jar in which Mehmed¡¯s brain floated in some unknown, malignant fluid. Plugs and wires entered through the top of the coffin and into the frontal lobe, impaling the poor man.


    ¡°D-delive-er-r-rance¡­¡± came from the dynamics, stopping the fatal blow.


    She had never seen anything like this in her entire life, dismissing the Blessed Mother¡¯s fear of doctors and the Crippled¡¯s stubborn insistence on preserving the sanctity of their bodies. What was there to be scared of, a steel limb or a cold artificial eye gleaming in the socket? ¡­let the victims either die or live a hellish existence. The progenitor¡¯s words resounded in her mind. How right she was. There was a certain limit where a simple replacement would turn existence into torture, scarring a soul forever.


    At the thought of the Blessed Mother, a fresh jolt of energy touched her body. Janine¡¯s muscles partially reknitted, nay, not just healing but growing tougher, regaining elasticity. The trickles of blood stopped; a wafer-thin membrane grew over the wounds. Along with the cherished and so annoyingly irritating itch, a rush of adrenaline cleared her mind of exhaustion as her body used its reserves to adapt to the change. A rich reward from her power, indeed. The feeling was pleasant but unsettling.


    Twice she had received the reward when she had thought herself standing at the peak. Perhaps the Spirit of Rage was toying with her? But no, she was sane; not a hint of madness poisoned her thoughts, nor did she feel excessive anger.


    Her paw closed around Mehmed¡¯s brain jar, ripping it out and silencing his pleading cries. The suit went limp, and Janine instinctively kicked it off the ship when she heard a faint beep. The empty suit splattered on the inside of the force sphere and soon exploded in a massive fireball as the warlord headed back, carrying her prisoner along. Till Ingo would want to know what had happened to Mehmed and how to replicate it. Pity about the armor.


    ¡°What in the Below was going on up there?!¡± Dokholkhu met Janine below. ¡°Why are you all torn up, khan? And what is this thing¡­¡±


    ¡°Mehmed.¡± She called a warrior to take her prisoner.


    ¡°Mehmed?¡± Dokholkhu stumped.


    ¡°That¡¯s impossible,¡± Jaliqai said, looking at the brain floating inside the container.


    ¡°Why?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°He saved us!¡±


    ¡°Helped!¡± Jaliqai corrected her brother. ¡°We¡¯ve seen Mehmed. Drank together, played bones¡­ This isn¡¯t him.¡± She pressed a fist to her lips as the frantically moving camera stopped opposite her face. ¡°He was a human, a normal human. We heard he died in a battle. It can¡¯t be him. No way.¡±


    Robbed of his body, not once but twice, Mehmed was stuck in a situation where he could think and see but no longer could move or feel¡­ Please, Spirits, let me never experience this. And if possible, have mercy on this lost soul. Punish him for his transgressions in the afterlife, but give him a happier reincarnation. She left, saying nothing to the cubs. There were no words.


    ¡°How badly was our birdie hit?¡± Janine inquired, giving Ignacy a thumb up as he tinkered with the wires.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Perfect, most glorious khan!¡± Beamed the pilot. ¡°The damage is minimal; the Sky Carrier can take much more than that. There are no pursuits on the radar, and we have reached top speed. Give me two hours tops, and I shall deliver you to your city¡­¡±


    ¡°City?¡± Janine¡¯s ears perked up as the realization of potential danger hit her. ¡°Does this thing have¡­¡±


    ¡°It has a broadcasting system.¡± Ignacy reassured her, pointing to the panel. ¡°I inputted your personal IDs, and since we are in the Reclaimers¡¯ aerospace and are still in one piece, it¡¯s safe to say that they are working just¡­¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, you are going with me,¡± Janine said, calling another male to watch over the pilot and forcibly dragging Ignacy into the corridor between the compartments.


    ¡°Is everything fine, warlord¡­¡± Thyia began asking.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Janine closed the door in her face and seated Ignacy, checking his injuries.


    ¡°There really is no need,¡± Ignacy tried to argue.


    ¡°What, a mother can¡¯t check on her son¡¯s well-being? Relax, I licked you and Bogdan clean when you were¡­¡± She stopped, dropping the painful subject. He let her work in peace, and after she had bandaged his cuts, she grumbled. ¡°Well¡­ You can still have cubs.¡±


    ¡°Or take some in,¡± Ignacy said.


    ¡°Take in?¡± Janine tensed. ¡°Why do you need to take in cubs? You are healthy; she is healthy. Are you two fighting or¡­ She is afraid of lifegiving. Such cowardice¡­¡± She stopped, confused. Elzada had a cub. Why would she be afraid? Then she sighed, letting it go. ¡°I understand. But Ignacy, the tribe won¡¯t understand. The shame of raising orphans is real in the tribe. She may end up ostracized, ridiculed, and mistrusted. The traditions are clear, and the joy of having your own cubs is unrivaled!¡±


    ¡°Mom, I don¡¯t care,¡± Ignacy said plainly. ¡°If it is not officially forbidden, then it is allowed. Elzada and I have talked about it at length. What do we care about the glances of others? If everything works out and we survive, we will have cubs, our own or otherwise. End of story.¡±


    Janine stopped the urge to snarl. The Crippled, the Branded, orphans, motherless curs¡­ None of them had done anything wrong. Yet there were unspoken rules. Terrific took Janine in her own tent, but she never went so far as to adopt her. It was an insult to the Spirits. Unless a Wolfkin suffered from infertility, she had no right to adopt cubs. A new life had to be born, otherwise there could be no renewal, no progress, no future. The shamans encouraged copulation in the tribe, eagerly sharing advice and often doting over the first-time mothers.


    At the same time, Janine partially understood Elzada. A first lifegiving was always horrible. A mixture of excruciating pain and the terrible realization that the life you were carrying had been born dead. And then postpartum depression kicked in, draining the last shreds of will to live and filling a Wolfkin with dread of another lifegiving. The girl had a living son from her first litter, a feat worthy of a warlord, but the experience had probably shaken her more than any grenade. At least the concussion wasn¡¯t permanent. Janine knew from personal experience how it could cripple a person. If it hadn¡¯t been for her friends and her dear soulmate, she really could¡¯ve done something stupid back then.


    Could it be the reason? Perhaps Elzada lacked comrades and friends to support her through the darkest time? Would it be wise for her to talk about lifegivings with the woman, or would it be a betrayal of the trust Ignacy had shown her? Better consult Martyshkina before acting.


    If Elzada or Martyshkina are still alive, that is. You don¡¯t even know if your daughters or Marco are alive or not. You know nothing. Stop stressing pointlessly.


    Janine nodded and sealed her mouth. Who knew, maybe it was a sign from above that another change was needed. Regardless, to her cubs were cubs, no matter the womb that birthed them.


    ¡°Ignacy,¡± she said, startled. ¡°About Bogdan. He was an excellent soldier, a loving father, and a beautiful son. What happened to him is my fault and mine alone. You have every right¡­¡±


    ¡°Mom.¡± This time it was Ignacy who hugged her, and Janine growled, holding back a slap. He was a cub no longer! Even familiarity had its limits! Ignacy leaned against the wall, faking a smile. The corners of his lips were down. ¡°I do not hate you. And don¡¯t you dare think Bogdan would ever hate you. It¡­¡± He swallowed. ¡°You made the right choice.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Janine lied and blinked, remembering the important tidbit. ¡°Wait. How in the Abyss¡¯ accursed asshole do you know my personal ID codes? I never gave them to anyone!¡±


    ¡°I¡­ may have just remembered them from the time Chak and I worked on your armor¡­¡± Ignacy smiled nervously, trying his best to merge into the wall at the sight of released claws.


    ¡°Ignacy,¡± Janine said slowly. She closed in, gently biting him to blood on his neck. ¡°This wasn¡¯t your job. There are rules and regulations for a reason. Imagine the damage done if the Gilded Horde tortured the codes out of you. Son, I try to accept¡­ your strange obsession with mechanical things, but everything has limits, and your recklessness makes it harder for me. Never again take or copy anything from my equipment or private information without my permission.¡± Her claw marked Ignacy¡¯s nose. ¡°Congratulations on your quick thinking and initiative, Ignacy. Once we get back, I¡¯ll send a report and petition the command to award you a medal.¡±


    A crimson light flashed above them, drowning Ignacy¡¯s reply in loud warning sirens. Both doors slid aside, revealing her worried soldier.


    ¡°Incoming missile!¡± The pilot shouted, and Janine cursed, grabbing the man¡¯s seat.


    She saw it¡ªa bright spark rising in the air from the forest ahead. Unlike the Horde¡¯s crude anti-aircraft weapons, this was a missile fired from a dedicated SAM launcher. It won¡¯t miss. An icy shiver ran down Janine¡¯s spine as the missile locked onto them.


    ¡°But¡­ we are transmitting the ID of a warlord,¡± Ignacy stuttered. ¡°We crossed the chasm. Who would dare¡­ Has the Horde already swarmed this area?¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s not a question of daring, but of idiocy,¡± Janine said. ¡°Ice Fangs. They can¡¯t identify us because the idiots blocked all communication with us beforehand!¡± Janine turned to the passenger compartment. She should have thought of this sooner, damn it! ¡°Thyia! Get your traitorous ass over here and enter an Ice Fang ID! You!¡± she addressed the pilot. ¡°Reduce speed and start lowering the ship.¡±


    ¡°But the missile¡­¡±


    ¡°Will hit us either way! I don¡¯t want to see us splattering against the ground, do you? Everyone, brace yourselves and prepare for impact!¡±


    The Reclamation Army¡¯s missiles were nothing like the pathetic excuses for explosives used by the Gilded Horde. While the state had never had much in terms of an airforce, apart from Stormfiend, its soldiers encountered a variety of combat robots controlled by half-broken and insane Old World AIs. Malfunctioning and shambling messes though they may have been, it was hard to underestimate the sheer superiority of their energy shields, and when these machines took to the skies, the state had to retreat.


    To combat this, Commander Outsider personally oversaw the introduction of the newest vehicles, carrying some of the best SAMs into battle. Designed to explode on contact with a shield, the missile propelled a stream of superheated destruction upwards in a straight line, rather than scattering evenly across the shield. The deadly contents of the missiles literally burned their way through the shield, damaging everything behind it and often hollowing out entire robotic frames.


    And it was this that now crashed against the Sky Carrier. Its reserves depleted by the Horde¡¯s assault, the shield did not last even a moment. The pilot threw the vehicle to the left, desperately seeking to escape the small, bright streak heading for the cabin. Rather than spearing through the ship, the chemical beam merely melted away the ornate decoration and licked at the side, disappearing part of the hull in a hiss of steam and eventually reaching the engine clusters, rendering most of them inoperable.


    Only the Spirits¡¯ grace and the pilot¡¯s skill had saved the hull from complete collapse, but the Wolfkins in the compartments behind leapt frantically from their seats and pushed their allies away from the fractured wall into a relatively safe cargo bay.


    Two more missiles took to the sky, and Janine placed a paw on Ignacy¡¯s shoulder. She did everything she could. She had no regrets about trying to escape. They had deprived the Horde of some soldiers, removed Mehmed, and stolen what she hoped was a crucial aircraft. When the flames engulf them, Janine will be on the other side begging Bogdan for forgiveness, but she refused to wallow in misery.


    Thyia¡¯s fingers quickly punched a series of numbers into the terminal, and they breathed a sigh of relief as the missiles veered off course and exploded safely behind the ship. At least the Order¡¯s betrayal was not absolute. The Sky Carrier descended, mowing down the tops of the trees and finally plowing its nose into the ground, dragging itself through the dense forest.


    The pilot screamed and raised his hands in a desperate attempt to save himself as the viewport shattered and a splintered tree trunk broke inside. Janine used her own forearm to shield the deserter and elbowed Ignacy away from another flying branch. Her son gasped weakly, clutching his stomach where a shard of wood had pierced his skin. Ignoring her own safety, Janine plugged the broken window with the flat of her axe and tried to keep her footing as their poor Sky Carrier carved a path of destruction across the ground.


    It ended as suddenly as it had begun. The trees around them were still falling, and the engines were still spitting air and sparks as Janine sprang into action, barking orders and organizing the evacuation. The brutal landing jammed the ramps, but Jaliqai simply broke off part of the fuselage, widening the gap with the help of her brother.


    And nearly died for her efforts. Outside, figures in black and white power armor took aim at the ship, surrounding it completely. The Reclaimers¡¯ curiosity about the ID codes and Janine¡¯s loud growl saved the lives of the Malformed.


    Wolfkins, both of the Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fangs, surrounded the fallen aircraft.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± cried a familiar voice as Anissa stepped forward and removed her helmet. The amber eye beamed with joy at the sight of Ignacy and Janine, and even her crimson lens lit up. ¡°The pack is¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord?!¡± Janine roared, backhanding her daughter to the ground. ¡°Warlord? I ordered you to lead the pack; why don¡¯t you wear a proper title?¡± She stepped on Anissa¡¯s chest. ¡°I claim dominion over the pack. Do you submit?¡±


    ¡°It really is you.¡± Anissa smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, baring her neck in submission. ¡°Welcome back, Ignacy.¡±


    ¡°Hi there, sis,¡± Ignacy said weakly, coughing blood. ¡°Missed you.¡±


    ¡°Me too, little bro.¡± The wolf hag wriggled out from under the boot and scooped Ignacy into her arms, calling for medics. ¡°Don¡¯t talk, take a nap or something. Everything¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°Warlord. The pack is yours.¡± Impatient One joined them and knelt. Janine was proud of her daughter¡¯s even voice. No hint of familiarity. Never dropped her guard. A true shaman.


    ¡°Warlord Janine!¡± An Ice Fang with the markings of a knight captain bowed courteously. ¡°Are these hordemen your captives? Dear kin, we welcome your return and will assist the wounded with your permission...¡±


    A slash at his helmet stopped the man and prevented his paws from touching Ignacy. Janine wanted nothing more than to strike the fool with full force, to send the bastard through the trees and hear his bones crack. But they were at war, and every soldier mattered. She held back her wrath, merely scratching at the man¡¯s equipment and patting her daughter on the shoulder.


    ¡°Never dare to touch my soldiers, Ice Fang. And if you dare to call me or any Wolfkin as kin, I will slaughter you. These hordemen are our allies and will be treated as such.¡± Janine turned her back on him.


    ¡°I honestly thought you were going to enslave us or kill us, khan,¡± remarked the female raider, wiping the sweat from her brow.


    ¡°Drop the khan¡¯s title. Warlord Janine.¡± She slapped her chest. ¡°I try to be as honest as possible. Wolf Hag Anissa. Assign a scout to look after the wounded. Janine Pack!¡± She called her soldiers. ¡°As of today, the Ice Fangs are only citizens. Show comradeship as you see fit, but never forget the unprovoked treachery that caused our grievous losses. The shamans were right. I was wrong! Never trust a white-furred. Only sorrow and betrayal await on this path.¡± She faced the knight-captain. The man gestured for his troops to keep their quiet, awaiting insults or threats. ¡°Traitors. We have a badly wounded sword saint on board. Macarius Voidrunner is his name.¡± The knight-captain clenched his fist, nodded his thanks and pulled back the side of his dark cloak, ordering the medics to go inside. ¡°We suspect he was poisoned,¡± Janine said against her will. It infuriated her to have to help the cold-blooded bastards in any way, but it was the right thing to do. ¡°Take utmost care. Lead to your base. Do you have medics from the ranks of Normies there?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a base, Warlord,¡± the Ice Fang replied calmly. ¡°More like a mobile HQ. And if you just allow our own medics to¡­¡±


    ¡°They may treat the guardsmen and the escaped civilians. Even the Hordemen, if they are foolish enough to trust you. But stay away from my tribe for now and forever, traitor.¡± Janine bared her fangs.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Soulless One approached and lowered to a knee. ¡°I wasn¡¯t there by your side. I have failed my duty as your bodyguard and await your punishment.¡±


    ¡°Did you save any civilians in the town?¡± Janine pressed the Taleteller¡¯s edge to the woman¡¯s neck, and the shaman nodded, bleeding her skin. ¡°Then I have nothing but praise for your exemplary service.¡± She dropped her weapon and embraced the surprised Anissa, Soulless One and Impatient One, trying her best to squash Ignacy. ¡°Any mistakes you thought you had made against me are forgiven. Praise the spirits, we live! Now let¡¯s avenge our fallen and make our enemies rue our salvation. Soulless One! The former slaves speak in a dead language, attend them¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a dead language if they speak it!¡± Ignacy said through coughing.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Janine let them go and raised her paw. ¡°Fair point. You¡¯re right.¡±


    She sank her claws under the metal lump on her head and, ignoring the knight-captain¡¯s plea, ripped it off, hearing the crack of her own skin as it was torn away. She blinked through the blood, seeing the world with both eyes, and sniffed, inhaling and taking in unfamiliar scents. Her head pulsated; the pain spread, rippling around her body in waves, but it was a familiar pain, a sign that she was alive. And on the ground.


    She crumbled the bloodied gold in her paw and joined her soldiers, obeying Anissa¡¯s orders and helping with the evacuation. She wasn¡¯t well, and her daughter wisely took charge, kicking her mother against a cut on her leg and snapping at her to sit and eat while they worked. Such a display of determination filled Janine¡¯s heart with newfound pride for her gentle princess.


    ¡°The pack was in excellent paws, Nissi,¡± she said quietly, munching on rations.


    ¡°Of course it was, Mom. I was in charge.¡± Anissa grinned, glancing worriedly at her brother. ¡°Bogdan¡­¡±


    ¡°Gone. My guilt. Next time take my title, Wolf Hag.¡±


    ¡°Would it kill you to be Mom a little longer, Warlord?¡± Anissa lowered her voice.


    ¡°After the war. An entire week. No less, maybe more, and screw what the shamans say. So you better survive and win.¡±


    ¡°Promise?¡±


    ¡°I swear.¡±


    ¡°Then I expect the same from you, Warlord.¡±


    They fell silent as an Ice Fang medic approached. Green crests adorned the sides of the woman¡¯s field armor, and on her chest was the emblem of a dark blade. She wore a pistol and a dagger on her belt, in obvious violation of international treaties. A medical patch covered part of her chin.


    ¡°Your injuries.¡± The Ice Fang didn¡¯t blink as an arc of dust flew up in the wake of a warning swipe at the ground. ¡°Thanks for the need to clean them, jerk. It wasn¡¯t a request, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°And I wasn¡¯t joking,¡± Janine told her. ¡°Get lost.¡±


    The field medic rubbed her nose with a gloved paw, frowning. ¡°Listen, I argued about the bullshit ideas of my Sword Saint. And I am ready to tell Sword Saint First to his face that he is an asshole for implementing this plan!¡± She raised her voice when the knight-captain looked at her. ¡°But I had nothing to do¡­¡±


    ¡°Lies,¡± Anissa growled.


    ¡°A discreet call to explain the situation. A refusal to obey the clearly illegal order. Was the Blessed Mother¡¯s command unheeded?¡± Janine pointed at the pistol. ¡°Wise. The Horde shows no mercy to its prisoners.¡±


    ¡°Thank¡­¡±


    ¡°Would you use it to murder civilians if your Sword Saint ordered it?¡±


    ¡°No, never,¡± the medic growled. ¡°I¡¯d sooner shoot him.¡±


    ¡°Liar.¡± Anissa spat.


    ¡°I too have lost friends and comrades, you know!¡± The medic stomped. ¡°You saved our own and helped them escape. That is no way to treat a traitor. None of us wish to harm any of you. You are respected, considered family. I think of you as kin.¡± She stepped closer. ¡°I am not your enemy, and I swore an oath¡­¡±


    ¡°I warned you to get lost,¡± Janine said calmly and got to her feet. She backhanded the woman, landing on her armor to soften the blow, and the medic flew into the captain¡¯s arms.


    ¡°Warlord, that wasn¡¯t necessary,¡± he said.


    ¡°Agreed, you should have respected our wishes for once. Hold her steady if you are unable to command your unit.¡±


    The evacuation took seven minutes to complete, and the group hurried to retreat. They had a war to win. The Hode had murdered Bogdan and violated the land in such a way that it was impossible for Janine to heal it. But healing was the prerogative of others, worthier people. Retribution, meanwhile, was her task.

 Chapter 107: The Return, Part 1

    ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± Janine asked, hogging ration after ration like a famine victim.


    Everything itched. Her fur stirred without a breeze, wounds tried to close, stomach juices bubbled, digesting calories instantly and demanding more, as if her body were a separate sentient creature aware and trying to take advantage of safety. She tried her best to brush off these sensations, but the cold sent shivers down her body, shattering her feeble attempts at a dignified appearance.


    Wolfkins and Ice Fangs flanked the survivors, escorting them safely to the temporary camp. The Voidrunner knight-captain wisely shut down any attempt at an apology, understanding the brewing enmity between the groups, and spoke through action, ordering his knights to offer their tabards and cloaks to the former prisoners, and Janine accepted, wrapping herself in a black cloak. Her soldiers followed suit. The field medics worked overtime on the wounded, trying to stabilize the sword saint¡¯s condition, and Thyia informed her superior of the details of their escape.


    Even here, shortly after the battle, the Ice Boys combat armor looked pristine; their squires had polished them, and engineers had kept them well-maintained. Gore and dirt mixed with leaves covered the Wolfkins, helping them to blend into their surroundings, and the stench emanating from them perfectly mimicked rotting bodies. Cuts and dents adorned their steel like medals.


    A morning mist descended upon the forest, bringing with it an accursed chilly wind and a pleasant rain. Janine¡¯s eyes twitched as the water drummed at the wound on her head, but she welcomed the fact that it helped hide her occasional tears. Who was she crying for? Was it for her betrayal of Bogdan? Perhaps the broken bonds between the two groups, the trapped civilians, the fallen soldiers, or just a natural reaction of her tortured body? Whatever the source, she marched on. She couldn¡¯t be broken. Not when people were in danger.


    ¡°Rescuing the civilians and bleeding the Horde wherever we can, ma¡¯am!¡± Anissa answered, nodding lightly to Ignacy. A warrior closed in, offering him a shoulder at her tap.


    ¡°Incomplete,¡± Janine replied, waving Impatient One away. ¡°Stand guard over the injured civilian!¡±


    A warlord was a pillar! Immovable, untouchable, always knowing what to do and how to act. She will not let her wounds be licked!


    ¡°The Horde is trying to cross the chasm in the northwest and is constructing new bridges,¡± said the knight-captain. ¡°Thanks to the warning of your soldiers, we toppled our own bridge to deny them passage, and our troops bombarded them. A few hours ago, we conceded the artillery duel. On the orders of Warlord Dragena, the Provincial Army and our forces are beginning their retreat to Houstad to conserve manpower. No one has seen the monster that felled the noble Leonidas and mutilated the fabled Macarius, but a bastion on the Wall to the north disappeared. Flattened with a single blow.¡±


    Not a word about my sisters, huh? At least you decided to listen now. Janine swallowed the bile, tracking a scurrying stag. Insults won¡¯t help. Melina. You were right. I was too soft. Forgive me. ¡°What about the southwest?¡±


    ¡°Citizens fleeing Quatindor have taken refuge in the hills, and the militia are doing their best to help them across the bridge and through the underground tunnels,¡± Anissa informed.


    ¡°Militia?¡± Janine growled. ¡°You left our people unattended?¡±


    ¡°Nothing of the sort,¡± the wolf hag replied. ¡°Warlords Ashbringer and Onyxia¡¯s packs have arrived in full force, ready to sally forth and ravage the Horde¡¯s flank if they cross to the north sooner than expected. We rotate regulars and packs evenly in the south. Impatient One claimed a skull of their champion yesterday!¡± Anissa said proudly, and the shaman slapped a paw over a piece of bone covering her armored leg. ¡°The Horde is not attacking strongly there; they do not seem to be too interested in that direction.¡±


    ¡°They know this is a trap,¡± Janine said. Dragena had her suspicions about a potential traitor in their ranks. Could the two events be connected? No, it made no sense. They formed their plan in the field, which meant that the enemy leader wasn¡¯t stupid enough to fall into such a simple trap.


    All the better for the civilians. She took the setback in stride.


    ¡°Our forces are in a stalemate there; Packs Kalaisa, Eled, and Onyxia¡¯s wolf hags are wreaking havoc over the bridge today.¡±


    ¡°Kalaisa is acting strangely. There are no dominations in her pack. Zero,¡± Soulless One said, more thoughtful than complaining, staying in Janine¡¯s shadow. ¡°They fight without their former ferocity, planting mines, baiting assaults, calling artillery strikes, and tearing apart the survivors. A wolf hag from the former Pack Eled challenged Kalaisa, wishing to find atonement in a glorious last charge. The girl simply held the smaller woman down until she submitted, rather than rending her to near death, as usual. The two packs later sneaked into a Horde camp and blew it up. She incorporated Ygrite and Onyxia¡¯s technique into her own style.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Janine grinned. ¡°Good for her for finding her own way. It¡¯s a shame it took her so long, but let¡¯s be glad our sister stands on equal footing with us.¡±


    ¡°The Provincial Army is setting up preparations for their stand against the Gilded Horde on the road to Houstad to give us and the civilians time to reach the city unopposed,¡± the Voidrunner said uncomfortably. ¡°Their commander and Warlord Dragena ordered us to stay away.¡±


    ¡°They will be slaughtered,¡± Soulless One stated.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Janine nodded, hearing the distant thudding and screaming of projectiles through the air. Shells and rockets flew overhead, fired from the west. ¡°And so do we when we fight in the open field. Their sacrifices will not be forgotten or denigrated. From this day forward, the Provincial Army is our kin in spirit and blood.¡±


    ¡°Warlord, such a decision is not for you to make¡­¡± Impatient One began, and the elder shaman placed a paw on her shoulder.


    ¡°The Spirits speak through her, sister. Let it be.¡±


    ¡°I am no saint!¡± Janine insisted.


    ¡°We agree on that, Warlord,¡± the knight-captain said. He tilted his head, heard a rumble, and took a ration from his belt. ¡°If I may be so bold¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± She didn¡¯t bother arguing, snatching it from his paw.


    The field rations of the Ice Fang Order were¡­ magnificent. There was no better way to describe them. Introduced to the ranks after the rediscovery of the Old World¡¯s almost miraculous methods of food preservation, the rations had the appearance of a tasty brown bar in a special wrapping that could not only preserve food and smell for hundreds of years but also retain heat, creating the perfect illusion of eating a freshly prepared meal.


    And what a meal it was! A steak containing vitamins to aid digestion and reinforce the immune system, topped with a thin layer of fish paste and seasoned with spices. It invigorated her body and soul; the taste of meat from the Order¡¯s selectively bred and genetically enhanced animal stock brought her heavenly bliss. It seemed impossible that the ration bar, barely the size of her finger phalanx, could sustain an Ice Fang for days, but her stomach assured her otherwise. Janine obliged her stomach and gulped more of the divine feast.


    ¡°Anything else?¡± she asked, licking her fingers.


    ¡°The Ice Fangs kept denying us access to their communication systems and databases, claiming the information stored there was classified.¡± Anissa¡¯s claws tapped together. ¡°They could see through our lenses, but we lacked this privilege.¡±


    ¡°I apologize for that decision,¡± the Voidrunner scowled. ¡°I fully understand and share the frustration, but Sword Saint First¡­¡±


    ¡°Not here, I take it,¡± Janine sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll solve it.¡±


    ¡°No need!¡± Her daughter smiled. ¡°Warlord Martyshkina spoke several heated words to Sword Saint Bertruda, and we were given full access.¡±


    ¡°First has a lot to answer for.¡± Impatient One closed a fist.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Sword Saint First,¡± the Voidrunner corrected her. ¡°Please understand, our communication systems¡­¡±


    ¡°Not of interest,¡± Soulless One interrupted him. ¡°You don¡¯t know who he¡¯s hiding. A curse on all your Sword Saints. Shame, as if! How dare you treat a kin that way!¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Thyia asked, speaking for the first time since their journey began. The woman dressed in ill-fitting clothes donated by the medics. ¡°Whom is First hiding?¡±


    ¡°Something we should know?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Not sure,¡± her friend replied. ¡°Shamans¡¯ area. It concerns the sensitive subject of the Order. Let the Blessed Mother judge.¡±


    ¡°I insist on elaborating,¡± asked the knight-captain. ¡°If Sword Saint First has committed a crime, the Dynast must know.¡±


    ¡°It is not a crime. Nor is it illegal. Are you aware of the less-than-stellar origins of your people, soldier?¡± Soulless One asked in a softer voice, and the Voidrunner nodded. ¡°Never let anyone shame you for it. It is a sin that has no bearing on any of you. But where there is a first, there is always a second.¡± Soulless One looked away, refusing to explain further.


    Thyia looked at the Voidrunner, expecting an explanation, but he shrugged, lost in thought.


    ¡°What forces do we have at our paws?¡± Janine asked, breaking the silence.


    ¡°Ashbringer, Onyxia, Martyshkina, the remnants of Eled, Predaig, and our packs. Mountaintop, Summerspring, and Voidrunner packs. Three thousand guardsmen, several more of their camps to the north, eight thousand of our own Normie and New Breed allies, and an ever-growing host of civilians.¡± Anissa put her paws behind her back. ¡°There are too many of them, so I took the liberty of organizing escorts to Houstad, using shamans and scouts from the packs as guides and protectors. Since the flood of refugees never stopped, I asked the hunters for help. The warlords and Sword Saint Bertruda approved my decision, yet my hide is yours, Warlord, if I¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop apologizing!¡± Janine said. She despised the thought of her soldiers working side by side with the traitors, but what was the alternative? Let the civilians suffer? Not an option. ¡°Wise decision, Anissa.¡±


    The joyful news of the survival of so many of the state¡¯s troops angered her instead of making her happy. They had a force capable of bringing low to several countries, and all they did was cover, saving the occasional civilians and engaging in artillery duels while sitting on their asses and letting the Horde take the initiative. No longer. This was their home. The time for inaction was over. The Gilded Horde will not reach Houstad unscathed. There was more than one way to skin prey.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± the Voidrunner began when her finger scratched at the crust of dried blood on her head to ease the itch.


    ¡°Stop this idiot already!¡± The field medic from earlier pushed forward. ¡°She¡¯ll infect her wounds! If you can¡¯t leave the injuries alone, at least let me apply the medical gel.¡± Janine sized her up, wondering where to slap her to scare her off without bruising or breaking bones. ¡°Don¡¯t you glower at me, dick. Each patient is my responsibility, you black-furred asshole.¡±


    ¡°You have a very peculiar method of asking for a beating, Ice Fang,¡± Janine sighed. If it were Maxence, she¡¯d respect the effort.


    ¡°Let me handle it,¡± Impatient One snatched the gel from the medic and boldly approached her warlord, rubbing the cool substance over the entire length of the damaged surface. Janine tapped her own hip, enjoying a wave of relaxation washing down from her head as Impatient One covered the wound with waterproof bandages.


    ¡°Permission to speak freely, Warlord?¡± Anissa asked.


    ¡°Granted.¡±


    ¡°Bogdan. What happened to my brother? Where is he?¡±


    ¡°He died as a hero, saving lives. He was killed because of my mistakes and failures as a leader.¡± Janine replied bluntly. She sensed how Impatient One tensed, releasing the tips of her claws that touched the warlord¡¯s skin. So, some familiarity remained.


    Let it happen. Let Anissa and Impatient One hate her more than the Horde. It will keep their minds clear and perhaps give them closure on a day when a new warlord will dominate her. Not to mention, it will keep the Malformed and Deserters safe. Sure, her cubs were no Terrific; they were better, kinder, and smarter than Janine ever was, but she wanted to protect them from temptations.


    Brood Lord¡¯s life was hers to take.


    They walked the rest of the way in silence, though Anissa and Impatient One slowed their pace, flanking Ignacy and letting him lean on them. Janine heard their whispers, but couldn¡¯t make out the words, and let her cubs mourn in peace. She interrupted them once to ask about Marco and breathed a sigh of relief when she learned he was staying at headquarters, under Elzada and Marty¡¯s supervision.


    No longer experiencing it in her armor, Janine found herself liking the grounds of the Core Lands. It was nothing like the solidified, overheated, jagged rocks of the blessed Ravaged Lands or the cracked dust fields of the Wastes. The soil here was soft, not exactly soggy enough to swallow her legs, but her heavy feet left footprints with each step, and the contact with the grass reminded her about a restored nature circling through the region. If not for the cold, she¡¯d called this forest a paradise.


    The knight-captain handed her his helmet, and Janine mounted it over an eye with difficulty and summed HUD, reading through the reports.


    They lost so many. Bertruda¡¯s personal guard, her elite knights, had not even half their former numbers. Of Leonidas¡¯ elite task force, the Hoplites, three still lived. The rest lost their lives trying to reach their liege. Madness! House Voidrunners had suffered the heaviest losses, losing four hundred knights during the retreat. All but one of Eled¡¯s shamans were gone. Predaig¡¯s pack fared slightly better, losing one of its four shamans. Talents, promising lineages died out, robbing both sides of their future. Her own pack¡­ Janine read the names, walked close to the traitor, the cables of his armor connected to the helmet.


    I¡¯ll prepare a pyre worthy of your devotion. Janine promised her soldiers, reading the report of prisoners captured by Ashbringer, and the idea began forming in her mind.


    Iron Lord and Brood Lord. These two did not cooperate¡­


    The Ice Fang did not lie. His traitorous mistress had requisitioned an actual mobile fortress for this war. Built in the pre-Extinction era, these massive war engines and destruction moved on massive tracks. The hulls of these monstrosities could withstand bunker bombs, absorbing the kinetic impact and distributing it evenly over the surface to spare the compartments within. Four large-caliber mortars and artillery batteries were speaking even now, providing cover for the soldiers on the other side of the chasm, and a sophisticated array of detection systems and radars ensured no enemy could approach unnoticed. Nanomachines coursing across its outer hull mimicked the vehicle¡¯s color to that of its surroundings and reduced its thermal output, making it a pain in the ass for the Gilded Horde to pinpoint and return fire.


    The state, or rather, the Order, had one behemoth for each noble house, though several had been lost in the previous wars. These vehicles, found by the Twins, were inferior to the crawlers in every conceivable way. No energy weapons, no shields; the maintenance bay lacked space and was smaller... But their speed compensated for these shortcomings. Capable of reaching speeds of up to 300 kilometers per hour, these nasty mounds of steel served as a natural extension of the Order¡¯s best qualities, surprising many opponents.


    Bertruda squeezed her mobile camp between two hills, and two regiments of hunters, hidden by their camouflage cloaks, watched the area. Janine waved to one as they approached the camp, surprising the woman, and pointed to her nose, answering the silent question. Wolfkins¡¯ scents filled the forest. They roamed in ravenous packs, murdering and devouring any hordemen located by the hunters or those clever enough to slip through the outer defenses.


    ¡°Your soldiers have proven to be incredibly adaptable to their new environment, Warlord,¡± the Voidrunner praised politely. ¡°Warlord Martyshkina¡¯s pack had found and rescued the SAMs¡¯ launchers, which drove into the swamp, ended their pursuers, and returned the guardsmen along with a damaged battle tank.¡±


    ¡°I expected nothing less from her,¡± Janine responded, returning the helmet, approaching the ranks of cheering soldiers, and stepping through the humming force field maintained by several generators around the camp.


    Refusing to return the false gestures of the traitorous Ice Fangs, she warmly greeted the newly elected warlord of Pack Predaig. The woman tried to introduce herself as a shaman, then remembered her rank after Zolushka elbowed her. It must have been difficult for her to give up her former rank, regain her name, and use a ranged weapon. Pack Eled still had no warlord, as no wolf hag would usurp their leader¡¯s position without giving her a proper burial.


    ¡°Visit me at the first opportunity. I will tell you about their last stand,¡± Janine told them, deciding to leave nothing for later. Predaig and Eled deserved to be remembered and to have a clear end to their legends.


    The warlord allowed the packs to cheer their return passionately, tossing both Wolfkins and their unexpected allies several meters into the air, catching them only to hurl them even higher. Soulless One hastily assured the former slaves that there was no reason to worry; the hordemen inquired if this was the way the Tribe honored the sky, and the Malformed simply took it on the chin.


    Elzada, scarred and limping, embraced Ignacy, and Janine¡¯s heart sang with joy. The two spoke a few words before the wolf hag unceremoniously dragged the precious boy to the infirmary, accompanied by the team carrying the wounded. Wolfkins started singing, thanking the Spirits for the return of their comrades. Without hesitation or questions about the presence of the unexpected allies, scouts brought in food and drinks, and the welcoming party fled to the safety of bunkers built at the base of the hills.


    Janine lifted a mug full of booze and expressed her own gratitude, relieved that the patrols weren¡¯t goofing off and maintaining their vigilance. A sudden attack was the last thing she needed. She excused herself and stormed up the ramp of the mobile fortress, baring her fangs at the figure in front of her against her will. Bertruda. Dressed in an officer¡¯s parade uniform, her yellow cloak fluttered with every heavy boom of mortars. Marty stood beside her, casually unloading and reloading a revolver.


    Don¡¯t look at her. Janine commanded herself to focus on Marty¡¯s snout to calm her nerves. Master your temper.


    Oh, how she desired to trample this shrew and grind her bones to powder! To hear faint screams under her claws, to strangle the life out of that traitorous body. It had never been the Wolf Tribe¡¯s style to bottle up anger, and Janine sweated, forgetting the cold of the Core Lands for a while. Kill. Rend. Retribution.


    Then the visage of a trickle of blood snaking across the pavement in Quatindor returned to her. They must work together to prevent it from happening elsewhere. Even if it meant fighting at Bertruda¡¯s side.


    War. Then the reckoning.

 Chapter 108: The Return, Part 2

    ¡°Lucky. She is alive.¡± Marty holstered her revolver and hugged Janine, sniffing her. ¡°You look like shit, Jani.¡±


    ¡°Feel like one too. But I¡¯ll live,¡± Janine said. ¡°Ice Fang,¡± she addressed Bertruda in an even voice. ¡°Add the Wolf Tribe IDs to your identification systems immediately. We have brought your traitorous kin with us. One of them is badly wounded. To the infirmary with him. Warn the doctors: if he dies, your skin is mine. Next, the Malformed, former slaves and deserters, came with us. The Malformed are our trusted allies; the civilians are to join our citizens in the evacuation, but assign someone to keep an eye on the deserters¡­¡±


    ¡°Cousin¡­¡± Bertruda began talking.


    Janine¡¯s fist left a crater in the wall next to Bertruda¡¯s head, sending ripples across the smooth surfaces and causing nearby technicians and guards to jump in alarm. A sage tried to intervene, and Marty stood in his way, as if by accident.


    Bertruda did not try to defend herself, further infuriating Janine. She needed to see her elegant snout broken, her entrails spilled, and her skull crushed under her fingers. But they were at war, and the Sword Saint was an ally. Any blood spilled here threatened to widen the rift between the two groups, and divided, they would fall.


    She glanced to the side, where a golden sunlight crowned the tops of the trees. They shuddered, losing leaves as the mortars continued to fire and smaller animals scurried in panic to dig beneath the roots. A group of regulars returned from patrol duty, and the tenacious Ice Fang medic attended them, applying a tourniquet to a nasty wound on an arm left by a pulse rifle. Cursing under her breath, she called a nearby Wolfkin to help her carry the soldier to the infirmary. Anissa and Impatient One watched their leader warily, ignoring Ice Fangs¡¯ engineers asking for assistance.


    Choices. Brood Lord laughed in her head, and she shook it, banishing the bastard¡¯s ghost. That¡¯s right. Bertruda. She is a living being who also lost comrades. Forget the past. Concentrate on the present. You are better than this, Janine. Lives depend on our unity. Would Bogdan want any of that?


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Janine took Bertruda by the collar of her shirt, dusted it off, and stepped back. ¡°Nerves playing tricks. I guess being tortured didn¡¯t help me stop being a barbarian.¡±


    ¡°I fully accept the guilt, Warlord.¡± The sword saint tried to kneel. ¡°Because of our actions, we have brought much pain to you and our kin of the Wolf Tribe¡­¡±


    ¡°A pox upon my pain. My son has died. My sisters are no more,¡± Janine said simply, holding the woman up.


    She wrapped an arm around her shoulders, and together they stepped inside the mobile fortress, and behind them Anissa responded to the requests of the engineers and reluctantly summoned several males to aid the Order.


    ¡°I see the world how it is at long last, Sword Saint,¡± Janine continued. ¡°But a question burns in my soul. Why? Why the betrayal? I briefly skimmed through the reports of casualties. What could your kind possibly have gained by making such an utterly illogical and dishonorable decision?¡±


    Knights and sages met them in the belly of the metal beast, paws on sword handles. Marty glowed at them, but Janine couldn¡¯t find the strength to care about the insult. She was done treating the Order with the cubs¡¯ gloves.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Bertruda paused, facing Janine; genuine anguish appeared in her eyes. ¡°There was no betrayal,¡± she forced the words out of herself.


    ¡°Even now you lie,¡± Janine stated.


    ¡°It is true, Janine,¡± insisted Bertruda. ¡°The Wolf Tribe has always kept us at an arm¡¯s length.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit!¡± Martyshkina said. ¡°You abused Jani¡¯s trust to steal her title. Marco is friends with that girl, what¡¯s her name¡­¡±


    ¡°Cordelia Sunblade,¡± Janine prompted. ¡°The girl with the pizzas. How is her health?¡± she asked in a softer tone, not finding the strength to hate or distrust a cub.


    ¡°Marco asked us to inquire. She is recovering,¡± Bertruda said. ¡°In four to six months, it should be safe for her to return to complete her training. Not all their friends were that lucky.¡±


    ¡°Another debt for the Horde to pay.¡± Janine staggered with exhaustion, and Marty took her under the paw, helping her stand.


    ¡°We bled for you on the battlefields,¡± Martyshkina continued her accusations. ¡°Accepted Camelia Wintersong as an ally, saved the Ironwills back in Houstad. I just¡­ Answer. What was the Order¡¯s reason?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s directly related to the fact that we always sat in the back while the Tribe led from the front,¡± Bertruda answered, unafraid of the rage boiling in Janine¡¯s eyes. ¡°No, not glory. May the Twins curse me if I utter a lie. We were afraid that you would command us to stay and guard Houstad while our children were in the Knight Academies, exposed to the invasion! Leonidas convinced us of his plan, and First arrived too late to change anything¡­¡±


    ¡°Convenient. Blaming everything on a dead man,¡± tossed Marty.


    ¡°That?¡± Janine gasped, clutching her chest. ¡°That is all? Is this the reason Bogdan died? You thought we would let your cubs die?¡±


    ¡°Janine, I understand how you feel¡­¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t. Your son, he lives, right?¡± Janine asked numbly.


    ¡°Evacuated to Stormfiend,¡± Bertruda answered carefully.


    ¡°Good.¡± She took her by the shoulders. ¡°Good. No mother should outlive her cubs. It¡¯s... a part of my soul is dead, Sword Saint. I pray you never share that knowledge. Leonidas paid with his life, and Macarius with his limbs for their folly. Those traitors at least tried to rectify the crimes they committed. But you¡­¡± She released Bertruda. ¡°You ran. How will you pay?¡±


    ¡°In any way I can,¡± Bertruda replied sternly. ¡°Name your price, Warlord. Anything to mend the broken bonds between our people.¡±


    ¡°Nothing can repair what the Order has broken. Left arm, now!¡±


    Bertruda readily offered it, and Janine began painting. A claw slipped from her finger, plunging into the skin of the unflinching woman, inscribing names. Bogdan. Predaig. Eled. Melina. And more. The warlord wrote the name of every Wolfkin who had died as a result of the stubborn refusal to cooperate or in captivity, tarnishing the sword saint¡¯s perfect body and turning it into a manuscript of remembrance. She didn¡¯t discriminate, adding even those Ice Fangs she knew.


    The sword saint raised her other paw, motioning for her private guard to stand down and stopping any attempts of aiding as the bloody chronicle continued. Bertruda¡¯s once rich and carefully combed fur had lost its former beauty, and the letters reached her shoulder. Janine acted carefully, avoiding damaging any muscles, bones or cutting veins, but she had made a point of ravaging as much skin as possible, tearing through swaths of fur. Once done, she called the nearest doctor to clean and bandage the arm.


    ¡°I will never remove these scars,¡± Bertruda promised.


    ¡°Irrelevant. You are dead,¡± Janine told her. ¡°Either the war sees you perish, or after it, you and I enter the circle. This time to the death and damn desires of the Blessed Mother. The tribunal may seek to preserve your life, but I will have my retribution. Justice will be served. To the command center, ally.¡±


    A nervous Ice Fang wearing a doublet of gold and white approached them, almost fainting at hearing a growl. She stopped, recognizing him as a non-combatant, and the butler pointed to the ragged cloak wrapped around her body. Janine tore it off, and the man snapped his fingers, calling for several Normie maids who skillfully measured the warlord¡¯s height and girth while medics treated their leader. Confused, she consented and received a fresh set of black pants and a white shirt. Their fabric caused no irritation when pressed against her healing injuries, nor did it soak up her bodily fluids. The maids dressed her, treating the warlord like a cub as she cringed at Marty¡¯s wide grin. A proper military coat, brown and emblazoned with her pack¡¯s emblem, followed last, and Janine spread out, confident and certain in her course.


    She had more accusations and curses to hurl at the Ice Fangs and their blasted Order, but at the sight of a cub, smaller than Marco, standing in a doorway, she stifled her venom. Yes, this young one will grow up to be a traitor. But that didn¡¯t excuse her snapping and maiming the cub¡¯s supposed leader before his scared crimson eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen you¡­¡± he stammered. ¡°Well, not you exactly, but you know. Our cousins. When they came to help Sword Saint Bertruda after she rescued us from those monsters.¡±


    ¡°That was very noble and brave of her and her soldiers,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°And of you! If not for the Tribe we wouldn¡¯t¡­ I wouldn¡¯t. You two are the heroes!¡± The boy pressed his small paws to the chest. ¡°So why did you hurt an ally?¡±


    ¡°There are times when a person makes a mistake while doing an undeniably good deed. They realize their actions were wrong, but the damage is done, and there is a price to pay.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it,¡± the cub said.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Janine assured. ¡°Not everyone does.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t you just¡­ forgive?¡±


    ¡°Too hard. Take the boy,¡± Janine snarled at a knight, softening her voice when the cub flinched. ¡°He¡¯s seen enough cruelty.¡±


    Shame drilled into her. Perhaps the boy¡¯s parents had died, or maybe his friends had failed to escape, and here she was, indulging in senseless torture. Who was she becoming, Alpha? What was the point of scarring Bertruda? She wouldn¡¯t understand; the Ice Fangs were incapable of thinking of anyone but themselves, and she had wasted precious time when they could have been strategizing, confirming the Order¡¯s worst fears and prejudices about the Tribe. Choices indeed.


    Every action had a reaction. Many Normies and New Breeds already feared the Tribe. Did her actions help improve it? A lack of cohesion, her acting in Brood Lord¡¯s manner, risked potentially leading to insubordination at a crucial juncture, bringing only a tragedy to rival the one already caused by distrust.


    No more immature behavior. I am in control. Janine promised herself and followed Bertruda.


    Exquisite and pristine carpets covered the floors in the main corridor of the supermassive vehicle. Janine skirted their edges, surprising both her guide and Marty. But she couldn¡¯t bring herself to step on them, respecting the skill of the unknown carpenters who had immortalized scenes from the past. One rug depicted the Twins firing arrows at the approaching tanks, and then the scene changed to them clearing a path for the Blessed Mother. In the closing section, the three stood together, and Ravager extended a paw to a child ruler of a long-integrated nation, uncertainly accepting a peaceful reunification and the boy¡¯s thanks for saving his subjects from the invading marauders.


    The unknown artist poured their soul equally into their gorgeous progenitors, somehow creating a vivid image of their gleaming, ruby-encrusted mails, but also conveying the genuine joy and disbelief on the Blessed Mother¡¯s snout that mirrored the Twins¡¯ smiles.


    Marty slapped Janine on the back of the head and stepped on the carpet against a warning cry. Bertruda smiled and pointed a finger at the expanding footprint. Elastic bands of a low-powered force field flickered into reality, collecting particles of dust and forming a protective layer over the artwork, preserving its beauty.


    ¡°Amazing,¡± Janine said honestly, not caring if this was decadence or not.


    Ancient suits of armor, long out of use, vases, musical instruments, and relics lined the halls, positioned so as not to interfere with the awe-inspiring paintings on the walls. Precious exhibits of antique history and artifacts of fabled champions behind screens of reinforced glass drew eyes to them. Sturdy and smooth wood panels, wide corridors, and the surrounding opulence granted The Mountaintops¡¯ prized battle engine an appearance of a mansion or a museum, with servants readily serving refreshments to the startled and flabbergasted officers of the Provincial Army in the midst of their discussions on the prosecution of the war.


    The deeper they went, the more surprising the place became. Cubs of all races played in the game rooms, supervised by social workers and nuns. Knights and soldiers prayed in a spacious chapel of the Planet, illuminated by the artificial light filtering through the stained glass windows, where images of the Blessed Mother and the Twins solemnly beckoned souls to be better.


    ¡°Yeah, I call bullshit on that,¡± Martyshkina said. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way Commander was ever that calm.¡±


    ¡°Looks cute, though,¡± Janine observed. ¡°What did the shamans say about that?¡±


    ¡°They called it supreme blasphemy and demanded that we stop trying to merge two different faiths,¡± Bertruda answered.


    Marty kicked Janine in the side, pointing at a wide compartment on the left, housing an actual habitat. Several translucent spheres divided the place into several separate rooms, containing different biomes. Squires and young cubs tended to the plants and young trees on a patch of lush green field; amidst the rocky, mimicked surface of the Outer Lands; trudged across the heated desert sands to water cacti.


    Marco, dressed in a long, thick, elegant fur coat, worked in the snow biome, cowl pulled almost to his nose and steam leaving his mouth at every exhale. Two Ice Fangs youngsters were eagerly guiding the enthusiastic cub through the pruning and care of a strange tree and snow roses. Janine quickly passed by the compartment, unwilling to disturb her son with her current appearance. Her first instinct was to break in and drag him out of this cold Abyss, but seeing him having fun calmed her, and she didn¡¯t want to ruin his day with the news about Bogdan¡¯s fate for a while. Let him have his measure of happiness and broaden his horizons. Maybe it¡¯ll convince him to go into exile.


    Tokens, money, and wealth, like any power, were a means to an end. The tribe used them to survive and excel in their duties. The Order fiercely pursued economic, cultural, and military growth with another goal in mind. Preservation. Their knights assisted the state¡¯s scientists, stood guard at the distant terraforming facilities, and invested colossal sums in various time capsules and nearly indestructible bunkers containing historical records and repositories of knowledge in the event of another Extinction. They paid for simple space rockets, launching similar packages to the outer reaches of the system.


    The Order did not do this out of pure altruism. Their explorers competed against Iterna¡¯s explorators, often calling on the Wolf Tribe for help in staking claims to the best mines. Their combined growth swelled, filling the coffers used to purchase and build factories and laboratories, securing a prosperous future in the Reclamation Army and the best possible equipment for their scions.


    Statues of the Twins and Sword Saints stood at the turns, recounting the Order¡¯s accomplishments. One painting depicted Sword Saint Leonidas and the late Mountaintop striking bravely to save the Wolf Tribe¡¯s village from the hordes of Malformed. Janine had expected to see her kin as savages, but the unknown artist had portrayed the Wolfkins as loving and caring parents, holding their cubs in the rear while Leonidas duelled with the enemy leader.


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t be further from the truth,¡± Martyshkina noted. ¡°Ain¡¯t no way our people would stand like cusacks to be slaughtered. They would either scram or pick shardguns and fight.¡±


    ¡°It is an interpretation of the old events,¡± Bertruda said defensively. ¡°It isn¡¯t meant to be fully truthful.¡±


    ¡°No complaints here,¡± Janine said, glancing at the painting of Terrific and Dragena dispatching the Steel Menace besieging an Ice Fang convoy.


    Why did you throw it all away? Janine pondered, passing sages and knight captains who formed a welcoming party on their way to the bridge. Once she would have been honored by them. Now she saw the Ice Fangs for what they really were. None of them had ever trusted the Wolf Tribe. That bothered her more than she cared to admit.


    Normies and New Breeds worked behind the terminals in the command center, receiving updates and coordinating artillery support and operations in the war zone. Located deep inside the ship¡¯s belly, tons upon tons of alloys protected the place, preventing even a hint of outside noise from entering the dome filled with the chatter of officers and operators.


    ¡°Janine,¡± Ashbringer said. The woman smelled of smoke; notches and dents covered her combat armor. ¡°My condolences.¡± There wasn¡¯t a hint of usual berating or poison in the woman¡¯s speech, and the warlords clasped their paws.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    ¡°Welcome back, sister,¡± came from the shard of darkness in the command center''s corner. Onyxia sat on a seat, shadowed despite the direct light falling on her, and the display behind her showed icons of Kalaisa, Kirk, and Eled¡¯s granddaughter. She alone bore no signs of damage.


    ¡°Granny!¡± Kalaisa sang through the ringing shots, her voice brimming with energy. ¡°Happy to have you back with us.¡±


    ¡°Granny? W-wolf Hag, you are not a w-warlord; tone down the familiarity. Welcome back, Warlord Janine,¡± hurriedly added Kirk, and Janine laughed.


    ¡°Just this once I¡¯ll allow it, Kirk. But if she tries it again, I¡¯ll break her nose. Wolf Hag Kalaisa, what¡¯s the situation on your side?¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am!¡± Kalaisa¡¯s voice changed to a serious tone. ¡°Yesterday, the Horde was content to pelt our position, and neither side advanced seriously. This changed half an hour ago. A large unit has left the front line in the north and is rushing to our positions. They are two clicks away from us; artillery bombards them, but I don¡¯t see any way we can stop them.¡±


    ¡°We tried, Warlord!¡± Kirk added. ¡°Our forces have mined the area. The grenadiers are firing nonstop, and we are sending every APV full of refugees through the bridge. Only they are fast enough to slip past the Horde¡¯s snipers and artillery fire.¡±


    ¡°Volunteer miners show the rest where to hide in the mines.¡± Added Eled¡¯s granddaughter. ¡°If you order it, we¡¯ll gladly lay down our lives here, but for little gain. Bad terrain, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°I would much rather have you live it fully and with use,¡± Janine grumbled and stepped toward the empty dais, sitting in the command chair and ignoring Ashbringer¡¯s glare. ¡°Then we have returned not a minute too late,¡± she announced. ¡°We have a force to crush nations at our paws. Let us use it. Bring up the operations map on the screen!¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the manpower to stop the Horde here.¡± Ashbringer towered over her. ¡°Dragena ordered us to retreat to Houstad. Do not replicate the mistake of disobedience.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have the manpower to make a stand and survive,¡± Janine corrected. ¡°But we have the means to stop the Horde. Temporarily. I heard you have captured prisoners. Bring their and the deserters¡¯ leaders here.¡±


    She was tired; her mind demanded sleep. Janine pushed through the fatigue, biting her own tongue to gain clarity. A Horde unit had indeed moved from the construction site in the north and rushed through Quatindor to reach the south. They lacked proper numbers; the Gilded Horde kept destroying their drones, but getting stuck in that quicksand was out of the question.


    ¡°Wolf Hag Kalaisa! Initiate immediate retreat. Pack Anissa and Impatient One will hurry to your aid in twenty minutes,¡± Janine commanded, and an operator relayed her orders. ¡°The mobile artillery of the Mountaintops is to accompany them. Once our forces cross the bridge, bring it down.¡±


    ¡°That will cut off the civilians,¡± Onyxia said, not arguing or complaining, just stating a fact. ¡°They¡¯ll get killed upon being found.¡±


    ¡°If they stay there.¡± Janine zoomed out of the map.


    ¡°You can¡¯t suggest that!¡± Onyxia stood as an icon flashed in the south.


    ¡°What? What insanity the warlord is suggesting?¡± Kalaisa asked eagerly. ¡°I see the map, but there is nothing on it in the south besides mountains and narrow passages!¡±


    ¡°Our cubs should know history better. Have you ever wondered why we do not have the Wall in this region, Wolf Hag?¡± Janine¡¯s fingers intertwined. ¡°Decades ago, there was an... incident known as the Union. Three champions, Devourer, Hive, and Lightbringer, joined forces to bring another New Breed low and rescue Zero. Long story short, this unusual alliance succeeded in defeating the vile S-Class. Her spawn remained, and Devourer showed them mercy. In exchange for keeping our border safe, we left the region untouched. The time has come to call in the debt of old.¡±


    ¡°They are Malformed!¡± Onyxia insisted, stepping closer. ¡°And not of the civilized sort! Inbred, vicious, and territorial. Bone stakes stand at the top of their lairs, and flags of human flesh flap in the wind. We should not expose our civilians to the literal cannibals!¡±


    ¡°Either we take that risk, or they¡¯ll die.¡± Janine faced Onyxia, unafraid for the first time. ¡°I¡¯ve been in the Horde¡¯s prison and know how they treat their prisoners.¡± She touched the bandaged part of her face and turned to Bertruda. ¡°Sword Saint, your Order has ties to the wyrms,¡± she said, zooming in on the mountain resort in the far south of the Reclamation Army, a place reputed to be a utopia to rival even the finest Iternian cities.


    ¡°Yes, Janine. But their numbers dwindled in the war started by the madness of their previous ruler. They won¡¯t fight,¡± Bertruda cautioned.


    ¡°No one is asking civilians to join our war,¡± Janine assured her. Two hundred wyrms. This was all that remained of their proud tribe, and the Dynast reluctantly accepted their adamant refusal to join the military, content with those who had enlisted in the Third. ¡°Please make a request. I don¡¯t know any nice words, but I trust in your expertise. Ask them, on behalf of the Blessed Mother, to send a delegation to our Malformed friends to keep our civilians company. Surely it¡¯s not much. Let¡¯s introduce our allies to cultural diversity.¡±


    ¡°And the presence of a hill-sized wyrm is bound to keep the hotheads in line.¡± Onyxia smiled, showing her perfect fangs. ¡°I can live with that. Warlord Onyxia supports the idea!¡± She dropped to her knees, and Janine¡¯s blood froze.


    ¡°Ashbringer supports Janine!¡± Ashbringer knelt.


    ¡°No arguments here.¡± Martyshkina was the last to join them, and Janine tried to jump from the seat.


    ¡°Stay where you are, sister,¡± a voice rasped from a display screeched behind her. ¡°Your perilous journey is over, and you are so exhausted you have forgotten who leads in the field,¡± Alpha said without a hint of irony.


    ¡°Spirits inspired her, sister!¡± Martyshkina grinned and dodged Janine¡¯s kick.


    ¡°Stop blaspheming!¡± Janine demanded and said, without turning. ¡°Sister, forgive my insolence.¡±


    ¡°I enjoy it when my subordinates show courage and initiative.¡± Alpha¡¯s purr came as a grinding of fangs against a bone. ¡°Next time, ask permission first. Alpha stands for Janine.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t you here, Warlord?¡± Janine asked, eyes on the map.


    ¡°The Horde spilled into our lands like oil into honey, even though their main force is still stuck. Their parties strike hamlets and small towns, organizing hunting parties to raid our convoys. Their teleporter occasionally opens his pathways, bringing more troops. My pack culls them,¡± Alpha replied, and red dots filled the space between them and Houstad.


    ¡°So close to Houstad¡­¡± Janine whispered. ¡°Warlord, is it safe?¡±


    ¡°Dragena is competent enough to maintain peace. Its evacuation is underway and on schedule, despite the influx of refugees. There have been attempts to open portals,¡± Alpha chuckled. ¡°Have you ever seen the result of a failed teleportation? I haven¡¯t, but apparently inversion is an apt term to describe it. Enough of that. I sense you had more planned, sister. Why have you called for the hordemen?¡±


    ¡°To stall the Gilded Horde,¡± Janine said.


    She waited for Caikhatu and the female raider to arrive and asked for the attention of the Provincial Army, explaining her plan in detail and pointing to the edge of the forest near the main road to Houstad. Such a simple place. There was no reason for anyone to enter it. Unless they could give an enticing reason to do so. She prayed they would not argue, for according to the scouts¡¯ reports, the Horde would have their bridges ready in a matter of hours.


    ¡°Ambitious,¡± Martyshkina whistled. ¡°But if there are civilians hiding in the forest¡­¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll die.¡± Janine closed her eyes briefly. ¡°Better to perish in an instant in the purifying flame than to wither at the hands of a torturer.¡± She faced the hordemen. ¡°Your part depends on my suggestion of a schism between Iron Lord and Brood Lord. If I am wrong¡­¡±


    ¡°You are not.¡± Caikhatu smiled. ¡°They hate each other, Khan.¡±


    ¡°And how do we know if you won¡¯t betray us?¡± Martyshkina asked, voicing Janine¡¯s concern.


    The two were perfect infiltrators. One served the dishonored and fallen Mungke and could theoretically pass as a desperate glory hound disillusioned by the Reclaimers¡¯ offer and wanting to return. Iron Lord used Caikhatu as a pawn to test the Reclaimers¡¯ defenses, so it would be natural for him to want to get into Brood Lord¡¯s inner circle. Iron Lord was an unknown factor as they knew him from Caikhatu, while Janine had met Brood Lord in person and formed her own opinion of the khan¡¯s vices. If they could have fooled anyone, it had to be him.


    Caikhatu took his imprisonment in stride, eagerly trying to worm his way into Ashbringer¡¯s council, sharing any information requested and willingly teaching the language. The man was almost too helpful, but no one noticed any attempts by him or his men to contact their former leader.


    In the short term, it didn¡¯t matter. Even if they betrayed the trust of the Reclamation Army, it would be too late to escape the trap. But her true plan depended on their loyalty.


    Hearts and minds. That was the lesson she had learned from Terrific, when her adoptive mother had converted entire bands of raiders to a life of peace through the iron grip of fear and the terrifying examples she made of their leaders. Janine refused to follow the same path, but she had learned enough. Her thoughts drifted to the Brood, how the poor cubs felt trapped in their inevitable fate until they were given a choice. The deserters chose to abandon ship, wisely understanding that Brood Lord will grind them underfoot without any thought.


    The Gilded Horde worshiped the Sky. Janine intended to sow a different kind of storm, a tornado born out of consequences to tip the scales.


    ¡°My khans, I have seen enough of your news to know the Dynast¡¯s reach.¡± Caikhatu bowed. ¡°Why should I trade a loyal ruler and a quiet retirement for sleepless nights in anticipation of a dagger in my back?¡±


    ¡°Sign me up for anything that screws up Brood Lord,¡± the woman stated. ¡°But I have one condition. The freak can kill us for fun, even after we give him the information. My men go free whether I succeed or die.¡±


    ¡°Only after the Investigation Bureau clears them.¡± Janine pointed at the agent in the black leather coat. ¡°If their crimes against our nation are purely military, their freedom is guaranteed. Otherwise, prison.¡±


    ¡°Accepted,¡± the hordewoman said.


    ¡°I believe it is the beginning of a fruitful cooperation,¡± Caikhatu told her.


    ¡°You take our potential doom too lightly.¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest!¡± His eyes widened. ¡°Either we¡¯ll be cut down, or we¡¯re in for a most intriguing game. Isn¡¯t your blood burning with anticipation to know?¡±


    ¡°Concentrate on not getting immolated yourself,¡± Janine said to the man. ¡°Now for the Cusack Team. The chances of anyone returning from this mission alive are close to zero. I will take that assignment.¡±


    ¡°Negative, Warlord,¡± said Lugal-marada, the lieutenant of the Provincial Army. ¡°I quite like these odds and have my own score to settle.¡±


    The man stepped on the dais, hands behind his back, scars and freshly stitched wounds covering nearly every millimeter of his body, giving him the appearance of a walking patchwork doll. He and his troops had faced the Gilded Horde¡¯s invasion first, and the man had used his power to the last, helping his soldiers retreat and collapsing from exhaustion near Quatindor. His soldiers had ignored orders to abandon him and had carried the lieutenant to safety.


    ¡°You are even in worse shape than me,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°I¡¯ve recovered enough.¡± He cracked his neck, blood seeping from a stitch in his neck. ¡°Not going to claim familiarity with the Wolf Tribe, but we can face each other in this circle of yours if you need proof,¡± he said icily, and his pupils transformed, filling the eyes with darkness. ¡°It won¡¯t be pretty. Regional commanders are hand-picked for our powers.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s not fight among ourselves,¡± Bertruda asked, standing between them. ¡°We cannot afford to give such presents to our enemies.¡±


    ¡°The sword saint is correct,¡± declared Alpha. ¡°Lugal-marada will lead the Cusack Team. First will provide us with a suitable vehicle.¡±


    ¡°Where is he, anyway?¡± Janine grumbled, irritated at having to back down. She didn¡¯t dare argue against Alpha, even here, far away from the strongest warlords; shreds of fear touched her body and elicited a surprised gasp.


    An operator called up a video on the display, showing First gathering the Wintersongs saved by Alpha under his command. Camelia¡¯s retainers desired revenge for the coma into which their leader had been put, and the firstborn of the Twins gave them this opportunity by unleashing his own cruelty on the hordemen. A single declaration, an arrogant demand for surrender, had been issued, and when the larger raiding parties laughed it off, the grandmaster masterfully dispatched them, splitting their ranks with the precision fire of his artillery. His hunters prepared ambushes along the retreat routes, taking the lives of those who fled, and First himself, Sunblade in paw, cleared the northern forests of the hostile presence to the cheers of the locals.


    More sword saints flocked to his banner, and he had petitioned for a chance to join the Provincial Army in its final stand. Dragena had denied his request, ordering the Ice Fangs to hurry from the exposed plains to Houstad, and First had accepted.


    ¡°He¡¯s been busy.¡± Janine blinked the tiredness from her eyes and returned her gaze to the map.


    ¡°That town in the north,¡± said Martyshkina, guessing her thoughts. ¡°Can¡¯t they evacuate in time?¡±


    Magoda. A thriving town to the north of Quatindor. It had no defenses worth speaking of since a wall¡¯s bastion stood so near, and its police force served as an adequate stick to stop organized crime, but against an invading small army, they stood no chance. Fifty thousand troops, at least two divisions supported by heavy vehicles, advanced from Quatindor at a rapid pace, paying no attention to Houstad. Their goal was to capture the gate leading to the Outer Lands, a perfect chokepoint to keep the Second at bay. In theory. In practice, Devourer demolished every fortification in his path, and this time, the Reclaimers received warning. The Provincial Army will not lose.


    But the town will suffer. Its mayor wasn¡¯t a dolt, and he had already called for the relocation of its citizens to the Outer Lands, using force if necessary. Similar to Houstad, this town also had vast farmlands owned by Oaksters and smaller families. Thousands worked there, and it hadn¡¯t been possible to gather them all in time, and the shock of hearing about the destroyed bastion and the invasion spread panic, paralyzing the evacuation.


    ¡°Damn it.¡± Janine slammed her paw against the armrest. ¡°We have no way to help them. The sword saints¡¯ forces are the nearest; perhaps if¡­¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t make it in time,¡± Bertruda said, and Janine nodded, accepting the bitter truth.


    Families. Mothers, fathers, young, old, and all the rest. Stuck in the trap, waiting for help that will never come. She exhaled, her paw twitching. They didn¡¯t deserve this.


    ¡°There is a way,¡± Dragena cut through the noise of the command center, and the warlord appeared on the display, flanked by Jaquan and Lacerated One. ¡°I have the shaman¡¯s permission.¡±


    ¡°Them?!¡± Janine pulled herself up, earning confused and worried looks from everyone present. They didn¡¯t realize what Dragena had just said. ¡°Don¡¯t do it. If you let them into the Core Lands, it¡¯ll be a massacre for everyone. They can¡¯t be controlled for long, they can¡¯t be reasoned with, and it¡¯s impossible to contain them.¡±


    The Ice Fangs had a wealth of vehicles and technology at the Order¡¯s disposal, entire private teams of mercenaries working explicitly for them, further increasing the Ice Boys¡¯ influence. The Tribe had a secret weapon of its own, and the mere thought of using it forced Martyshkina to take a step back; her trembling paw reached for the pounding heart in her chest. Ashbringer shut up and stood in silent support of Janine¡¯s objection, and even Onyxia¡¯s darkness seemed to shrink, trying to hide in the joints of her armor.


    What was Dragena thinking? Ravager would¡¯ve never allowed it! No one, not even the Horde, deserved to face the Fallen. She had nightmares as a cub, listening to the shamans¡¯ vivid tales of how the two queens of carnage, Ravager and Alpha, had summoned their blessed kin and turned the deserts red with an ocean of blood.


    ¡°It¡¯s like using a nuclear missile to stop a squad,¡± Martyshkina said.


    ¡°You have a nuclear missile?!¡± Bertruda turned to her.


    ¡°Worse. So much worse,¡± Janine said. ¡°Every legend about the barbarism of our Tribe is about to be proven true tenfold¡­ no, a thousand times over. Dragena, reconsider.¡±


    ¡°The decision is mine, sister. Concentrate on your plan and retreat to Houstad with all haste.¡± Dragena¡¯s muzzle, cold and distant, showed no hint of worry. ¡°Alpha. Send the call and order them away once the deed is done.¡±


    ¡°I obey, Dragena,¡± Alpha rasped.


    ¡°Before we conclude this war council, I have a request,¡± said Jaquan and smiled at the look of Lacerated One. ¡°Our forces are scattered, and our people are frightened. I give speeches every hour, but they would appreciate a word of encouragement from our brave defenders.¡±


    ¡°Was ¡®the black-furred savior¡¯ not heroic enough?¡± Martyshkina chuckled.


    ¡°He is! The news is inflating and creating a glorious list of achievements to use as propaganda¡­¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t,¡± weakly asked Kirk through Kalaisa¡¯s bombastic laughter.


    ¡°But we¡¯d like one of your leaders to address the nation,¡± Jaquan ignored Kirk.


    ¡°Then you should have it,¡± volunteered Janine. She paused, expecting a rebuke, but Dragena nodded in encouragement. ¡°Com¡¯s officer! Relay the following message to our allied forces. This is Warlord Janine of the Wolf Tribe. We have been hurt. The Golden Horde has invaded our lands and broken through our defenses. Many of you have lost comrades, friends, and family. I know and share your pain, and I promise you this. The Horde¡¯s back will be broken at Houstad. We will drive the scum from our borders and rebuild every lost village and replant every burned forest. We will have peace and hear the laughter of cubs again. Proud soldiers! To you falls the task of rallying at Houstad or keeping our civilians safe until a relief arrives. Civilians are to hide and survive. Stay true to the ideals of the Reclamation Army even in these times of tribulations. This isn¡¯t over. Janine¡¯s out.¡±


    ¡°Nice speech.¡± Martyshkina patted her shoulder. ¡°Leave the command to me and Bertruda. Go get some rest.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have time for it.¡± Janine ran a paw over her head. ¡°I move out to prepare the trap.¡±


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Marco shouted, stepping into the command center. ¡°Where is Bogdan?¡±


    How did he get in here¡­ Her eyes widened at Ashbringer¡¯s shrug. Bitch!


    ¡°I killed Bogdan, Marco.¡± She told him the brutal truth, clenching her fists to blood. ¡°What is the boy doing here? All civilians should be housed and watched.¡±


    ¡°Mother!¡± Marco gulped. ¡°Why are you lying? You would have never hurt Bogdan.¡±


    ¡°And yet he died because of me. Guards!¡± She raised her voice. ¡°I gave you an order! Take the boy to safety!¡±


    Janine forced herself to ignore the shock of betrayal and anguish in her son¡¯s eyes. She tried to walk past him when another figure stepped through, holding a paw over her bandaged stomach.


    ¡°This is a lie,¡± Elzada said calmly. ¡°Ignacy thought you might try something like that, Warlord. Ignore her words, Marco; our leader is simply trying to carry the weight of the world on her shoulders again. Nasty habit. We should beat it out of her someday.¡±


    ¡°Wolf Hag,¡± Janine growled, her lips curling up to bare fangs, ¡°fall in line.¡±


    ¡°A pack looks out for its own, remember? Your lesson.¡± Anissa entered, accompanied by Impatient One and Soulless One. The wolf hag picked her brother and seated him on her shoulders. ¡°The entire pack is outside. Enough of your self-destruction. You sit this one out, Warlord. Show yourself to the medics and have a rest, or we will force you, because we need our warlord alive and well, Janine.¡±


    It took her by surprise. She even sniffed the air to confirm that, yes, hundreds of soldiers assembled in the corridors, shardguns at the ready. In their tribe¡¯s history, rebellions claimed the lives of two warlords. One was Terrific, murdered by Janine, and the other was a callous fool, torn apart by his own pack while attempting to violate a young soldier. Janine secretly dreaded ending up like them and prepared to willingly give her life for any sin committed.


    But this kind of rebellion? What could she do? A warlord¡¯s civil duty was to watch over her pack: to rein in the overly aggressive females; to speak words of calm to the troubled; to listen, nurture, and train future leaders. Packs should not have to worry about warlords! Warlords stood at the pinnacle of creation, a step behind the Blessed Mother, all-knowing in war and obedient in civil matters, an ideal for every Wolfkin to strive for. A sign of weakness was not allowed.


    Martyshkina gripped Janine¡¯s shoulder, keeping her claws from slipping from her fingers.


    ¡°They are right, you know? A wounded warrior is a detriment on a field of battle. Or so my friend taught me.¡± Marty headbutted Janine mercilessly, loudly cracking the cartilage and keeping her from falling to her knee. ¡°See? Before, that lover tap wouldn¡¯t even tickle you. Heal body and soul, and let your sisters take care of everything, ¡®kay? It¡¯s what friends are for.¡±


    ¡°But what about the trap?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll take care of that,¡± Onyxia said.


    ¡°Rest, or I¡¯ll headbutt you into a sleep,¡± Ashbringer said. ¡°I¡¯ve lost enough sisters already.¡±


    Janine touched her forehead and smiled, accepting the reproach. She left Martyshkina¡¯s hold and approached her officers on the wobbly legs.


    ¡°Your little insurrection is noted and forgiven,¡± Janine appeared before them, far faster than their eyes could track. Her jaws opened, drool dripping to the floor, and Impatient One stood before Anissa, nervously returning the aggression. ¡°This time. Try it again, and I will break you, kin or not. At ease, all of you. Elzada, monitor Ignacy and ask the medics to send a doctor to treat my wounds. Any non-Ice Fang will do. I will not accept help from them. Anissa, lead our pack into the field. Return alive.¡±


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Soulless One bowed. ¡°It is my obligation to provide you with spiritual guidance and protection. But now I feel the inevitable pull. Something is calling me south. Permission to join the pack.¡±


    ¡°Granted,¡± Janine approved, shaking her paw. ¡°Marco, take me to the medical bay and then show me my den.¡±


    ¡°Mother,¡± Marco stopped and continued after she nodded. ¡°Where is your room?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± She pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°A wonderful question, actually. Ice Fangs! Where is my den?¡±

 Chapter 109: The Renewed

    ¡°Ready!¡± Kirk shouted, peering from a half-ruined cover on the bridge. A burst from his shardgun forced the approaching raiders to duck into cover.


    Kalaisa decided it was funny. Her brother stammered when he talked to her directly, but in the heat of battle, animosity between her and her family was taking a backseat, and they worked together, saving lives where they could. The last of the APCs sped past Kirk, their engines roaring, from an underground tunnel opened by the miners. Holes and dents covered their sides, their anti-personnel rotating auto-cannons long since destroyed, and terrified civilians huddled closer together inside the vehicles.


    The packs had repeated this dance for over a day, sending convoys to safety and waiting for the technicians to patch what they could, then providing cover for the returning vehicles, trying to push back the hordemen as the APCs returned underground to receive maintenance and more civilians to carry over. The Horde closed in, securing their siege perimeter, and their squads fired on the convoys from a distance. Several APCs had been downed, their wreckage still smoking on the cratered road.


    Burned trees, wrecked cars, and corpses littered the entrance to the bridge leading into the woods. The Horde had not used their excellent heavy artillery to smash any resistance for fear of destroying the structure they had fought so long for, but Kalaisa¡¯s ears picked up the loud clanking and stomping of advancing walkers. Precise and powerful laser cannons had already left their mark on her pack, and she wanted to have nothing to do with them in the open field anymore.


    ¡°Got it!¡± Her finger pressed a remote, and a mushroom grew at the underground entrance, sealing it for hours. Militia and miners led thousands of refugees through the underground tunnels as the Wolfkins retreated, surrendering this side to the Horde.


    The retreat was in full swing.


    Guttural commands barked through the chaos of combat, and a crescent of explosions tossed tons of concrete into the air. Electric currents danced over the destroyed surface, fired in arcs by the hordemen¡¯s analog of mine clearance platoons. Shots landed against APVs, widening the cracks and sending two spinning. Sensing exposed prey and a shift in the battle, the enemy leaders sent their horde on another charge to claim their prize.


    Unfortunately for them, their opponents were Wolfkins. Grenades whistled over Kalaisa¡¯s head, and she somersaulted backward, abandoning the front line. Heh. Never thought I¡¯d ever be the first to break from a fight. She graciously landed next to the first stuck APC and grabbed it as it was about to tip over the edge. The servomotors whined as she pushed herself to the limit and pulled the vehicle back onto the bridge.


    ¡°Thank you, Miss!¡± She blinked at wide-eyed crimson eyes peering at her through the gash.


    ¡°Do you want to lose those blinkers?! Step away from the breach, dolt!¡± Kalaisa snapped, and the boy¡¯s parents drew him away. ¡°I mean, don¡¯t mention it, thanks, little squirt.¡± She readied her grenade launcher, guarding the vehicle. ¡°You two really don¡¯t know how to fight?¡± she asked without a hint of sarcasm.


    ¡°Never held a gun in my life,¡± said the mother.


    ¡°Cool! Safe journeys,¡± Kalaisa told her, and leapt back into the fray, firing at the approaching group of hordemen.


    The grenade flew in an arc and landed on them just as they stepped into the first of the prepared pitfalls. Their heavy plates saved the idiots from getting skewered upon the sticking sharpened rebars, but the shockwave from the explosion and the shrapnel it unleashed splattered the hapless idiots against the wall, shattering their visors and sending splinters into their faces, blinding and crippling if not killing them.


    Strange. Kalaisa¡¯s paws reloaded the launcher, her voice giving orders to Eled and her own pack, guiding them along the retreat, and her mind clung to the woman¡¯s words. What was it like to live a life where you never had to lift a weapon or train how to kill? Clearly not the most efficient way to live. She decided, landing a grenade on another group and sending men and women flying down the chasm. But also kind of cute. I wish we had a chance¡­ Familiar screaming filled the air, and she snapped out of her fantasies.


    For the many to live in peace, the few had to serve.


    ¡°Stay alert, people; riders incoming!¡± Kalaisa warned. ¡°Incendiary rounds, fast!¡±


    As one, the soldiers in the front row dropped to their knees and replaced their ammunition. Grenade launchers fired deadly munitions as the first hoverbikes pierced the smoke, approaching the group and firing their pulse rifles. A Wolfkin died as an energy ball impaled her between the eyes. Another fall on the ground, hissing and pressing paws to the missing temporomandibular joint. More bodies dropped, gasping for air, their chests full of holes.


    ¡°Cook them!¡± Kalaisa roared eagerly, and her soldiers fired, covering the entrance to the bridge in hellfire.


    They immediately heard screams accompanied by bursts from the hoverbikes¡¯ generators. Her theory was correct. After reviewing the records and consulting with Ignacy, Kalaisa concluded the hoverbikes sacrificed protection for maneuverability and speed; their riders relied on pulse rifles and grievous blades to swiftly mow down the opposition. The incendiary grenades spread a flammable liquid designed to damage battleplate alloys, and it now had a stunning effect, driving survivors away in panic and detonating energy cells.


    Not every hordemen perished in the fire, and several broke through, straight into a hail of incoming shards. One calmly tossed his rifle aside, maneuvered through the projectiles, and closed in on Sheeren, the wolf hag of the late Eled.


    Long blades nearly caught her at the waist as Kirk jerked the woman back as their sister fired into the hoverbike¡¯s engine, detonating it. The hordeman jumped off it and spun in the air, evading projectiles with uncharacteristic agility. He landed, sweeping their brother off his feet; an elbow dropped their sister face down, and the man¡¯s arm reached for a shardgun, raising it to fire at Kirk.Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    Kalaisa wanted to be there, to take a shot for her family. She owed them that and more. But it wasn¡¯t her zone of responsibility, and the wolf hag took over Sheeren¡¯s command, barking orders to grab the injured and keep firing at the hordemen.


    She wasn¡¯t alone. It was a rather difficult lesson to learn, and a cry of exultation left her lips at a kick that sent the shardgun spinning skyward. Rage and hatred still tugged at her heartstrings, reminding the wolf hag of the monster she was, and she indulged that impulse, stomping blindingly fast on the hoverbike approaching her troops. Its nose scratched the ground, her paw closed in on the rider¡¯s head, tearing it off, and then she tossed the stupid toy and it blew away from the front. Strong. Stronger than anyone here. The desire to rend and feast throbbed in her mind, claiming that she alone had the strength to turn the situation around.


    But she had grown accustomed to relying on and cooperating with others.


    Sheeren closed in on the raider, paw against hand, and the raider punched her in the head, rocking the wolf hag and utilizing all the agility his lighter armor granted him. Sheeren tilted back, one leg off the ground, her paw still glued to his right hand, and the man wrapped his left arm around her shoulder, preparing to slam the wolfkin to the ground. A sudden pain under his shoulder blade stopped him as the wolf hag clawed at him, and he broke the grip, retreating in vain as the jaws closed on his visor, biting through it and taking his nose.


    A single leg moved the wolf hag back upright from a horizontal position, fast enough so that she would be able to deliver a bone-shattering kick with another over the hordeman¡¯s elbow, crumbling the softer protection. Sheeren shared her late grandmother¡¯s personality, occasionally bursting into fits of unyielding rage, but she took her fighting style from her older mother, combining planning and skill rather than trying to overwhelm her opponent.


    The hordeman¡¯s working hand moved to a pistol on his belt and twitched as the previously kicked shardgun fell into the wolf hag¡¯s paws, and she fired thrice to topple the enemy, then tossed it to Kalaisa¡¯s brother.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Sheeren growled, her claws slipping from the paw as the shocked Kirk shook it. ¡°Name¡¯s Sheeren.¡±


    ¡°K-Kirk. At your service, Wolf Hag!¡± He glanced nervously as the claws snapped in front of his nose, twisting left and right to catch the dim sunlight shining through the surrounding smoke.


    ¡°Don¡¯t scratch my brother!¡± Kalaisa¡¯s brother stood and fired in the smoke. ¡°It was my fault, not his¡­¡±


    ¡°Shhhh,¡± their sister placed a paw on his shoulder and glared at Kalaisa. ¡°It¡¯s not that.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ What? Oh¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop talking and worry about your hides, idiots!¡± Kalaisa roared from the opposite side of the bridge, forcing them to duck behind a rubble. ¡°I can¡¯t kill everyone myself! So do your part!¡±


    ¡°Yes, Wolf Hag!¡±


    Lucky devil, eh? Best of luck to you, Kirk. Her kicks hurt. Her ribs still pulsed a little after their domination match for supremacy. Sheeren was too quirky for her taste. One second, she was full of grief, ready to push ahead and die, and after losing shamelessly, she joined the planning as if nothing had happened. If she breaks your heart, I¡¯ll break her.


    Scraping of treads against the concrete alerted Kalaisa as their packs reached the middle of the bridge, entering a narrowed line that was dredged by a shell in a recent bombardment. Kalaisa had spotted this route in advance, and the surrounding wreckage provided a modicum of cover from the burst of gunfire coming from the western side.


    They loaded their wounded onto the stuck transport and pushed it out of the crater. An armored personnel carrier drove out of the smoke, its broad hull silvery and bristling with guns that sang, spewing projectiles that drummed against the Wolfkins¡¯ power armors, throwing her soldiers back. The intensity of the streaking bullets knocked three of her soldiers off the edge in front of her eyes. Cracks spread across her soldier¡¯s suit, and it burst like an eggshell, spilling the body inside.


    ¡°Aim for the cannons!¡± Kalaisa snarled, shoving a male into the cover. In the tribe¡¯s tradition, this was considered heresy, as the lives of the males were to be put first so that the females would not be harmed. Also, the value of the wolf hags exceeded that of the humans in the transport.


    And she didn¡¯t care. They would get out of here together and let the shamans kiss her ass if they wanted to complain. Kalaisa was sick of letting others die because of her.


    ¡°ETA on our reinforcements?¡± she asked, taking aim and firing at the cannon. Her grenade exploded next to the weapon, bathing it in searing flame, and the rotating doomsday song stopped with a creak. On her HUD, the icons of the soldiers who had fallen into the canyon blinked and went dark.


    Curses. She hoped they would survive the impact and crawl to safety. But the main caliber did too much damage to their armors.


    ¡°Pack Anissa is approaching our position; the artillery will be in place in two minutes,¡± Kirk reported.


    ¡°Good! Keep retreating; we¡¯ll see them dead yet!¡±


    Explosions covered the Horde carrier, several blasts merging into a large fireball that engulfed most of the cannons and enveloped the machine in an orange sphere. Noises of detonating ammunition rang out briefly, and then a single, loud, skull-splitting scream silenced them as a projectile flew past Kalaisa, shearing a chunk of metal from her pauldron and snapping the arm of a Wolfkin behind her.


    The carrier¡¯s doors opened and a bareheaded woman stepped out, swatting at the nearest tongues of flame with her long sword. Dreadlocks of her short, raven hair dangled in the wind; she easily matched Kalaisa in height, and the cumbersome combat plate helped her dwarf any wolf hag in width. In her arm was a heavily modified gun, and she squeezed the trigger, writhing in pleasure at the resulting cacophony of noise.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make some widows!¡± she roared.


    ¡°Widowmaker! Widowmaker!¡± a battle cry thundered as the carrier disgorged dozens of soldiers.


    Each wore a full suit of heavy battle armor covering them from head to toe. No two were alike. Gold and deep blue paint in bizarre patterns adorned the chest plates; rubies, diamonds, and jade necklaces hung from arms, necks, and even legs. They carried tower shields in one arm and crackling morning stars in another, eagerly charging at the Wolfkins.


    The two forces collided in an eruption of violence. Shards ricocheted off shields, gouging dents in them; morning stars slammed into bodies, shattering plates; claws slashed, shredding steel and flesh. In a whirlwind of battle, Kalaisa found Widowmaker and parried a fatal blow aimed at the base of her brother¡¯s neck. Widowmaker whirled, firing at her from close range, and the wolf hag stepped back, striking instinctively and feeling something hot run down her cheek. The helmet saved Kalaisa¡¯s life as the bullet bounced off it but still tore a third of it off, exposing the wolf hag¡¯s left eye to the world and lacerating hide.


    ¡°Shit¡­¡± Widowmaker glanced at the ruined gun in her hand and tossed it aside. ¡°I liked the toy. Don¡¯t be so gloomy. I merely put us on an equal footing, honey.¡±


    ¡°Trust me.¡± That bitch almost killed her brother! Callously, casually, mercilessly! And yet Kalaisa spoke in a reasonable tone, noting two approaching hordemen, registering every twitch and movement of the woman before her. Something deeper and more ancient than she had ever imagined touched her, frightening the wolf hag to the point of heightening her senses. Usually Kalaisa tensed in such moments, but now her body was relaxed. She dodged the shot. She blocked the strike. Widowmaker wasn¡¯t stronger than her. ¡°You don¡¯t want anything I am right now.¡±


    The Wolfkin with the broken arm was behind her. There could be no retreat.


    ¡°I beg to differ.¡± Widowmaker exhaled, opening her eyes wide. ¡°That look of yours. It¡¯s thrilling!¡±

 Chapter 110: Her Own Way

    Claw met steel in a burst of sparks, and the resulting collision pushed the air aside, briefly trapping Kalaisa in a vacuum prison. Widowmaker held one arm behind her back and attacked in a swashbuckling style, a sort of mixed martial arts version of weaponized combat. Her blows were scornful and mocking, yet skillfully executed without adhering to any single known dueling form. Slashes to stabs, stabs to parries, and back to slashes again, with the addition of dragging the blade across the arms to damage armor. The grenade launcher fell, split in two.


    And Kalaisa faced this storm, parrying swings coming from different angles, exchanging over thirty attacks per second, holding her own in a match where a single misstep meant death, her heart pounding with excitement. She abandoned the theatrics, sticking to a mundane and basic style of parrying and countering, and Widowmaker was the first to retreat, licking a deep gash on her chin that exposed her porcelain teeth with an impressively long, throbbing purple tongue, her eyes squinting with pleasure.


    Arruda¡¯s murderer took the sword in both hands. No more games.


    Why are you always in such a hurry? Ygrite¡¯s words came to Kalaisa¡¯s mind as she blocked the thrust roaring through the air. The impact shook her claws and reverberated in her forearms, stopping at the elbows. Great! Still evenly matched. The tip of the sword escaped the claw vise, raced skyward, chasing the nose and meeting an equally swift slash, recoiling and then stabbing at Kalaisa¡¯s knees as fast as quicksilver. Double swipes stopped both attempts, sending the blade far away, and it returned in a wide arc, resuming the dance.


    The wolf hag could barely see half of the incoming attacks and still blocked or parried them all. Kalaisa had never had a close bout in her life; it was always either dominating, which was most of the time, or being dominated, and the sole middle ground was her play fight with Anji, in which they both held back, enjoying, bonding, and learning at the suggestion of her therapist. Instinct and relentless training kept her alive. The body moved on its own, itching not only to match but to surpass an opponent, and the guiding mind refused to lie down and die, tempered by the resolve of responsibility for those under her command.


    You always act like you are trying to impress someone. Who are you trying to impress? Alpha had visited the pits once, back when Kalaisa wasn¡¯t a monster yet, and the towering hill of might asking questions scared the young girl into mewling. No, it¡¯s not useless. The timing was wrong. Anji had told her after she had sulked about how the Supreme Shaman had failed miserably with Kalaisa¡¯s ultimate move against Janine. Keep it simple. You are a Wolfkin; you do not rush or impress; you protect and kill. The right move at the right time, cub. Kalaisa remembered Janine¡¯s lessons.


    Simple? Let¡¯s overwhelm her! Kalaisa grinned, mirroring Widowmaker¡¯s smile, and leaned in, stepping into the khan¡¯s zone, forcing her to go on the defense. The closer you were, the less room there was for the enemy to swing a weapon and apply more force to a slash or stab. Her own claws no longer hurt from blocking, and she took a step ahead, advancing through the cloud of sparks flying around the two combatants.


    ¡°Wondrous. Don¡¯t stop. Show me more, and I¡¯ll do the same. I am not afraid to die,¡± Widowmaker said.


    ¡°Good. Because I have reasons to live for,¡± Kalaisa replied.


    ¡°Silly girl,¡± Widowmaker laughed, unmindful of a claw snapping in front of her face. ¡°Have you forgotten we are at war?¡±


    Right! Kalaisa spotted a blur approaching her head and retreated, taking a morning star aimed at her head onto the vambrace. The blow dented the armor, and the sharp spike cut a crack to the hordeman¡¯s approving grunt, and he pressed on as lightning leapt from his weapon and died on the resistant surface of her suit. Kalaisa twisted her arm, slipping the blow off, and stabbed at the man¡¯s visor. Her claws clanged, stopped by the flat of the sword, and the return swing drove the wolf hag two paces back. Widowmaker, flanked by two hordemen chased after her, ready to end her.


    All is fair in love and war. And I am not alone!


    Shards flew from under her arms, fired by her family, and the hordemen took them on their shields, while a flicker of Widowmaker¡¯s wrist directed her sword to collect three armor-piercing projectiles, and she sent them back, aiming at Kirk¡¯s head. As if! Kalaisa swatted them aside and resumed her advance, merging her family¡¯s vision with her own. Not alone. Broken and reforged. There was a future waiting for them, and she would cut a path right through that arrogant thing¡¯s body if she had to.


    They faced off in their own private corner of the battle, three against four, pacing back and forth in a never-ending burst of action. Widowmaker¡¯s blade swung at Kalaisa¡¯s sister, and Kalaisa grabbed the blade, almost paying with her ribs as one of the hordemen closed in. Her brother fired at the bastard from closer range, and Widowmaker again saved her minion by swinging at Kalaisa¡¯s brother. Once again, the wolf hag blocked the strike, and the khan danced back, rescued from shots by the tower¡¯s shields, which had been crushed into concrete.


    Left, right? Kalaisa thought feverishly, waiting for Widowmaker¡¯s move. Up! The khan jumped, spotted by Kirk¡¯s lenses, her descending sword aimed between Kirk¡¯s eyes. Kalaisa kicked to eviscerate the khan as she elbowed the sword away, but Widowmaker landed on her men¡¯s shoulders and let go of the weapon. Her hands closed around the wolf hag¡¯s ankle, twisting Kalaisa to the side and planting her on the bridge, right in the path of the incoming morning star¡¯s blow.


    Kalaisa rolled to the side, clawing at the man¡¯s legs and tearing muscles through a joint in his armor. Widowmaker was already leaping from her soldiers, kicking the falling sword back into her hand and forming a blurry sphere of slashes around herself, deflecting every incoming shard from herself and her allies. She closed in, the sword sweeping in a horizontal arc to decapitate the siblings.


    A ball of fury crashed into Widowmaker, knocking the air out of the woman¡¯s lungs despite her armor. Her legs scraped the surface, leaving wide marks; her sword danced, blocking the relentless onslaught of slashes from every side and seeking to damage tendons.


    Never. Never had Kalaisa timed her secret attack so well; never had she gone so far and so clean. She hadn''t even realized it at first; she had simply moved to save her family, striking much faster and precisely than before, and still Widowmaker had denied her victory by stepping into her path and forcing the headbutt. Kalaisa¡¯s plan was to run past the woman and take her arm, but the current situation satisfied her as well. She dragged the monster away from her family, away from the battle, ramming her with the forehead, looking through the soldiers¡¯ lenses to attack, never parrying, forcing the khan to stay on defense the whole time, and sparks glittered around them like stars.


    The sudden stop caught Widowmaker off guard, even more than the sweeping kick that knocked the khan off her feet. Kalaisa jumped, dodging the whipping blow aimed at her ankles, and ended up above her enemy. This was it. An ideal position for a killing blow, and she thrust down at the nape of Widowmaker¡¯s neck.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Her eyes widened as the blade blocked the stab. The woman¡¯s skills were incredible, her every movement filled with liberated strength as if her limbs were released springs. The khan landed on her left shoulder and rolled away, cutting a wide scar across Kalaisa¡¯s chest armor, and the wolf hag retreated, her back to the south.


    Widowmaker slashed, and pain gripped Kalaisa¡¯s eye. Air. The edge of the sword never reached her; she was stronger and faster than the khan, but the difference in skill and her own immaturity brought about a change in their battle. She knew Widowmaker was quick enough to create waves of propelled air, strong enough to push even flames aside, so why didn¡¯t she pay attention to watch out for such a technique!


    There is no point in self-blame. Kalaisa almost reached the edge. For this mistake, I forgive myself. Her left eye wasn¡¯t working, narrowing her field of vision. It was still there; she hadn¡¯t lost the eyeball, but the arc of air cut her skin a little and damaged her vision. What would the granny do¡­


    The idea came to her, and Kalaisa smiled into the face of the charging Widowmaker. Back to the south. Left eye. Why, Janine wouldn¡¯t fight at all! She would block! Widowmaker launched an overhead slash, no doubt planning how to catch the wolf hag after a dodge. But the flat of the blade was caught between the palms, and Kalaisa smiled fiercely as she struggled to keep the edge at bay in such an unusual position.


    War was a collective endeavor. Sure, champions often turned the tide of battle, but even a warlord would eventually fall, and a small contribution could change the course of a war. From the dawn of their existence, humans banded together to overcome trials, and Kalaisa surrendered the idea of winning on her own and entrusted her life to her family, who had already finished the hordemen. The one with the crippled leg fell first, and his companion soon joined him.


    Wide eyes betrayed Widowmaker¡¯s surprise as the first shard kissed her cheek, passing through the flesh to the other side, scratching the opening teeth. The khan spun, twisting the blade free, slashing at Kalaisa¡¯s knees, and parrying the ammunition aimed at her. Panic led to an adrenaline rush that gave her an impressive burst of strength, catching the Wolfkins completely off guard, and if it weren¡¯t for her armor, Kalaisa¡¯s kneecaps would have been dusted.


    What does it take to defeat her?


    ¡°Aw, guys...¡± growled and mused Widowmaker, anger and excitement mixed in her tone, her eyes narrowed, her gaze tracing everything. ¡°Couldn¡¯t you last five minutes? My men are not lambs to be slaughtered.¡±


    ¡°Then they should flee or surrender,¡± snarled Kalaisa, advancing in the whirlwind, the shards fired by her family drumming against her plate. ¡°Otherwise, death.¡±


    ¡°Death indeed, but¡­¡± Widowmaker leaned back, dodging a swing at her nose, her head bleeding from several stuck shards. ¡°Not for me. You should consider surrendering.¡±


    Blood splashed in the front rows of the Wolfkins. A scout and a warrior lost their arms; the speed of the cut overloaded their cameras. A punch followed, crumbling the warrior¡¯s cranium into the back of her helmet, breaking her neck and jerking her head back. The scout barely had time to open her jaws for a bite; a headbutt cracked her chest plate, sending broken bones to rupture organs. Another khan drew himself up, his helmet in the shape of a tusked boar, the dim lenses of his helmet whirling.


    Slavetaker, one of the bastards who had wounded Packs Janine and Ashbringer, swatted the Wolfkins out of his way, swinging his cleaver lazily. His elbow knocked Sheeren aside; one blow nearly knocked a male off the bridge, and his cloak of flayed skin flapped behind the man as he advanced toward the APC.


    Shardguns flashes illuminated the man, hundreds of metal spikes sunk deep into his heavy plates, turning the man into a weird version of a bipedal porcupine, and he paid little attention to any of it, killing or beating aside those trying to bar his inevitable passage, and the hordemen followed, denying the Wolfkins an opportunity to close ranks and spreading further chaos of the melee.


    Why? Is he after the wounded? Kalaisa¡¯s hesitation allowed Widowmaker to retreat and hide behind her own vehicle, disappearing from the fray. Slavetaker slashed at the APC, slicing through its hull, and thrust a hand inside, reaching not for a wounded wolfkin but for an overgrown fat boy inside.


    How did he know? When the children told her about the stalking creep who noticed their every move and found them in the town''s ruins, she thought they were hysterical. His visage haunted them during the brief time they slept, and a wounded officer donated his place in the evacuation to the children, choosing to try his luck in Hunter¡¯s Den. A betrayal? No, an idiotic suggestion. Still, they were in a carrier; he had no way of seeing them!


    ¡°No one escapes Slavetaker.¡± Kalaisa heard as she ran back, her heart pounding with concern that they had no one to stop another khan of Widowmaker¡¯s level who didn¡¯t disregard basic protection.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll be the first, sucker!¡± The kid laughed as the steel fingers closed around his head.


    A loud crack reached her ears, filling her with fear and crushing guilt for failing to protect a civilian. But instead of spilling blood and brain matter, the child¡¯s body vanished into the air, and Slavetaker roared in anger, shoving the APC aside and lunging after two tiny figures running east.


    ¡°The fuck are you doing here, Jay?¡± yelled the unharmed fat boy. ¡°I told you I can lead the freak away from everyone! You should have stayed and hid!¡±


    ¡°Screw you, T!¡± snapped another kid, helping his friend run. ¡°What we start together, we end together!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll end up on my cloak, you misbegotten, cheating cockroaches!¡± Slavetaker was gaining on them, saved from the fire as the Wolfkins were worried about killing children by accident.


    He pursued them, a giant chasing mice, his legs tossing wreckage aside, sending broken cars flying, and shaking the ground. T screamed and stabbed himself in the arm with a pocketknife; tears welled up in his eyes, and a perfect copy of the boy climbed out of his back, not even tearing his jacket or shirt. Another fat boy ran to the side, but Slavetaker ignored him, his tusked helm glaring at the two kids.


    It changed into a blur as a Wolfkin of comparable size to Kalaisa slid to his legs, accompanied by her reflection in a suit covered in engraved letters. The two grabbed the slaver¡¯s legs from under him, planting the bastard into the ground, and one fired a shardgun into his back while the other stabbed him mercilessly in the back. A roar of unhinged rage left the man¡¯s dynamics. He lashed out, slamming Anissa and Impatient One to the ground, and rose to his feet, delivering a knee kick to the wolf hag¡¯s stomach and knocking away the dodging Impatient One.


    He crept closer to the children through the resistance, inevitable and merciless, a mass of death, his fingers twitching with the need to tear and break. Jay stood defiantly in front of T, clenching his small fists and blinking tears of horror. Kalaisa speared a hordeman in the back, saving her soldiers, her eyes on the big bastard¡¯s back against all reason, her family covering her own rear, but she was far, so far away, and Anissa and Impatient One could not stand against Slavetaker in open combat.


    As if answering her prayers, a line of metal struck past Jay and T¡¯s heads, landing squarely into Slavetaker¡¯s groin and stopping his approach for good. Another kick to his helmet knocked him back, and a larger wolfkin stepped past the kids, eyeing the slaver through her gray lenses.


    ¡°Puny creature!¡± Soulless One laughed. ¡°Now you face a butcher maiden!¡±


    ¡°You are¡­¡± Jay swallowed.


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s that furry lunatic from Houstad!¡± T laughed.


    ¡°I promised to be your guardian, right?¡± the shaman said. ¡°As long as I stand, no harm will come to you. The spirits have declared his life forfeit! Do you hear their indignation, monster? Today you fall, all the way to the bottom! And I am a conduit of their will!¡±


    ¡°Divine or mortal, it matters not,¡± the khan rose, missing a tusk, and the swing of his cleaver drove Impatient One away. ¡°No one cheats Slavetaker and lives. None!¡±


    Kalaisa let out a howl of joy and slashed at another hordeman¡¯s throat, blinking in surprise as sparks flew into her snout, and the man was unharmed. She leaned back, dodging the blade, and a kick hurled her aside.


    ¡°Told you, my men aren¡¯t lambs,¡± said Widowmaker. She had sneaked close in the chaos of battle and launched her strike. ¡°Face someone your own size!!¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Kalaisa answered, dodging an overhead slash. ¡°Drop dead!¡±


    ¡°Good idea! Do that!¡±


    Howls filled the field, and the Anissa pack came out in full force on the east side, running on all fours to join their wolf hags as fresh reinforcements showed from the smoke cloud on the western part of the bridge. The Horde and the Reclamation Army closed in melee, filling the air with the snaps of bones, the tear of flesh, the cracks of cables, the barking of guns, the whines of twisted metal, and the gasps of the dead and dying. In the center of it, Slavetaker ran at Soulless One, dragging his cleaver across the road and shattering concrete.

 Chapter 111: Sacrifice and Forgiveness

    The vision provided by the shared link was both a blessing and a burden. Imagine peering through a kaleidoscope at the myriad of ever-changing patterns, while at the same time paying constant attention to your immediate surroundings. Veteran wolf hags and warlords easily handled such an obstacle with ease, battling champions and coordinating the advances of their own packs, never once failing to distinguish a distant threat from an immediate danger.


    With her eyes wounded, Kalaisa didn¡¯t even try, cutting herself off from the video feed and ordering her sister and Sheeren to oversee the retreat. She and Widowmaker spun, thrust, stabbed and slashed. Both had no qualms about attacking a nearby enemy to force an opening, and both tried valiantly to shield their allies. Widowmaker represented a dark mirror in Kalaisa¡¯s soul, a less strong, less fast, but far more adept combatant with an unparalleled sense of timing. They shared a concern for their subordinates, but instead of bridging their souls, it tore them apart.


    Is that me? Kalaisa¡¯s lips curled, fangs bared, and Widowmaker hissed, scowling, as the two intensified their exchange, abandoning their graceful defense. Was this what I was becoming? A filth readily working beside monsters willing to harm and enslave cubs? And for what? The thrill of battle? How... pathetic.


    She met a swirling one-handed side slash head-on and blocked it with one arm, remembering what she had learned from the autopsy performed by Dragena. The hordemen possessed an impressive layer of fat capable of stopping gunshots, and their biology dispersed kinetic blows evenly, rendering them nearly immune to blunt trauma from a lesser opponent.


    But as with any New Breed, there was a small price to pay for superiority, and there was a delay, almost minuscule thanks to the khan¡¯s timing, during a full spin, and Kalaisa capitalized on that, stopping the blade before it could gain speed in the thick vambrace and ramming her paw into the space between a pauldron and the armor, grinning fiercely as she felt the hiss of electricity and the spurt of blood against her fur. She retreated without twisting her paw, driven by a sudden fear, and a long dagger sliced through the joint on her belly, drawing a line on her skin.


    ¡°You¡¯re grating on my nerves.¡± Widowmaker¡¯s long tongue plucked a lodged shard from her head and spat it into the exposed part of Kalaisa¡¯s snout. The wolf hag dodged, and Widowmaker closed in, exhaling a white mist and using a dual style. ¡°No idea why. I enjoy this dance. Yet I hate you. Why? How can you hate someone you just met?¡±


    ¡°I despise you,¡± Kalaisa admitted, coughing. A broken rib? No, simple nervousness about the price of losing. She represents important lessons taught to me, learned wrong. ¡°Begone from my world!¡±


    She snarled, receiving an order from her sister, but silenced the stirring objections and fell smoothly into line, dodging shots and morning stars. Her legs carried her over the dead, a single kick hurling an open-bellied warrior into the APC for the refugees to help the woman get inside.


    Her sister was correct in her assessment. A stain on their honor for permitting the Gilded Horde to step on the west through the bridge was inconsequential and would play into their paws in the long run as the artillery will topple this passage. Separated from their allies, Widowmaker and Slavetaker would fall if there was anyone left among them capable of stopping them.


    Kalaisa had her doubts about this part of the plan.


    ¡°Cubs,¡± Soulless One had growled twenty seconds ago, just before she faced the khan. Impatient One diligently grabbed the little ones and jumped off the edge, hooking to the bottom of the bridge with her legs and walking back to safety.


    Twenty seconds. Twenty seconds ago, Kalaisa had dared to believe that they had a chance.


    Two giants fought in a circle of corpses. Soulless One and Slavetaker did not collide, but rather erupted like two volcanoes, somehow ending up on opposite sides. There was no grace or subtle evasion, just pure, unrelenting aggression realized through the endless attacks. Neither cared for defense; every slash and thrust was calculated to kill, the armor of both combatants creaking, chunks flying aside as if shot, and yet they continued, becoming the beacon of bloodthirst of this battle.


    Around them was the killing field. Wolfkins and hordemen rolled on the ground, biting, grabbing, shooting. One warrior grabbed a bondsman¡¯s head, almost piercing his eyes, and staggered, falling off him, her chest full of holes. The bondsmen helped their ally to his feet, and Kirk shot two of them. A tower shield of an approaching hordeman rose to break his neck, and Sheeren stabbed the man in the back. The New Breed shrieked in pain, trying to shake her off, but her paw burrowed its way to his spine column, took hold of it, and pulled the bones out.


    Legends worthy of songs rose and fell on the battlefield, inspired by the bloodlust of Soulless One and Slavetaker. Their swings, punches, and kicks landed with enough force to disable battle tanks; grazing slashes and stabs left wide craters in the ground that sent the nearest combatants flying. New Breeds did not die easily, and both sides evacuated their wounded. Morning stars went up and down, shattering claws, shardguns and rifles fired, jaws snapped, and people died. Over a simple bridge in the middle of nowhere.


    Slavetaker slammed a shoulder into Soulless One, throwing the woman back and instantly cracking her breastplate with his cleaver. The shaman didn¡¯t give in; not a whisper escaped her lips, and she stepped on the slaver¡¯s leg, blocking a kick, and stabbed both paws into his chest, reaching the ribs. A headbutt threw her off before the claws could hook. Explosions covered the duo, knocking everyone around them aside, and Kalaisa blinked through the ringing in her ear, understanding that they had reached the dividing line. She had ordered them to prepare in advance, following Warlord Ygrite¡¯s advice to expect the shittiest things to happen.


    Come to think of it, Ygrite was right about a lot of things. Kalaisa thought as Widowmaker recoiled, touching a burn on her temple. Grenade launchers have saved our hides more than once; traps are an excellent way to thin out a herd without getting your fangs dirty. And as for her last lesson¡­ Kalaisa¡¯s cheeky eyes narrowed. Everything in her was screaming to jump at the khan, knock her to the ground, and slash her to death. She knew better now, already spotting several hordemen hurrying to their leader, and jumped in the air.


    Grenades flew through the empty space, tossing Widowmaker down the road like a rag doll and silencing her scream of anguish in their thunderous discharge. Kalaisa¡¯s brother and two other males hastily reloaded their weapons to the encouraging pats of their landed wolf hag. Damn it, it¡¯s wonderful to be a part of the group! The wolf hag thought, summoning back the HUD.


    Blows that rang louder than any other noise cleared the area at the center of their battlefield. Slavetaker and Soulless One still fought, their armors full of open gashes, the skin around the wet lacerations convulsing at the touch of the shockwaves. Two giants too stubborn to die, they persisted. Soulless One caught Slavetaker¡¯s arm under her armpit, dislocating the bone in a single violent twist and bending the steel sleeve, nearly snapping the arm. She gasped, her legs leaving the ground as the cleaver impaled her belly, raising the shaman. The tip of the cleaver protruded from her back, damaging the power generator, and the hum of the shaman¡¯s armor disappeared.


    ¡°Meat or death?¡± Slavetaker asked in a calm voice. A red streak ran down from under his helmet.


    ¡°D-death,¡± Soulless One whispered. ¡°On my terms. Packs! Back!¡±


    Kalaisa complied before she thought, even before she heard Widowmaker¡¯s warning cry. It was a rule she had been taught since birth. Obey the shamans in everything; they know better. She grabbed several wounded, cautiously noticing Widowmaker, and the woman nodded, lowering a rifle she had taken from her subordinates. An unspoken truce formed in an instant, and the Horde and Reclaimers surged away. Only Slavetaker hadn¡¯t understood yet.


    Soulless One reached her own chest and pushed a paw through the opened crack; her claws sinking into her own flesh.


    ¡°Is this a suicide attempt?¡± Slavetaker asked, twisting his cleaver to widen the wound and pulling his dislocated arm free from the weakened hold. ¡°Cowardice. What do you think you are doing? Your fate¡­¡±


    ¡°Denying them to you.¡± A stream of Soulless One¡¯s blood covered Slavetaker¡¯s helmet. Her paw plunged deeper into her chest, and Kalaisa heard the bones crunch. ¡°Do not mourn me! It is a shaman¡¯s duty to sacrifice to preserve the future! Impatient One! Not perfection! Do not strive for the unattainable! Focus on devotion and progress at your own pace! Anissa! Choose and commit! Decide for yourself!¡±


    ¡°Slavetaker, run! Something¡¯s off!¡± Widowmaker yelled.


    ¡°No one impedes Slavetaker¡­¡±


    ¡°I promised you.¡± Soulless One¡¯s defiant tone shut him up. Slavetaker let go of his cleaver and took a step back, raising his healthy arm in protection.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Kalaisa didn¡¯t know much about the shaman. Apparently, the woman was a close friend of Janine¡¯s, and she visited her on the crawler, inquiring about how the shamans raised the cubs in her village, forcing the frustrated wolf hag to repeat and clarify every uncertain instance. She then paid similar visits to the other recruits from the same village, often accompanied by Lacerated One.


    There was an order from the higher-ups. Soulless One had to be retrieved and delivered to R&D in case of her sudden death, no matter what sacrifices the packs had to make to prevent her body from falling into the paws of enemies or outsiders. Kalaisa asked for clarification, as the shaman was nowhere near the level of a warlord, but in the chaos of the invasion, her request was buried as an unimportant matter. She received the answer right now.


    The shaman glowed. Light poured out of every crack in her armor, a smell of freshly cooked meat wafted from her, and a stream of light focused on the slaver¡¯s face. She stood, the whiteness burning, devouring her wound, her arms spread wide, and Kalaisa could¡¯ve sworn she saw a brief smile of relief on her disappearing lips. Molten streaks ran down her body, the intense heat reaching even the Wolfkins as they shoved the barely moving APC away.


    A flash of pure white licked everything in sight and flickered to orange. A plasma explosion destroyed the entire section of the bridge, cutting it cleanly in half. Its edges shriveled, glowing red and dripping metal down the canyon. Slavetaker could not escape the blast and flew down, his armor overheating, his cloak disappearing, his hand trying in vain to grasp something as he howled in frustration and pain.


    ¡°The crazy bint actually did it! Hurray to Soulless One! Glory and everlasting memory to our sister!¡± Sheered pressed fingers to her helmet in a salute.


    ¡°Honor her sacrifice!¡± Anissa and Kalaisa said together, and their lenses met. As the stronger wolf hag, Kalaisa was expected to assert dominance, but she bared her neck and surrendered authority to the more experienced woman. ¡°Get the civilians off the bridge; rouse our Normie allies so the medics could save lives. Stay on alert; they are¡­¡± She stopped, without looking back. ¡°Away from the bridge, now!¡±


    Massive figures appeared on the bridge, advancing slowly and leveling their laser cannons at the group. Walkers, three of them, had stomped over the Horde¡¯s wrecked vehicle, coming to reap their harvest. Kalaisa pushed her family forward, staying behind with the males to carry those who could not walk, and watched as the light glowed in the barrels. It was impossible to avoid light, but she could still save lives by dodging the aim-dodging¡­


    Whistles stopped her. Shells rained down upon the eastern section of the bridge, pulverizing both the walkers and collapsing the damaged section as the hordemen, led by Widowmaker, struggled to escape. The khan turned and blew an air kiss to Kalaisa, unmistakably finding the Wolfkin even in the panic. Then she sheathed her weapon, slung four soldiers over her shoulders, and ran away.


    The battle was over.


    ¡°Thank you for saving my hide, everyone,¡± Kalaisa said later, standing still while her brother worked gently on her poor eye. She had never known that he knew anything about medicine. Then again, considering how she had behaved, it wasn¡¯t surprising that he had chosen that trade. And she was proud of him.


    ¡°That¡¯s what family¡¯s for,¡± her brother joked.


    ¡°Y-yeah, sure. Family.¡± Kirk bristled. ¡°W-wolf h-ag, with your permission.¡± He bowed, and she nodded.


    Kirk turned his back on her and left to help treat a nasty, wide, gaping gash reaching the bone on Sheeren¡¯s arm. Two Normie medics tried to cut through the sturdy armor, and Kirk offered his help. He pried open the torn ends of the wolf hag¡¯s vambrace, gasping worriedly at the darkness inside.


    ¡°What?¡± Sheeren¡¯s jaw snapped over his helmet. ¡°Am I not good enough for you?¡±


    ¡°W-wolf hag, there is a rot on your arm¡­¡±


    ¡°You are the one who has a rot! A brain rot!¡± Sheeren said defensively, pushing the bleeding limb to his nose, ignoring the medic¡¯s pleas. ¡°There! Sniff! A clean wound. I tried to dye my stupid brown fur to look more like Mum.¡± She sighed. ¡°Overdid it a bit, yeah. The damn paint darkened my skin up to my elbows and knees.¡±


    ¡°Oh!¡± Kirk smiled, and for once, the corners of his mouth didn¡¯t twitch. ¡°It¡¯s kind of cool, actually.¡±


    ¡°Thanks! Want me to¡­¡±


    ¡°You used Delta paint.¡± A medic grabbed his head, reading Sheeren¡¯s medical history on the display of his portable helmet. ¡°Where did you even get that? We can¡¯t even produce it; where in the world did you find a can of such paint as a child!¡±


    ¡°Why, is it rare?¡± Sheeren rolled her eyes and tapped behind her ear, pretending that it was stressful for her to reach it. Kirk hesitantly scratched the ear, shrinking back in anticipation of a bite, but the wolf hag just rolled her eyes.


    ¡°It was used to paint the hulls of starships and could withstand the temperature of a sun. Yeah, rather rare,¡± the medic said.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, you¡¯ll get used to our weirdos,¡± a medic from the Third told her colleague.


    ¡°The child used the substance because it looked pretty¡­ The resulting chemical reaction caused a shift in pigmentation,¡± the medic groaned, carefully extracting a damaged implant from the wolf hag¡¯s arm. ¡°I¡¯m not sure who I want to strangle. You for risking your health for nothing, your irresponsible parents, or both.¡±


    ¡°Done.¡± After the treatment, a medical patch was placed over Kalaisa¡¯s eye, and a pleasant, cold sensation spread from underneath it. ¡°Don¡¯t take it off and don¡¯t lick the eye for six hours. You¡¯re a tough girl, sis, but let¡¯s follow the instructions.¡± Her brother placed a paw on her shoulder. ¡°And about our family¡­ They¡¯ll come around.¡±


    ¡°There is no need,¡± Kalaisa softened her voice. ¡°What I have done¡­¡±


    ¡°I forgive you.¡± He shrugged.


    ¡°But why?¡± she whispered, not wanting to bother Kirk. It was adorable to watch how he kept missing social cues, much to Sheeren¡¯s confusion. The woman flashed her claws in front of his nose again and raised her eyebrows at his silence. ¡°I brutalized you. As an older sister, I should have known better and cared for you instead of giving in to my impulses.¡±


    ¡°Listen.¡± He took her by the chin. ¡°You were a victim, and we were victims.¡±


    ¡°I was the abuser.¡±


    ¡°And that abuser is now dead and buried, hopefully. I have decided to stop blaming and hating. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever forget, but the past is set in stone; we can¡¯t undo it or change it. What we can do is learn from it and change ourselves. I give you a paw of peace. Let¡¯s try to be a family again and do it right this time.¡±


    Kalaisa didn¡¯t know what to say. She simply hugged her brother, and for a brief second, all was right with the world. The fear of failing to live up to her role as a leader, the grief for her lost troops, and the worry of turning back into a monster receded, and she dared to believe that she could atone for even a fraction of the things she had done.


    ¡°Late as usual!¡± She heard Anissa say.


    The wolf hag stayed in the rearguard with the wounded and sent the strongest parts of her pack, under the command of Kalaisa¡¯s sister, to escort most of the refugees on the trucks to the headquarters. This area was relatively safe, but Anissa wanted no surprises, and the group took cover in a cave near the canyon. The Ice Fangs vehicles provided additional cover by placing force shield generators around the area. Their knight-captain took over the defensive perimeter, while the Wolf Tribe scouts climbed the canyon¡¯s side to watch for any attempts to cross, and the white-furred kept a close eye on the skies. So far, they had reported that the Horde forces had retreated to the town and that a small detachment had left in an unknown direction.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± Anissa muttered, distracted from reviewing the reports. ¡°They claimed they would arrive in two minutes. It was three and a half. If it hadn¡¯t been for them, she¡­¡±


    ¡°Cease your hysterics,¡± Impatient One said, sitting cross-legged. Two rescued cubs slept on her knees, stirring in their sleep.


    ¡°Where are any dead Ice Fangs? Over two dozen of our kin have died. We were supposed to be replenishing our ranks in the Core Lands, but the war is thinning our ranks even further. I hear the soldiers¡¯ suspicions that the Ice Fangs seek our total extermination¡­¡±


    ¡°Then, as leader, you should quell them rather than succumb to the poison of despair, Wolf Hag.¡± The shaman raised her voice a little. ¡°What good will come from fracas? Delays happen in war. Do not look for treason where there is none. The Horde killed them, not the Ice Fangs. Your brother has sacrificed his life for an Ice Fang. Honor his choice and trust his judgment.¡± She closed her eyes and exhaled. Her snout mellowed, her bandaged paw continuing to ruffle the boys¡¯ heads. ¡°The soldiers had reported the sightings of the slaver. Perhaps we should take a small pack and go hunting.¡±


    ¡°Out of the question, Impatient One.¡± Anissa¡¯s tone was respectful, but she didn¡¯t bare her throat. ¡°If we can go down, so can the Horde, and any scramble risks us being swarmed and murdered. We have our orders.¡±


    ¡°Right you are, Wolf Hag.¡± Impatient One nodded. ¡°His death won¡¯t come from our claws, but it¡¯ll come, regardless.¡±


    ¡°Is that a premonition, Shaman?¡±


    ¡°No. Yes. Both.¡±


    ¡°He is alive?¡± The larger boy, T, shook away his dreams. ¡°I heard him roaring, promising to get to us in my sleep. And there is no one who can stop him from claiming our skins.¡± He touched Impatient One¡¯s wrist. ¡°Can you¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t give up.¡± The care and warmth in the shaman¡¯s voice surprised Kalaisa. She had expected to see a heavy slap and hear a few teeth fall, but Impatient One touched her forehead to the boy¡¯s. ¡°Never dare to surrender. As long as you live, even if your body is stolen from you, there is a chance for revenge.¡±


    ¡°But I am too small to beat him!¡± T argued.


    ¡°Then do a pro move and let the adults handle it.¡± Anissa loudly reloaded a shardgun. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised how many people are willing and able to grind the bastard into a powder.¡±


    Kalaisa wanted to offer her own encouragement, but decided against it. Actions spoke louder than words, and Slavetaker had done a grave insult to the Wolf Tribe. Let him come, Soulless One demonstrated the way this creature fought, and she¡¯ll bleed him dry, tearing tendon after tendon until his wretched soul joins the shaman in the Great Beyond, where she will gnaw at him until the day of rebirth or parting.


    Best not to keep Soulless One waiting.


    She jumped to her feet when she saw a bright yellow glow outside. It wasn¡¯t a sun; the knight-captain turned his head to the north, and in less than a breath Kalaisa was standing next to the man, her mouth wide open. A thundering pillar, thin in the distance, rose on the horizon, touching the clouds. They were kilometers away, yet the billowing wind slapped her muzzle and the ground rumbled a little. Rocks tumbled down the slope, spooking the scouts, and they climbed up.


    ¡°Is this the Horde?¡± Kalaisa whispered, trying to imagine what could have caused such an explosion. ¡°Had they used another of their weapons¡­¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Anissa joined her, smiling mirthlessly. ¡°It is Bogdan¡¯s funeral pyre.¡±


    ¡°Bogdan¡¯s¡­¡± Kalaisa stumbled. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. The granny Warlord Janine has returned. I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°My brother¡¯s dead. I¡¯ll never hear him ever again.¡± Anissa pressed a paw to her own chest, her fingers squeezing the metal a little. Her artificial eye dimmed, zooming in on the roaring cataclysm. ¡°Come, Kali. Let¡¯s load everyone up and head back while the Horde is stalled. I doubt we¡¯ll have much time later.¡±

 Chapter 112: BOOM

    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your situation, Lieutenant; I demand an immediate escort!¡± Lugal-marada screamed in a high-pitched voice, leaning back in his seat as he played his role. ¡°The Dynast will hear of this! You have no right to abandon an Oakster in favor of a common rabble! My vehicle carries taxes and collected tithes in addition to the precious relics. Do you have any idea how much that is worth? Drop the commoners and get us soldiers in here, now!¡±


    Darkness covered most of the interior of the control compartment of a twenty-meter-long land train, and the dim light from several working displays barely illuminated his swollen and stitched skin. Lugal-marada boasted of his superiority over Warlord Janine, but in reality the strain was causing him to sweat, and he kept his head clear thanks to the medical drugs he had swallowed in doses large enough to kill a normal man. His spleen, stomach, one lung, and kidneys had grown back hours ago after the Horde shells had speared through him, and they still pulsed with indignation at the stress he was putting them under.


    A paper with the written script lay on the armrest; he had no need for it. His power would have easily earned him a high rank in the First or Second, if not for the troubled past from his days as a border guard. He and his squad had escorted an Investigation Bureau agent to investigate the situation with two twelve-year-olds giving birth. An extremely radical wing of the Church of the Planet had founded the place after the Holy Fathers had exiled them, and the most devout elder proudly told the agent that the proper age for women to bear children was between ten and sixteen.


    Lugal-marada had introduced the man to his own orthodox views about the topic against the agent¡¯s complaints. Dishonored and with a criminal record, Lugal-marada had soon enlisted in the Provincial Army¡¯s penal unit and risen to the rank of regional commander, striving to maintain strict discipline in his section of the Wall. He slapped his chin, stopped daydreaming, and focused on the situation at hand. His fallen comrades and the civilians entrusted to his protection deserved to be avenged.


    The Oakster family eagerly parted with their opulent land train. Golden laurel leaves crowned the entire length of the four-compartment machine, accentuating its regal purple color, a sign of the dynast¡¯s direct favor for providing food to the starving nation. The Oaksters boasted incredible wealth and the wisdom to expand it, donating tokens to genetic laboratories to reintroduce less dangerous species of bees to their meadows and eliminate genetic defects from their cusack stock. They owned a jewelry factory and smelter nearby and willingly filled two of the compartments with silver, gold, and platinum ingots as a token of gratitude for rescuing their estranged workers and family members. The officer skeptically suspected that the insurance also played a significant role in their immediate acceptance.


    To their west grew an impressive man-made plateau full of temporary bunkers. The khan in charge of its construction took no chances, protecting even the lowliest of his workers with force fields; his artillery rained hell on the surrounding area, and snipers masterfully cleared the air of drones. The sheer magnitude of the industrial construction surpassed imagination, and Lugal-marada doubted that even the First Army could replicate it. A new path created by the Horde sealed off a section of the canyon like a plug; the pristine, clear surface reflected sunlight and was wide enough for even their accursed behemoth to pass without stopping. Columns of heavy vehicles had already sped ahead, and soldiers abandoned the bunkers as they sank into the bridge.


    Ashbringer and he had hoped that the Horde would send some of their mobile assembly centers, but surprisingly, they no longer accompanied the front lines, and as his train shook under the first landed projectile, the operators activated the engine and began broadcasting pleas for help on the secured channels. The deserters who had escaped with Janine eagerly confirmed which frequencies were already known to the enemy, and to be on the safe side, Ashbringer had ordered several secured frequencies also to be used. A prey must not suspect a thing she said.


    Unless they were deterred, the full might of the Horde would be on its way to Houstad in less than a few hours to face the unprepared Provincial Army. And it fell to Lugal-marada to give the invaders a more enticing appetizer to slow them down, and he intended to succeed by playing the role of a stubborn corporate paper-pusher who had arrogantly ignored the evacuation and stayed behind to collect a priceless cargo.


    The state also had talented engineers.


    ¡°Leave.¡± Lugal-marada faced the small crew of operators. ¡°It has been an honor to serve with you.¡± He didn¡¯t salute; his cap was absent.


    ¡°Sir!¡± A young kid of about nineteen jumped to his feet, filling the officer¡¯s heart with disgust. Not at the fear in the large eyes, no, the kiddo saw action, and a scab covered the side of his neck. He hated allowing the young to volunteer for suicide missions. ¡°We¡¯re willing to sacrifice our lives for the cause!!¡±


    ¡°Why let our enemies further our losses?¡± Lugal-marada asked. ¡°Survive. Your escape will add credibility.¡±


    ¡°Clear the channel, Oakster!¡± an operator snapped from the communicator. ¡°We have repeatedly warned you to drop whatever you are doing and evacuate. There¡¯s nothing we can do for you.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you can¡¯t?!¡± Lugal-marada yelled, jumping up and pounding his fists on the table for all to hear. He added a curse, feigning pain. ¡°Do you have any idea who you are talking to, eh, dolt? I will not¡­¡± The rear compartment of the land train opened, and his crew raced away, pushing their recon bikes to the limit. ¡°No! Don¡¯t leave me, you bastards! Stand and fight! I am paying you! Me! Save me!!!¡±


    He chuckled, stepping away from the coms as the operator in the HQ cut him off. He still had it. The nose of the land train crashed into the tree line, carving a path deeper as the big wheels turned the trunks into splinters. It was unlikely that his troops could escape the BOOM in time, but he intended to give them at least a chance.


    Hoverbikes already approached his vehicle, firing their pulse rifles at the hull, and a puff of smoke touched his nostrils. Heavier vehicles followed in their wake, and the whole column changed direction, hurrying after a rich bounty possessed by a vain idiot. The land train shook, a wheel broke, and a purple flash sliced the rear compartment in half. The wreckage almost slammed into two hordemen and crashed into an APC, spilling precious ingots around. Greed and hunger flashed in the hordemen¡¯s eyes, and more vehicles flanked the escapee. Pounding on the ceiling announced the arrival of the first boarders, and the officer smiled as he entered the second compartment.


    Shots pounded the hull and ricocheted away; cleavers and swords struck, denting the edges but creating cracks; a champion¡¯s fist smashed through the ceiling, and Lugal-marada wrapped his hand around it, reshaping his limb into a cluster of gray tentacles. Sensitive antennae grew above his forehead, catching every vibration in the air and funneling the chaos into his mind. His bones dissolved, and hardened bone growths covered the vulnerable parts of the officer¡¯s body, and he yanked at the arm, dragging the hapless hordeman through the opening too small for him.


    The neck broke, the man¡¯s head flattened so that it spattered against the armor, bones crunched, the snap of tearing tendons filled the air, and the idiot died so quickly that his mind had barely registered a ghost of pain. The wall to Lugal-marada¡¯s left exploded inward, and he whirled, his eyes merging into a single cyclopean sphere. It caught and reflected the outside light, magnifying and intensifying the beam so that it melted the metal on the hordeman¡¯s chest. But in its weakened state, it did little else, and the pulse rifle in the bastard¡¯s arm fired.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Lugal-marada jumped to the left, feeling a searing pain in his chin. His gums and teeth vaporized, giving the officer an ugly leer. The hordeman had no time to cheer his shot; the knot of tentacles was already closing in on him, twisting off limbs and tossing the body outside. More. Organic scythes rose from Lugal-marada¡¯s shoulders, their ends scraping the ceiling, and in one fell swoop he decapitated two boarders. A little further to lure more in.


    His body shook; bloody crimson grew over his torso as the hordemen opened fire, keeping their distance. A bullet pierced the foundation of the fleshy scythe, and it dropped to the ground. Lugal-marada kicked, his foot flattening and hooking the floor to throw wreckage at the boarders; his belly ballooned, the flesh protruded, and from its smooth surface showed white fangs and an eyeless head. On a long, elastic hose-neck, the new head traversed through the compartment, biting off chunks of flesh from the fallen enemies.


    Lugal-marada¡¯s power lay in body manipulation. Uniquely unbounded by notions of weight or available material, its limits depended on the well-being of his original human body. As he changed, his body thinned, spreading evenly in a layer over the grown parts. Even his brain no longer retained its original shape, and his conscience hid in the cells of his body. After an intense study of his powers, scientists concluded that his tentacles, fangs, and rudimentary body parts drew mass from other planes of existence, opening small portals in the officer¡¯s body. But damage to his body limited such possibilities until natural recovery, and he was far from his prime.


    Hands caught the moving head by the jaw and pulled them, eliciting a groan of pain from the officer. A hordeman laughed and shoved a grenade into the opened maw and jumped at the officer. The blast cut the fleshy tube in half, sending vibrating agony through the officer¡¯s body. Caught by the impact, the hordeman closed the distance in a split second, slashing at Lugal-marada¡¯s shoulder and cleanly shearing the knot of tentacles.


    The remaining arm morphed into a thick tentacle and wrapped around the man¡¯s neck, the throbbing flesh pressing hard enough to shatter the visor of the man¡¯s helmet. The hordeman still planted his knee into Lugal-marada¡¯s stomach, hard enough to sting him with pain, and the officer threw the man away. To keep from falling, the border grabbed the edge of the torn wall. Then, he pulled a plasma pistol from his belt and fired once. It was enough. Lugal-marada¡¯s eyes widened even more as he reacted to the incinerating orb burning its way through his insides; his body reacted against his will, turning into a hardened material resembling bark, capable of stopping the orb from burning him in two. The plasma died in his sternum, and the officer fell to his knees, connected to his lower body by a paper-thin layer of black bark.


    With a laugh, the hordeman leveled his pistol at the solidified eye as he approached. Behind him, the engines roared, ramming the train and bringing it to a screeching halt.


    ¡°Glad you are happy about your extermination, pest,¡± Lugal-marada whispered, using the last oxygen in his body, and the slanted eyes narrowed. The hordeman turned to shout a warning, and in that second, the BOOM went off, and Lugal-marada¡¯s body suddenly was weightless.


    ****


    Warlord Ashbringer¡¯s pack had toiled without rest, burying warheads and potent explosives in the area marked by Janine. Had they done so on the plains or near the roads, the Horde would have noticed the evidence of their recent digging, but deep in the forest and caught up in the chase, confident in the safety of their numbers, they entered the culling zone blindly.


    Like a great claw of a Spirit, the flame pillar rose from the ground in a titanic eruption, throwing hundreds of engines into the air and vaporizing them along with their crews. The flame rose, and the clouds escaped, driven away by the shockwaves that rolled across the ground, destroying much of the forest and setting the rest ablaze. In the distant Houstad, the crew of the Inevitable noted the seismic reading reaching the city, and far away, Mad Hatter clapped his hands, enjoying such amusement and regretting missing the chance to bathe in the blazing pyre.


    Clouds of smog enveloped the ground as if night had descended early; the fissures opened by the shockwave reached the bridge, and the hurled vehicles smashed against the indomitable shield of Sky¡¯s Wrath as it brazenly advanced, protecting the lesser forces that clung to it like frightened cubs to their mother during an insectoid visit at night. Flakes of earth fell to the ground in a ground fall, and ash obscured everything from view as the Horde¡¯s artillery roared, flattening any potential ambush far too late to achieve anything.


    Ashbringer stood undaunted, ignoring the wall of fire barreling toward her. Her legs held her steady, her armor closed, and she withstood the whip of the shockwave, opening her helmet in time to admire the passing heat genocide she had created. Not every soldier of the Provincial Guard had managed to escape the expanding danger zone, and her flickering HUD registered a screaming person falling from the bike and turning to ash. Sneaky rabbits, mighty bears, gorgeous deer, and magnificent birds tried to escape the impending doom and died in the hellfire. The Dynast was on a direct line with her, ready to give the order to mutilate the land he had created. She disconnected him and pressed the remote herself, wiping out life from a small corner of the Core Lands with a single press of a button.


    ¡°To save what we love, we destroy what we ought to protect,¡± Ashbringer mused. ¡°What does it make us?¡±


    ¡°Destroyers. Killers. Monsters.¡± A dark form stopped beside her, emanating streaks of almost liquid darkness. Onyxia spat on the ground. ¡°Ours is to protect and fight. But if we try to protect everything, we will lose everything.¡± She zipped to a fallen, burning deer and sliced through the head of the suffering animal. ¡°A puzzle of our existence. Instead of stagnating in indecision, we act and let the future generation curse or understand us.¡±


    ¡°It is our duty to arrange for them to have that luxury,¡± agreed Ashbringer. ¡°We are done here. Let us gather the survivors and reunite with the Ice Fangs. That should scare the Horde long enough for us to retreat safely.¡±


    ¡°It was good, yeah¡­¡± Onyxia looked around and smiled a perfect white line in the darkness. The lenses of her helmet darkened. ¡°But it could be better. See you in Houstad, sis. If you see Anji before I do, praise her for her hard work and recovery.¡±


    Ashbringer glanced in her direction, but her sister wasn¡¯t there anymore. A single step, barely marking a footprint in the ground, had carried the heavily armored warlord into the shroud of smog. She could sense no trace, no smell of Onyxia, and turned away, leaving the Visitor to hunt as she wished.


    ¡°Explain yourself, Warlord,¡± the Dynast¡¯s distorted voice came through the static. Many considered their liege a dreadful and merciless ruler, and he was capable of unspeakable cruelty for the sake of humanity. He spoke in a stern, demanding tone, but occasionally a hint of genuine warmth and care broke through the facade he had put on for the sake of his image, the voice of a man worn out of waging war and destruction and wishing to turn his attention to creation. ¡°What right did you have to ignore me?¡±


    ¡°It was ours. My sin to bear, sir,¡± Ashbringer said.


    ¡°And if I say that I have changed my mind about the BOOM in the last second?¡± the Dynast inquired.


    ¡°Then you have the opportunity to do so now or later, sir.¡±


    ¡°Stupid, Ashbringer. It is not your duty to preserve my reputation.¡±


    ¡°It is if the fate of our people depends on it, sir!¡± Ashbringer insisted.


    ¡°I am aware of a certain pigheaded stubbornness that Ravager has instilled in the Wolf Tribe.¡±


    ¡°What is a pig, sir?¡± she asked curiously.


    ¡°Read the history books.¡± The Dynast sighed wearily. ¡°Educate yourself in more than military matters, Ashbringer. After we win the war, if there is time, I or my servant will send you a quiz. Solve it and there will be a reward. Fail, and I¡¯ll send you to a university. Regardless, you are all younger than me. To me, you are the future.¡± She had a retort to this, and the Dynast continued. ¡°I¡¯ve seen enough prejudice and racism. My hand activated the remote and enforced Alpha¡¯s plan. Anyone who disagrees will be hanged. I don¡¯t see Onyxia¡¯s signature on the radar. Is it malfunctioning? Where did she run off to?¡±


    ¡°My sister plans to teach the Horde that some ghosts arrive during the day, sir.¡±

 Chapter 113: Night Slayer

    An ashen dome covered a wide swath of land near Quatindor. The occupying forces, the enslaved population, and the foreign laborers dared to show their faces from the cover, relieved that the raging firestorm had passed. Their world became a mix of gray and dark as heavy drops of dirt rained down from above and silence filled the streets. It didn¡¯t last long, and the methodical thud of artillery drove a new stake of anxiety into the hearts of the people.


    Is it the Reclaimers? The garrison and the captives thought the same, though no one dared speak their minds. One side hoped for their arrival; the other rushed to prepare defenses, just in case. The shockwave had ripped through the town, collapsing several wrecks, and the khan in charge of the defense was busy ordering the rubble cleared, trying to shake his troops out of their indecision. Brood Lord had gifted him the place, and he had humbly petitioned the Merchants for rebreathers for the general population. Though he abhorred the idea of saving weaklings, they were now the source of his wealth, and the khan wanted prosperity for his modest clan.


    No one knew the reason why the Merchants had sent not only the supplies but also the medical teams free of charge.


    On the bridge, the Gilded Horde resumed their advance. Their losses weren¡¯t that great, and the survivors climbed out of the overturned engines, laughing at the incredible accident, and some soldiers began to compose songs. Life was cheap on the steppes, while wealth and legacies meant everything to the champions. Though some regiments mourned the loss of their loved ones, and bondsmen trembled at the prospect of walking into another bomb field, the raiders eagerly awaited their chance for payback.


    Steel boots stomped across the ravaged ground into the veil of darkness, checking for possible minefields, and behind them, advanced mobile artillery, firing suppressive blasts to flush any ambushers out of hiding. No one really expected to meet any resistance, and the first hordeman gasped in surprise as a shadow passed her, opening her belly all the way to the spinal column.


    Onyxia burst into the search parties, moving faster than a bullet; her claws mutilated bodies beyond recovery. An explosion of ash announced her presence to the panicked soldiers, who fired in vain as she was already behind them, slicing through their backs. Six gravity grenades dropped, exploded, and dark orbs flashed into reality, sucking dozens into their center and collapsing the bastards into wet dots.


    She hunted those who tried to organize order for the officers and the clever individuals shouting commands to form a circle and stop firing blindly. These she murdered on the spot, slitting throats or splitting skulls. She spared the lesser soldiers, leaving them to bleed out on the scorched ground, their screams of despair and gurgling blood adding to the beautiful canopy of horror the warlord was weaving.


    Two thrusts raised the gasping hordemen in the air, and their bullets riddled their bodies into tatters, flying past Onyxia¡¯s disappearing afterimage. The lenses of her armor were dead. The suit itself had long since gone into infiltration mode, sealing any sound from leaving its confines. She was moving too fast to be tracked by their cameras, and the dissipated heat lingering in the air made it impossible to detect her with thermal sensors. Streaks of liquid darkness covered the surface of her battleplate and fangs, blending the Wolfkin into the shadows.


    ¡°Keon,¡± she said to a hordeman frozen in fear, claws raking against the woman¡¯s skull, eliciting terrible screams from her companions. Terrific boasted of being the master of psychological warfare, and Onyxia allowed the girl to keep her delusions, knowing full well who the master was.


    ¡°P-please¡­¡± yelped an enemy, throwing his rifle, and a larger man near him turned, ready to shoot the coward.


    ¡°Zlata.¡± Blood poured from a gaping wound in the chest, and the shooter looked at his still-beating heart, held in a paw in front of him. She continued to kill, whispering the names of her fallen comrades, sparing those who disarmed. She was a wind, stealing breaths, a specter rising from the ashes, inhuman, unseen, unfeeling, and impossible to overcome.


    There will be no deaths worthy of song or glory left for those who stand in her way. Just despair and helplessness.


    Warmth. Onyxia enjoyed it, joyful despite all the deaths of her kin and citizens. It was a selfish feeling, but one she cherished. Her body had generated no heat since she challenged Alpha at the dawn of their tribe, under the unblinking gaze of Ravager. Everyone instinctively bowed to Alpha, recognizing her superiority, but Onyxia had always considered herself a bit of an oddity. Why should she kowtow to someone she wasn¡¯t afraid of? She studied the pale woman, recognizing the patterns of her muscles contorting and releasing under her skin, even stealing her medical records, hungrily consuming information about the near-perfect body.


    Then it happened. The two entered an ancient ruin in the Ravaged Lands, and their duel lasted sixteen hours. Alpha¡¯s physical strength far exceeded Onyxia¡¯s, and the smaller woman abused the place, hiding from sight, striking, retreating, and dodging eviscerating stabs. She had read the warlord¡¯s body language, dodged and weaved in the cutting storm of attacks, and raged herself, trying to sever Alpha¡¯s tendons.


    Her opponent had truly etched herself into the memory; no matter the damage, she kept going, often healing the torn wounds during the openings when Onyxia had withdrawn to catch her breath. A single blow could be enough to murder the smaller woman, but that only excited the younger warlord; she was thrilled to have to use every ounce of her skill to win.


    The entire Tribe had held their breath, watching the impossible duel at first, then getting bored and yelling at Onyxia to fight fairly, but she paid no attention, and even the Blessed Mother had jokingly asked if the two would like to stop and have a snack and a drink. They had growled in indignation and redoubled their efforts. That split second of frustration, an insignificant irritation, had shattered Onyxia¡¯s concentration, and she slipped.


    Alpha had seized her by the throat during an ambush, the jaws had closed, and Onyxia had heard a crunch and the sharp pain of a torn windpipe. Then her body had convulsed, the light had left her eyes, and she had fainted. She had woken up two days later, blinking surprisingly at Alpha¡¯s attempts to burn her, and the two sisters had embraced. The older sister had apologized for her carelessness, and the younger sister had accepted her place in the pack, satisfied that she had tried her best and lost.


    Almost dying sucked! Since her resurrection, tendrils of darkness had enveloped Onyxia, as if Death itself had tried to lure the stubborn woman back into its realm. Her body no longer radiated warmth, and she had seen the disgust in her soulmate¡¯s eyes when he touched her fishlike skin. He had never said a word, had given her the same unconditional care and love as before, but she wasn¡¯t stupid.


    At the Blessed Mother¡¯s permission, they had left the tribe for months, mating in secret, and her worst fears had had been proven true with the birth of a litter. Her cubs had cried in Onyxia¡¯s embrace, refusing her milk, frozen by her sin, and she had to ask Lacerated One to be a wet nurse. Spirits be blessed, the only legacy of hers they shared was the thick, lush, almost silken fur so clearly visible in each of her distant descendants, manifesting most in Martyshkina, Anji, and Ashbringer. To preserve their honor, Onyxia never revealed the kinship. Except for the shamans, no one even knew of her soulmate. She had already brought indelible shame upon her precious adopted baby, and to tarnish the legacy of her biological cubs was unthinkable. Onyxia had failed as a mother.


    Lacerated One thought her cursed, but Onyxia and her soulmate doubted it. Six times she gave birth, and not one of her cubs was born breathless. Forty boys and thirty-five healthy girls she had gifted to the Tribe. What else could it be but a blessing, a sign of the Spirits¡¯ mercy to soothe her soul after the folly she had committed? But after her soulmate grew old and consented to be culled, no male would ever look at her, repelled by the icy coldness of her touch, even in the Ravaged Lands. She was a walking ghoul, and soon she had stopped caring about finding a partner.


    I wish I could be warm all the time. Onyxia exhaled, saddened by the chill that crept up her spine. Nothing lasted. Ashbringer had built a private furnace for her, and she snorted happily amid the crackling flames, but the moment she stepped outside the square structure, the icy tingling returned.


    She ducked, letting the bullets fly above her, and sprang into action, flying nimbly between a hordeman¡¯s legs without even touching the man. A plea for mercy and cries to his gods left his lips as she rose behind him, and he soon died as the air ceased to flow from the severed parts of his body. The soldier fell apart in pieces, and she picked up his grenade belt, fastening it around her waist. The decapitated head crashed into a rocket fired by the soldier, and they both disappeared in the ensuing explosion.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    The black arm swung through the rising wall of flame, blinding the crawling soldier, and the whistle of approaching shells alerted Onyxia that the artillery had finally taken note of her carnage. A single lunge carried her away from the wounded, and a shell flattened the man. The warlord zigzagged across the battlefield, her legs beating up large swaths of ground and ashes, furthering the chaos as dying troops hallucinated ghosts and relayed false coordinates to their allies. The artillery crew, believing a whole squad of Reclaimers had attacked them, began firing blindly, picking off their own troops.


    Satisfied, Onyxia crept past the enemy lines, keeping her snout almost kissing the ground, her nimble fingers easily carrying the wide warlord to her desired target. Ten self-propelling siege artillery tanks, adorned with the golden, world-devouring teeth. Loaned by the Khatun to her two subordinates, Brood Lord and Iron Lord, the soldiers sworn to Mad Hatter¡¯s khaganate operated them. Veterans of numerous conquests, they alone refused to fire blindly, and any destruction wrought upon them would cast a doubt on the Khatun¡¯s leadership.


    Which meant that Janine¡¯s bold plan would be all the easier to carry out.


    ¡°There!¡± A hordeman rose from the open hatch, pointing at Onyxia, deducing her location without error. He removed his visor, his eyes shining green. ¡°Bury the interloper!¡±


    ¡°For Mad Hatter and to the world¡¯s end!¡±


    Onyxia smirked, anticipating the barrels leveling at her, and dove to the left as the front plates of the nearest artillery tank exploded, sending shards of steel flying at her. Some kind of reactive plating? An anti-infantry weapon? Ignoring the slicing sound of the shards hitting the ruined ground, she darted forward, slipping to the soldiers guarding the vehicles. Her paws grabbed two by the ankles and dragged them under the belly of a beast. Claws dug under their armpits, drawing desperate screams, and she disappeared, cutting a path through a continuous track.


    Gunfire roared behind her as the guards assumed she was still under the vehicle, but she focused on the lad with the green eyes. Onyxia threw up a grenade.


    ¡°As expected,¡± he said as the plates of his vehicle exploded outward, blowing the grenade away. Then he blinked, felt the heavy paws on his shoulders, and tumbled inside, the warlord landing on top of him. She had already circled the vehicle, using the flash as a distraction.


    The hordeman lunged with his knife, missing the swaying and mocking head. To their credit, the rest of the crew, six soldiers in all, had already reached for their rifles, not panicking in the slightest and ready to fight. Onyxia took the stolen grenade belt, pulled out every safety pin, scattered them around, and stabbed the man in the neck, then bounced off him and into the main cannon. A single blow sent the shell flying from the barrel, and the warlord laughed as he heard the eruption behind her. Grenades detonated shells and ruptured the engine, adding its deadly potency to the ongoing explosion.


    The impact caught her and pushed her up the barrel, her armor scraping against the narrow confines and tongues of flame licking at her exposed cheeks. The walls of the vehicle welded and burst, unable to contain the destruction as the warlord was ejected from the cannon, calculating her next move. One down, but she noticed the officer¡¯s robustness after she had intended to break his arms. No risk, slow and steady¡­


    Pain struck her back, widening her dim eyes. Not a shot. She was thrown out of the trajectory and landed face down in the ashes, rolling away from the machine gun fire and searching for shadows. But there was not a single one nearby, and her own stretched out, reaching farther as the light engulfed her.


    In the storm of the artificial night, a living sun descended to the ground, banishing fear and uncertainty. The newcomer had the appearance of a burnt victim; his darkened skin clung to his bones, cracked in places, spewing gleeful fire that formed a reddish mantle around the man. He had no lips; his ember eyes sunk deep into the smiling skull; there was no ear to be seen, not even holes in the torn flesh that covered the head. A soft crack accompanied the newcomer¡¯s quick jerk of the neck, and he walked toward the warlord, leaving burning footsteps in his wake.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had friends and comrades who got caught in that explosion of yours,¡± the man spoke calmly, his voice still resembling the rumble of a swollen mountain cone of magma ready to erupt. ¡°Pay up.¡±


    I can¡¯t get a read on him. Onyxia watched the man cautiously, unable to detect the slightest movement beneath his leathery, dry skin. It stretched and broke occasionally during wide strides, causing the man no discomfort. Freaky.


    She jumped back, planning to find cover in the darkness, and the man broke from the spot, red wings spreading behind his back. He soared into the air and landed like a comet, sending waves across the ground and knocking Onyxia off her feet. His hand struck, aiming to strike and grab her throat, and she twisted her body, weaving away the blow and hearing a hiss of flames against her plates as the arm grazed her. The oozing darkness of her body retreated, hiding in the joints, and she countered, stabbing at the grinning skull.


    The claws stopped just short of his missing nose as the warlord¡¯s eyes caught sight of lines forming on the head. He reshaped the skull, each bone and piece of skin turning into perfect pieces of a bear trap that tried to snap at her wrist. Taking a step back, Onyxia found her footing and raised a paw, hearing the crack of the reshaping arm. The hordeman¡¯s arms broke apart to become long, curved swords.


    Wind blew into the approaching soldiers as the two champions faced off, flaming blades against armored paws. Claws raked the darkened surface, tearing away chunks of flesh; blades scratched armor, melting it in places. What is he? A constructor type? A regenerator? Onyxia pondered, blocking a stab and immediately dodging the returning blade. She had sliced the man¡¯s wrist to the bone, and he didn¡¯t even flinch, regaining his skull. His mouth opened, showering her with flame too weak to melt the armor. It was a trick to make her dodge into a stab. That much she could read, and his attacks slipped off her vambraces or were deflected by the claws.


    His flesh moved, closing the damage and confusing her even further. Sure, most regenerators eventually developed a high tolerance for pain so as not to be distracted in battle, but they still felt something. They frowned, jerked, spasmed, or twitched depending on the strike. Here, she stabbed him right in the sternum, and it caused no reaction. Best not to linger. She decided, glancing at the approaching troops and retreating artillery.


    The flaming hordeman stepped into her range, ignoring the slice that ripped his head clean off and another that burrowed into his chest, tearing off scorched ribs. His left arm morphed back into a fist and slammed into Onyxia with enough force to dent part of her armor into her stomach, forcing her to cough up blood. Strong. Nah, not worth the risk. His fist opened and slashed upward, almost nicking her exposed snout with the smoking claws. Leaning back, she kicked at his torso and sprang away.


    A wall of flame rose in her path at the man¡¯s snap, and Onyxia rolled through it, changing direction to avoid the shots to her back. An explosion threw her to all fours as the flaming man crashed into the fiery veil carried by his wings. His eyes flashed, betraying surprise as Onyxia hurled her emergency gravity grenade at the bastard, and she noticed a tiny sphere, no larger than a palm, streak away from the burning body as it began to disintegrate under the pull of the gravity vortex. Blackened bones and fire spread from the sphere, answering the warlord¡¯s question as to the nature of her enemy.


    Constructs. She headed east, summoning her HUD and sharing the information with her sisters. No wonder she had failed to predict the man¡¯s movements; every part of him, except for the orb, was created by his power. An impressive combination of fire manipulation, transformation, and matter creation grafted onto a single individual. Let the egghead examine the material, but she was willing to bet that destroying the tiny orb would put an end to the bastard.


    Onyxia slowed her escape when she heard the crackle of flames heading south, stopping, then heading north. He lost her. She slammed to the ground, her heartbeat silenced long enough for the scent of dark cover to show from under her armor. She disliked relying on that incomplete power of hers, preferring to trust her own abilities, for it often accentuated form and made her stand out on a horizon, but in the current situation, covered in flakes of ash, it served as adequate camouflage.


    Something stirred in the sand, piquing her curiosity. She approached the source of the noise and noticed badly burned and torn pieces of the Oaksters¡¯ land train. Most of the golden foliage and purple paint had disappeared from the hull, but her nose caught the familiar scent mark, and she halted, listening to the crawling of a small body struggling under the fallen metal, climbing stubbornly to the surface. The warlord assumed it was a surviving insect when a pale, soft tip of a wormlike appendage pushed up from the ashen surface, its skin parting at the top to form a hungry mouth that swallowed and spat ash. The thing thrashed about, searching blindly for something to eat, and Onyxia smiled, reaching for her belt.


    ¡°Would you look at that?¡± she whispered, pulling out a small ration and shoving it into the mouth. A series of needle teeth grew from the palate, and gastric juices frothed, dissolving the ground paste into nutrients. ¡°Regional commanders are impressive!¡±


    She paused, deciding on her next course of action. There was no guarantee that Lugal-marada would have his memories, or if he would even be able to regain his body. The officer had some regeneration, but nothing too impressive. Her original plan was to haunt the advancing forces of the Gilded Horde, picking at them from their weakest point and maybe killing that flame guy now that she thought she knew his weakness. This would require leaving the officer here, and his chances of survival¡­


    Are none existing. No point in lying. Admit it, Onyxia, you want to rescue the man and are searching for excuses. She folded her arms and nodded, then picked up the tentacle. Her little girl had traveled to Iterna to study medicine because she wanted to help patients get better. Well, the warlord was more on the side of improving society through social engineering, which involved slaughtering the state¡¯s enemies, than physical treatment, but she could honor her daughter¡¯s memory by at least trying to save her ally. Besides, she risked attracting Mad Hatter¡¯s attention and losing her life.


    So off to Houstad she went. She¡¯ll murder her share of scum when they get there.

 Chapter 114: Monsters of the Wolf Tribe

    Every curse had its merit.


    Alpha sat cross-legged on the edge of the freshly dug pit, her paws on her knees. She was naked, her armor stripped and carried away by her pack, and she closed her eyes, smelling blood and the stench of loose intestines. Fingers ran up and down her body, painting long black lines with blessed oil. Shamans chanted, praying to the Spirits to give the warlord strength, and Sarkeesian said her goodbyes quietly, joking even right now.


    An unrelenting bloodlust could be used to ignore even the most grievous injuries and crush those who threatened the helpless. The numbness of body and soul helped sharpen the mind, opening clever stratagems that brought downfall to the vile. The Wolf Tribe understood the value of flaws. Few were as blessed and cursed as they were.


    The ground shook, and the wind sliced across the tops of the trees, breaking some. A fresh smell touched her nose, brought from afar. Ashes. Janine¡¯s plan worked, after all. Good. The girl had the potential, always stepping up when it mattered. But she was too obedient and feared her wild nature, worried about becoming her former leader. Caution was a virtue, but doubt hindered a warrior, turning her into a coward.


    Dragena had announced a rally at Houstad, abandoning all unfound refugees and villages. Too soon, considering the perfect ambush area around them. Alpha didn¡¯t blame Dragena, nor did she think she was wrong. The Ice Fangs. The fuckers had rejoined too late, and the resulting mistrust cast a shadow of doubt over any cooperation. Alpha assigned those she had found to escort the civilians to Houstad.


    It should never have happened. This invasion, the way her sisters died, the ineptitude of the Order, had proven the shamans right in full measure. The Tribe had become soft, trusting and weak, burdening the Normies with the need to defend and gather information. No longer. The losses they had suffered here would rekindle the traditions and faith in the old ways, and she herself prepared foundations to ensure their safety.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Starstruck One, the watcher of the shamans, slapped Alpha hard. ¡°Stop overthinking! Let it go. Surrender yourself.¡±


    No growl left Alpha¡¯s lips, no blow followed to finish the uppity woman, and the strongest warlord obeyed, staring deep into herself. She had sinned more than many. Understanding of morality and the decision to be better had come to her in a single bite when she had bitten another test subject she had been ordered to dispose of so cruelly. But emotions like love she simulated, wearing them like a skinsuit attached to her very being, in order to be a better person and to contain the wickedness hidden within.


    An almost palpable, pungent malice began to fill the environment. She kept her eyes closed, shredding layers of emotion, forgoing concern for her troops and worry for civilians, and in this dreamy state she thought she saw white shapes walking, dancing and creeping behind the trees, clinging to the Wolfkins, mockingly singing in tune with the shamans¡¯ prayers and waiting.


    One of us. Different and still us. You play the most amusing spectacle. What will happen when you, too, grow tired of that game? She recalled their words. She didn¡¯t deem it worthwhile to answer, for her loyalty was unshakable and absolute.


    They couldn¡¯t be here, not yet. Even now, the Core Lands stood well defended against anything from the Wastes, and their transient nature ensured that they¡¯d never spend enough time sneaking past the wall. Nor did they have the mental control to peek into her mind. But she didn¡¯t dare dismiss these visions outright. Her kin¡¯s brains worked very differently, and they might very well have predicted decades in advance, being here and had done something, just for laughs, to remind her of their presence.


    Fingers continued to run up and down; the chanting helped her to drift into the trance, and Alpha let go of all worries about the present and the future, concentrating on herself and opening the door within herself that she had closed over a century ago. Ravager was not present; those fools in Houstad had unwittingly driven that coward away by reminding her of the sins she had committed. Idiot. You can¡¯t escape the past by running away, and you can¡¯t atone through self-flagellation.


    The commander¡¯s will didn¡¯t guide and protect the warlord, and today her greatest trial yet awaited her. Alpha shrugged and opened her eyes, sizing up Starstruck One, and the lust for cruelty caused fur to rise on Sarkeesian¡¯s back, and the woman instinctively released her claws and dropped into a defensive stance. Soldiers of the Alpha pack stepped back, sniffing the air, no longer recognizing their leader.


    ¡°You can leave,¡± Alpha said, addressing four shamans and her wolf hag. As the strongest warlord, she had the largest entourage of shamans to attend her, no matter how difficult the times were. Her claws twitched, and the tongue licked her lips in anticipation.


    Cull, Alpha. The ancient command rang in her head and she chuckled.


    ¡°Nah, warlord. Can¡¯t. I won¡¯t. Loyal to the end!¡± Sarkeesian pressed a paw to her heart, the drills in her mouth swirling nervously. ¡°Besides, never shrank from a challenge. Gimme your worst; I¡¯ll survive you yet.¡±


    Not wicked enough. She cared for her troops still. Alpha rose to face the pit of corpses. Dead invaders, with bullet holes and bite marks, their limbs broken or torn, were dragged and dropped here like garbage. Her own Wolfkins, stripped naked of everything of value, and the civilians they had failed to save, shared this grave. Over three thousand corpses, many of them still warm and... delicious. Her stomach rumbled, inviting the warlord to partake, and Starstruck One raised a massive bowl filled to the brim with the drops of blood collected from every corpse present.


    I don¡¯t want it. Ravager, Zero, Lacerated One. Please. Save me. I don¡¯t want to lose myself. Alpha took the offering, raised it to the sky, hidden by the tangled branches, and howled. Stop this cowardice! I am Alpha, the Unredeemed! Feeling sorry for yourself, bitch? What about the children who watch their parents die or cry as they are enslaved or worse? Your personality is nothing compared to that. So drink up and win! You are the strongest, the ultimate, and you will not lose!


    Alpha¡¯s creators bred her to be an all-purpose model. Able to mimic pity and easily gain a prisoner¡¯s trust, her brain picked up on the slightest changes in posture so she could alter her speech to apply the proper emotional pressure. In combat, her healing factor and innate physical ability allowed her to dominate most battlefields unopposed. Immune to poisons, bulletproof, resistant to most exoteric forces, obedient and without morals, she was also given the ultimate tool that helped her grow and choose to a certain extent.


    Instant self-education. By tasting the flesh and blood of her enemies, she learned everything there was to know about them, down to their first cry as babies. The most vivid memories came first, naturally, but no secret was safe, and the uncontrollable influx of foreign influence demanded a certain moderation, lest she be emotionally scarred, so she tried her best not to use this quirk of her body. And now she turned the clay bowl over and poured the lives of thousands down her throat.


    As she swallowed their fragments of personalities, their souls, their everything, the most vivid and immediate memories were those of their last moments. She was an infant, crying his sore throat out, not understanding why he couldn¡¯t breathe in the smoke and calling Mom. She was a hordeman, panicking at the thought that no one would take care of her kids. An engineer died trying to gather up his spilled guts and make a brave speech to the frightened children to run, and his last wish was for a warm cup of coffee. So many lives, united in the end by a single emotion.


    Horror. Alpha¡¯s psyche cracked; she swayed, unsure of who she was, legs trembling, body shaking, giggling drunkenly and craving more. Almost there. The century of service, the years of training, reduced to nothing by the onslaught of alien memories threatening to erase the core of her existence. She stomped, missing Starstruck One who had jumped aside, her task done. The shaman was ready to sacrifice herself like her sisters, but Alpha refused. Starstruck One observed and guided the most troubled individuals in the Tribe, showing incredible restraint and maintaining a perfect balance of loyalty to both parties. Such talent was rare and to be treasured.


    Horror took root, but in order to return and really move forward, something else was needed. A betrayal of her principles and her love. She wasn¡¯t deaf to the murmurs about her foul temper and the trail of mutilated bodies she left in her wake during the challenges, but ever since the incident with Onyxia, Alpha had tried to show a modicum of control, not to maim her sister beyond what they could have healed, not unless they truly crossed the line.This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    Wolf Hag Sarkeesian was a fine soldier, and Alpha had every intention of kicking her out of the pack one day to lead one of the newer packs as a warlord. How many times had she saved the wolf hag¡¯s hide, and her soldier repaid the debt tenfold by outdoing herself in battle?


    Alas, there was no future for her, and fear whipped in an omnidirectional burst, a chaotic and uncontrollable release that toppled several of her warriors and males. They clutched at their hearts, foaming at the mouth as the terror gripped them and they suffered a stroke. Their comrades carried them away, accompanied by Starstruck One, as the horror storm continued to rage, unfocused and merciless, murdering animals by the score.


    Claws cut, and Sarkeesian froze, bearing the pain of impalement. There were weaker, less valuable wolf hags, but it had to be her. A bond of loyalty, respect, and understanding bound the warlord and her top officer, and the shamans served as her confidants. Lacerated One¡¯s assessment was correct; to master her power, Alpha would have to descend to the lowest depths and indulge her worst impulses. The monster was thorough, first ravaging the woman¡¯s body to the brink of death, then proceeding to the rest of the victims, severing their flesh and rending their organs. Blood stained her snout red, the scientists¡¯ commands echoed in her mind, and memories of test subjects dying at her paws flashed before her eyes, and she giggled, reveling in the suffering she wrought.


    The storm of terror stopped, eased by Alpha¡¯s reinforced will, locked in the core of her being, and she stood over the five barely breathing bodies. She regretted the deed her claws had done. She was excited at the prospect of finding out which of the toys would last the longest when she unleashed her full power. The duality formed; the potential seed of evil in her soul spread its roots throughout her body, vying for control against the years of false love and true devotion. Alpha became one with her sister, and her control over her power heightened to unimaginable degrees.


    Laughing and snarling, giggling and sighing, she stepped and jumped over the pile of bodies, disappearing into them like a body in a swamp, relishing and recoiling in disgust as the walls of cold flesh closed around her. She sank deeper, her bulk crushing everything in her path, accompanied by the rasping gasps and coughs of the dying Wolfkins.


    Of her sisters. Of her soldiers. And of her toys.


    An army advanced at Magoda, a small, unprotected town full of refugees. An army that they could not stop. The fear wave expanded, pouring from the pit of death, engulfing the wounded, forming an invisible cone, and at her will, it pierced the sky, bending downward in an arc, changing into a sort of needle angled at the Wastes and the Ravaged Lands.


    It was a missive of sorts.


    There were two ways to save Magoda. The first was for her and First to abandon the front lines and rush to the town, praying that they¡¯d be there in time to buy time for the citizens to escape to the Outer Lands, jeopardizing the evacuation and Houstad¡¯s defenses in the process. This option was unacceptable, as in the rush to escape, hundreds to thousands will die in the heat-scorched lands of the Outer Lands, victims of the sun or local parasites. Or worse, a portion of the invasion force could get past the defenders and wreak havoc.


    The second option was approved by Dragena, the shamans, and the Dynast himself. Alpha knew who she was; she felt the extent of the taint from her crimes, and no amount of Ravager¡¯s soothing words or Zero¡¯s forgiveness could change that. She was a devil. What could a devil do to help?


    Why, she¡¯ll call her blood kin.


    Fear descended upon the faraway regions, blanketing the settlements, waking children in cold sweat, and resulting in countless weapon discharges. Cusacks mooed, swinging their heads in search of impending doom; insectoids scurried to hide deep in their holes; thieves and slavers abandoned any ill intent; and drunks in bars suddenly decided it wasn¡¯t worth picking a fight over nothing. Wolfkins and Ice Fangs reacted calmly, contacting the local command to inquire if this was a call for help, and Wyrm Lord¡¯s conscience clashed against her, revolted at the thoughts nestled in Alpha¡¯s skull.


    Alpha told the Golden Child nothing; his obligation lay in protecting and governing the Wastes. The Core Lands were their responsibility, and even his wings would not carry him fast enough to turn the tide in time. Worse, that bleeding heart would certainly challenge Mad Hatter and meet his doom if he came. She searched further and found the blessed and the cursed.


    Elephantine and sinewy, muscular and very thin, her sisters roamed the land. One stopped laughing and held a baby over her open maw, dead raiders at her feet, and the weeping parents, freed from a slave cage, scratched uselessly at her furless, pale, column-like legs, their gratitude for liberation turning to despair to the monster¡¯s glee. The creature pondered whether to slaughter the child in front of the parents, or take the unorthodox step of eating the elderly, so that the young would die of dehydration, unable to find a haven.


    Another sister had unearthed a child¡¯s grave in order to eat a corpse and was having fun playing with a returned brother to a grieving sister and her family who were blissfully unaware of what had entered their home and how soon a carnage would descend upon their village. For the moment, the fallen sister thought and acted exactly like the dead brother; she had become him in every way, and would rather die than harm the child¡¯s sibling. But the biological clock was ticking, and soon she would revert to the beast within.


    The third was busy remodeling her cave, tossing out rotting entrails and getting bored with arranged skins. The fiend wondered if she should lure unsuspecting travelers from a path into a desperate trap or just murder them on the spot.


    The fear wave touched more consciousness, and Alpha heard a loud pop. One of her sisters died. Four remained. And it didn¡¯t even sadden her. Alpha expanded the fear wave, trying to contact every cursed one.


    A monstrosity covered in iridescent tonic sat crouched in front of a hastily assembled lab. Fingers that ended in claws larger than those of a warlord nimbly plucked at rainbow vials and activated strange machines whose purpose eluded Alpha. Rusty engines reassembled into a strange industrial line, surrounded the madwoman, and from her mind, the warlord understood she was working to cure a small plague afflicting the local village. Then the idea became boring, and the thing snarled, grabbed scattered details and began to assemble a device to destroy the surroundings. Complex calculations, willingly shared, flooded Alpha¡¯s brain.


    That creature had never experienced a nuclear explosion and was curious if it would hurt or sting or both.


    STOP! Alpha commanded, her demand touching her sisters, and they dropped everything. The little one was returned to his parents; the little girl wailed in anguish as her ¡®brother¡¯ contorted, head turned in a full circle, and the body itself grew, breaking through the ceiling and leaping away; the travelers were left untouched, and the sick mind had finished the vaccine and tossed it to the suffering villagers, relishing the prospect of having a statue erected in her honor.


    Sister! It¡¯s been so long! Arms emerged from the many crevices of the Wastes and Ravaged Lands; bleak forms rivalling her in size danced in perfect unison and cohesion, despite hundreds of kilometers separating them. Oh, you shouldn¡¯t have changed yourself so much! You were so cute before! Here, have some back! Joy and unconditional love met the fear wave, flooding directly into the warlord, and the crack of her psyche narrowed, increasing the understanding and the torment at forcing her soldiers to suffer nearby. She almost lost control of the fear wave and her veins swelled, threatening to bulge as Alpha tried frantically to hold the wave in her recovered state. Gift and poison in one. Such were the skinwalkers. What fun we shall conduct! Is Mother near?


    Alpha knew she should be surprised that they reversed her mind link to talk to her, but in dealing with the skinwalkers she had learned to expect the most inexplicable things. If there was a fighting style, these women mastered it in nanoseconds. If there was a complicated scientific problem, they invented a solution and then forgot about it.


    The skinwalkers stopped whatever they were doing and danced, with several of them ignoring shots of the panicking settlers and bandits firing at them from close range. Left legs went up, stomping into the ground, sending ripples, arms twisting at impossible angles, fluttering rapidly in the air, the bodies swayed next, hairs flying as heads were thrown up in celebration, then right legs stomping before the process repeated itself. Amber orbs looked in Alpha¡¯s direction, despite the vast distance, and any wounds appearing on the perfect bodies were immediately swallowed by the white flesh.


    Their dance resembled the simplest tribal celebration, performed by the younger cubs on their birthdays or to mark a first kill, as the emotions overwhelmed them. But where such dances marked a joyous occasion and praised life, the inverted mockery of the skinwalkers served both to amuse and to ruin their bodies, so that they could drink from both opposite ends.


    Sister! So long! Sister! What ails you? Whom do you need to kill? Tell us, direct us, sick us!


    Not killing. Not this time. Alpha hastened to dampen her enthusiasm, but it only piqued their interest, and it heaved at her, threatening to squash her like a bug.


    Sister, you are so clumsy! The burden lessened. Who is it with you? Is it because of them you had tortured yourself so?


    None of your business. Alpha answered. Our¡­ My friends are in trouble and in need of a rescue. I am sending you the coordinates. Can you do me this favor? Without mischief or double-crossing me?


    Succor! Oh, such a wonderful game! I haven¡¯t played it in years! Gosh, I had completely forgotten how funny it was! We¡¯re going to see new lands, kill¡­ rescue people! Not them then, huh? Succor! Succor! What fun, what rapturous joy, what a curious task! We accept! But you know the rules¡­ The mind link transmitted a change in their voices, a deep, playful intonation that gently massaged Alpha¡¯s strained mind.


    Alpha¡¯s eyes opened wide and amber light shone brightly from beneath the corpses as she demanded obedience. And the Bane of Humanity responded, all three hundred and sixteen of them. Three hundred and sixteen beings stronger and smarter than warlords. Motivated to win.

 Chapter 115: A Carnival of Monsters

    The Wastes had never seen such a sight. Hundreds of skinwalkers stormed the roads in broad daylight, their giggles and howls filling the air. The hostis humani generis paid no attention to the shocked travelers; their claws tapped the roofs of occasional trucks. Some skinwalkers leapt, covering wide swaths of land, often landing in the middle of a populated center or close to dilapidated refueling stations, waving to the stunned populace who expected instant death. New Breeds and soldiers sprang into action, reading their weapons and preparing their powers.


    Amusement, and not her own, threatened to drown Alpha as the warlord gnashed both sets of fangs, firmly in control of the wave of fear. The restoration of her psyche made this task almost impossible; excruciating pain pulsed through her body, starting in her brain, exploding down and hitting her heart the hardest, shaking her insides and bones. The lack of callous coldness shattered her concentration, and the warlord growled, using every reserve of her body to keep herself from passing out. Not yet. She had to keep an iron grip on the wild rabble, lest they cheat.


    The skinwalkers shared their vision with her, already figuring out how to take full advantage of the psychic connection. One beast paused for a moment, pointed to a smuggler at the station, and told a village elder that the man was ripping him off by overcharging him for simple mining equipment by a vast amount. She then plucked a pale-skinned woman from among the smugglers, examined her, and set her down, exposing her to the shocked crowd as an Iternian.


    Alpha focused on the fallen sister¡¯s brain, puncturing a vessel there to a satisfied grunt from the creature, accompanied by a whiff of disappointment at the interrupted bargaining on behalf of the villagers. The killing machine stomped, racing toward the wall faster than most known aircraft.


    In a wave of contorted limbs, spinning torsos, barrel-rolling bodies, and graceful leaps, the ultimate predators surged toward the Wall, oblivious to any dangers and inviting retaliation. The Dynast had long since contacted the officer in charge and ordered him to stand down, but several soldiers still fired reflexively at the army of madness nearing their positions. Some monsters ran on their arms, others deliberately limped on a broken leg, never falling behind their ranks. Sensing their growing boredom, Alpha increased her influence, struggling to assert her authority.


    In reality, she had little of it. The Fallen obeyed her out of kinship and love, and such notions were less than fleeting to these beings. A trickle of blood dripped from her nose.


    Do not harm our allies!


    We have allies? Wow! Want to meet! Me first. No, me! A cacophony of malevolent joy elicited a groan of pain from the warlord. So potent, so noisy!


    The crazed crowd streamed into the minefield, never stopping. Soldiers in the bunkers and those on reconnaissance were too slow to react and stopped, praying for their lives or saying goodbye as everything around them erupted and dark shadows, larger than most Wolfkins and Orais, flickered in the dust.


    A skinwalker lacking an arm stomped out of the rising cloud, sniffed at a group of soldiers, and caught a fired bullet in her jaws. She swallowed it and stroked a young boy¡¯s cheek, advising him to confess his feelings to his friend before another girl snatched up such a delicious hunk. Then she patted the man on the back and disappeared as he weakly tried to explain that he wasn¡¯t gay. No one in his unit was calm enough to tease him about the revelation.


    Wounds and injuries closed in on the perfect bodies, lost limbs pushed back from stumps and in from the horizon covered by detonated mines, and jaundiced eyes locked on the humans as the creatures scaled the wall, reaching the top in seconds. Their mindless chatter and greetings filled the air; briefly shaking hands with their allies, the skinwalkers made themselves at home and hurried into the bastion¡¯s depths, pursuing their own ends.


    Operators in the command center jumped as the reinforced doors crumbled and a pale thing appeared inside, berating the commanding officer for such meager defenses and pointing out the smugglers¡¯ routes on the map. Confused and panicked, the cooks found themselves pushed aside as another skinwalker concocted a disgusting cuisine to her taste. Glancing at the men and women vomiting from the intense stench, she swallowed the resulting soup in one gulp, belching and releasing a stream of greenish mist that eroded a hole in a stone wall.


    But in the ensuing chaos, the skinwalkers had not forgotten their goal. A group of them tinkered with the artillery above, dismantling batteries and reassembling them into larger, less dependable versions. Then the madwomen climbed inside, and the cannons fired them south before falling apart as their sides inflated and burst. A smaller gathering of self-mutilating horrors treated themselves to the relics found at an excavation site.


    They cleared out a hangar, callously hurling away APCs as if they were mere children¡¯s toys, and told the enraged engineering crew not to worry. In the center of the hangar was placed a round, shiny silver disk, twenty meters in diameter, and around it rose towers of interconnected machines from abandoned laboratories. Scientists and company officials pleaded and shouted into the smiling muzzles that they hadn¡¯t catalogued the findings yet, and no one knew the extent of the danger.


    ¡°Don¡¯t fret, dummy.¡± A skinwalker distracted herself from connecting the disk to bastion¡¯s generators. ¡°It¡¯s a teleportation station. Banned because of its dramatic side effects on the human body. Museum exhibit. See? Simple!¡±


    ¡°Wait, but about the rest of the stuff¡­¡± The chief scientist overseeing the transport of the lost technology started, and in that second, the bastion went dark, its energy briefly drained into the disk.


    A white light blinded the humans temporarily, and when it disappeared, there was no trace of the skinwalkers. The disk glowed, becoming the sole source of light in the room; its edges melted, and the structure collapsed in on itself to the angry cries of the scientists, who mourned the loss of such valuable equipment. The scientists wept as they watched the molten pool widen and consume the rest of their precious discoveries.


    The remainder maniacs simply jumped from the wall and traversed the ground, scaring everyone they came across. And the strongest of their kind, a woman fit to be a warlord if not for an unfortunate curse, had spent an entire minute in the command center reading all she could about the Gilded Horde. Then the skinwalker broke away from the crowd, heading somewhere to the southwest.


    Stop. Alpha demanded, and the strain busted her eardrum.


    Unclench your tits, sis. The skinwalker replied, sending a ripple through the warlord¡¯s stomach. No foul, promise. I have another morsel in mind.


    It was impossible to control or restrict her. For the first time in her life, Alpha understood how one-sided their relationship was. The creature slipped out of the web of her fear wave, severing the connection and denying any information with a single push of her psyche. Alpha left her alone, wary of her eroding control over the rest of the host.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    Bleeding from every orifice, Alpha witnessed the horror she had unleashed upon the Core Lands and prayed to the Spirits that she would have enough strength to send them back. The front row of her fangs shattered, and a new set appeared, piercing the twitching palate. Cold sweat covered her shaking body as she endured the devastation.


    The Gilded Horde forces had already seized several farms on the outskirts of Magoda, mercilessly shooting down policemen who tried to negotiate a truce. The invaders ransacked the captured buildings and lined up their prisoners for future interrogation. Beautiful vineyards stood abandoned and broken; greenhouses lay destroyed by the passing hoverbikes, and bees buzzed in the air, stirred by the flattening of their hives on the meadows. War came to the region.


    New images flashed in Alpha¡¯s eyes, a family of four trying to escape the jeering hordemen who took their time toying with them, cutting off the group by racing past them, and cruel blades wounding the husband who held two small children high, trying to keep them safe. Finally, unable to walk as deep cuts reached the bones of his legs, he handed the children to the woman and prepared to buy some time for his family.


    His valiant sacrifice was interrupted as the wet giants translated into real space. Blinded, flayed, muscles twitching in the wind, bones glistening and nerves seared away, the skinwalkers growled and laughed, enjoying and hating this new experience. Without a mistake, claws caught the hoverbike aimed at the man, and the rider yelled in terror as he looked at the bud-like eyes forming in the skull. The gruesome fingers took the man apart, first the skin, then the muscles and ligaments, followed by the organs and finally the bones, spreading this horrible, still living tapestry on the ground for his comrades to see.


    Skinwalkers rained from above, breaking from the craters and ramming into the ranks of the hordemen. Alpha knew many of them from their days as Wolfkins, but now she struggled to identify a single one. Once they had been proud and loyal soldiers, trained to excel, veterans of countless skirmishes and wars, trusted comrades and revered protectors. No trace of their former selves remained. Each creature fought as an individual, often dancing amidst the bullets, calculating their trajectory, or deliberately letting bullets fired by panicked hands pierce their bodies. Then claws would collect said hands, and gleeful smiles would widen, soothed by the screams of panic and pain spilling around them.


    This was the true horror of skinwalkers. Their bodies regenerated most wounds, their intelligence almost rivaled Ravager¡¯s, and when they tasted flesh, they became their victims, down to the last thought. But it was malice and innate selfishness that caused them to be a danger to everything. They cared nothing for self-preservation and had no clear goals on the battlefields except to satisfy their own decadent desires. Even the skinwalkers¡¯ willingness to obey Alpha¡¯s restrictions stemmed in part from their joy and loyalty to Ravager. But even that would not last forever, and already they were casting hungry glances at the rescued civilians.


    The smallest skinwalkers stood four meters tall. To them, the hordemen were prey, and one pointed a finger at the enemy leader, whose face was concealed by a skull mask. The woman laughed, amused by a snort from the thunder bull, and the raider pointed his axe at the nearby captives. The laugher died, and the skinwalker lunged to stand tall before the prisoners, slapping herself in the chest in challenge.


    An energy discharge, meant to be used against fortifications, left the blade of the axe and slammed into her chest at the speed of light, blowing up everything above the woman¡¯s waist and leaving her legs standing. The skull bastard laughed contemptuously and prepared to hurl another bolt when the legs took a step and he froze in confusion, much to Alpha¡¯s delight.


    Scum using hostages deserved nothing less than extermination.


    Bones, already coiled into muscles, shot up from the carved waist to reform the skeleton; red fountains carried up organs and blood vessels to rebuild the destroyed chest, arms, and neck. From the open stump of the neck, a new head emerged, every bit as ugly as before, smiling with several rows of sharp fangs. A single step carried the skinwalker beneath the thunder bull; the woman opened the beast¡¯s belly and bathed in its entrails. The skull-faced hordeman tried to flee, oblivious to the skinwalker rising from the tortured animal¡¯s back. Claws slashed at the metal mask, and soon it was thrown to the ground beside the mutilated body.


    Cellular regeneration. The curse had grafted the skinwalkers with this gift, perhaps as compensation for the stolen sanity. These beasts differed from even the most regenerated types, springing back to life after a blow to the head and suffering no short-term memory loss. To kill a skinwalker for good, you had to burn through her internal reserves until she had nothing left to regenerate or destroy her brain long enough for her to accept death. Nothing less would suffice.


    The mundane slaughter soon bored the butchers. Frenzied eyes blinked, plotting; paws gathered broken hoverbikes and retooled them into bombs that exploded in a shower of electric arcs, shredding enemies and skinwalkers alike. Instead of absorbing blows, some skinwalkers turned blurry, performing feats of speed and precision worthy of Sword Saints. Bullets and pulse rounds no longer even touched their bodies, and a flick of a paw sliced enemy soldiers into a dozen pieces. Next to them were butchers, slowly pulling out legs and arms and arranging them into unholy sculptures before impaling the limbless cripples on found iron poles.


    It wasn¡¯t a battle. It was never a battle. This was a carnival of horror, where monsters devoid of even a shred of morality or decency indulged in every possible form of degeneracy. Caught in the middle of pillaging, the enemy¡¯s forces never stood a chance. Alpha blinked, worried for the safety of the captives as a skinwalker tended to the rescued family, bandaging the man¡¯s wounds, then mounted the thunder bull¡¯s head and used its carcass as a couch for the humans to sit on.


    ¡°Now, why do you assume you¡¯ll never get over this?¡± She addressed the woman, gesturing at the carnage around her and catching a bullet before it could hit a kid. She gave it to the boy and closed his unresponsive palm around it. ¡°A gift.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I¡­¡± the woman stammered. ¡°This is madness! It¡¯s inconceivable!¡±


    ¡°It is very inconceivable,¡± the skinwalker assured her, crossing her arms. ¡°To your left, one hundred and fifty-one are dying; to your right, a graveyard of screaming bodies. See, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing you can¡¯t understand. And the act of dying is not madness; it is the natural reaction of a human body under the influence of sufficient trauma. People have been dying for millions of years¡­¡±


    Stop pretending to be a soothsayer! Alpha¡¯s kidney flattened inside her body.


    ¡°The correct term is a therapist, sis.¡± The skinwalker waved her arm at the confused looks. ¡°Ignore it, ghost talk. Regardless, you, my friends, are too fixated on the here and now, misinterpreting the potential future as a result, thinking that that bother¡­¡± She rolled her eyes and stomped on a crawling raider dead. ¡°No manners at all; respect the session, please! Where was I¡­¡±


    ¡°You were talking about our future,¡± a little girl dared to say before her brother wrapped his arms around her for protection, crying at the skinwalker¡¯s wide smile.


    ¡°Thank you. See, you mistakenly think that today¡¯s unfortunate event will last forever, which, let¡¯s face it, it will not.¡± A rivulet of blood splashed over the skinwalker. ¡°Don¡¯t be alarmed by a temporary panic and depression; considering the circumstances, it is more than natural, but what you must understand is that our lives move on and memories tend to fade, lessening the burden you feel now. You have wonderful children and the need to care about them¡­¡±


    I will murder you with a spoon! Alpha¡¯s mental roar caused the creature to blink mid-speech.


    Tease. Came the wordless reply. You can¡¯t hold a spoon.


    Alpha wasn¡¯t sure what to do. If she pushed, the skinwalker could have verbally torn the family apart. The skinwalkers¡¯ lies and half-truths were known to drive people to suicide. These beasts did it for no other reason than fun. Sisterhood, duty, obligation, and simply being human no longer existed for these creatures; there was only them, for now and forever, and the world was their toy.


    Ravager was an exception to that rule. They collectively viewed her as a mother, amused by the madness that gripped the Commander. Alpha was the second exception. The skinwalkers wanted to see her fall. And Zero... she served as their treasured adversary.


    The slaughter continued, and Alpha shuddered in intense pain. A lung. She had just lost a lung. The vision darkened, breathing became harder, and she held her dominion over the skinwalkers to the end, whipping them from feasting on the corpses and reminding them of their deal. After the remnants of the Horde army turned tail and ran, she slipped into a restorative coma, issuing orders not to harm the civilians even as most of her body failed.

 Chapter 116: Fooling the Mad

    She awoke, still entombed in bodies, but no longer surrounded by cold flesh. Three hundred and fifteen skinwalkers coiled around her, cradling the relaxed pale slabs, sniffing her hair, scenting her, sharing the warmth of her body. Alpha pressed the palm of her paw to her chest, sensing the newly formed lung inside. Even the cracks in her ribs had disappeared.


    ¡°Sister¡¯s back with us. Good day, sleepyhead!¡± Voices sang around her, and the light of their eyes illuminated the warlord. ¡°Let¡¯s play, let¡¯s play!¡±


    They hugged her, the once-proud warriors rendered into psychotic mobile slaughterhouses by the flaw of their biology, through no fault of their own. Alpha could not find it in his heart to reject them. Even monsters needed family. And someone who cared.


    ¡°I can¡¯t join you,¡± she told them plainly. They gave her space to stand, and her cheeks blushed at the understanding that the bitches had cleaned her the way a mother cleans an unruly cub. ¡°A war awaits me.¡±


    ¡°A war? Battles! Slaughter! Take us along; we¡¯ll play with meat bags!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll pry them open!¡±


    ¡°And see what¡¯s inside!¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll fill the nights with screams!¡±


    ¡°And feast with joy!¡±


    ¡°Like a family!¡±


    Alpha almost agreed to their pleas. Now that they had calmed down a bit, she was able to recognize some of them. There was Anya, a wolf hag who had watched over a remote village for a thousand days and nights after the Iternian Culling. The woman believed herself to be the sole survivor of the Tribe and had performed her duties admirably until she was reunited with Ravager and rewarded. She had nearly taken her own life when the transformation took hold, but had survived long enough for the taint to spread.


    Next to her stood Lena, once a curious scout in Pack Alpha and a proud mother of four litters. How happy she had been to win the domination match and receive her promotion. The woman had willingly accepted the change, believing it to be part of the Spirits¡¯ wills as the shamans taught. Alpha examined the changed face and saw nothing of the formerly composed woman. Lena¡¯s ugly grin had reached her ears; the corners of her mouth cracked, her features distorted. The ridiculous, radiant smile, the bliss of a junkie. In her previous life, Lena had never begged. Not even once, no matter how hard it was. Ruined. So completely and irrevocably ruined.


    The skinwalkers were off the leash; it was just a matter of time before the first civilian was devoured or worse. A careless word will sow the seeds of conflict, and assembled tools of destruction will find their way into unprepared paws to further the sickening spectacle planned by these monsters.


    ¡°No,¡± said Alpha. ¡°Return to the Outer Lands. Away from civilization, away from the settlements and military bases. Live in remote caves and be good. Can you play this game for me?¡±


    ¡°We can,¡± they lied unhappily. ¡°But why stay here? We have such wonders to show you!¡±


    ¡°I am still stable,¡± said Alpha.


    ¡°Are you?¡± inquired the skinwalkers surrounding her at the bottom of the pit. ¡°We sense disturbance.¡±


    ¡°It is sadness,¡± admitted Alpha. ¡°I hurt those under my command to summon you.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t want you to be sad, sister.¡± She tensed at their approach. Two skinwalkers climbed nimbly out of the pit and raced toward the tree line. ¡°You think we want to hurt you, but we don¡¯t. Visit us, alone or with Mom. Such sights we can show you underground! And no evil, promise, swear!¡±


    The earth shook as the skinwalkers bounced off it, breaking the branches above and disappearing into the forest, not bothering to hide their movements. Alpha used her fear wave, now much weaker than the version she had used before, to track their direction north. Maybe they weren¡¯t bullshitting about obeying. Perhaps, just this once, they¡¯d do as they promised and not linger in these lands, wreaking mayhem.


    Testing her arms and legs for pain, she climbed out to find Sarkeesian and a shaman lying on the ground, their lips and fur covered in dried blood. Knowledgeable paws stitched together the ends of the gaping gashes left by Alpha¡¯s claws, closed the wounds, and even reattached severed limbs. Not daring to risk harming them, Alpha roared a call, calling the pack back and hoping, against all odds, to hear two more voices.


    Legs stomped, and the cream of her pack hastened to answer her call, advancing cautiously to their location. Of the two missing women, there was no sound.


    ¡°W-warlord¡­¡± the shaman exhaled. Crimson threads covered her and Sarkeesian¡¯s bodies, strands of hair stolen from Alpha¡¯s hair used in place of stitches. ¡°They... the revelations the Blessed Ones whispered to me. They claim that the Spirits didn¡¯t create the Blessed Mother, that she invented them, and yet they are real now, brought into reality by her existence and our faith.¡±


    ¡°Tread carefully. Take nothing at face value,¡± Alpha cautioned the woman, marveling at the level of medical care she had been given. The shaman will do more than survive; bless the Spirits, she¡¯ll even keep her legs! ¡°Skinwalkers¡¯ words are laced with lies. The Spirits use them to test our resolve and devotion. For every truth, they feed us ten poisons. And today they have already worked honestly.¡±


    ¡°There is one statement that is less obscured than the rest.¡± Sarkeesian¡¯s blood-soaked eye focused on the warlord; a swollen mass of flesh completely covered the other. ¡°Our young. Did you harm them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Alpha knelt, placing her arms on the ground.


    ¡°Why?¡± the wolf hag asked, trying to sit, and the wounds on her shoulder reopened. Alpha probed the woman¡¯s mind, using a whiff of terror to keep the wolf hag pinned.


    ¡°Because I am a tool,¡± Alpha began, remembering the white rooms of the experimental center and the screams of dying subjects in her claws. ¡°It¡¯s no secret that I am different from the rest of the Tribe.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ shit, ma¡¯am,¡± Sarkeesian tried to smile, grimacing in pain.


    ¡°Lie still, will you, soldier?¡± Alpha held back the urge to slap the idiot, worried about her safety. ¡°What is a secret is that I am not a Wolfkin. I am a product, the distilled vision of what a Wolfkin should have been according to a vile vision and a cloned mockery of the Blessed Mother¡¯s cubs.¡± She spread her arms, hating the need to lie.


    Ravager had ordered that the origins of the Wolf Tribe be kept secret from the lower ranks, never to be revealed to outsiders or anyone but the supreme shaman and the warlords. She feared possible reprisals, and for a long time Alpha considered her paranoid, until the day came when Iterna carried out the Culling of those with the ¡®impure genes¡¯. Since then, every warlord had learned the value of keeping their mouths shut, cautiously quashing any attempts at racism within their nation and praising the wisdom of the Dynast and the commander who had repeatedly warned that this might come to pass.


    For their sakes and as far as they knew it, the Wolfkins mutated from humans, like Ice Fangs.


    ¡°Pretty idiotic in retrospect, huh? The imbeciles who created me failed to notice the obvious flaw of my ridiculous claws, incapable of wielding anything. A tool incapable of even dressing itself, a savage barbarian in a world full of excellent ranged weapons, a waste of resources. But they crafted me true in the rest, the bastards,¡± Alpha said bitterly, mingling falsehoods with the truth, unwilling to shy away from admitting her sins. Sarkeesian deserved better. ¡°Loyalty is ingrained in me. I can¡¯t resist an order from my superior. And they used me as a fighting dog to test the limits of those they captured, forcing me to kill until the day came when the Blessed Mother and the Dynast delivered us.¡±


    ¡°Blessed be their names,¡± the shaman muttered.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Alpha sighed. ¡°My sin remained. I confessed everything to the Blessed Mother and asked for punishment, fully understanding the gravity of what I had done. She listened and embraced me, refusing to punish me and asking for only one thing. That I be a good girl.¡± The absurdity of it all sounded as ridiculous now as it did then. ¡°Since then, I have imprinted on her and the Tribe, doing my best to atone and keep my crimes a secret. Now you know.¡± Alpha raised her head, exposing her throat to another female for the first time since the conversation with Ravager. ¡°Judge. I won¡¯t resist now or later if you are too weak.¡±


    ¡°Not my place to argue against the commander¡¯s mercy,¡± Sarkeesian forced the words through her broken drills. ¡°I have seen you in action, Warlord, and tens of thousands rescued and trained by you. Whatever you have done in the past, I am honored to serve the woman you have become. Help me to my feet; I will join the defense of Houstad.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Alpha said. ¡°Warlord Janine is wrong about many things, but even a broken clock is right twice in a day. You¡¯ll sit this one out.¡±


    ¡°My friends are dead, bitch!¡± The wolf hag snarled. ¡°Their souls demand vengeance!¡±


    ¡°Wolf Hag!¡± the shaman gasped. ¡°Watch your tone!¡±


    ¡°For that, I¡¯ll scar your back later, Wolf Hag,¡± Alpha promised, hearing the approaching footsteps. ¡°Rest. My decision stands. This war is over for you.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were supposed to serve the Tribe!¡±


    ¡°And I am. To the Tribe. Not Sarkeesian. Sarkeesian is a part of the Tribe placed at my command,¡± Alpha told her, standing.


    Starstruck One entered the clearing, glanced at the pit, and immediately checked on the wounded. She exhaled in relief and snapped her fingers, silently commanding a wolf hag following her to call the medics from the ranks of Normies. There were no more secrets left here to be kept from the outsiders¡¯ eyes.


    ¡°Will the Blessed Ones return to their dwellings?¡± asked Starstruck One, marveling at the gift of two spared sacrifices.


    ¡°Most of them,¡± Alpha answered. ¡°The connection is broken, but I feel the intent. Two plans to fool around, the majority go home, and one is missing. Prepare the search parties; I will not leave my soldiers¡­¡±


    ¡°We found them on the way here, Warlord,¡± Starstruck One said.


    As the shaman showed Alpha what her cursed sisters had done to the two injured shamans and the dead woman, her paws closed and claws drew long lines in her arms. Twisted limbs were stretched to the breaking point, the bones inside them reduced to bone dust. Dead eyes, still wide opened from the unspeakable torture, stared at the shocked pack members.


    We don¡¯t want you to be sad.


    Instead, they made her first joyous and then enraged.


    ¡°Take them off,¡± Alpha said, maintaining an even tone. ¡°Respectfully. Wrap them in cloth and give them a proper farewell, Shaman. Don¡¯t let the Normies see what¡¯s been done to them. Then off to Houstad.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    ¡°You speak as if you plan to go a separate way, Warlord,¡± Starstruck One said.


    ¡°I am,¡± Alpha confirmed. ¡°I hope my sisters will forgive me for not personally sending them on the final journey. But matters of the living demand my attention. Our kin escort the convoy of refugees. I will join them as soon as possible to protect them.¡±


    ****


    Mad Hatter stood in the exposed hall of the command center, admiring the results of her handiwork. The Reclamation Army believed in the security of their wall, and there was a certain merit to that, as their bastions, built at a certain distance from one another, possessed impressive firepower and manpower to repel any regular invasion. Unfortunately for them, she didn¡¯t belong in the realm of normality, but rather acted as the deity¡¯s wrath incarnated, and so she had passed through the laser beams unharmed, flattened the bunkers with the swings of the scimitars, and inhaled a full chest of forbidden chemical weapons, desperately unleashed to repulse her.


    The fortification ruins surrounded her, and the khatun had examined them curiously, questioning the survivors. Flashes of gunfire banished the darkness of the collapsed corridors as soldiers tried to attack her; brutish, apish assailants stood shocked as she had been weaving around their blows and outpacing bullets, inquiring of their traditions to determine their future role in the Gilded Horde. It was a game. She had promised to spare the bondsmen, Normies as the Reclaimers called them, if a single bullet or knife touched her furs, hair, or skin before nightfall. The defenders had been unsuccessful so far.


    She passed the control consoles, ignoring a few survivors who pretended to be dead and dutifully tried to contact their command. Such loyalty had to be rewarded, and the khatun decided to forfeit the game at dusk and integrate these serfs into her clan. Banners taken from the defeated war bands caught her attention, and she touched the fluttering cloth and leather, unfurling several.


    Behind her was an open field divided by roads; a single slash of her scimitar sheared off a third of the fortification, sending it crashing down like a landslide. Had she known of such trophies, Mad Hatter would have shown more care. Crude bone staffs, with spines of the unfortunate victims braided around the steel poles, stood alongside exquisitely tailored silken standards so wide they could easily pass for sails. She recognized the greenish patterns snaking across the silk, shining even in the shadows. So some of the nations she had conquered had tried their hand at raiding the Reclaimers¡¯ lands.


    ¡°Curious. Shall I destroy you? Your Sultanate refused to surrender,¡± she said, ignoring the insistent whispers of her ¡®passenger¡¯, who was trying to convince the khatun to accept his offer. ¡°And what is this?¡±


    She heard a noise and stepped aside, irritated when a bullet dented the alloy-covered bones that served as the pole for a war flag. These were her trophies now! Ignoring the urge to murder the gasping soldier, Mad Hatter moved on, running a finger over the cap of a dead officer seated in front of a display. Debris had fallen from above, piercing the man¡¯s chest. Was he in command here? She closed his mouth and leaned forward, examining the display, eager to glean something of value, tapping the gold-encrusted communicator in her ear, ready to send any useful information to Iron Lord.


    Their dear traitor had reported that Houstad¡¯s leadership was undertaking every effort to safely evacuate its population at the cost of abandoning its industrial and research facilities. Sure, the traitor was a scheming flea who harbored plans to use the Horde and had already tried to deceive them about the size of the Reclamation Army, but in this the reports sent to them proved true, much to everyone¡¯s bewilderment. She understood the value of sentimentality, but common folk could use their own legs to escape. An abandoned factory was a place where weapons were made for the enemy. And yet the reports on the screen continued to prove it.


    ¡°Hey! What do you think you are doing, causing a ruckus around here? It¡¯s our hobby; get your own, copycat!¡± Mad Hatter blinked, hearing the cheerful, mocking query.


    She didn¡¯t notice the newcomer. The soldier gasped, not in awe at the inhuman speed, but at the tall, pale body towering over the human. The creature¡¯s scarless skin was white, muscles coiled beneath it, always in motion; its fingers twitched, and it grinned with a wide maw full of sword-sized fangs. It resembled a Wolfkin, but its eyes lacked concentration, as if a thousand thoughts and desires passed through them in a second. The thing stood relaxed, shamelessly exposing its nakedness. It had no fur, but a long blond hair touched its shoulders. Its back was to the horizon, where a mushroom explosion swallowed a good third of the blue sky, and the racing shockwave reached the ruins.


    ¡°You¡¯ll do.¡± Mad Hatter smiled, gauging the creature¡¯s physical limits from its height, the way it breathed, and the visible muscles. Not much exercise, but better than nothing. ¡°Tell me, intriguing embellishment of the day, what are you? I have never seen a pureblood like you. Are you a mutant, a test subject, or did you take the deal¡­¡±


    ¡°Liar riding a liar.¡± The thing clapped its hands and tilted its head, examining some unseen curiosity.


    White motes shied away from approaching the strange beast, and for once, the pretender was not in a hurry to snatch a champion. He seemed disgusted by this aberration, and it was new information, but it wasn¡¯t what drained the smile from Mad Hatter¡¯s face.


    ¡°Peculiar statement.¡± It bothered her more than even sleep deprivation. ¡°Why did you call me that¡­¡±


    It lunged, accompanied by the sound of a fired cannon, collapsing the part of the floor, and the soldier screamed, grabbing the edge of the ruined room to save himself. The operators stopped feigning death and rushed to his aid, while Mad Hatter raised an arm and examined a wound with disbelieving eyes. The creature¡¯s talons slashed at her, far faster than it should have been able to move, and a single drop of blood appeared from the paper cut on her arm.


    She was wrong. So exciting. Mad Hatter wished to experience this feeling again.


    ¡°How¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t cry; I barely grazed you!¡± The monster fell on his ass, rolling with glee as a series of wet pops went off around its knees.


    ¡°Is this your power?¡± Mad Hatter inquired as the cut disappeared into the smooth skin. Pity. She¡¯d like to earn a scar. ¡°Super speed? Cute parlor trick, but useless. It won¡¯t save you.¡±


    ¡°Who said I¡¯m wanna be saved, liar?¡± The thing stood up, crouched, and placed its palms on the ground. ¡°I¡¯m enjoying myself.¡±


    ¡°Again you say it.¡± Mad Hatter frowned, growing irritated. ¡°Why? Whom have I lied to?¡±


    The creature jumped, blossoming a wide sonic boom in its wake. Its edges touched the soldiers briefly, but it was enough to reduce them to a crimson mist. Angry and acting on impulse, Mad Hatter punched, planning to wipe the ridiculous grin of this madwoman who had dared to kill those the khatun had deemed fit to spare.


    What? Her ears caught the sound of tearing ligaments as the knuckles shaved the flesh from the creature¡¯s skin, barely touching the bone.


    The creature¡¯s head twitched, bending so that the skull disappeared behind the body, and the air propelled by Mad Hatter¡¯s fist continued, crumbling the reinforced fortifications and gouging into the intact segment of the wall, the devastation growing as the talons struck the khatun¡¯s chest.


    There was no pain; she had instinctively braced for the incoming stab, but the impact knocked her off her feet and brought the astonishing thrill of being cartwheeled through several walls and ending up buried in the rubble. Mad Hatter stood up, ignoring the bullets bouncing off her body and the communicator falling out of her ear. She nodded to the few soldiers, accepting their victory, and walked back to the dust-covered command center. The crazy naked woman lingered there, kneeling by the consoles near the intact wall, playing with the cables with a single working arm. Her right arm hung loosely, then fixed at an elbow and shoulder, and paws mounted the dangling head at the back of the neck, letting the mocking amber meet the khatun¡¯s.


    ¡°Okay, I figured it out.¡± Mad Hatter pointed at the woman¡¯s trembling legs. ¡°Your impossible evasion, inability to stand after clawing me in the first engagement, and unnatural burst of speed¡­ A normal human usually knows his limits and does not try to turn his head beyond the impossible because it hurts. You have regeneration and ignore the body¡¯s limits, deliberately suffering what should have been a fatal injury just to land a hit or dodge.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s one way to match you.¡± The fiend shrugged.


    ¡°Match me?¡± Mad Hatter placed both arms behind her back. ¡°Arrogant, crazy woman. Your delusions have led you to the wrong idea. You are touched by divinity; I will not deny it.¡± She walked up to the tensed woman, not bothering to take a defensive stance or reach for her scimitars. ¡°But I am God¡¯s daughter. If I want to, nothing can touch me.¡±


    ¡°Wrong on both counts,¡± the thing snorted, ¡°but cute.¡±


    Mad Hatter serenely rested her head on the shoulder, just in time for the swinging arm to miss. Now that she knew what to expect, she could clearly hear the tearing of muscles and the breaking of bones. For a moment, the woman¡¯s arm arced above the khatun, then it came down, snapping at the elbow, shoulder, and wrist. Mad Hatter stepped away from this touch and from the sweeping leg kick that failed to reach her fur robe. As quickly as the limbs self-destructed, they healed, regained mobility, and the dance began.


    Blows capable of leveling buildings lanced at Mad Hatter, the creature¡¯s speed rendering her arms and legs invisible to the naked eye; the merciless onslaught resembled the ravenous white beams of a high-powered laser to several soldiers who arrived to witness the commotion. The displacement of air deprived them of the privilege of observing the divine comedy as the unleashed shockwaves popped eyes and tore bodies, widening the cracks in the room and sparking from the shattered consoles.


    Not a single attack reached Mad Hatter, who strode through the forest of living spears aimed at her. A slight tilt of the head brushed hair away from covetous hands; careful footwork moved her elegantly aside the line of attack, her incomparable mind predicting every possible move hundreds of steps into this dance, and the khatun closed her eyes briefly, trusting her prediction to carry through the prelude.


    Sounds died as their combined movements banished the air around them, and silence enveloped the room, disturbed by the pretender¡¯s irritating offers of power. The two never stopped their dance in the vacuum; this moment belonged to them alone, a challenger against an avatar of God, and Mad Hatter would not have it any other way. If that creature thought she or it could do me in, then get it and do it.


    To her credit, the pale-skinned horror never stopped improvising, deliberately extending the length of her limbs by violently shattering each bone and using the limb as a whip. Through the agony of self-mutilation, the creature delivered blows from every conceivable angle, its arms bouncing off the floor and walls as it closed in on the fleeing foe.


    But every play had its finale, and Mad Hatter opened her eyes, blinking away the blood as the sounds resumed. Here it was, the encore. The creature¡¯s right arm twisted, wrapping around its axis, each muscle clinging tightly to the bone to lend superior speed to its thrust, and the seemingly mindless attacks positioned Mad Hatter with her back to the wall. Left or right, or an undignified escape from the stage. Exploiting my pride, huh? Nice plan, but every plan exists only to fail against an Avatar. A little more speed to circle around the woman and then a chop to finish¡­


    The creature held off the attack, briefly baffling Mad Hatter, when suddenly an orange flash of explosion surrounded her, shattering the ground, and she understood the thing wasn¡¯t attacking randomly. It had intentionally stayed in this room, fiddling with consoles to activate a self-destruct sequence, while Mad Hatter had been too confounded by the loss of her footing. Just as the khatun had planned everything in advance, so too had her opponent, and the rotating arm emerged from the spreading fire, closing in on the robe.


    I refuse! In the midst of the growing explosion, Mad Hatter found a stone to stand on and, for once, used all her strength to bounce off of it. The added velocity turned the piece of rock into a meteor that tore its way through the floors of the bastion to the surface and deeper, opening deep canyons around the place. Her jump carried the khatun outside, and she witnessed firsthand as the Reclaimers¡¯ stronghold was scattered by the atmospheric wound she had caused. The fortress no longer existed; any survivors died faster than their pain receptors could alert the brain to the pain, and the wave of destruction tore through the nearby green and rocky plains.


    ¡°Seems I forced you to run away after all!¡± A laughter came from the rising cloud of dust, and the badly mangled creature limped to stand on a shaking pillar. The thing lacked an eye, one arm was missing, and it grew thinner, no longer possessing reserves to regenerate.


    ¡°What are you here for, really?¡± Mad Hatter asked, acknowledging the fact but not the loss. It did not touch her. She had won.


    ¡°To train you,¡± the creature gurgled, spewing blood. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be fun if Mum murders you in a single stab.¡±


    ¡°Then her skills are¡­¡±


    ¡°Surpassing my own, yeah,¡± the thing confirmed, ignoring the shaking ground around.


    ¡°Good.¡± Mad Hatter covered the distance of a hundred meters faster than the pale creature could react. ¡°Because your skills¡­¡± Still holding her hands behind her back, the khatun kicked; the tip of her foot landed at the Pureblood¡¯s ankle and traveled all the way up to the head, opening the body. ¡°¡­are nothing to brag about.¡±


    The force of her kick reverberated through the creature¡¯s body, bursting every blood vessel and damaging every cell as the body unfolded in glorious petals of white and red. The khatun waited, confirming the death, and nodded as the remains slowly merged with the dust of destruction. She had killed regenerators before, and she will do so again.


    Do you see it? The red-eyed form whispered in her ear. The world is far vaster than you have dared to imagine, my daughter. Today you made a mistake and survived thanks to your superiority, but how long will that last? Accept me, take your rightful place at my side, and let us remake¡­


    Liar. Mad Hatter¡¯s chest strained, expanding slightly, her muscles flexing, tightening. An invigorating surge touched her, stronger than anything before; the pretender continued to blurt out his falsehoods, and she didn¡¯t care enough to ponder the implication that he hadn¡¯t offered his services to the creature, or that the thing had been able to see him.


    No, she stood for several hours wondering about that statement. She never lied, did she? In a world of deceivers who wanted to take advantage of everyone, she had told the harsh truth since childhood.


    What was the lie?

 Chapter 117: Peace in Troubled Times

    Elzada caught herself thinking about how much she loved cubs. It hardly mattered if cubs belonged to Normies or New Breeds; little ones were awesome by definition, regardless of their origin. But as she shook a tiny body off her paw, she wished these rascals would be a little calmer.


    In the rush to prepare for the massive retreat, the Ice Fangs had turned the lower decks of their mobile fortresses into a kindergarten of sorts. Soft and frail Normies, hardy and sturdy Orais, blade-armed or spiked Malformed, and even several chittering Insectones¡ªall children were herded here, safely protected by the near-impregnable hull. To avoid the inevitable disaster, the Ice Fangs had wisely assigned several sages to organize and coordinate the volunteers to supervise, guide, and prevent their young charges from shiving or crushing each other. Nuns of six different faiths sang hymns, often teaching willing cubs simpler prayers. Teachers, hawkishly and to the chagrin of the shamans, stopped any attempts at domination, or bullying as they called it, and staged games and lessons.


    Alas, Brood Lord¡¯s cubs were slightly harder to manage. Skittering back and forth on four needle-thin legs, these restless critters had the appearance of a human torso mounted on an insectoid chassis. Smaller than even a Normie infant, each cub in Elzada¡¯s care was barely the length of her paw. But their appetites were already ravenous, and tiny mouths filled with razor-sharp teeth opened, hissing and lashing out to taste everything.


    They had been clearly stressed and agitated by the unceremonious way their older brother had shoved them into the container, and the rough transport did little to keep their tempers in check. Dokholkhu had struggled to keep his twenty-eight cubs separate; their survival instincts had fired up in full, and the weakest risked being attacked and devoured. Undeterred, Elzada had brought enough milk and bread and placed it before the ever-starving brown eyes that possessed human pupils and yet lacked human sentience.


    But like most Malformed, these little ones craved meat and were willing to hunt to get it. Dokholkhu and Jaliqai had volunteered to watch over their younger brood, but after a bit of questioning, Elzada had realized that neither of them had the faintest idea how to handle such hunger or treat a little one for that matter. Still not fully trusting the Horde defectors, Elzada took on the role of a ¡®mother¡¯, both spying on the older siblings and controlling their younger kin.


    Much to her surprise, Ignacy soon knocked on the compartment door and asked for permission to stay. Elzada had eagerly agreed to help him, forcing him to wear full body armor to cover the stench of blood emanating from his bandages. And because she wasn¡¯t about to let anyone bite her soulmate. That was her privilege.


    A faint scent of the Twins permeated this place, immediately assaulting the Wolfkins¡¯ nostrils and awing them both. Where the Blessed Mother¡¯s fragrance inspired daring and achieving worthy deeds and invigorated during exhaustion, the Order¡¯s progenitors promised peace and calmed down, reminding of a return to the tent and simply lying face down, appreciating that everything was okay in the world. The sage who led her into this compartment had explained that it was previously used to store priceless historical relics unearthed during the conquest.


    Not that these little imps have any appreciation for its sanctity! The wolf hag jerked a finger away from a snap.


    ¡°Honestly, it¡¯s a bit like dealing with our cubs,¡± Elzada laughed, nudging the biting cub to the bowl of milk.


    ¡°Watch out!¡± Ignacy started, but she already heard the tapping above and leaned back, catching the adorable predator before she could hit her head on the Wolfkin¡¯s lap.


    ¡°Only slightly more mobile! Nope!¡± Elzada clicked her tongue. ¡°Too weak to hunt me! Eat food!¡±


    Elzada placed the ¡°attacker¡± on the floor and licked her lovingly, shoving her closer to the milk. Cubs! Was there anything better in this world? The loud and hungry screeching of the little ones evoked the imagery of her dear son¡¯s protests as she scrubbed him clean with a sponge and then forced him to eat vegetables. Sure, her parents never made Elzada eat such disgusting food, but unlike her, Netslot still had all his fangs at his age, so the Normies were on to something.


    Years ago, she and Anissa had found a ruined hut in the wilderness, a home belonging to a family of Wolfkin exiles who had left the Tribe in the futile hope of nursing their cubs back to health.


    Such things were extremely rare, but the Tribe always took care of its own, exiled or not. Often, the packs would drop off supplies to their banished kin and clear the area of hostiles to the best of their abilities. Shamans regularly visited such families, checking if they weren¡¯t mistaken in their judgments and helping the outcasts settle in.


    But this hut had been unique, even by the standards of the Exiles. A happy pack of Wolfkins had lived there, eight cubs and two parents. The seven little ones had no ailment bothering them, and they still stubbornly followed their parents into the wilderness, intending on caring for their sick sister.


    The family had earned a fine reputation for advising and assisting travelers and sharing the latest gossip with the scouts. But they had refused the shamans¡¯ pleas to join a local Normie settlement for safety¡¯s sake, believing that when their daughter grew up, the Tribe would eagerly welcome them back.


    Sadly, this was not to be. Life in the Wastes showed no mercy for the isolated. A group of Malformed had stumbled upon the exiles and had butchered and eaten them. The burning hut had greeted Anissa and Elzada upon their arrival, and the broken bones of their kin littered the jagged rocks. A single cub had survived, a very young male, hidden by his parents and preserved by nothing less than a miracle. He had no memory of the attack; the shock of what had happened had damaged the boy¡¯s memory.


    Rules and traditions demanded that he be handed over to the shamans to be judged. But seeing his starved body, the ribs pressing against the skin, his lips chapped and dry from dehydration, and hearing him call her ¡°Mama¡± had melted Elzada¡¯s heart. What female would deny a cub in such a situation? She had begged Anissa, who was only a scout at the time, for help, and the two friends lied to the shamans about the cub¡¯s origins, claiming that Elzada had given birth to him during a heat. The shaman in charge of their village pretended to believe them and whipped Elzada to the bone for hiding and mistreating the cub. But he was allowed to stay. Her dearest boy and the joy of her life. Let the Spirits rage and curse for breaking the traditions; Elzada wasn¡¯t willing to abandon him.


    As for the malformed who committed the crime¡­ The Tribe never forgot a grudge. Lacerated One had led the shamans on a holy punitive war, depopulating the nearby hills of the Malformed to put the wrong right. Their screams had echoed through the night as the claws and fangs spoke, pleasing Elzada¡¯s heart, and for three years, non-inbred freaks didn¡¯t dare show themselves in this region of the Wastes.


    And so Elzada became a mother. With Anissa¡¯s help, her precious Netslot had recovered nicely and was now braving the pits, enduring them like a true soldier. Her boy had proudly shown her four fresh scars he had earned from a girl, and told her a story of how he had dominated another boy during their long conversation when she had called him from Houstad. Such calls were rare, sadly, as shamans escorted the little ones to private camps that had a connection to the Net, and most parents tried their best to be at the stations during these times.


    Elzada had shared the secret of her son¡¯s origin with Ignacy in Houstad, expecting him to shun her like many other males for her fear of lifegiving. But the dearest Ignacy had simply shrugged and awkwardly drawn her closer as the two of them watched the starry sky. They had mated in the park, enjoying a violent surge of love that engulfed them, sharing scent marks at the peak of pleasure. Later, the police briefly arrested them for the crime of ¡®indecent exposure in a public space¡¯¡ªwhatever that meant¡ªand they sealed their union with a joint bite in the cell. A part of her soul went cold after he failed to return during the retreat.


    But the Spirits gave him back! Her Ignacy, her beloved, often confused doofus, survived!


    ¡°They don¡¯t understand, Elzada. Our kin gain sentience after living for two hundred days¡­¡± Dokholkhu said worryingly as one of his sisters tried to jump and bite the wolf hag by the nose. Elzada laughed, dodged, and grabbed the little one by the neck, returning her to the food.


    Jaliqai, meanwhile, slapped another cub out of the air, rescuing Ignacy from being bitten. The hissing boy landed on his back and raised his front legs in anger, receiving a light kick from his big sister. The small fiend rolled on the floor and crashed into a slice of bread, sinking his teeth into it in frustration.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Dokholkhu and Jaliqai, along with their reasonable brood-kin, argued vehemently against being sent to the rear. With their true age known, Warlord Martyshkina had declared them big cubs, leading to Jaliqai shouting for the right to wield weapons to protect and fight for her new clan. Martyshkina refused to budge on the issue.


    ¡°Dude, trust me, I know, okay?¡± Elzada caught another Malformed. ¡°The state has, like, hundreds of different New Breeds; you think we never dealt with rascals like these? Ha! You¡¯ve got to treat them the way we treat our young. They, too, are animalistic and instinctual, but not completely stupid. They don¡¯t understand words, but they understand cadence and consequences. So we train them to behave and stay safe.¡±


    Elzada dropped to all fours, grimacing from the pain in her damaged stomach, puffing her fur, and letting out a low growl, retreating the happiness from her eyes and welcoming the bloodthirst. Her lips curled, exposing her fangs, and the cubs stopped their mischief, glancing worriedly at the Wolfkin and trying to retreat. She gave them no quarter, howling in rage.


    But it was a controlled rage, one that made the youngest of her own kind silent and obedient. She laid down rules and boundaries, warned them of the retribution of her command if they didn¡¯t obey, engaging in a primal conversation with her wards. You will eat what you are given. The cubs understood that part immediately and rushed to the bowls, comically sinking their heads into the milk and taking apart the loaves of bread.


    ¡°How do you know how to do it?¡± Ignacy asked, placing his head on his paw.


    ¡°Surprised you are no longer the know-it-all around here?¡± Elzada chuckled.


    ¡°More in awe and eager to learn, my beautiful mistress of surprises,¡± Ignacy purred.


    ¡°Aw. AW!¡± Elzada jerked her finger free from a tiny maw. As soon as her mood changed, the nasty assholes tried their luck again. ¡°Bad boy! Here, milk! Not my flesh; ear bread!¡± She sighed, facing her soulmate. ¡°We¡¯ll have to ask the Ice Fangs for some canned meat. Or I¡¯ll just hunt for some in the forest. As for your question, Anissa and I have been helping with lifegivings and keeping the cubs in check in the Outer Lands.¡±


    Ignacy nodded, understanding right away, but Jaliqai frowned.


    ¡°In check?¡± she asked, leaning closer on her chitinous legs.


    ¡°Yep!¡± Elzada moved aside, smacking back another cub. ¡°Have ya paid attention to what I¡¯ve been saying, girl? No biting! Anyway, tons of little ones in the Outer Lands are born... Well...¡±


    ¡°Born as murderous psychos, let¡¯s be real,¡± Ignacy suggested.


    ¡°I prefer the word special, but you have a point.¡± Elzada grinned after Ignacy sent her an air kiss. ¡°Our CO¡­¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± asked Dokholkhu.


    ¡°The commanding officer. Anyway, the Normies¡¯ CO explained it to us during a joint training. The Extinction almost wiped out humanity, and so the New Breeds and mutants created by the Glow or the radiation have an unnaturally strong tendency to survive, often disregarding family ties.¡±


    ¡°There is way more to it than that drunk was babbling about, but he was correct where it matters,¡± Ignacy added. ¡°Evolution is a bitch. Just a fact we have to live with.¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Eager to kill their parents on the spot, prepared to cannibalize, you know, the regular Malformed and New Breed stuff. And Normies can¡¯t handle it¡­¡±


    ¡°Why, are they scared?¡± Dokholkhu interrupted Elzada. ¡°Our bondsmen are not that lazy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not fear, it¡¯s not laziness, it¡¯s just reality!¡± Elzada argued. ¡°To thrive, you gotta cooperate. Scientists invent, workers labor, builders erect houses, Wolfkins slaughter¡­¡±


    ¡°But we are capable of more,¡± Ignacy added.


    ¡°Exactly! We can multitask; we are not worse than Normies, we are their equals!¡± Elzada said fiercely, confused when no one disagreed. What came over me? She wondered and continued. ¡°Many new souls are capable of crumpling metal, and more can lift a car right after slipping out of the womb! It doesn¡¯t matter whether or not you are brave; there are certain limits allocated to you by nature, and it is wrong to rely on others to tackle a difficult prey¡­ or task.¡±


    ¡°Plus, even if they could control their offspring, parents need to sleep.¡± Ignacy nodded. ¡°I read about an incident in a newspaper. Apparently there is a family in Houstad, perfectly normal, but their son happened to be born a mutant. The government put him in a special facility after the boy knocked down a wall in the maternity ward after his mother took a nap.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and that in Houstad, a beating heart of civilization. You saw how much worse it is everywhere else. So me, Ani, and quite a few others would often leave our village to help in raising¡­ Son of a bitch!¡± She tore a cub off her leg, rubbing a minor bite mark. Razor-sharp teeth, indeed. ¡°Anyway, Normies ask for help; we gladly oblige, helping to contain the cubs until they are old enough to understand that¡­¡± She roared the next words into the tiny face, letting the emotions to deliver her message. ¡°Chewing! Another! Person! Is! Wrong!¡±


    ¡°Which is kind of rich coming from us.¡± Ignacy grinned tiredly and then bared his fangs at a little one trying to sneak up on him. The cub retreated immediately.


    ¡°Do as I say, not as I do!¡± Elzada beamed and hugged her soulmate. He smiled! She was worried that he might¡¯ve tried to follow Bogdan, but he smiled! There was life in him yet! And she¡¯d do everything to turn the embers in him into a proper bonfire!


    ¡°Contain,¡± Jaliqai repeated the word, clenching her hands together. Her sister tried to leap at Elzada¡¯s back, and the girl kicked her aside. ¡°Back at home, Brood Lord simply trampled any of us who got in his way. And the slaves tending to the young brood kin seldom lasted long. I thought¡­¡±


    ¡°That everyone was as horrible as the Horde?¡± Elzada bared her fangs, keeping the urge to snarl at bay. Jaliqai murdered innocents, stood by as her kin died, and helped foster slavery and every conceivable violation. Her father killed Bogdan, but at the end of the day, she was a young cub, deliberately raised to be a monster. It wasn¡¯t Elzada¡¯s place to judge her, not after the girl had made the right choice when it counted. ¡°Nah, get used to civilian life, bitch. You got a lot to atone for. Start by making sure these turn out better than you did, coward.¡±


    ¡°Elzi. Enough,¡± Ignacy said, looking her in the eye, his tone no longer having a submissive intonation but an iron grip that belonged in their intimate moments. Something in her demanded that she show the male his place, but Elzada brushed it off.


    Jaliqai nodded, dispassionately tracking her hissing siblings, and a shadow passed over her face. Elzada hazarded a guess at what kind of survival guilt was raging in that skull of hers, accompanied by the pointless guilt about not making a run from their cruel parent sooner. Ignacy was right. Regrets had their place, but letting them poison the fresh start for the Malformed was wrong.


    ¡°Do not dwell on the mistakes of the past, for they are carved in stone,¡± Elzada said, letting go of Ignacy. ¡°Learn from them instead. Use this experience to mold yourself into a better person¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­And forge a path to a brighter morrow for those who lack both the opportunity and the strength to do it themselves,¡± Anissa finished the lesson the Spirit of Pride had left for the Tribe. The wolf hag stepped into the compartment and closed the door. Her artificial eye shone like a newborn star. ¡°At ease. Keep it up, and we¡¯ll join the shamans together, Elzi.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a knack for it.¡± Elzada¡¯s ears perked. She secretly perused the material given to Nissi. ¡°Plus, you know. A lung and a leg. I doubt the shamans would approve.¡±


    ¡°Sister. How was the battle?¡± Ignacy stood up.


    ¡°We survived.¡± Anissa crossed the entire room, gracefully evading the lurking Malformed, and embraced her brother, pressing his head against her chest and resting her muzzle on his shoulder, breathing heavily. Ignacy patted her on the back. The wolf hag didn¡¯t punch him for familiarity. The two stood for a while, saying nothing, before Anissa let him go.


    ¡°And Mother? How is she? The doctors refused to tell me anything.¡±


    ¡°Recovering,¡± Anissa answered. ¡°Elzada. Ignacy. Off to rest. I am taking over the duty.¡±


    ¡°My wounds have already¡­¡± Elzada stopped talking when Anissa¡¯s claw ended up near her neck. Spirits, she has gotten even faster! ¡°Yeah, adrenaline talking, got it. No need to add a new scar; I¡¯ve already lost too much skin! Let¡¯s go, Ignacy; I¡¯ll give you a tour of the place!¡±


    Anissa had always had the weird streaks of a character. Back when they were cubs, she had beaten Elzada¡¯s baby fangs down her throat during a game. The next day, the girl reappeared, bringing clumsy excuses and inviting Elzada to do the same to her. Of course she agreed! This weird bonding made them friends. They hunted together, shared secrets, passed pits together, and Nissi helped Elzada heal the broken legs after Wolf Hag Janine had visited the pits¡­ It was time to catch up to her friend. The war brought change, and her bones grew tougher, wounds closed faster, and her mind gained a newfound clarity. She must reach her prime to be able to protect Ignacy and to stand equal to Anissa.


    That, and she didn¡¯t want to look weak in front of Ignacy ever again.


    Elzada felt her friend¡¯s heavy gaze following them and then broke into a mischievous grin as she heard curses. Maybe she should have warned Nissi what she was signing up for, but the sight of her standing, covered in the small Malformed who chewed at her armpits and ankles, was totally worth it. Anissa raised a paw, stopping Dokholkhu and Jaliqai from helping, and gathered a full chest with a single inhale, releasing it into a furious howl.


    The walls shook, and the last they saw before the door sealed the compartment were the cubs prostrating themselves to the wolf hag. She has what it takes to become a shaman. Elzada decided, glancing at her own leg. Tainted. No point worrying about what can¡¯t be. This is one road on which I can¡¯t follow her. No matter, I¡¯ll find my own way.


    ¡°How are you holding up?¡± Elzada asked.


    ¡°Physically well. Otherwise,¡± Ignacy looked at the bend ahead. ¡°I¡¯m still expecting him to come out and tell me it was a prank. I... can¡¯t make peace with him not being here. There is a void in my heart, as if a part of me is missing, never to return.¡± He leaned against the wall and touched the stump of his arm. ¡°Worse than that. This I can fix, unlike what happened. So many familiar faces are gone already, and I can¡¯t get over the fact that I¡¯ll never see Bogdan, Melina, and the rest again. We are in the Core Lands, and even the warlords are not safe here. Even our kinship turned out to be false,¡± he whispered as an Ice Fang passed nearby. ¡°I keep thinking who¡¯ll be next.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to cry, you know,¡± Elzada said softly, placing a paw on his shoulder. ¡°It helps during grieving.¡±


    ¡°And what, am I supposed to cry forever? Fuck that; Bogdan would have been the first to kick my ass if I¡¯d sunk that low.¡± Ignacy smiled again, and they hugged. ¡°Death tries to claim everything we love and poison us into misery. I¡¯m done playing its game; we must live for those around us, to honor those we¡¯ve lost, and for ourselves.¡±


    ¡°That we¡¯ll do,¡± Elzada promised sweetly. He didn¡¯t even mind when she pulled him into her den rather than leading him to the engine room. Life was simply too short to waste.

 Chapter 118: The Last Stand of the Provincial Army Part 1

    Janine faced her reflection in the mirror and ran a finger over the burns covering her muzzle, the newly grown skin twisting and spasming at the touch. Several strands of pitch-black fur already appeared, and the whole thing itched like crazy. She swallowed, ignoring the network of red veins around the eye.


    ¡°I am still here,¡± she said, washing her face.


    This den used to belong to Bertruda, and the sheer opulence of it confused and irritated the warlord. Statues of the former Sword Saints lined the walls; above them hung paintings and photographs dedicated to the most important moments in the history of the Mountaintops. Rich carpets covered the floor, making it impossible for her not to spill blood on them. A soft, round bed, large enough to accommodate half a dozen Wolfkins, covered with a multitude of flowing silken blankets and fluffy pillows, stood opposite the entrance, hidden by a redwood partition. The entrance to the bathroom led to another room, bigger than most tents, with a floor of white tiles surrounding a private pool.


    It all seemed so wasteful, but Janine had bitten her tongue rather than chastise Marco when he gasped at the sight of the place. Even the memorial stone, a tradition the Order had borrowed from the Tribe, had letters encrusted in gold that wound along its length, all together forming soothing patterns. It wasn¡¯t an artifact of remembrance and solemn mourning, but rather a ponderous trophy rack boasting the legacies of the fallen. It was unusual and commendable, even if it rubbed her the wrong way. The Tribe preferred to honor the fallen through songs and festivities.


    Janine had spared no detail, pouring out her soul onto her cubs as a mother, telling the story of Bodan¡¯s sacrifice truthfully, trying to do justice to his noble sacrifice, and highlighting her own failures, which led to the deaths of her named sisters and so many soldiers. They should have retreated after rendezvousing with the Ice Fangs, but her arrogance led to her misreading the battlefield. She had expected lashing, accusations, and renunciations. Anissa and Marco had simply embraced her, and they had spent a few minutes praising Bogdan and talking like a family before Impatient One sent them away.


    The shaman had kept her cool and forced the warlord to join her in a farewell prayer. Truth be told, it brought no comfort to the raging inferno in Janine¡¯s soul. She will rend Brood Lord asunder and eat his bone marrow. She will break the Horde¡¯s spine and deny them Houstad, come what may.


    She had woken up on the floor and found herself covered by a blanket, which cheered her up rather than souring her mood because she had slipped so badly that an intruder had sneaked up on her. Even a warlord had limits, and after the rest, her body moved easily; not a single limb was strained, and with newfound energy, she reviewed reports and video feeds from the field.


    Soulless One. Another loss, and one that stung painfully. Her friend, her guiding star, whom she wronged and wasn¡¯t sure she had brought proper amends for that decision. Melina, Bogdan, Soulless One, Marcenia, Adam¡­ So many losses. Her pack continued to dwindle, soul by soul.


    Both of her ideas worked, to a degree, buying them precious time needed to limit the losses. Their evacuation was forced to take a detour to the south as the Gilded Horde¡¯s self-propelled artillery engaged in several long-range duels. The third plan was in motion, and Caikhatu sent a message with the words ¡°Jackpot, my Khatun,¡± and information. The two infiltrators played their roles exemplarily, with Caikhatu denouncing Iron Lord for sacrificing him and the hordewoman publicly spitting on Brood Lord¡¯s favor for setting her up to die in the arena and joining his rival. As Janine had predicted, the khan didn¡¯t act on the given information, not even sending a warning to the northern forces. A poisoned chalice to Brood Lord and a dagger to Iron Lord.


    That is, if the infiltrators remain loyal to the Reclaimers and alive. Too many ifs to plan anything based on their success.


    The Gilded Horde had resumed its inevitable advance, but its rapid march no longer surprised the state¡¯s military. To give time to the refugees and the Wolfkins to evacuate, the remnants of the Border Provincial Guard had rejoined the Provincial Army and prepared their stand. The massive explosion had given them time to prepare minefields, and artillery crews flattened every curve on the horizon, training hourly and preparing for the showdown as the officer in charge calculated the impossibility of retreating to Houstad. They knew about the near impossibility of victory and decided to deny the Gilded Horde the quickest route to Houstad.


    Tanks and armored vehicles evacuated from the border were refueled; logistics officers busily planned and executed miracles of organizing civilian transports to deliver the wounded to the city; communications officers updated local villages and settlements, alerting them to the Horde¡¯s movements. The news of the northern defeat sparked cheers that soon grew to thunderous roars as Warlord Ashbringer arrived to support the army in its doomed quest. Though she came alone, her mere presence inspired hope and awe. With redoubled efforts, the soldiers dug lines of trenches and even constructed several bunkers, with surprise finding the warlord toiling beside them in the dirt while shells flew overhead.


    The Provincial Army had stubbornly refused any further aid from the Wolf Tribe and the order, determined to ensure that their allies and fellow civilians would reach Houstad safely. Twenty thousand hearts formed the defensive line to deny the Horde. Not because they believed they could win, but out of duty and for the people who relied upon them.Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    And when the enemy came, they stood their ground. The artillery collected a grievous toll from the nimbly darting riders, exploding them by the dozens. The hoverbikes that managed to circle around the flanks were greeted by the fire of well-placed automatic turrets. What normal human eyes could not track, the systems easily pinpointed, predicting the line of movement and economic bursts of gunfire downed the hordemen before they could approach enough to fire their pulse rifles.


    Brood Lord didn¡¯t bat an eye about his mistake and brought his own artillery to bear, soon overloading shield generators. The siege artillery tanks, so coveted and treasured by Iron Lord and which Onyxia had failed to destroy, wreaked devastation in the trenches, filling them with molten napalm and white phosphorus. Not even shield bunkers protected the soldiers, for the shells fired by these ancient machines had drill heads that bored through the reinforced stone. Smoke filled the horizon, and from its height, chemical rockets streaked upon the defenders¡¯ position, spewing fumes of green mist upon exploding.


    Though the army suffered some casualties, the gas masks and emergency air circulation systems of the power armors prevented the worst catastrophe from coming to pass, and their own artillery chewed away at the Horde¡¯s position, damaging the over-exposed siege-tanks and forcing them to retreat.


    Sweating with fear and adrenaline, gripping their rifles, flames licking their sides, and looking ahead with bloodshot eyes, the Reclaimers saw the enemy ranks advance right into the firing zone of their tanks. The 5th Guards Tank Division was ever an undermanned beast. Composed of a now-lost command vehicle that acted as brigade headquarters and three tank regiments, each numbering a hundred battle units, it had a single anti-aircraft regiment of SAMs. Formed shortly prior to the invasion, these soldiers lacked drones and reconnaissance vehicles. The unit served as a ¡®punching fist¡¯ on the border, sallying beyond the Wall to level a found slavers¡¯ base without a need to care about the collateral.


    But they were the sole division unmaimed of the Provincial Army, and on this day, these people gave it their all. New Breeds, capable of minor precognition, manned the heaviest tanks, protected by shield generators, and on their collective advice, the tanks fired from beyond the optimal distance, landing every shot perfectly on the approaching ranks, throwing corpses into the air.


    The 5th Guards Tank Division had fired only four times before the Horde artillery responded, exploding tank after tank, using its sheer numbers to overcome any advantage the precogs offered. But they achieved their primary objective, buying a brief respite for the state¡¯s own tow and self-propelled artillery to leave the front lines and retreat to the rear. Their range surpassed that of their Horde counterparts, and now safe from the chemical warfare, they resumed their duel, their targets pinpointed by several precogs.


    In response, a fury erupted from the smoke, reaching the advancing bondsmen in a stampede of unleashed sonic booms. Drozna, disgraced by his failure, was the first Pureblood to join the carnage, eager to win back the favor of his horrible khan. A single swing tore a chunk of a tank, hollowing its insides and liquidating the crew; his kick pancaked two war machines, gluing them together. An uppercut sent a tank flying, and the monster advanced, ready to eliminate the 5th Guards Tank Division.


    A bright star raced to meet him from the trenches, a line of fire so intense that it partially vitrified the sand and detonated ammunition aimed at her. Ashbringer stepped into the fray and crashed into Drozna like a cannonball. Despite his brutal appearance and a nature driven by baser instincts, Drozna was a strong enough opponent that even Janine doubted her ability to bring him down. In the Tribe, only Alpha, Predaig, and maybe Lacerated One could reliably kill the bastard in a fair fight.


    Ashbringer didn¡¯t care about a fair fight and had studied the footage of Predaig¡¯s duel well enough to know that she was outmatched. The veil of fire enveloped both fighters, failing to scorch their resilient hides. It also obscured vision, and where the state¡¯s lenses and her own heightened senses gave the warlord a full picture, her opponent flailed blindly, paying for his refusal to use technology. Ashbringer dodged his clumsy blows and rained down her own well-timed strikes, and the two champions carved a small circle between the armies.


    Several squads of bondsmen attempted to support their leader, while the state¡¯s army did nothing of the sort, focusing their fire coldly on the approaching troops. It wasn¡¯t for lack of trust or hidden enmity; the soldiers followed the prescribed protocols to the letter. When faced with an adversary whose movements they could not follow, they sought to eliminate the lesser threats first, weakening the foe even if he prevailed.


    But the stalemate could not last, and Drozna had tricks up his sleeve. A touch of rage entered Ashbringer¡¯s mind, shattering her concentration, and her skyward thrust resulted in her own claws breaking against the impregnable jaws of the grinning beast. Drozna clapped his hands together, scattering the flames with an ensuing sonic boom, and nearly flattened the warlord¡¯s head in the process. Leaning back, she dodged the palms and grabbed his wrists, delivering a headbutt to his forehead.


    Janine had to replay the event several times just to believe it. Ashbringer¡¯s headbutt had a nasty reputation in the Tribe. Strong enough to outright kill a challenger, it was rarely used after the warlord turned a wolf hag from a rival pack into a vegetable, all but killing the woman. The state¡¯s medics had taken away the wolf hag, and the Tribe mourned her passing, not believing that anyone could recover from such a blow. Never again did Ashbringer use the full force of her skull against anyone below the rank of warlord; she always held back.


    Today she went all out. And Drozna brushed it off. The headbutt landed with enough strength to create a sonic explosion of such intensity that it reached even the trenches, knocking several men off their feet; the lenses of the warlord¡¯s helmet cracked, and the metal of her helmet crumpled into a thin layer. Drozna himself was buried in the ground up to his waist, but he smiled ugly and launched a sweeping kick that sliced through the top of his earthen prison. Ashbringer lost her footing, and two hands clenched together slammed into her chest with the force of a comet, launching the warlord flying toward the Reclaimers¡¯ positions.

 Chapter 119: The Last Stand of the Provincial Army Part 2, and a New Oath

    Ashbringer crashed heavily to the ground, kicking up a torrent of dirt and rolling toward the trenches, losing chunks of her armor and struggling weakly to stand before slipping limply out of sight. Drozna¡¯s boisterous laughter followed her, and he dove into the ranks of the soldiers, oblivious to the bullets pounding against his muscles. A single flick of his arm spread crimson across the length of the tunnel as the hordeman simply swept aside a dozen soldiers. His hungry eyes caught sight of the warlord¡¯s crumpled helmet ahead, and he stepped toward it.


    At that instant, Ashbringer rose from behind him, wrapped an arm around his neck, and threw the bastard face down to the ground. Wolfkins were famous for performing impossible feats, but Janine knew that this was a carefully cultivated image, both to inspire allies and to scare the opposition into surrendering. Nothing done by her named sister was mindless or pointless.


    Drozna saw her enter the trenches with her head to the north, so he unconsciously turned to that side, expecting her to escape as the warlord scurried south on all fours, his helmet thrown ahead. He was far stronger than Ashbringer, but she jerked him back as the massive man took the first step and lifted a foot off the ground. Simple practicality, and Drozna roared in pain, flailing wildly and ruining the fortification as the paw stabbed him in the softer armpit.


    An omnidirectional wave of anger whipped around the front lines, driving both hordemen and Reclaimers into a crazed bloodthirst, and here and there the ranks broke as soldiers charged at the enemy and were gunned down. Thoughts of every unpaid grievance returned tenfold; every slight demanded immediate vengeance, and Ashbringer rode this wave, letting it elevate her abilities beyond normal limits.


    Several Horde aircraft closed in on the engagement zone, preparing to unleash their cannons. Calmly, the officer in charge rose atop his command vehicle, ignoring his operators, who were trying to claw each other¡¯s eyes out. He held up his hand, trusting the Reclaimers, and from afar, the missiles took to the sky, downing two of the fliers, popping the bubbles of their shields in a shower of sparks. The concealed SAM vehicles joined the fight, and the rest of the 5th switched their weapons to flamers, boiling the advancing bondsmen in the wall of pure hell that hid the invaders from the defenders.


    Watching the battle, Janine imagined hope spreading through the ranks, thoughts of possible victory coming to the desperate people. It didn¡¯t last. Ultra-hot balls of plasma and heavy slugs pierced the flames, tearing at the defenders, and larger figures, gigantic shadows of darkness against the flames, stomped into combat.


    Purebloods and Dirtybloods stepped into the fray, advancing safely through the cleared minefields after bondsmen soaked up the incoming barrage for them. Loud chants rang out as the Horde priesthood appeared, led by the tall, bird-like humanoid freak. Bullets deflected or stopped dead before touching his bare skin; a simple gesture aged individual defenders backward, and a note from Martyshkina appeared on the screen. She insisted she had killed the bastard properly.


    Yet he lived. And New Breeds rained from the skies, howling prayers to their god, flying over Reclaimers and unleashing their own exotic hell. Reality warped and opened gateways to unknown realms, sucking in whole people or parts of them; lightning arcs coalescing in reality wiped out entire squads, and fire and water wreaked havoc in equal measure. New Breeds of the State stepped into the sky, acting in synchronized union, where those capable of mass manipulation supported their comrades, giving them the ability to face the blasted invaders, and the massacre began in full, exotic powers versus unnatural abilities, body-shifting carnage where claw-faced steel and corpses of the dead fell, while on the ground Orais and rare Ice Fangs held their positions against Purebloods.


    Tears in reality opened behind the commanding officer, and the curved sword impaled the man. Brood Lord stepped out of the portal, crumpling the vehicle and its crew with the weight of his immense bulk, brandishing the dying soldier like a trophy, and opened fire on the defenders. His assassin duo raced to the rear, murdering the Reclaimers¡¯ leadership, and Brood Lord jumped, gracefully evading from the line of fire. He landed on the nearest tank, kicked through the hatch, dropped a grenade, and leapt away with insectoid grace, his pincers snapping and biting heads as he landed among the troops. From other portals stepped his private guard, cheering the ingenuity of their leader.


    Scorched by flames and bathed in noxious fumes, the Purebloods who broke through the front had the appearance of horrors straight out of a nightmare, but it had little effect on their killing efficiency. Veterans of countless conflicts, they began to push toward the center, and Ashbringer broke from her fight with Drozna and snatched a communication device from the nearest soldier.


    Her commands halted the panic, and the troops began an organized retreat, shielded by the remaining turrets destroyed by the invaders. Brood Lord beckoned to the warlord; Drozna shouted the challenge, but she ignored the obvious bait and continued the retreat, ordering the rearguard, a thousand soldiers, to hold their ground against impossible odds. The 5th and the artillery tried to help them when an arc of propelled air swatted the shells aside and flattened the tanks. The next apocalyptic blow landed on the artillery, opening a new canyon in the ground into which many had fallen. Mad Hatter arrived at last; her laughter drowned out every sound, and no one could stand up to her.


    Six hours. That¡¯s how long the Provincial Army held out, biting and fighting, but the arrival of the khatun put an end to any resistance, and the few survivors, led by Ashbringer, told tales of Mad Hatter¡¯s invulnerability, of how she breathed poison and walked through the energy discharges, ignoring the bullets that ricocheted off her skin. The road to Houstad was open, but surprisingly, the Horde had stopped.


    This was important. Janine reviewed the woman¡¯s previous campaigns. Based on the stories of Caikhatu, the defectors, and the Brood; Mad Hatter never let enemy leaders escape. Her own experience proved it, so why was Ashbringer allowed to retreat? A trick, of sorts? She replayed the laughter segment, listening for anything out of the ordinary. The khatun sounded¡­ pensive, as if feigning amusement while her mind was on other matters. A trap?


    Iron Lord¡¯s absence also concerned Janine. That khan was a thoroughly conventional person, and if he had been in charge of the Gilded Horde¡¯s advance, then her own trap and the mistakes committed by Brood Lord would¡¯ve never taken place. His artillery would have reduced the defenders¡¯ positions to poison-filled rubble without risking a single soldier, and that would¡¯ve been the end of it. So where was he? Murdered? Doubtful. His rival never asserted his authority over the invasion.


    She scanned the rest of the reports. The refugees who had failed to cross the bridge had arrived safely at Hunter¡¯s Lait, the place of debauchery ruled by the offspring of that accursed S-Class Malformed killed by Devourer decades ago. Soon after, the Horde¡¯s pursuit party arrived, and joyous howls filled the hills. The invaders expected to face the usual skittish Malformed, but the things populating this rocky region were of a different kind.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    Hunting was everything to them, superseding even their own survival, as the missionaries trying to civilize the local tribe explained. The only reason the people of the Great Nations felt at peace there was because of the Promise, and now the locals rejoiced and sang praises to their ¡®benefactors¡¯ for sending a worthy game to their lairs. The two sides clashed and locked in a fierce stalemate until the arrival of a wyrm broke the Horde¡¯s morale and turned the tide in the Malformed¡¯s favor. No mention of Iron Lord.


    The scattered remnants of Skull Lord regrouped and plundered the lands, seemingly leaderless. Dokholkhu, and later Jaliqai, visited the captured brain and confirmed it to be Mehmed. The doctors assured Command that they could keep their prisoner alive, and the Investigation Bureau agents detected no attempts by the Brood to contact their father. Good. She wished the cubs a healthy future, unburdened by the past. Till Ingo reported he had recruited his own captive... Why was that in the reports? Probably a mistake.


    Janine leaned on the back of the armchair, looking at the ceiling. To think that just a month ago she had wondered about such stupidity as an ice cone and Bogdan was alive then, helping to calm the cubs. A few days ago, she believed the shamans were wrong about the Order. The truth smacked her with full ferocity for such stupidity, stealing a part of her soul. Her paws clenched. A mistake¡ªher mistake¡ªhad brought so many deaths. Never again. They shared no kinship with the Order.


    She picked up the Taleteller and began swinging mindlessly, keeping reading the information from the portable terminal. Camelia was still in a coma, but nothing threatened her survival, and her House staged an orderly retreat, listening to scout¡­ Wolf Hag Zolushka at long last. Alpha vanished, but reports poured in about intestines hanging from the branches and about sporadic eruptions of fear in the region, driving even the stubbornest of farmers to abandon everything and join their families in Houstad. Their sister was doing a wonderful job, just as the Blessed Mother had taught them. Even the vilest talent could be used for good.


    Knight-captain Osiris took on the mantle of the Sword Saint after Leonidas¡¯ passing and already offered to compensate the Wolf Tribe in any way they could. Macarius had opened his eyes hours ago and begged to see her. Janine ignored the request of both traitors, unwilling to be trapped by their honeyed words.


    Twenty-five hours. Maybe less if Mad Hatter stopped her brooding sooner. In a day or so, the battle for Houstad will begin, and the commander was yet to appear.


    A knock on the door distracted her.


    ¡°Open!¡± Janine shouted, turning off the terminal.


    Martyshkina pushed through the door, still bedecked in the full combat suit. The helmet slid from the head, revealing her unusually calm face.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you be supervising the retreat?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°It¡¯s taken care of.¡± The warlord stepped closer to Janine, looming over her because of the power armor. ¡°Everyone is in place, and the packs are out on foot, picking off any raider foolish enough to try to get a jump on us. I have a sin to confess.¡± Marty bowed her head. ¡°I planned to shoot myself once the war was over.¡± Her paw stroked the handle of the revolver. ¡°The shame of leaving you, Eled, and Predaig behind burned me every second. I could not eat, drink, or rest. All I wanted to do was throw myself at¡­¡±


    Letting go of the Taleteller, Janine slashed with enough force to shake even the statues. She didn¡¯t hold back, and Marty¡¯s scarless cheek opened to the bone, also exposing her fangs.


    ¡°How dare you?¡± Janine shoved Marty into her chest, forcing her to step back. Fear and anger mixed inside her in a searing cocktail of emotions. ¡°Soulmates carry on even after their partner dies. Are we worse than them? Are you weaker than them?¡±


    ¡°Maybe.¡± Marty ignored the blood dripping onto her armor. ¡°I am tired. Exhausted. All we do is fight and kill. I know it¡¯s selfish, but I can hardly go on. Waking up every morning, pretending to be happy, looking into the eyes of your pack and wondering who you are going to lose today. Fear gripped me after I lost my spiritual sisters, the one pillar of my existence that I believed could never be shattered or removed. You and I grew, wept, and cheered together. Predaig and Eled became our family. They accepted us, and now they are gone, and you expect me to take it as if nothing happened?¡± Her voice broke. ¡°What awaits us but endless war and the pain of loss?¡±


    ¡°We have to live on, Marty.¡± Janine hugged her, banishing aggression and letting herself become a simple young cub who wanted to comfort her friend again. ¡°We have a duty to protect civilians.¡±


    ¡°No arguments here. I will never give up and will never surrender until the Gilded Horde is crushed beneath my boot. But Jani.¡± The other woman swallowed. ¡°I understand Predaig now.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Janine asked calmly, remembering the first time she, Eled, Martyshkina, and Predaig had come to their first party to bond as named sisters.


    Spirits, they were so stupid! Without armor or clothing, the four bought enough booze to drown a small village and set out into the wilderness, drinking themselves into oblivion while shouting obscenities and trading rumors about other females. They awoke to the sight of a skinwalker sniffing at them, with spine mites and parasites busy sucking the blood out of them. And then that inhuman bitch tore off some insects from their hides and ate them, changing into a horrible, mismatched mess formed of their combined parts that knew their every fear and worry and gleefully using it to send them screaming back to the village. Alpha taunted them mercilessly afterwards.


    Was it fun? Damn, yes, it was! Janine felt another wave of sadness, knowing she¡¯d never see Eled or Predaig again. Even their remains were lost or eaten.


    ¡°I forget her face,¡± Martyshkina whispered. ¡°The first of my cubs to survive, my pride and joy, and I am forgetting what she looked like! Biologically, my body is barely thirty years old, and my brain is still functioning perfectly. But the doctors said that it is natural to forget some events after living for so long. They recommend making photos and videos to¡­ to¡­ I can¡¯t¡­ This shit, I just can¡¯t. Why must we keep ongoing when our cubs die again and again? When is it our turn already? When can we rest?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Janine whispered, letting go of her friend. ¡°All I know is that it all has to mean something in the end. But... you are right. We are humans too. Do you remember our first oath?¡±


    ¡°About beating up Freya?¡± Marty laughed, wiping the tears. ¡°Yep, I sure do. We went overboard, and the poor lass still suffers from back pain. And her sister limped until the day she died.¡±


    ¡°Those bitches deserved it. They nearly blinded us for fun,¡± Janine grumbled, closing her eyes. ¡°We were cubs back then. Cruel, stupid, merciless fools. I will apologize to Freya after the war. But how about a new oath?¡± She smiled at Marty¡¯s confusion. ¡°A good one this time. Let us leave the army as soon as a stronger warlord is ready to replace us.¡±


    ¡°But the Tribe¡­¡±


    ¡°Will live on! And so will we, for the first time! We¡¯ll steal some males, open a bar¡­ We can even drag some of our cubs with us!¡± Janine squeezed Marty¡¯s paws. ¡°Think about it! It¡¯s not like we¡¯re betraying the Blessed Mother or the Dynasty. If they call, we will come immediately.¡±


    ¡°What is there to think about?¡± Marty smiled brightly, shrugging off the weariness. ¡°I like it. Abyss, why not?¡±


    ¡°Alone or together,¡± they said in unison, trusting their instincts to guess the words of each other, ¡°we promise to leave the Tribe one day, find a new soulmate, and start a new life. A normal, happy life.¡±


    The two women embraced, grieving in silence in memory of those they had lost and, at the same time, finding new strength to hold on. One kept going thanks to the fresh dream. And another because of her duties and family.


    And the war still raged on. A screaming siren broke the silence, announcing an emergency across the mobile fortress.

 Chapter 120: Oversight

    Janine barged into the corridor leading to the command bridge with all the alacrity she could muster, knocking several white-furred, too slow to jump out of her way, aside. Marty shadowed her, the helmet closed to hide the fresh wound from bothering their unreliable allies. Several sages tried to bar their passages, begging Janine to put on some clothes, but she ignored them, carrying the Taleteller on her broad shoulder. The fur will serve her well enough. In the time of barbarism, she had no patience for civility.


    The mobile fortress was hardly a subtle thing. Though it moved deliberately slow, its treads carved fresh roads, pulverizing swaths of nature, and thunderous cracks of broken trees and stones accompanied their journey to Houstad. Like frightened cubs trailing after a parent, columns of trucks and army vehicles followed, safely protected by the turrets of the mobile fortress, while Wolfkins lurked in the shadows of the untouched trees, descending on any enemy scout party in an orgy of violence and disappearing just as fast.


    By attacking the refugee convoy, the fools had signed their own death warrants. No mercy was shown, but these were mere scouting parties testing their hides, and as Janine stepped onto the bridge, she grew worried that the Horde main force had caught up with them at last.


    Mindless chaos filled the center. Normie officers loudly demanded an explanation for a failure; black-clad agents of the Investigation Bureau tried to contact their informants, threatening them with the death penalty for incompetence. Their superiors examined the holographic map detailing the Horde¡¯s advance and the slowly advancing yellow tide threatening to swallow the vastness of Houstad.


    The situation was dire. The Wall had been breached in several places, and information poured in about tribes of New Breeds hurrying to reinforce the Horde¡¯s ranks. It seemed every scum by that side of the wilderness had either joined in or hired forces to pledge their allegiance to the Khatun, bolstering the already innumerable host with the fresh volunteers, and banners of the jaws swallowing the world soared high. Entire settlements became makeshift giant factories, churning out new weapons to support the growing numbers and pumping out ammunition. Prisons were cracked open, further swelling the ranks of the bondsmen.


    Madmen, tyrants, dictators, and religious zealots who had previously behaved out of fear of reprisal now abandoned all semblance of civility and executed Reclaimers¡¯ ambassadors, publicly swearing fealty to the Gilded Horde. Sleeper cells from the locals and agents standing at the ready to behead uppity rulers found themselves surrounded and killed. Brood Lord¡¯s work, no doubt, and a further proof of treachery. Accounts flashed across the screen of forces under Iron Lord¡¯s banner, wiping out several bandit factions to preserve the citizens. Janine had no idea what kind of depravity was too much for the enemy to tolerate, but any news of infighting was music to her ears.


    But the gloom was temporary, and the Reclamation Army hardly stood alone. Mercenary ¡°kings¡± officially cast their lot with the state, serving as their informants in the conquered regions. Many former prisoners, trapped in war zones against their will, established contact and swore their innocence of having been forced into the invading army. And the Second and the First armies were coming. The die was cast, and even should they fail, they will be avenged.


    Not that Janine had any intention of dying. Her eyes found Bertruda, who stood with outstretched arms being encased in a power armor by three personal squires.


    ¡°Sword Saint. What is happening?¡± Janine asked politely.


    ¡°The Knight Academy in Opul has failed to evacuate and is now under attack.¡± Bertruda craned her neck elegantly, showing no sign of concern, and a squire hurried to attach her helmet to the gorget. ¡°It is not far, and Mad Hatter was last spotted further to the north, so we are uniquely poised to serve as the perfect rescue team. I and my knights are heading out. Warlord, please take over¡­¡±


    ¡°Armor!¡± Janine said to a face of the nearby sage, who glanced at Bertruda for permission. A paw wrapped around her neck, dragging the woman nose-to-nose with the warlord. ¡°I gave you the order, officer. A suit of armor, this instant! Or do you wish to deprive your kin of our might?¡± The sage emitted a scent of submission and eagerly hurried away.


    ¡°I am joining too. Need to stretch my legs, watch over that buffoon¡­¡±


    ¡°Who are you calling a buffoon?¡± Janine grumbled playfully. ¡°You were the one who forgot the route home after that party two years ago!¡±


    ¡°¡­And my revolvers thirst for the Horde¡¯s blood. Can¡¯t deny them that.¡± Martyshkina refused to take the bait, grinned, and spun her weapons.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± quietly said Bertruda. ¡°I did not expect cooperation after¡­¡±


    ¡°You expect us to abandon cubs? Have you lost your marbles, Sword Saint?¡± Janine asked. ¡°I¡¯ll work alongside a skinwalker to rescue civilians if needed.¡± She pressed two fingers to her chin and studied the map. Opul, a small town too close to Houstad. ¡°No way they didn¡¯t receive a warning.¡±


    ¡°This area was swarmed by the initial Horde¡¯s invaders before the Alpha Pack pushed them back,¡± Bertruda said, but a hint of doubt crawled into her voice.


    ¡°No, Jani is onto something.¡± Martyshkina holstered her revolvers. ¡°The pits¡­¡±


    ¡°Academy, Lady¡± a sage corrected her.


    ¡°Whatever. Look.¡± Martyshkina grabbed the sage, pressed him tightly against her chest, and pointed. ¡°Why would there be jammers nearby, and why did they stop working half an hour ago? There is no military and not much of a civilian population to commit such resources. Besides, the Horde just kicked our butts to the north; why did the jammers pull back and let the news through? No, buddy, those creeps purposely delayed our evacuation to trap the cubs inside Opul. They are trying to pull Leonidas on us, just acting smarter about it.¡±


    ¡°Summon Wolf Hags Anissa, Kalaisa, Elzada, and Shaman Impatient One. They are to join us, fully equipped,¡± Janine commanded and stopped, shuddering at the necessity. ¡°And call that white-furred Voidrunner girl¡­ Thyia. I have need of her.¡±


    Her eyebrows rose as she saw the suit rolled in for her. A gleaming white hull belonging to an Ice Fang, large enough to fit her inside. On its chest, arms, and legs, it had artistically crafted muscles running over the surface of the combat plates, its helmet stylized after a muzzle of a stern Wolfkin. The sigils and colors of House Mountaintop across the breastplate coiled upward to the gorget, and a yellow cape cascaded from the shoulders.


    ¡°Remove the cape,¡± she bit down on any argument. The outdated combat plate of Bertruda¡¯s predecessor, its helmet still bearing a bright spot marking the blow that had penetrated the defense and finished the man. A gesture of trust, maybe, or perhaps the only suit around capable of adapting to her unusual proportions.


    ¡°Greetings, Sword Saint. Please upload identification codes to update the database,¡± said a pleasant, musical voice as a squire placed the helmet on Janine¡¯s head and the visor blinked to let her see.


    ¡°I am no Sword Saint,¡± Janine answered, and the visor darkened while the armored pauldron on her shoulder tightened, restricting her movements.


    ¡°Unauthorized use of a Sword Saint¡¯s battle plate is no joking matter, initiate,¡± the voice chastised her. ¡°Stay still while I contact sages for disciplinary actions¡­¡±


    ¡°Sword Saint. The machine tries to trap me,¡± Janine said, unsure if this was a deliberate attempt to humiliate her.


    ¡°Hundred apologies, warlord, it slipped my mind,¡± Bertruda gasped. ¡°IDs are sent. Suits constructed by the Divine Twins are governed by machine intelligences. We haven¡¯t found a way to upload them into the newer models yet.¡±


    ¡°Hail, Sword Saint Bertruda! Glory to you and eternal memory to your predecessor,¡± the voice sang with joy, and the systems reverted back online, filling the warlord¡¯s retinas with the flow of information. ¡°Sword Saint Janine, you are approved for the honor of wielding the Mountaintop treasure. I await your wishes and instructions for the celebration following our inevitable success on the battlefield. Would you prefer a softer white wine, or perhaps¡­¡±


    ¡°I already told you, not a sword saint! I am Warlord Janine,¡± she replied, adding after consideration. ¡°Also, cognac and a cusack leg. Roasted.¡±


    ¡°The title of Warlord is added to the honorary ranks of the Mountaintop House, Lady Bull-Slayer,¡± the electronic voice chirped.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare call me that! That name belongs to your master, and don¡¯t add anything! I have nothing to do with the Ice Fangs! I am from the Wolf Tribe!¡±


    ¡°Ah, so you married into our house from our rowdy kin. I should have guessed as much when I heard your peculiar tastes in alcohol.¡± She heard a tongue clicking. ¡°How inhospitable of me! Fear not, my lady; I will prepare a list of necessary literature and etiquette lessons to help you fit into the house as if you were born here! Congratulations on your union with Sword Saint Bertruda.¡±If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I can explain. It was the quickest way¡­¡± Bertruda began, but stopped after Janine¡¯s helmet slipped off the back of her head and she pointed a finger at the woman, shaking with rage.


    ¡°Not a word from anyone.¡± She sensed it, the growing cheering in the center and occasional grins on the squires¡¯ snouts. A chuckle spread a red veil over her eyes, and she took several deep breaths, focusing her gaze on a small, black-furred figure fitting a gauntlet on her paw. ¡°Marco? What are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I am your adjutant, Warlord!¡± Marco chuckled and pressed a paw to his mouth. ¡°Sorry. Hiccups. Lunches here are divine.¡±


    ¡°Sure. Lunches,¡± Janine nodded, burning from shame. ¡°Machine! Wipe that disgusting insinuation from your databases! And if anyone dares¡­¡±


    ¡°I always knew there was something going on between you two.¡± Marty wiped a non-existent tear from her lens, choking on her mirth. ¡°May you have many passionate nights to share and raise countless cubs to your name¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord Martyshkina.¡± Janine snorted, clutching the Taleteller tighter. ¡°A rank-match. After the war. Naked, claw to claw.¡±


    ¡°Oh, what a shame, she¡¯s not satisfied with just one soulmate!¡± Martyshkina desperately threw her head up and retreated out of the Taleteller¡¯s range.


    At least it helps the morale. Janine shut up and stood still, shooting down any suggestion of the machine intelligence about the feast or dresses. Marco dutifully helped fit greaves onto her legs. He still wore the coat but unzipped it, showing that he had put on a basic exoskeleton, and she spied a smoke grenade and several markers of various colors on his belt.


    The sage asked Janine to raise her arms, and she obliged, grimacing as the woman fitted her with the pieces of underarmor. It felt tight, but when she flexed, the material stretched slightly, preserving the zippers and hole shapes around her implants. A squire staggered, seeing white, necrotic skin around several implants.


    ¡°Lady Janine.¡± The boy licked his lips nervously. ¡°We must call a hospitaller¡­¡±


    ¡°Insert it,¡± she said.


    ¡°But the pain!¡± cried the boy. He looked at the sage and the other squires. ¡°You all see it! Some implants are half broken, others are torn out, and the last ones are literally killing you, Lady! If we¡­¡±


    Janine cast the yellow light of her eyes on his crimson ones, exuding a scent of both aggression and calm reassurance. If any male or female of the Tribe had dared to express their concern in such a public way, she would have broken their bones. But the young cub was of a gentler, brighter generation, an outsider despite their physical similarities. She had no right to lash out at him.


    ¡°It is my discomfort or them.¡± She nodded at Opul on the map. ¡°Simple choice.¡±


    Cables entered the still-bloodied wounds on her back, sending a refreshing electrical jolt across the nerves and filling her head with a nauseating, throbbing agony. Her heart rate increased, and the machine intelligence¡¯s voice immediately changed as it recoiled in disgust as it recoiled in disgust after running a scan of her body. She overrode all attempts to stop the union, licking away a trickle of blood coming down her nostrils and toughing out the discomfort.


    Never before had she tried an Order suit, and when the machine turned on the air conditioning, she growled, ready to ask for it to be turned off before she froze her ass off when the temperature miraculously changed on its own, heating up. The Twins knew their craft and designed the visor to allow the user to see many kilometers ahead, complimenting the innate abilities of the Ice Fangs¡¯ crimson eyes, which could heighten perception enough to slow to a crawl even a falling rock in the air.


    Wolfkins lacked such ability. Their talents lay in natural toughness, strength, and a faster recovery rate than their cousi¡­ Ice Fangs. The suit¡¯s intelligence detected this and quickly adjusted the vision to spare the amber eyes from further strain. And with these changes, Janine¡¯s body underwent its own adaptation, synapses coursing across the nerves, reigniting even numbed and dead ones. Her brain and veins endured the unusual connection and grew stronger for it.


    Meters-long bundles of fiber muscles slithered across her body, securing themselves and serving as a layer. Servomotors activated silently, relieving the weight, and then the backpack hummed, powered not by nuclear energy but by a plasma generator.


    ¡°I can¡¯t release my claws,¡± she mused, hearing furious scrubbing.


    ¡°Do not be concerned, Lady, the suit is well-equipped to prevent such undignified barbarism,¡± the machine eagerly assured her.


    ¡°Drop the lady, name¡¯s Janine. Do you have a name?¡±


    ¡°The former Sword Saints never found it necessary to give me one, Lady. Adress me as you wish. I exist to serve.¡±


    ¡°Typical.¡± Janine shook her head. ¡°You¡¯re an ally, not a slave, idiot. And allies should have names. I¡¯ll call you Albert.¡±


    ¡°Identification received and accepted,¡± Albert happily sang. ¡°May I¡­¡± his voice stuttered, ¡°inquire as to why you allow the plates to be blemished?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not a blemish!¡± Marco argued, finishing his painting. ¡°Tell him or it. My drawing isn¡¯t that bad!¡±


    ¡°R-right!¡± A squire nodded. ¡°This family crest may be a little rough around the edges, but it conveys pride excellently.¡±


    ¡°How inconsiderate of me!¡± Albert gasped, and the suit¡¯s cameras whirled to focus on the image of crossed muscular arms that Marco had painted on Janine¡¯s thigh. ¡°The Mountaintop heraldry is updated with the Bull-Slayer sigil.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare¡­¡± Janine exhaled at the noise of the opened door and let it be.


    ¡°Anissa, Kalaisa, your packs are with me,¡± Janine said to the newcomers, and the wolf hags bowed.


    Kalaisa was an obvious choice for the mission, for the girl continued to grow, the seeds of a potential warlord blossoming in her. And Anissa, though she commanded an undermanned pack, proved herself well enough to work with the Ice Fangs, willingly swallowing her pride for the sake of the common goal.


    ¡°This won¡¯t leave much of a space for my own troops,¡± Bertruda remarked.


    ¡°Unfortunate necessities of the world. Take your best along; we will be grateful for any assistance you can provide, Sword Saint,¡± Janine said diplomatically, recalling the Ice Fang¡¯s question. Despite the betrayal, they had to work together; otherwise, what kind of protectors were they? ¡°Wolf Hag Elzada. You and¡­ Thyia are to act as joint commanders in our absence. If we do not return, you are to lead the pack and hurry to Houstad, no matter what.¡±


    ¡°You would trust an Ice Fang?¡± Thyia asked in a voice full of venom, but then she blinked, preparing to apologize.


    ¡°Never.¡± Janine let the helmet slip off her head and locked eyes with the woman, understanding the stress that momentarily overcame her. ¡°But I think I know what to expect from you, considering your sword saint is on board. Our goals are aligned. I put you in charge because I can¡¯t be sure of the same about anyone else of your kin.¡±


    ¡°Warlord. Your words are not conducive to a flourishing cooperation between our forces,¡± Bertruda said.


    ¡°Because we worked oh so well before, right, Sword Saint?¡± Janine ignored the pleading look in the traitor¡¯s eyes. No more. No more unresponsive cordiality. Fuck the Order. Hostility in response to hostility. ¡°Enough bickering. We need two APCs for the mission!¡±


    ¡°Already prepared, Warlord,¡± Anissa knelt, and Janine noticed a prayer book tied to her waist with an iron chain.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go too!¡± Marco stepped forward.


    ¡°No,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Are you crazy?¡± Anissa laughed.


    ¡°Nope,¡± Kalaisa added, and patted Marco.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even dream it,¡± Impatient One warned.


    ¡°I can fight!¡± Marco released his claws, showing them his gentle and precious paws. ¡°Warlord saw me pass the test! I can help you, Warlord! This time I will protect you¡­¡±


    ¡°You will stay behind, along with the cubs. You there!¡± She addressed the sage, who brought her armor. ¡°Guard my son with your life.¡±


    ¡°Warlord, I have proven that I can kill¡­ Mother, I cannot lose any more of my family!¡±


    Janine marched past Marco, ignoring his pleas and hating herself for not having time to comfort him. She will explain everything to him upon returning, even though his back had earned a new set of scars for his insubordination. Traditions demanded it, and by all rights she should have bitten him and thrown him to the ground to beat obedience into him, just as Terrific had done with everyone in her pack to instill discipline.


    And look at how you turned out after such methods. A woman who sent her son to his death. Still sure there is value in cruelty, eh, Janine? Janine gripped the Taleteller¡¯s shaft. Perhaps it was time for some changes. Rather than punishing Marco, she will speak with him and patiently explain why it was not safe for a boy to be in a combat zone. Yes. Yes, it seemed logical. Normies raised their cubs in such a way, and there were tons of fine people among them! Spirits know Ravager was and still is wrong about many things; maybe the Spirits are now sending Janine an alternative path for the Tribe?


    Banishing her heretical thoughts for now, Janine entered the spacious hangar and was guided by the HUD to the vehicles. Where the knight¡¯s armor projected nobility and elegance, the APC provided ruggedness and power. Two high-caliber machine guns atop each vehicle stood ready to provide fire support in combat situations, and their sleek, silvery shapes helped ensure that bullets would bounce off the hulls.


    The technicians presented Janine with a new laser rifle, finished their preparations, and opened the ramps so that the eighty Wolfkins and twenty Ice Fangs could take their places in the harnesses while their leaders remained outside, fully capable of keeping pace with the transports on foot.


    Instead of a ramp, a tunnel opened in the wall, and the APCs roared, racing out and flying over the continuous track, plopping heavily on the ground. Janine and the rest jumped after them, cratering the ground, and running on all fours, not even glancing at the convoy of surprised civilians and marching soldiers.


    ¡°Albert?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Lady?¡±


    ¡°Do you have sensors capable of detecting mines?¡±


    ¡°Naturally, Sword Saint and Warlord. Antennas in your feet act as feelers, reading the ground, and built-in radars will warn you of potential problems in advance. Everything is already in place; please trust me, you won¡¯t walk into a minefield.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, ally.¡± She hesitated, breathing in the clean air of the tortured forest. Do machines have souls? Would the Blessed Mother care? ¡°It is wrong that your masters didn¡¯t use you, Albert. No one should be forgotten.¡±


    ¡°It saddens me that our current technological knowledge is not sufficient to transfer or upload me into another suit,¡± Albert said. ¡°Not even Till Ingo could solve this problem. But you are incorrect, Lady! I assist in administrative tasks and watch over our historical records.¡±


    ¡°Scrub me from them. I wish to have nothing to do with the Ice Fangs.¡±


    ¡°Impossible. No one should be forgotten.¡± She could¡¯ve sworn there was a hint of smugness in his voice.


    Martyshkina was right, Janine decided, shattering a tree in her path. An ambush awaited them, and they risked arriving at a battlefield only to find corpses. It didn¡¯t matter. If there was even the slightest chance of saving the civilians, they had to take it, and Janine intended to sacrifice the raiders to honor those who had fallen so far. A paltry gift, but she was just getting started.


    There will be enough deaths before the war was over.

 Chapter 121: Steel Musing

    Research wins wars. Decided Iron Lord, raising the skewered Dirtyblood and ignoring the blood running down his glaive. His rival relied on prediction, improvisation, and other silly, unreliable schemes, which helped entice gullible masses. Folly, as Houstad¡¯s failure had proven. Only hard data mattered, and its proper application led to the establishment of a stable society. Research was hardly limited to technological advances, and sociology and psychology were the respected and valuable sciences.


    Barely audible gasps escaped the Dirtyblood¡¯s mouth; her body convulsed and spasmed, arms desperately trying to lift the body from the blade, oblivious to the fact that her lung was no more. Vermin always tried to save themselves, rather than reaching for a gun on their belt and firing at the assailant. This moron was paying with her life for disobeying a simple order and demanding immediate assistance from Iron Lord. Irritated by his oversight, the khan turned off the disruption field, forcing the fool to suffer the consequences.


    Both should have known better. But there was a lesson in every failure, and Iron Lord intended to learn it, accepting his partially impaired mental state.


    Theoretical. How do you defeat a nation? In ages past, vast armies marched on. To avoid the terrible casualties of urban warfare, economic blockades were set up to starve the opposition into submission. New fates were forged during clever negotiations in high cabinets, while propagandists sowed seeds of discontent among the general populace. Net, news, pocket politicians, strategy, discipline, will, numbers, technology, flexibility¡ªthrough these currencies, a nation purchased its future and manifested its destiny.


    Nowadays, the validity of such notions was questionable at best. Starve the Horde, murder every last one of their minions, and what have you accomplished? Mad Hatter will still exist, and through her might alone, she¡¯ll rebuild and conquer, forming another Gilded Horde. Demigods roamed the lands, smashing hundreds, casting doubt on the former ways of war by disregarding numbers and overcoming strategy through brute force. They were the countries in themselves, and any nations that formed today were unions of such individuals, with the less fortunate rallying around them.


    Humans didn¡¯t matter. To survive and preserve those they care about, they had to ensure the victory of their demigod, even if that person wasn¡¯t a paragon of virtue. It was a bitter irony. Iron Lord cared about the Merchants and his wives, and for their sake, he planned to ensure that his people would learn how to create soulless gods obedient to their commands.


    Practical. How to conquer a nation? Take down such individuals, cull them, shatter the false illusion of security, and essentially disarm your foe before lowering the curtain by sending the elite to swoop in. A simple plan, but how to create an opportunity to massacre a demigod? That was where research chimed in. Once a demigod¡¯s thought process and habits were known, setting a trap was trivial. And the Reclaimers¡­ they cared for their young.


    His idea clear, Iron Lord had contacted the traitor, wrested the tool from the clutches of his rival, and obtained the study sites of the white-furred Purebloods. After carefully calculating their future advance, Iron Lord had chosen one, a perfect spot to deprive the Reclamation Army of one of its best assets. And the Horde had gained a target.


    Not everything went as he had expected, but such was the price of working alongside the incompetent. He cast the dying woman on the floor and let his thunder bull feast. Iron Lord and his elite guards hid themselves in an industrial warehouse of this settlement. Built around the Knight Academy, Opul thrived on the Order¡¯s generous donations. Located deep within the Reclamation Army¡¯s territory, it lacked even a simple palisade.


    That morning, hoverbikes had streaked through the streets, disrupting the morning silence with the hiss of pulse rifles. The infantry charged in after them, lobbing explosive munition into the tall complex glistening in the sunlight. Its reinforced stone blocks endured the searing heat, darkening and melting as the hordemen surrounded the place, ensuring that no victim would be able to escape. Against his strict instructions, the khan in charge of the rabble led her soldiers in a headlong assault and was bloodied by the defenders. Iron Lord didn¡¯t care about the casualties; the majority of the degenerates belonged to Brood Lord, and any of his own troops had richly earned themselves death.


    He wasn¡¯t waging war on children, not when Mad Hatter wasn¡¯t around to order him to stage another massacre. The white-furred were supposed to undergo brainwashing and join his khaganate.


    Phaser had opened a portal and endured an agonizing experience to let a large group into Opul in exchange for forgiveness for his involvement in the would-be assassination. Iron Lord had refused to explain anything to the khan and simply admired the place. Most of the buildings were built in a ¡®block¡¯ style to house large families, but closer to the academy were proper houses and mansions, owned by both the locals and the white-furred. Unfortunately, they had been ransacked.


    About a hundred citizens stayed in Opul out of concern for the children, while the rest fled into the forest, for all the good it might have done them. The mayor, a heavily augmented and tanned individual, hurried to Iron Lord, imploring him to spare the kids. Iron Lord let the mayor run his mouth, in case he had something important to say, and observed the events through the visors of his troops. Unmoving, unbreathing, sustained by the life-support systems. Like a true machine.


    Enraged by her losses, the khan had bombarded the complex of white stone and chrome, destroying its magnificent statues and royal imagery, reducing many facilities to smoking heaps of collapsed rubble. Ravenous beams burned away barred balconies, and flashes from rocket explosions sent an avalanche of rocks and marble tumbling down. Doors bore traces of dents and notches. A dome housing an observatory had been breached, and a small inferno was now pouring out of it. Vaulted passages between the complex¡¯s facilities stood no longer.


    Inside the complex, the hordemen battled against the instructors clad in outdated power armors. Iron Lord admired the ingenuity of his opponents, who had managed to separate the invaders by locking the doors, as well as their dedication and efficiency. Silver and white figures almost danced on the walls, elegantly bypassing their opponents¡¯ crude shield walls, slashing at joints and cutting sinews, even hacking through bones. In the end, their sacrifice meant little. One after another, they died under a hail of bullets, and their wards were meeting the same fate from the enraged soldiers breaking into classrooms.


    The barbarity unleashed touched Opul, introducing its inhabitants to the harsh truth of their shared world. And there was something else, a veneer of another horror touching souls, ever intensifying¡­


    Iron Lord opened his tired biological eyes, stirred by the howls of aggression filling the streets. An axe, bigger than a man¡¯s body, flew out of the forest, spinning, slicing through three bondsmen and burying itself in a hoverbike, exploding it and setting nearby soldiers aflame. Their armor saved them from burns and injuries, but they never stood up as two orbs of plasma¡ªthe orbs that speared through a dozen trees¡ªfinished them off by burning their way through their bodies.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Two massive, super-heavy vehicles stormed into Opul, oversized parodies of the Provincial Army¡¯s APCs. Parts of buildings in their path shattered, and an unlucky rider got splattered into a mix of broken steel and innards by their wheels.


    Huge figures entered the fray, seemingly blinking into existence with their superior speed. One carried a long spear, and a flick of her wrist sent its blade through several necks as the sword saint, in shining armor, stepped ahead, making sure not a drop of blood stained her cloak. Another Wolfkin walked across the rooftops, firing her revolvers. A single shot sent a web of cracks snaking behind a hordewoman, who looked at the gaping emptiness in her chest in disbelief before collapsing. The bullet itself ricocheted off the ground, killing another soldier before ricocheting off the blade of the spear and slaying the third. Even the sword saint seemed to be startled for a tenth of a second, and then she became a whirlwind of strikes. Smaller copies of their leaders sneaked through the rubble, firing their ugly versions of shotguns or slashing those near them.


    The street shook as the third giant leapt. His weight left a crater in the pavement and tossed several hordemen and the large axe into the air. A hand closed around the axe, and the Pureblood spun, bisecting the bodies. Another hand grasped a retreating raider by his helmet and drew him nearer, as if the sword saint wanted to bite him, but at the last second he ripped the man¡¯s face off and then struck, cracking the cranium. Legs, looking too short, stomped, bursting bellies of the soldiers.


    Not him. She. The escapee. The one who hurt my son¡­ and spared my daughter. His lips parted in predatory glee. Janine wore a false insignia, but her battle style of carving a bloody path formed of mutilated bodies betrayed her undeniably as a black-furred. Not a hint of mercy and all the aggression a mind could hold.


    What luck! Two warlords, a sword saint, and the main course had not yet arrived. He had time to partake in the storm of madness.


    ¡°Prepare to fire Sky¡¯s Wrath at Opul!¡± Iron Lord said to the behemoth¡¯s crew and opened a direct line to another great khan. ¡°Brood Lord! Keep Phaser ready. His ass¡­¡± Why am I cursing? What is going on here? ¡°¡­ is to open a space rift on my command. Use the video feed of our troops to deduce the coordinates of our location.¡±


    ¡°Some of us have a war to wage.¡± Brood Lord yawned. ¡°What are you up to, Rust Lord?¡±


    ¡°Correcting your mistakes, imbecile,¡± Iron Lord answered, energized and frightened in equal measure. His implants kicked in, filling the bloodstream with chemicals, and it wasn¡¯t enough. His emotions joined in a maddening carnival, filling him with desires. ¡°Gilded Horde!¡± He raised Patience. ¡°To conquest and wealth! Devour the world!¡±


    ¡°Devour the world!¡± the bodyguard roared back.


    The thunder bull trotted on, past the open-mouthed mayor, accelerated, and shattered the entrance, sending a rain of pebbles and iron beams harmlessly crashing into the Iron Lord¡¯s bulk. A field of disruption formed around the glaive¡¯s edge, ready to bring carnage.


    They advanced like a flood, leveling everything in their path. Calming himself, Iron Lord paid attention to a coded message Brood Lord sent to one of the panicked lesser khans on the field. There was always the risk of betrayal, but he had taken precautions to ensure a positive outcome.


    ¡°Horkhudagh.¡± Iron Lord contacted the Flame Whip. ¡°Stay close for support.¡±


    ****


    Divide! The Taleteller came down, splitting a man into two unequal halves. Pierce. Her armored fingers struck, shattering a gorget and crumbling a trachea. Her jaws tried to open to catch the coughed blood and drink the vitae like water. Disgusted, Albert caught her desire and unsealed the helmet. Tear. Her head swung, closing her fangs on a fleeing raider, breaking his spine. She stepped on the paralyzed fool and heard the bones crack. Divide. Split. Divide!


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that why you came, morsels?!¡± she thundered. ¡°Then come and face me, instead of scurrying away! I haven¡¯t even sent all of you into the Abyss!¡±


    Janine broke the law. The understanding of the simple fact that she was feasting on the living and the dead did not even bother her, as the cold fury unleashed by the sight of yet another plundered sanctuary drove her to abandon any pretense of civility. She was a beast, a monster in the service of the state! Every move killed or maimed, and the warlord reveled in the terrified screams, embracing the savage nature of the Wolf Tribe.


    Roars and howls reigned on the streets, choking the whispers and pleas of the dying and fear-struck. Impatient One tore a khan¡¯s limbs one by one, as if she were a cub toying with an insectoid. Then her claws plunged into the wide-open eyes. Anissa and her pack emerged from the smoke, denying a retreat to the enemy.


    The Ice Fangs¡¯ shock was almost palpable; the warlord sensed that much. Bertruda joined the slaughter, but her occasional hesitation after hearing a scream of surrender betrayed that everything in her revolted against this way of waging war. The Twins and the Blessed Mother had established rules, adjusting them as the state grew. But now, at the zenith of the grievous strike aimed at civilization, its soldiers abandoned normality and snarled, participating in a brutality that surpassed even that of their enemies.


    Janine didn¡¯t howl, too busy killing.


    ¡°You came to our lands as monsters!¡± Janine snarled, swatting away bullets with the Taleteller. A beam of her laser rifle toppled an enemy soldier. ¡°Bringing woe to our families! Ruins to our dens!¡± A raider tried to ram her, only to find the butt of the axe tearing off a sizeable chunk of his throat and head. The blade slashed, severing the legs of three raiders at their knees. She kicked a Pureblood in the chest, denting his armor, but the fat underneath softened the blow and absorbed some of the impact. Still, his visor was suddenly covered in red from the inside.


    ¡°Please!¡± he pleaded as Janine turned her kick into a stomp, splattering the man against the ground. His armor held, but she saw the bastard¡¯s body balloon, the flesh pressing hard against the breastplate. ¡°Mercy!¡± He yelled in desperation, trying to lift her leg. ¡°I beg¡­¡±


    ¡°He is no longer a threat,¡± Albert said.


    ¡°And monsters you have met.¡± The body exploded under increased pressure. ¡°Rip apart, Reclaimers!¡± Janine roared, sending an order for Kalaisa to eliminate the hordemen near the entrance doors. ¡°There are no humans here! Retaliate and let them taste our righteous fury!¡± Anissa obeyed another command and halted their ambush, forming two firing lines that mowed down riders trying to get to the APCs.


    The defenders slammed their shields into the ground, blocking the incoming grenades and shielding the precious transports. With a grunt of approval and no intention of staying put, the Wolfkins rode the blast and scattered. The knights raised their blades and unleashed ranged hell on the grenadiers.


    Plasma from Bertruda¡¯s wrists immolated several brave hordemen trying to mount a defensive line. Martyshkina jumped down from the building, her cloak flapping in the gust of wind propelled by explosions. Two shots eliminated the last riders, and the last to arrive at the Academy¡¯s entrance was Janine, covered in blood and gore, her blue visor shining like a newborn star, and her leg kicked a head into the hordemen¡¯s ranks. That sight, and something about her, broke whatever morale the raiders had left, and they tried to scurry away and disappear into the streets of the town.


    No respite was given to them. Shardguns pronounced their verdict, joined by the banshee screams of the APCs¡¯ rotating cannons, which sheared off entire body parts. Several civilians unsteadily poked their heads out of the ruins, shrieking in terror as black-clad paws unceremoniously grabbed them and shoved them into the transports.


    ¡°That was¡­ intense,¡± Albert mused.


    ¡°Wolf Tribe¡¯s way,¡± Janine admitted. ¡°See? Told you, no need to tarnish the Order with my shit.¡±


    ¡°Let us not argue about it now, Sword Saint and Warlord. You talked about the minefield, but there is none. If¡­¡±


    ¡°No ifs! It is a trap,¡± she interrupted him and pointed at the Academy. ¡°Inside!¡±


    The packs and knights charged toward the entrance and found it sealed shut by the tons of rubble merged. Albert helpfully informed the rescuers of a ventilation shaft, but unfortunately it was too narrow for any of them to enter, and sending a civilian inside might have been suicide. Janine waved the troops aside and brought the Taleteller high. She¡¯ll shatter the damn stones if¡­


    ¡°Prey!¡± Martyshkina cried out, and a moment later, the ground shook.

 Chapter 122: Coldness and Family

    A storm front of ruination swept toward the Reclaimers, and house after house collapsed, unable to withstand the stampede that rocked the very ground. Pebbles and steel chunks jumped up and down, waves ran in blood pools, and a yellow flash in the building ahead confirmed Janine¡¯s suspicions. A trap was closing in on them. She elbowed an Ice Fang away, denting his gauntlet but saving the woman from having her head melted by a particle stream. Nearby, a defender threw up his shield, protecting Anissa from a similar fate.


    ¡°Kalaisa, Anissa, find a way inside and lead the survivors to the ventilation shaft. We¡¯ll handle the situation outside.¡± She stopped their arguments, ordered the packs to split evenly to the north and south under the leadership of the scouts, and marched off to face the enemy alongside Bertruda and Martyshkina. A tap of her foot sent Impatient One off the front line to skulk behind a warlord.


    And the buildings facing them exploded; the cinder blocks themselves, crushed by hide and steel, were reduced to dust, and out of them burst brightly ornamented forms: thunder bulls carrying riders entombed in the thickest armor, their plates shining purple, gold, green, and every other color imaginable.


    At their head was a truly enormous figure, the gray-colored bastard who had murdered Eled. Where the plates of the other riders had smooth surfaces and curves, the leader¡¯s was covered in dozens of black spots that covered his legs, elbows, and shoulders. His fingers gripped the handle of a long glaive, dragging the blade across the ground, where a shimmering gray field around its edge devoured the pavement. The lenses on his helmet focused on the Reclaimers, his armor more suited to a heavy assault tank than a battle, and the cannons on his shoulders stirred.


    Martyshkina spun revolvers in her paws and fired, aiming at Iron Lord and a rider to his left. The bullet tore through the smaller rider¡¯s helmet, exposing wires, bone, and brain matter, and the man shook in his seat but still tried to maintain the charge. The glaive swung up, erasing the bullet, and the khan snapped his fingers, sending the wounded back. His cannon gathered energy and fired, forcing Marty to dive to the side, dodging a blast capable of piercing even a warlord¡¯s armor. A small sizzling orb struck a pile of rubble and expanded into a huge sphere, melting the entire thing.


    ¡°His movements¡­¡± Albert muttered.


    Close range it was. Janine leaped ahead, creating a sonic boom that flapped the knights¡¯ cloaks and trusting the scouts to lead the troops. Like a flying missile, she collided with Iron Lord, bringing her axe against the shaft of his weapon, and a thunderous bang rattled the remaining windows, briefly displacing all oxygen and creating a momentary vacuum. As the air flowed back in, she heard the whine of their servomotors and found herself in a deadlock. The man withstood the blow by holding his weapon with both hands, but as Janine¡¯s snout closed for a bite, he let go of his weapon and pushed her head up, exposing the throat.


    ¡°Predictable.¡±


    ¡°Best things in life usually are, creep,¡± Janine growled, planting her feet firmly on the bull¡¯s head. Not trying to win the strength contest, she simply grabbed his side, pulling the khan from his steed to the ground, and the deadly shot from his cannon flew into the sky.


    Iron Lord rolled aside, blocked a kiss of Elegance with his glaive, and nimbly retreated from a swing of the Taleteller. Bertruda gracefully dodged a spear aimed at her head; the afterimage left in the wake of her perfect dash faded before the rider¡¯s eyes. A lightning-hot slash severed the animal¡¯s jugular, and it stumbled, disbelieving its own mortality. But its rider had already slipped from the dying steed, and two spears met in the air, weaving and striking past each other. Deep gouges and cuts covered the hordeman¡¯s armor, while Bertruda¡¯s own armor remained unblemished as she drove her opponent back.


    Martyshkina straight up bit a coming axe, scowling at electrical discharges irritating her lips, but stopping the weapon dead as she fired into the bull¡¯s knee, bringing it low enough to fire at the ironclad sitting on it. The man was thrown against his seat, letting go of his weapon and reaching for his rifle. The warlord batted the weapon aside and elbowed the enemy in the face, shattering his helmet.


    In the chaos of the battle, Janine stepped behind Iron Lord as he aimed his shoulder cannon at Bertruda. She raised the axe for the blow, preparing to slice through the bastard¡¯s neck while he was occupied.


    ¡°The position of his helmet lenses, the black spots¡­ Sword Saint Janine, this isn¡¯t a suit! He knows!¡± Albert yelled as blue flames spat from the rear of Iron Lord¡¯s backpack, rapidly turning him around.


    It was her ally¡¯s warning and her own instincts that saved Janine¡¯s life. Iron Lord pressed his glaive tightly to his chest to hide it from the warlord, and the scraping of the shaft against his bulk accompanied the impossibly swift stab that shaved off part of her greave. She dodged the fatal blow by a hair, wrecking one of his two cannons, and retreated a step, ready to face the khan head-on.


    ¡°His is piloting his armor, not wearing it,¡± Albert said.


    ¡°Or he is a machine,¡± Janine said. ¡°Like that boy, Mehmed.¡±


    ¡°Hmm?¡± Iron Lord stopped in the middle of the fight, blocking a shardgun shot with a swing. ¡°You¡¯ve met him? How were his last moments? Was his performance in battle after the upgrade an adequate improvement?¡±


    ¡°Upgrade¡­¡± Janine whispered. ¡°You. You are the one who did it to him. How could you violate your own flesh and blood so much?!¡±


    ¡°Father.¡± The rider who had fought Bertruda escaped their duel to let two other ironclads fire at the sword saint. The towering figure asked in a familiar female voice. ¡°What is the mutant talking about?¡±


    ¡°It is nothing important, Zulfiya,¡± Iron Lord answered. ¡°Your brother died, and I used his remains for one of my pet projects, trying to resurrect him and further my knowledge. It was in everyone¡¯s best interest.¡±


    ¡°You used him, took away his ability to feel, drove him insane, and discarded him, you monster!¡± Janine reached for her back and aimed the laser rifle at Iron Lord. The beam splashed against a force field that appeared around the khan.


    ¡°The only monster here is you, cannibalistic filth.¡± Iron Lord¡¯s figure charged forward, propelled by the force of his engines. Janine blocked his glaive with the Taleteller, heard the devouring field choke as it tried to damage the ancient alloy of her weapon, and then his fist crashed into her chin.


    It was as if she had taken a siege artillery shell head-on. The blow broke one of her fangs, concussed her brain, and cracked the side of her visor. The damaged area swelled instantly, and the khan shoved Janine to the ground, with Albert trying to shout a warning as Iron Lord knelt and raised his glaive. She deflected the thrust with the Taleteller, and Janine forced herself to move after noticing the energy gathering in the remaining shoulder cannon.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She headbutted him. Weakened as she was, it didn¡¯t do much damage, but it moved her off the cannon¡¯s trajectory, and the orb dug itself into the ground, ready to explode. Iron Lord¡¯s force shield bubbled back up, trying to shake Janine off, but she clung to him like glue, and the khan activated his thrusters, escaping the danger zone of his own weapon.


    Blinking through the pulsing agony of her trembling mind, Janine climbed behind the khan the moment he stopped and chopped at his back, ruining a set of thrusters, and punched the bastard in the jaw, denting his helmet a bit and forcing Iron Lord back.


    ¡°An interesting alloy,¡± he said in a mundane tone, oblivious to his predicament, blocking two incoming swings and holding his ground. ¡°Tell me, if the Reclaimers can produce such weapons, why is your armor not up to par? Who among you has the knowledge to replicate the material of your axe? Answer me honestly, and I promise to treat your prisoners humanely and give you a clean death,¡± he chuckled. ¡°The same as I gave that other mutant¡­ Eled.¡±


    ¡°Not even going to offer me a chance to survive?¡± Janine grinned. ¡°Afraid I will escape?¡±


    ¡°No, my wife wouldn¡¯t understand. Not after what you did to her son.¡±


    ¡°His name is Mehmed!¡± Janine snapped, growing infuriated against her will. A family was one of the most important things in Wolfkin society. And this creature treated his offspring like an afterthought! ¡°He was your son, too! Say his name!¡± The downward swing beat his boots deep into the ground.


    ¡°Why waste words on a broken tool?¡± Their weapons clashed, spewing dissipated pieces of the field around the khan¡¯s weapons.


    Devastation widened around them, brought by the colliding forces. The shardguns had a partial effect on the enemies; most of the armor-piercing projectiles stuck in the thickest plates or barely nicked them. The Ice Fangs fared little better, and the battle spilled to the outnumbered defenders and knights. Betrayers though they were, the Wolfkins never abandoned their allies, and the packs rushed into the fray to support their hard-pressed allies. Even trapped in the open and outnumbered, these hordemen proved to be incredibly tough opponents, trapping the Reclaimers.


    The gyrating and stomping forms of the thunder bulls struck harder than a speeding truck full of ore; their simple treads occasionally broke limbs or brought death. Their riders unleashed their own energy weapons, melting the state¡¯s alloys and immolating the soldiers inside, forcing the soldiers to retreat from the academy¡¯s exposed main entrance or risk endangering the APCs carrying civilians. Two knights, smoke billowing from their bodies, collapsed to the ground dead, followed by seven Wolfkins, and the invaders lost two soldiers. Kalaisa and Anissa glanced down against their will and resumed climbing to the rooftop of the complex.


    Relying on training and decades of experience to fend off Iron Lord, not even concentrating on him, Janine turned her attention to the battlefield and closed her helmet briefly. Albert relayed her instructions for the Wolfkins to aim for the animals¡¯ eyes and for the Ice Fangs to break up the fight and use their own cannons to concentrate on the wounded steel-clads. The Wolfkins were to create gaps for the Ice Fangs to destroy the meat within.


    The glaive slashed, and the warlord nonchalantly slashed upward with his axe, sending the incoming blade flying. Iron Lord calmly adjusted his grip and stabbed three times with the lower end of his weapon, denting Janine¡¯s shoulder and chest armor into her body, before firing his cannon. As she stepped away from the deadly orb, he launched a horizontal swing to decapitate her.


    ¡°Die, ghoul!¡± Elegance¡¯s tip lanced near Janine¡¯s helmet, striking the haft of the glaive and stopping the blow. In a moment¡¯s notice, Bertruda and Janine fought side by side, assaulting the khan while Impatient One replaced the sword saint and kept the hordemen from helping their leader.


    ¡°Ghoul?¡± Iron Lord¡¯s dynamics betrayed not a hint of panic as he retreated, trying to keep them at range. ¡°You find my methods inhumane, not out of disgust, but out of fear. Born a Pureblood, a being superior to humans, you are naturally dreading the possibility of a genius mind capable of overturning your world and raising the common folk to your level, girl¡­¡±


    ¡°I view you as scum regardless of your sick inventions!¡± Bertruda said her plasma casters fired, and the orb fired by the khan exploded. Janine thought that she¡¯d seen the woman she thought to be a sister once again as they both darted to the left and right, circling around the growing sphere of death and flame that danced on the Ice Fang¡¯s cape. ¡°How dare you threaten children?!¡±


    ¡°Woe to the conquered,¡± Iron Lord parried, stepping back heavily. ¡°I must admit the inadequacy of my knowledge. I thought that after the Ice Fangs¡¯ callous disregard for cooperation, no Wolfkin would ever fight by their side. Yet here you are, unafraid that one might sacrifice another¡­¡±


    ¡°Because you are worse!¡± Elegance and the Taleteller joined together in a unified attack. The blade of the spear, surrounded by a searing hot aura, slashed at the destructive field of the glaive to the khan¡¯s left, and the axe sunk deep into his forearm from the right, trapping the man.


    ¡°Wrong. I am better,¡± he answered without a hint of pain.


    Metal legs left the ground as Iron Lord spun in the air, carried by his remaining engines. He kicked Bertruda away and brought the glaive down on Janine, forcing the warlord to block or be cut in half. The ground cracked around her legs, and the khan¡¯s steed crashed into the sword saint, sending her flying. Janine slammed a shoulder into his knee, stopping the man¡¯s attack, and pushed hard, bringing him back to the road.


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Albert said, distracting her from the battle.


    She was about to order him to shut up when the remaining part of her visor changed, showing the retreating APC. Marco. He dropped from underneath the vehicle¡¯s belly and ran on all fours towards the Academy.


    ¡°Marco!¡± Janine screamed. ¡°Get inside the transport!¡±


    How was he here? Betrayal, obviously; the traitors had set the Wolf Tribe up again. But how exactly did Marco get here? The exosuit¡­ Nonsense! A healthy female could have clung to the bottom of the transport long enough to weather every bump in the road, but her boy wasn¡¯t that strong! He should have fallen off long before they reached Opul! Marco was supposed to be safe.


    Her son. Marco was in danger. The thought stopped her long enough, but Iron Lord didn¡¯t stop her, shifting his bulk towards the entrance, perhaps puzzled by her strange behavior.


    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡± The boy shouted, climbing to the airway. ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay, Warlord! I¡¯ll lead everyone to safety; trust me.¡±


    Light appeared in the khan¡¯s cannon as it tracked the new target, and Janine lunged, ending up in a stalemate against his weapon and trying to push the giant aside.


    ¡°Marco! It is not safe; get back!¡± she shouted, straining her body to the limit and hearing the whine of the yielding motors of her opponent¡¯s armor. Slow, not fast enough¡­


    ¡°Khan! Why are you targeting the flea?!¡± Zulfia shouted, peeking from behind a thunder bull and firing a shot at the Wolfkins, melting Kirk¡¯s pauldron. He gritted his fangs and rolled to the cover, supported by the fire of his family.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Iron Lord¡¯s helmet shook, and the cannon stopped aiming at Marco. ¡°Right you are, Zulfia! Surprising and irritating. Ignore the gnat; he¡¯ll die to the degenerates inside, anyway. We don¡¯t care for children.¡± He heaved against the glaive, intensifying the pressure, and sparks jumped from the cut in his arm. ¡°It¡¯s the adults that matter.¡±


    ¡°Even, bitch.¡± Janine heard Zulfia¡¯s hiss. ¡°I¡¯ll make you pay tenfold for what you did to Mehmed and my humiliation!¡±


    The danger inside¡­ Terrific manifested into reality again, sitting on Iron Lord¡¯s shoulders and clawing at his helmet. The dull eyes scowled at Janine, insulted by her choice of armor. Her withered lips curled, and her throat forced out a single word in a barely audible whisper.


    ¡°Restraint¡­¡±


    Correct. Janine gritted her fangs, accepting Marco¡¯s shoulder camera into the pack view and witnessing the darkness of the corridor unfold before him as the boy climbed in. Restraint. It was impossible to change what had happened, and her duty demanded her full attention here to preserve the troops and end the danger.


    ¡°I can guide the boy,¡± Albert offered.


    ¡°Do¡­ don¡¯t,¡± Janine said wearily. ¡°You are an Ice Fang. And they don¡¯t care about our young.¡±


    I trusted them with one of my most precious¡­


    ¡°Lady, I¡¯ll never¡­¡±


    Terrific stirred and stood up as the time resumed back to normal, her lips flapping as she tried to say something as fear swept over the battlefield, shaking both fighters. Even Bertruda missed a step, and the thunder bull rammed her into the building with its ugly head.


    ¡°Ah¡­¡± Iron Lord said, and his shoulder cannon moved, pointing at Janine¡¯s face. ¡°The reports were inaccurate. Die.¡±

 Chapter 123: The Direst Hour

    Janine darted to the right, escaping a stream of energy that rolled toward the academy and bubbled near its walls, hungrily devouring everything in its path. She barely had time to raise her axe before the blade of the glaive, encased in the strange field, descended to split her head in two.


    By the Spirits, the khan was strong! Whether empowered by technology or maybe using some exotic ability, his swing sent reverberations through her bones, and the stone beneath her feet cracked to accept the sucking boots. He dragged the glaive over her shoulder, and its fluctuating aura touched her shoulder, instantly dusting the top of her pauldron. Janine had endured plasma and laser beams; she had bathed in toxic waste and survived viruses hidden in the ancient laboratories. But a simple vibration sheared a slice of skin off her shoulder, prompting the warlord to jerk her weapon up and kick Iron Lord with a knee.


    The collision produced a dull thud, and a round dent appeared on the plate of his armor. Iron Lord tried to elbow the warlord, but she caught his arm in her maw, and her fangs gouged deep, torn lines before he broke the limb free and they resumed their battle.


    The glaive¡¯s length helped the khan to prevent heavy chops of the warlord¡¯s axe from landing on him, and the shimmering cocoon formed around its blade created a fake illusion of safety as the destructive potential of the vibration extended beyond the visible gray mass, and Janine learned of it during a block, nearly losing her fingers. Each time she closed in on him, she had to retreat, denting his armor rather than tearing it.


    ¡°Really could¡¯ve used my claws,¡± Janine complained, dodging a lashing slash.


    ¡°Apologies, Sword Saint and Warlord. The suit has no such function,¡± Albert said. ¡°As per the Divine Twins decree, the use of natural claws is forbidden as invoking barbarism¡­¡±


    ¡°And that is bad why?¡± Janine inquired, parrying a slash aimed at her armpit.


    ¡°Barbarism tends to slowly taint every facet of society, leading to veneration of martial prowess over intellect and the creation of cruel laws. To combat the clear paradox of needing to be strong to defend oneself and still set an inspiring example, all children of our Houses are trained in the arts, exposed to culture, encouraged to pursue creativity, and regularly write essays pointing out obvious flaws in the ideology of our noble leaders to avoid descending into idolatry,¡± Albert readily answered. ¡°I can send you video materials¡­¡±


    ¡°Belay that. Idol¡­ what¡¯s that?¡±


    ¡°Worshipping of idols, you mangy beast!¡± Iron Lord snapped.


    He wielded his weapon as if it were a feather, launching deceptively fast and wide swings, trying to lure Janine into accepting the tempo of their duel before rapidly changing the situation and going for a sudden thrust. She took the stabs at the Taleteller¡¯s shaft, deliberately stalling the fight to further enrage the man.


    ¡°Never the matter!¡± Iron Lord roared, advancing at her. ¡°You won¡¯t take advantage of it! Your assault is a mere breeze, soothing the walls of a mighty bastion! It changes nothing; it aids nothing!¡±


    She didn¡¯t try to guess the meaning of the foolish chatter coming from the dynamics of his helmet. Confusion caused death as surely as any bullet. But there was something off about the battle. Iron Lord was too chatty; he hadn¡¯t been like this when they first met, and his behavior contradicted the information gathered about his habits.


    The strangeness didn¡¯t stop with Iron Lord. They paced back and forth, each gaining and losing ground as they tried to land a crippling blow past the defenses. Anger, fear, and worry shook Janine¡¯s core, but these were the feelings she expected to feel. But when the khan slashed horizontally, trying to decapitate a knight who happened to be nearby, the warlord was willing to let it happen.


    Memories of Mincemeat, the monster of the Wastes, saved her conscience, soul, and the knight¡¯s life. That creature had spread its mind control far and wide, bending those within its direct sphere of influence to its will, and those outside had suffered from the changes in their moods.


    A heinous act doesn¡¯t excuse a heinous response! The amber light in her eyes flashed, and she bellowed a challenge, barging into Iron Lord¡¯s close range and blocking the slash. She was rewarded with a pummeling of his fist, hearing her armor crack. From afar, Martyshkina fired without looking, the bullet screaming through the air.


    It faced the blanket of the force field activated around Iron Lord, slowed, and continued pushing through. The khan hesitated, and Janine capitalized on it, lacerating his plate, and the bullet tore a chunk from his shoulder. Three ironclads assaulted Martyshkina, denying further assistance. Shots of their plasma guns almost concealed Marty, and ammunition in one of her pouches exploded. The Wolfkin broke through the heat wall and kicked one of the three in the neck, piercing his gorget and finishing him off with four shots to the chest.


    The fighters around gave space to the two fighters, and Janine relinquished command to Martyshkina and the traitorous Bertruda, opening a channel to see her son.


    Marco braved his way through the darkness of the ventilation shaft, occasionally breathing slightly. He tried to hide it even now, but both of his popliteus suffered from degenerative tissue syndrome. Normal New Breeds would have had to opt for artificial limbs by now, but Marco¡¯s physiology as a Wolfkin naturally tried to regenerate the damage, prolonging the agony caused by his defective and underdeveloped body. It was a kind of eternal stalemate, but the horror replaced any pity and regret Janine upon hearing gunfire within the Academy.


    It touched them. All of them, including the white-furred betrayers. Cubs were in danger. The most sacred thing in the world. Their future, a faint hope for a generation of peace, their joy and pride meant to survive them, was dying because their elders had failed to protect them.


    Their horror-fueled aggression. Anissa and Kalaisa leapt, covering long distances, and when Anissa¡¯s paw slipped off a broken stone, Kalaisa grabbed it, helping the other woman without the usual mockery.


    The lower ranks howled, hurling acid grenades into the hordemen from close distance, blinding several thunder bulls and covering the animals and their riders like a swarm of angry insectoids, stabbing, biting, and tearing. Their instincts heightened by the shock, the soldiers dodged off the enemies¡¯ aim and charged again.


    Most shockingly, the traitors changed, too. Where once they had fought with reserve, expressing disgust at the killing of surrendering and wounded enemies, the Ice Fangs now roared and followed the Wolfkins. A defender saved Kirk¡¯s brother by timing his shield to stop a plasma blast and was saved by Kirk¡¯s sister when the scout kicked the large Ice Fang away before an axe could cut through his head. The hordeman cursed and prepared to attack again when Elegance stabbed him under the chin, and Bertruda growled fiercely, pushing the blade deeper.


    ¡°What the fuck is Marco doing here?¡± Kalaisa cursed. ¡°We are supposed to be saving cubs, not throwing more into the pyre!¡±


    ¡°Betrayal, obviously.¡± Anissa spat. ¡°Once I get him back to safety, his ass is turning red.¡±


    ¡°You will not lay a finger on him, Wolf Hag,¡± Impatient One stated. She hid behind some rubble, pulling a long spike from her belly and ignoring a knight who offered her a medical kit. Despite the trembling paws and the pain she had to experience, the shaman tried to keep her voice steady and calm. ¡°If his mother has failed to raise him properly, I shall discipline her and educate Marco about subordination myself.¡±


    ¡°Aw, so you do care!¡± Anissa laughed. ¡°That¡¯s so sweet, shaman!¡±


    ¡°Of course I do! He is my¡­ Every cub in the tribe deserves the shaman¡¯s care!¡±


    ¡°Yours what, honorable shaman?¡± Kalaisa asked innocently, throwing debris from the entrance.


    ¡°Stop your buzzing, annoying fly,¡± Impatient One warned.


    Failed to raise him¡­ Janine accepted the reproach, matching Iron Lord blow for blow with economical strikes. All these years, she treated Marco softly, harming his growth. Softness breeds softness. Kindness wasn¡¯t always bad; every warrior should cherish what shreds of it he still had, but after hearing of his brother¡¯s fate, a desire to do something was born. And his love, unfettered by true discipline, paved the way for disobedience. Her guilt.


    ¡°You okay, Impatient One?¡± Anissa asked as the shaman fell awkwardly to the side, dodging a shot, and the knight helped her to her feet.


    ¡°Can function.¡± Impatient One wiped her mouth. ¡°Concentrate on your task, Wolf Hag.¡± She kicked, startling the Ice Fang, and blocked a blade aimed at his back. The murky air behind the man solidified, forming into a steel-clad holding the sword. The knight stabbed at the opponent¡¯s elbow, and Impatient One closed her fangs at the hordeman¡¯s throat, trying to shove the panicking fool down.


    ¡°Troops, attention. New form of camouflage,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Stay alive, shaman. But,¡± Kalaisa exhaled, ¡°make sure to educate and nothing more. Lay a finger on Marco and I¡¯ll have your hide. I still owe him for the sweater.¡±


    ¡°Drop the chatter, Wolf Hags!¡± Janine snapped, stopping arguing. ¡°Packs, stop this foolishness. Males, to the rear. Kirk, take over and support us from range. Sniff out cloaked foes.¡± Her helmet closed around the face, cutting off the rest of her words from being heard by her opponent. A battle grid appeared on her HUD. ¡°Defenders at S7, lure the leftmost rider to your position. Kirk, take off the steed¡¯s leg and devour alongside warriors.¡± The helmet opened.


    A trio of defenders feigned uncertainty, retreating hastily and emitting scents of fear. Eager for glory, one steel-clad kicked his beast into a gallop and found himself without the protection of his allies, exposed to the concentrated fire of shardguns, all aimed at the bull¡¯s knee. The beast¡¯s wounded leg broke, unable to support its body, and a black carpet covered the rider. The warriors cracked his protection, and the males shoved acid mines inside, escaping the slash zone as they exploded, chemical substances dissolving the hordeman.


    ¡°Sounds like someone asks to be introduced to the ground, Kali.¡± Anissa jerked the door out of alignment. Her voice cracked. ¡°Marco is my brother, and I will not allow his foolishness to continue, even if the warlord goes soft on¡­¡±


    ¡°A hundred lacerations.¡± Janine silenced her daughter.


    Going soft? Yes, a fair accusation, hence such an insignificant punishment. She fought Iron Lord as Warlord Janine, acting as if she still wore the assault combat suit. It was wrong. The Ice Fangs¡¯ models suited better for the lighter¡ªweightless, even¡ªstyle.


    ¡°Albert. You were right.¡±


    ¡°Beg your pardon, Lady?¡±


    Rather than blocking the next attack, Janine leaned back, letting it pass overhead. Immediately she raised the Taleteller, scraping its edge across the haft of the glaive as she charged at close range. A fist, wrapped in an energy field, prepared to meet her.


    The axe crashed into the field, overloading it and biting deep into the metal. Janine¡¯s knee followed, denting the armor and sending Iron Lord stumbling. She dodged the elbow and pushed him back, knocking the bastard to the ground with enough force to send a tremor that exploded a nearby fire hydrant, and a veil of water covered both fighters, hissing vividly on the disappearing force field.


    Iron Lord tried to stand and found Janine¡¯s legs locked around his waist, her weight pinning him to the ground. The axe split the torrent of water in two and thundered against the glaive.


    ¡°Did you predict you¡¯ll be mounted by me, boy?¡± Janine teased, frowning under the pressure. The armor was screaming, its fiber bundles barely holding, the servomotors straining. Her recently healed muscles were on the verge of tearing, but her heart was on fire. ¡°Look at yourself, sitting on your ass while your soldiers die.¡±Find this and other great novels on the author''s preferred platform. Support original creators!


    ¡°More of your kin lie dead than mine, mutant.¡± Iron Lord replied, his voice unfaltering, but his arms trembled. ¡°An acceptable price for the warlord¡¯s head. I am Iron Lord, the chief commander of the Gilded Horde, the right hand of Sky¡¯s Avatar, and you are sullying me with your touch. For that, I will hunt you today.¡±


    ¡°Words are cheap,¡± Janine experienced another tingle of worry.


    ¡°My thoughts exactly.¡± His cannon moved, forcing Janine to tilt her head to evade the shot.


    Iron Lord let go of his weapon and punched, digging part of the helmet deep into the side of Janine¡¯s head. Reddish drool appeared on her lips; she blinked through the dizziness, and the khan pushed her off himself. She jumped, dodging a kick, and Iron Lord¡¯s arms arched back at an impossible angle, finding a foothold to lift himself off the ground. He thrust his entire body forward, his feet slamming into Janine¡¯s face with the force of an exploding missile.


    She stumbled back, unwillingly giving him enough time to recover, and the two leaders found themselves unarmed and readied their fists. Janine jabbed at his helmet with her left, provoking a heavy straight punch, and responded with an elbow and a crushing blow with her other hand, causing an electrical hiss to come from somewhere under his helmet.


    This armor won¡¯t let her fight as a warlord, and that¡¯s fine. She¡¯ll face Iron Lord as a naked brawler, relying on speed and skill to win.


    Blow after blow. A punch to the chin turned into an elbow slice. Then a dive under a shoulder cannon shot and an uppercut. Blocked. The forces of their exchange carried away pebbles and toppled several damaged wooden walls. Crevices opened in the pavement under the pressure. Both opponents tried to grab each other and headbutted to break the hold, turning their clash into a slugfest.


    Inside the Knight Academy, Marco witnessed a scene of carnage after carnage, and Janine saw it, too, through his camera. Entire classrooms were painted red; the bodies of the students lay broken, their arms and legs twisted and their chests flattened by the iron boots. Here and there were occasional corpses of the intruders, killed by the frantic resistance of the older cubs, but what could they really do against full-grown New Breeds?


    Unforgivable.


    The boy moved quietly as a spine mite, softly placing his palms and moving without undue haste. Marco surveyed the situation, checked the pulse of several bodies, counted the dead cubs and the number of seats present, then turned his eye to the broken wall. Someone had entered this classroom, broken the wall to lead the students away, and then the butchers had entered and chased them. Marco crawled into the hole, went through the destroyed bathroom, and followed the pursuit.


    Janine didn¡¯t dare tell him to stop. He wouldn¡¯t listen, and any noise might have alerted the hunters.


    Screams perked his ears, and Marco hurried to make a turn in the hallway, arriving in time to see a barred door being smashed and about thirty cubs huddled together, mounting a final defiance over the bloodied and unconscious body of their instructor. Each Ice Fang was dressed in a uniform; the girls wore impractical black skirts and white shirts, while the boys wore black pants and similar shirts, with no scent of their parents to distinguish them, and with gold, silver, or bronze symbols of their Houses pinned to their collars.


    Three tall, wide-eyed cubs, a girl and two boys, armed themselves with chairs and sharp pieces of stone and prepared to do their best against the two laughing hordemen entering the room. One of them pointed a pistol, and the magazine clicked empty, so the bastard reached for his dagger and kicked the girl in the snout.


    Marco made Janine proud. He disobeyed her, and no doubt had Ignacy gnawing at his arm in worry by now, but he was a Wolfkin. Dealt a bad paw or not, irrelevant. He was a born killer, and his instincts took over, demanding immediate action and banishing any doubts. Bigger, stronger, better armed? So what? Then kill smarter.


    Marco tossed a broken prize statue to the raider¡¯s left, and they briefly glanced at the noise. He was already in the air, knives flashing. The first knife he threw was blocked by the cautious opponent, but the second sliced through an armor joint that buckled the bastard¡¯s Achilles tendon. He bounced off the man and buried the knives in the thick neck of the second; the edges slipping across the gap between the gorget and the helmet and scraping against the bones, destroying the windpipe completely. Marco let go of his weapons to save himself from the swing of the dying man.


    The injured hordeman grabbed Marco by the nape, pushing him face down, and one of the boys was on him, wielding the blocked knife from earlier and saving Janine¡¯s son¡¯s life. His reward was a blow to the face with the hilt of a sword, tearing his nostril and lacerating his eye so badly that he recoiled in pain. Horror filled Janine as she looked at her wriggling son and understood that this was it. With the element of surprise gone¡­


    Pure joy flashed in her eyes as the last boy leapt. With an aggression worthy of the Wolf Tribe, he rammed the shard of stone into the hordeman¡¯s broken lens, where it stuck, but the paws of his friends joined in, driving it all the way into the flailing body. Together, the three cubs slashed and bit at the armored bastard, and Marco broke free, joining the fray and working his knife on the exposed joints. The hordeman tried to stand; his leg gave way, and he fell, begging for mercy. Two of the white-furred relented, but not Marco and the wounded cub.


    ¡°Rip and tear, Marco! Bless you too, white-furred soul!¡± Impatient One howled.


    ¡°Bleed him!¡± Kalaisa said viciously. ¡°Take your time!¡±


    ¡°Arteries, boy, aim for the arteries¡­¡± Kirk added and shuddered, expecting punishment.


    ¡°Groin! Go for the groin!¡± Anissa advised. ¡°Let the bastard really feel it before he croaks!¡±


    ¡°Pull out his eye, boy!¡± Martyshkina cheered. ¡°They bring luck and taste awesome!¡±


    ¡°No mercy for the wicked,¡± Bertruda said icily and added warmly. ¡°Praised be, Marco! Your deeds will forever be immortalized in the annals of the Order! Warlord Martyshkina, please refrain from provoking a child to break a law. Cannibalism is¡­¡±


    ¡°Eh, shut it! If he wants a steak, he damn well deserves it! Heart, Marco! It builds up manhood¡­¡±


    ¡°For the Blessed Mother¡¯s sake, Warlord!¡±


    Janine simply smiled, ducking under a swing; the tearing of the flesh relayed by Albert was music to her ears. Do you see it, Colt? Are you proud of our babies? She matched her opponent in raw strength, yet Iron Lord¡¯s larger frame should have given him the advantage. But his lack of brawling experience negated this advantage. His swings were wider than necessary, giving Janine enough time to close the distance and hit his sides.


    Aside from dents, she wasn¡¯t sure that she did any damage. The man was like a solid block of iron. Dodging a whipping elbow hit, Janine gasped, struck by a knee into her chest. The blow lifted her off the ground, and Iron Lord clenched his hands together and delivered a blow equivalent to the rough landing of a tank skidding off the road on an unsuspecting passerby.


    The backpack cracked, but fortunately the generator was intact, and Janine grabbed his ankles, pulled him off his feet, and slammed him into the concrete hard enough to create a crater. She avoided his blow and caught his arm in a lock, turned the bastard face down with the help of her leg, and began breaking the arm.


    This time he groaned and smashed his free arm into the road, making a half-circle path underneath him, and finally came from the other side, hitting Janine in the head. She was knocked off him, and Iron Lord, seated atop her, had his helmet jerked from landed punches, and one ocular fell out, hanging on wires. Hands closed around her neck, and Janine tried to reach the Taleteller, but her fingers didn¡¯t even touch it. Hearing the crunch of metal, Janine whispered a quick command to the APC drivers.


    ¡°See how I reverse the roles¡­ Ha!¡± Iron Lord chuckled, and a shield bubbled around them, pushing the axe away and blocking the bullet fired by the transports. ¡°Clever and useless, an expected result from those who skip preparations! Can you feel it? The weight of humanity crushing your unearned advantage? How does it feel to lose to a human? Don¡¯t worry. In the spirit of quid pro quo for sparing my daughter, I won¡¯t torture you. Die easily, knowing that I¡¯ll let the little puppies go if they live still!¡±


    Inside the academy, Marco stood up, breathing heavily, and met the wounded cub¡¯s gaze, and Janine saw the reflection of angry and excited amber eyes. The cub pawed at his wound and stopped in horror at the blood and gore on his muzzle, realizing what he had done.


    ¡°Gregor, what in the Abyss were you doing?¡± He turned to the taller boy who had used the piece of stone. ¡°Why did you two stop?¡±


    ¡°But he surrendered, Tilden¡­¡± whispered Gregor.


    ¡°There is no surrender! It¡¯s us or them! Do you and Philona want to end up like... end up like...¡± Tilden burst into tears and walked away as his friends tried to embrace him. ¡°Kill or be killed! We had to¡­ I did the right thing! Stop looking at me like I¡¯m a monster!¡±


    ¡°No one is considering you a monster, Tilly,¡± the girl, Philona, said sternly, sniffing through the broken nose. ¡°Get that out of your cauldron.¡±


    ¡°What we need to do is escape,¡± Marco interrupted her and gathered his knives. He hesitated a bit and handed one to Gregor. ¡°After me, crybabies. You four will carry the wounded¡­¡±


    ¡°Who do you think you are, insulting your betters, rootless dust-dwelling serf?¡± Tilden approached him, his paws clenching and unclenching, his eyes full of fear and panic. Shocked. Fighting for her life, Janine prayed Marco would not retaliate. ¡°I¡¯ll have you know that I am a nephew of Knight Captain Osiris, the loyal retainer of the Summerspring House! I demand proper respect!¡±


    ¡°You mean Sword Saint Osiris.¡± Marco shoved the invader¡¯s sword into Tilden¡¯s paw.


    ¡°Ha! Shows what you know, barbarian!¡± The corner of Tilden¡¯s mouth twitched. ¡°My great-great-grandfather, Sword Saint Leonidas, is leading our household! And this here is Gregor of the magnificent¡­¡±


    ¡°Tilden. Please,¡± Philona interrupted him and pointed at the cubs. ¡°We are all scared.¡±


    ¡°And must save the others.¡± Gregor shook Marco¡¯s paw and reached over to a smaller boy on the floor, slapping him gently on the cheek to bring him back to reality. ¡°Gregor Wintersong. Nice meeting you, friend.¡±


    ¡°Tilden Summerspring, the best of the Summersprings!¡± not to be outdone, the wounded cub repeated the gesture. ¡°And don¡¯t you dare forget the name! Also, consider yourself excused for the rudeness, since you had the honor of saving our bacon.¡±


    ¡°Philona. Of no house yet. Thank you for rescuing us, sir.¡± The girl smiled, without showing fangs, and Marco fist-bumped her.


    ¡°Marco, whelp of Warlord Janine!¡± Marco said proudly, ignoring the gurgling of the dying hordeman. ¡°Mom and the others are busy mopping up the floor with the trash outside, but the roofs should be safe. Help me get everyone into the ventilation shaft.¡±


    ¡°So you failed to squash the rats.¡± Janine almost slipped and let Iron Lord break her neck as she heard Brood Lord¡¯s voice coming from the raider¡¯s com device in the academy.


    ¡°Know how to shoot?¡± Marco asked Tilden, and the boy nodded, receiving a pistol and quickly reloading it.


    ¡°I can save you,¡± promised Brood Lord. ¡°Just look to the side. Not at the ceiling. We need a floor.¡±


    Iron Lord¡¯s fingers kept jamming into her throat, strong enough to collapse a house. Every time she tried to free herself, he slammed her against the ground. She no longer could breathe and had no air left to cry a warning to her son, but Marco no longer hesitated and was busy sending everyone to safety. The shoulder cannon took aim, and Terrific, that harbinger of disaster, drew herself high behind the khan¡¯s back.


    Not my son, bitch! Fear, hatred, and rage¡ªthe coalescing of these emotions snapped something in Janine, and she grasped Iron Lord¡¯s big thumbs. And broke them, uncaring about any restraint and unbound by worries. What will happen will happen. Something ancient, a part of herself she had locked away, had crept out, looked through her eyes, and joined its voice to her low growl, pleasing Terrific enough for the apparition to smile, horribly twisting leathery lips.


    ¡°Restraint¡­¡±


    ¡°To the Abyss with it!¡± Janine howled.


    Iron Lord showed no sign of pain, but she wasn¡¯t discouraged. Janine could breathe, and so she closed her paws around his wrists, bending the metal, leaning back, pushing off the ground, bringing her knees to her chest. And kicked upward with all her might, shattering the helmet on his jaw and sending Iron Lord reeling back, grunting.


    The warlord rolled to the side and picked up her axe. A single, wide slash cut a gash in Iron Lord¡¯s belly and went upward, cutting cleanly through his shoulder cannon. Iron Lord continued to retreat, his thumbs dangling uselessly, but the man extended his right arm to the side, and his glaive flew in, summoned by a magnetic device in the gauntlet.


    ¡°Your cuts are shallow. They can¡¯t even reach my flesh,¡± Iron Lord said and chuckled. ¡°Yet you bleed, tire, and soon will be lying at my legs, bones pulverized!¡±


    They came at each other, blades flashing and the wind roaring around them. Driven by a desperate urge to end the fight now, Janine pushed into his close quarters, earning herself a heavy tackle that threw her back. Immediately his glaive stabbed, seeking to spear through her shoulder, and missed its mark.


    Janine jumped, a silver comet flying into a mountain of steel. She had deliberately exposed herself, already knowing how her opponent would react. What would have been impossible in her regular armor, the Ice Fangs suit made possible, giving her short and ungraceful legs elegance and fluidity. The Taleteller slashed at his shoulder with all her might, and the blow was accompanied by the hiss of wires and the noise of broken machinery. Iron Lord stepped back, swinging his weapon wildly to drive her back, and touched his shoulder, where a spurt of red¡ªhis blood¡ªemerged from the gash.


    ¡°So much for Iron Lord.¡± Spat Janine and inhaled, gathering her strength. ¡°There is only one prey here, boy.¡±


    ¡°And that is the evildoer!¡± Albert cheered.


    ¡°How long has it been?¡± Iron Lord asked in the dry voice of an elderly human, carrying ages of experience. His synthesized bombastic speech was either broken or turned off. ¡°How many years have passed since I bled? Warlord Janine, was it?¡± He saluted her. ¡°Thank you for the reminder of mortality. I will show clemency to your kind after they have finally fallen to the Gilded Horde. Let us end this. I have a nation to build.¡±


    The retort died in her mouth; her focus back on the Academy again, where the head of the dying hordeman slumped to the side as Marco and the older cubs helped everyone into the shaft. And Brood Lord laughed.


    ¡°Phaser.¡± A single word frightened Janine like a few things in her life, rendering her standing helplessly, unable to change anything and forced to watch.


    A vertical line, so terrifyingly familiar, appeared near the wall of the classroom. It widened to the left and right, filling the room with a blue void, and from its depths stepped a pointed insectoid leg, encased in advanced protection. Then another, shaking the floor as it pierced the head of the dying hordeman. Pincers followed, then the huge bulk of the body and Brood Lord carried himself into the Academy, flanked by Adonis and Heika, smiling through his greenish visor while carrying his curved blade casually over his shoulder.


    ¡°Now why do I know you?¡± He addressed Marco, ignoring the boy¡¯s efforts to squeeze the wounded instructor into the tunnel. Fingers tapped the helmet. ¡°No, no, don¡¯t help me¡­ Ah, Houstad! I¡¯m glad I didn¡¯t dispose of you then; you deserve a proper send-off. Well?¡± He addressed his companions.


    ¡°Not interested in children,¡± Heika answered.


    ¡°Not going to sully our blades,¡± Adonis echoed.


    ¡°Why not let them go?¡± They asked in unison.


    ¡°I will, I will, into a better reality, or so I have heard, my dearest hypocritical prudes. Those religious lunatics always scream about it when I treat myself to their flock before their eyes.¡± Brood Lord slapped himself on the belly. His eyes narrowed as Marco helped Tilden and Gregor, the last two cubs, into the hole. ¡°Children. Since you refuse to bow to the teacher, today we¡¯ll study evisceration! No need for volunteers; all are participating.¡±

 Chapter 124: Price of Heroism

    Brood Lord charged into the stampede as Marco shook Tilden¡¯s paws off him, shoving the other boy into the tunnel instead of saving himself. From its depths, four arms grabbed his shoulders, and Gregor and Tilden tried to pull him to safety. It was too late. The blade struck in a great arc, creating an afterimage as it passed through the air. Wires hissed. Marco screamed at the top of his lungs, his legs taken above his knees, his severed limbs spasming on the floor as he tried to escape.


    Throughout his agony, Marco never hesitated. His instincts kicked in; he was a Wolfkin, and his kind tried to survive anything the world could throw at them. Claws slipped from his fingers, piercing the walls of the ventilation shaft, and he pushed himself in, narrowly avoiding the following lazy swing and a snap of pincers that threatened to disembowel the cub.


    A humanoid hand pushed into the tunnel after the children, bulging its sides, and eager fingers reached for the boy¡¯s ribs, breaking several with a touch. Tilden sunk his fangs into Marco¡¯s shoulder, ripping him away before the grip could close, leaving a hunk of fur-covered skin in Brood Lord¡¯s hand. The khan stabbed at it with his sword, scratching Gregor¡¯s nose, and Tilden raised the pistol in his unsteady paws, screaming in horror.


    The bullet bounced off Brood Lord¡¯s chin, bloodying it as the lower part of his helmet opened to reveal his lips forming an ¡°O¡± letter. He spat his venom and the bubbling stream landed on Marco¡¯s face, eliciting another scream of pain from him. His gentle, kind, honest, precious eyes disappeared, dissolved in the acid that almost blinded his mother.


    Tilden and Gregor dragged the boy away, heading to the ruined restroom, while he bled like a cusack, screaming and thrashing. Janine saw it; the camera on her son still worked, and the sight of it broke something in her.


    The warlord¡¯s paw caught the shaft of the glaive as she stepped into Iron Lord¡¯s close range. She heard herself ordering her troops to secure the area near the cubs¡¯ approximate exit, and everything flowed. The khan before her spoke, perhaps a question or a taunt; it mattered not. She stood, knowing how far his field of destruction would reach, her every instinct heightened to an impossible degree, and the warlord reached the peak of her abilities, stepping into the same legendary territory where Zero and Predaig had tread. And she would willingly give it up and be selfishly killed if it meant that her boy, the cub she had failed, would be fine.


    Alas, that would not be so, and so those responsible for this crime had to die, and soon. She expected to feel sorrow, but it and fear retreated into the corners of her conscience, unlocking every door. And rage rose.


    The claws broke through her gauntlet, followed by the unbelievably swift blow of the Taleteller that banished the air away from the two fighters as it connected with Iron Lord¡¯s side. The man reeled; a gash opened in his plates, and the warlord kicked, biting a chunk of metal from his helmet. She slashed gouging lines and advanced under the blow. Again! Once again, she was unable to save her cub! So strong and so powerless!


    ¡°We must run!¡± Tilden yelled in the restroom.


    ¡°No!¡± the other boy stopped him. ¡°He¡¯ll bleed out. Your belt!¡±


    ¡°Right, tourniquets.¡± Tilden swallowed, unbuckled his belt, took off his shirt, then tore it off to use as bandages. ¡°I don¡¯t remember a thing from the medical class. Too scared, Gregor.¡±


    ¡°So am I! Don¡¯t worry; just copy me, and everything will be fine.¡±


    ¡°Right. Orais see, Orais do¡­¡± the boy muttered.


    Together they tended to Marco¡¯s wounds to the best of their ability as he rocked back and forth, oblivious to their encouraging whispers. The little one tried¡ªoh, how he tried¡ªto hide his pain, to keep his mother from worrying. Somewhere Brood Lord was busy bulldozing his way through the Academy grounds, knocking over walls and laughing maniacally. His steps caused tremors, and the warlord wondered if that bastard would find the defenseless cubs ahead of the rescue.


    No. A voice older than her, the voice of the Blessed Mother, spoke into her mind. It isn¡¯t over until it is over, girl. We tough out whatever comes.


    Why are you not here, Blessed Mother? Where are you?


    Broken. Shattered. Not whole. Dangerous. In your darkest hour, I¡¯ll be by your side to claw us a light. The warlord wasn¡¯t sure if she had hallucinated the message or if the Progenitor had actually communicated with her, but she heeded the advice.


    Marco. Yennifer. Ignacy. Anissa. They expected her to survive.


    ¡°Marco. My cubs,¡± Janine briefly resurfaced, ¡°I love you.¡± It was better to say something and appear weak than to remain silent and regret a missed opportunity for eternity. Weakness could be eradicated with training. Regret not so much.


    Everything wasn¡¯t lost. A sharp spike thrust from under Iron Lord¡¯s bracer and sliced through the warlord during her headbutt. The spike cut through the helmet and nearly pierced her eyes as she grabbed his arm and kicked him again, slashing at his bulk with the Taleteller. He will break. Already the first cubs showed out from the entrance used by Marco and were escorted to the transports, shielded by the defenders. Amazingly, the Horde soldiers ignored them completely, at the behest of Iron Lord¡¯s daughter.


    The mission was a success. They¡­


    The door to the bathroom opened, and two figures stepped softly and silently in, the clowns working for Brood Lord, carrying daggers in their hands.


    ¡°Children,¡± Heika said.


    ¡°Take the useless dust dweller and run!¡± Tilden jumped to his feet and fired the pistol. Adonis¡¯ blade parried the bullet. ¡°I-I¡¯ll figure out a way out! I am destined for greatness; you are not! I won¡¯t die! Can¡¯t die!¡± The boy fired again to the same effect.


    ¡°Our employer wants the dark-furred,¡± Adonis sang.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°And we should oblige?¡± Heika said.


    ¡°Please!¡± Tilden squeaked. ¡°My uncle is rich. We-he can pay for our safety!¡±


    ¡°Business is business, sweetest sister.¡± Adonis took a step. ¡°But this is hardly sporting.¡±


    ¡°I would even say insulting, dearest brother,¡± Heika added. ¡°I see nothing.¡±


    ¡°Well then, we are of the same mind. I hear nothing. Shall we¡­¡±


    Spirits. Never again will I dare to presume to know better or to doubt the traditions. Save us. An explosion of stone interrupted the warlord¡¯s wordless prayer, and a large, black-clad form landed in front of the cubs, ready for combat. The figure rose, smirking at first. Then its crimson lenses found Marco, and Kalaisa¡¯s smug grin faded into a flat line, and the warlord imagined the woman¡¯s shadow morphing into a large and terrifying beast at her back, but perhaps that was the result of a faulty camera. The lenses caught the steam rising from the boy¡¯s tightly closed eyes¡ªstreaks of crimson mingled with the steam. The wolf hag glanced at the shortened legs and turned to the assassins.


    ¡°Did you do this?¡± Kalaisa demanded to know in a calm voice that promised death.


    ¡°Perhaps.¡± Smirked Adonis.


    Kalaisa looked up for a second; the helmet fully closed around her head, giving her time to send an encrypted message, and then it opened itself around her snout, letting the fangs shine. The wolf hag moved her fingers and bent her knees into a crouch.


    ¡°You are dead meat,¡± she promised, bellowing a howl of challenge.


    Musical laughter met her proclamation, and Adonis dropped himself into a low stance, mimicking Kalaisa¡¯s. The glaive went down, briefly distracting the warlord as she dodged the wide swings, pushing him further away from the academy.


    Eight thunder bulls lay dead, and six of the khan¡¯s bodyguards joined their steeds in the afterlife. Too few. Fifteen still drew breath. Twenty-three of her own Tribe had been trampled, perforated, shot, or gored. The Ice Fangs fared little better, sacrificing a third of their combat force. Their ammunition was running low, inviting the inevitable all-out melee ever closer. The warlord snarled, dissatisfied with that option after an iron-clad simply snapped a scout¡¯s arm like a twig and elbowed her so hard that the woman began to choke on her own blood. If it hadn¡¯t been for Kirk, the following stomp would have ended the scout. Marty can match it. Bertruda too, but even together they won¡¯t last.


    On her orders, the males hurried to pick up the pulse rifles, turning the Horde¡¯s prized weapons against them. The defenders extracted the wounded instructor from the shaft, but they had to break both of his shoulders to pull him to freedom. No matter. Broken bones mend. The biggest concern was Brood Lord. She expected him to pursue the cubs to twist the knife in her heart. Where was he?


    ¡°Impatient One. Break from the battle and watch over the cubs,¡± Janine returned to herself, sacrificing animalistic fury for clear mind and frowning from the pain in the arm she had used to stop the glaive. Even muscles had their limits. ¡°Albert, keep me updated. The secondary prey is here.¡±


    ¡°Secondary¡­¡± Iron Lord stopped, his remaining lens focused on the building.


    ¡°If you lay a finger on the little ones¡­¡±


    ¡°What value in them? It is you who¡¯ll die, mutant.¡± He raised his glaive. ¡°Patience thirsts.¡±


    ¡°Taleteller will record your last breath,¡± Janine replied.


    Adonis acted first. Janine saw his body oddly stretching, transforming into a multicolored streak of blur, but calmed herself, recalling how well Kalaisa had handled the similar situation back in Houstad without her armor. Parry both daggers and engage in a prolonged melee¡­


    Not blocking, Kalaisa attacked, planning to split the clown in half with two mighty sweeps, and Adonis twisted his body, slipping under the raised arm and cutting through the armor plate with disgusting ease. His blade, coated in the same poison that had incapacitated Anji, sliced through the hide and bone growths beneath, finally scraping across the ribs and forcing the wolf hag to gasp for air.


    Laughter accompanied his movements, echoing through the empty corridors and confusing Janine. She could barely comprehend what had happened. How? How could Kalaisa commit such an obvious mistake?


    The answer came a second later. The ceiling above Adonis broke at the start of his somersault, and his sister screamed a warning, too late to do anything about it. Stuck in the air, the nimble assassin had no chance to escape as legs locked around his neck and claws pierced his wrists, rupturing arteries. Kalaisa spun in a burst of violence, lunging at Adonis with all her speed and biting deep into his chest, burrowing through the bones to swallow the heart. Anissa snapped the man¡¯s neck and blocked the thrown dagger aimed at her fellow wolf hag. The two tossed the bloody remains to Heika like a bag of garbage.


    ¡°And that¡¯s how¡­ how¡­ the cookie crumbles¡­¡± Kalaisa drooled; saliva ran down her chin, and her spasmodic paws missed the shardgun.


    ¡°Adonis¡­¡± Heika picked up the bloodied mask and broke it in half, pressing one side over her own to create the image of a half-scowling, half-grinning clown. ¡°The last of our home. Oh, brother, why you and not me? I will get you for this. I¡¯ll hunt you down for eternity if needed! His life was mine to take, and mine was his!¡±


    ¡°Ready to kill, unready to die. Sucks to be you, coward,¡± Kalaisa laughed and fired.


    The shards missed Heika, who retreated away, weaving around them like a ghost. She fled through the open door.


    ¡°Marco.¡± Anissa approached her brother, ignoring the shocked cubs, and checked his bandages, nodding approvingly after a sniff. ¡°Praise be the Spirits, not poisoned!¡± She took him in her arms and rocked him, trying to lick away the acid in his eyes, but he screamed and tried to close them tighter. Distraught, the wolf hag gathered herself. ¡°You are a hero, Marco. Dumb and stubborn as a cusack, but a hero. We¡¯ll fix you; the state can fix anyone. Hold on. Please. For me, Ignacy, and¡­ Yennifer. Grab my thighs.¡± She addressed the boys. ¡°Grab them as tight as you can; we are leaving.¡±


    ¡°Will he survive?¡± asked Gregor. ¡°I-I am sorry. We were taught how to treat injuries, but never like these, and we didn¡¯t have a med kit, nor was there anything to clean the wounds and¡­¡±


    ¡°Shhhh, little one, hush your fears; no fault on you, brave knights of the Order. He¡¯ll survive,¡± promised Anissa. ¡°He is a tough cub. Tougher than anyone I know at times, but so mischievous. You did well, both of you. No, don¡¯t use your fingers to hold on, let the claws go, don¡¯t worry about hurting me,¡± she instructed them and looked at Kalaisa. ¡°Gotta say that was some insane plan. Heroic even. Did a skinwalker replace you while I wasn¡¯t looking?¡±


    ¡°Fuck off, Anissa.¡± Kalaisa vomited. ¡°I am going to deck you in the snout after the mission.¡±


    ¡°In your dreams. Thanks for the help. Wouldn¡¯t be able to do it alone, Kali. Now that you are properly irritated, imagine choking me and wrapping your arms around my neck. I will carry you all out of here.¡±


    ¡°Go. I can survive on my own,¡± Kalaisa tried to refuse, and Anissa growled.


    ¡°My brother is injured, and we both have packs to lead, you insufferable bitch! Do you think your family and soldiers won¡¯t worry if you don¡¯t show up for the transports?¡± Kalaisa froze, and her own growl stopped in her throat. ¡°Swallow your damn pride and accept help for once!¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Kalaisa mumbled. She stumbled, nearly fell, but finally found hold. ¡°Heh-heh. Reminds me of how Mommy and Daddy used to carry me when they were alive. Kangaroo, we called it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you hallucinate on me, you delirious idiot! Concentrate on choking me; imagine I called you weak or insulted your honor!¡± Anissa grunted in appreciation after the metal around her neck whimpered a bit, losing to Kalaisa¡¯s paws. ¡°Good. Lock your suit and shut it down, just to be safe. Since you saved my bro, simply mention it, and I¡¯ll carry you similarly atop any mountain.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d sooner die,¡± Kalaisa coughed out blood. ¡°Spirits, really feeling like dying. Can¡¯t see shit. Sis? If you hear me, should I die, you are in charge. Make them proud.¡±


    ¡°Cut the drama. We¡¯ll get out alive. I have a brother to heal and slap for insubordination later!¡± Anissa grinned and kissed the unconscious Marco on the forehead.

 Chapter 125: Harbinger of Fear

    With everyone secured, Anissa jumped into the second, picking up the two wounded instructors she and Kalaisa had found on their way down. Holding them under one armpit and gently carrying Marco in another, Anissa kept retreating to the roof, ignoring the cubs¡¯ frightened yelps.


    My son is alive. Bless you, Anissa. Thank you, Spirits. Elated, Janine blocked the blow with the shaft of her axe and ended up buried in the road up to her knees. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, her heart racing, the blood pumping faster and faster. She broke free of the trap, dodging the spike aimed at her mouth, and the Taleteller kissed it, shearing it clean. The kiss continued, taking the broken finger next and landing on his breastplate.


    ¡°Sword Saint, be careful not to break your claws!¡± Albert cried the warning as she stabbed with her paw, hooking Iron Lord¡¯s arm to keep the field of destruction from touching her head.


    ¡°Relax!¡± She laughed in the opponent''s face, closing in on him and getting behind the khan, brutally tearing her claws free. ¡°Even if they break, they¡¯ll grow back!¡±


    ¡°You are acting too brazen all of a sudden,¡± Albert remarked. ¡°Don¡¯t risk it, please.¡±


    Iron Lord¡¯s upper body spun, but she ducked under the elbow and slashed at his damaged chest, then at his legs, before the downward swing of his glaive drove her back. Shards of broken iron rang out on the ground.


    ¡°Risk it?¡± Her joy filled the battlefield, seeping into the packs. ¡°The mission was a success!¡± My son lives. He¡¯ll run again, I promise! She would rather die than admit it to her soldiers, but the sight of her, weaving and cutting back with renewed energy, advancing akin to a sandstorm at its peak, formless and deadly, unencumbered and radiant, motivated them to push through the exhaustion and beyond.


    ¡°Reclaim! Retaliate! Reconquer!¡± They howled the motto of the First, the oldest of the state¡¯s war cries. No one forced them, no one taught them; the Ice Fangs and the Wolfkins just felt like it, abandoning their own traditions in favor of something shared and cherished from the days when they had toppled the vilest of scum.


    One hordeman dismounted his dying steed and raised an axe while the rotating cannon on his shoulder was busy ripping wide gashes in the Wolfkins before him. The intense fire was blocked by a brave defender, and the soldiers used the respite to hurl grenades at their enemy, forcing him to curse as his vision was impaired by acid melting his lenses. Together, the group focused fire on his leg joints, bringing him to his knees, and a knight-captain thrust himself forward, ramming a sword into the bastard¡¯s neck.


    Even that wasn¡¯t enough to kill the hordeman, as his swing ruined the knight-captain¡¯s hastily raised shield in a single blow. But his fate was sealed; the scout destroyed the cannon, and the mass of troops pushed him to the ground, working their way through the suit.


    Impatient One broke Zulfiya¡¯s arm and ripped the helmet from the woman¡¯s head, lacerating her round and wide face with a single slash, avoiding the clumsy counterattacks. Martyshkina fired, landing six bullets in a single point on another hordeman¡¯s chest. The hypersonic bullets pierced their way to the heart, and the body slumped from the surprised bull, who paused, unsure of what to do. Marty reloaded her revolver, licking her lips hungrily, and the animal turned tail to her mockery.


    Six legs burst from the wall of the Knight Academy, widening the gap and sending debris everywhere. The fortress, which had withstood both energy and projectile bombardment, gave way, and the four-armed body emerged from the crack in a wave of devastation. Brood Lord spun in the air and smiled at the surprised troops.


    ¡°Mine, mine, that incubator is mine!¡± He landed on the road, slicing through the Ice Fang at his waist and ramming his pincer into the open mouth of a Wolfkin, opening it inside and popping the male¡¯s head. ¡°Out of my way, corpses! It¡¯s your queen I¡¯m after!¡±


    Janine saw him out of the corner of her eye through the visor of her armor, still locked in battle with Iron Lord, and understood that she wouldn¡¯t be able to block both. Brood Lord didn¡¯t care about anyone but her; his legs knocked the soldiers out of the way, and she turned to face his blade. His sword screeched, drawing sparks across Taleteller¡¯s haft, and the mocking face closed in.


    ¡°Nice to meet you again, Janine. It seems my hospitality wasn¡¯t up to your liking. You took something from me.¡± His smile changed to a grin full of needle teeth. ¡°But that¡¯s okay. I sense the traitors.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Janine growled. ¡°Then you can seethe knowing that you will never lay a finger on them again, shit pot.¡±


    ¡°Never say never! Life is full of little unexpected surprises. Like the one I met in that ditch of yours here.¡± Acid bubbled behind his teeth.


    ¡°That¡¯s true if you are alive to experience these surprises.¡± Janine pushed against his clench, trying to shove him away. ¡°You are done. Dead man walking.¡±


    ¡°His name is Marco? My bad. His name was Marco.¡± Brood Lord smiled, slightly opening his mouth. ¡°Know that as we work through each other¡¯s families, I enjoyed watching you squirm in anguish. The question is, do you experience the same, woman? Do it now, Iron Lord!¡±


    Janine worriedly glanced back, expecting to be cut between the shoulder blades when the fist the size of her head flew past her, smashing into Brood Lord¡¯s face, and paws rose behind her, blocking the pincers aimed at her sides. The punch was hard enough to send the reeling khan off the warlord, and she found Impatient One beside herself.


    ¡°Not the place for switching sides, Rust Lord.¡± Brood Lord wiped his mouth. ¡°Then again, you never were a bright spark. Your own sons and daughters are lying dead. Don¡¯t you care? Don¡¯t you even care?!¡±


    ¡°Betrayer!¡± Iron Lord roared. ¡°This was my operation! Those puppies in the academy should have been smuggled out of the town long ago to be used as hostages or raised as my future soldiers. This place is mine; you agreed to it! How dare you deny me my spoils! How dare your degenerate filth harm the future servants of my... Khatun¡¯s army! Worse, you failed to achieve even that! We conquer and rule; what do you think you are doing, massacring children?!¡±


    ¡°And rule we will! Over those who are left. No need to be so stingy over useless dregs. Plenty of those around.¡± He swung his head to Impatient One, nodding at her wound. ¡°Why push your luck?¡± He asked with genuine curiosity. ¡°I am after someone else today, and this hunk here is a much more affordable target.¡±


    ¡°You touched the warlord¡¯s son.¡± Impatient One unleashed her claws to the fullest, stretching the skin on her fingers to the point of tearing. ¡°No mercy.¡±


    ¡°He is mine,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Almost forgot about you, my dear. Here, this is yours, I believe.¡± Brood Lord tossed something in her face.


    A strip of Marco¡¯s torn skin.


    She roared and lunged, earning a kick to the chin. A spin saved her from the swing of Iron Lord, who had no intention of allying with any of his enemies. Brood Lord found himself on the ropes as the shaman crashed into him, sparks flying. A shaman¡¯s claws were different. Where the Tribe cherished their natural weapons while accepting more advanced methods of slaughter, the shamans stuck to the old ways, gnawing at suits and hollowing out entire caves with their claws on a regular basis, ignoring discomfort and pain and strengthening them every day.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    And Impatient One had earned the right to be one of the finest fighters among the shamans, prevented from ruling over villages only by the vice of her temper. But in Janine¡¯s opinion, the daughter had long since surpassed the mother in pure martial prowess and was held back by her smaller stature. Unhindered by any physical disfigurement, Impatient One created a web of cuts approaching Brood Lord¡¯s face, slicing away his mustache. Her toes pressed hard into the road, and she leaned back on them, dodging a slash that would have decapitated her, and immediately leapt into the fray, catching the snapping pincers, then kicking at the khan¡¯s chest, bouncing off him to gain distance.


    Brood Lord chased after her, swinging his sword down, and the shaman caught the blade between her paws, groaning from the intense pressure of struggling against his single arm. Brood Lord spat his acid, missing his target as Impatient One jerked her head away. Her leg kicked, damaging his chitin plate, and in that second Janine pushed past Iron Lord, shoulder tackling the other khan away.


    ¡°It is getting ridiculous,¡± Brood Lord sighed pretentiously, touching his ruined mustache, and another set of irises appeared from behind the first. His hind legs arched back, resembling scorpion tails as they hung over him. ¡°All I wanted was to see Janine writhing in agony as I plucked members of her family like grapes, but no. You had to come and incur a blood debt. Pay up; I haven¡¯t got all day.¡±


    His legs came down on Impatient One¡¯s shoulders, stabbing into them with enough force to reach the bone and pin the woman to the ground. Brood Lord took his time to bring the shaman onto a knee, smugly grinning at Janine, who fought against Iron Lord. Ignoring the claws that scratched the lines on his chitin, Brood Lord raised his sword.


    We are monsters. Let the world hear us and tremble at what it has birthed.


    The advice came suddenly to Janine, but she obeyed, giving up battle plans, tactics, dominance, traditions, her place in the pack, even her family in exchange for the urge to kill. The most basic thing a monster could do for humanity. Destroy those who threaten the weak.


    Iron Lord¡¯s glaive rose, propelled by her blow, and the warlord lunged at Brood Lord, dragging the axe across the ground like a tool. The swing of the axe damaged the tip of his hind leg, and the next blow drew a long gash across his belly, piercing his gilded armor and sending coins of the conquered nation free. The Malformed freak stumbled away from Impatient One, touching his wound.


    ¡°You¡­ you weren¡¯t that quick before.¡± His finger ran over the bleeding edges, and then he licked them clean, watching the warlord. ¡°Overdosed on drugs? Angry? Come on, Janine, what¡¯s a few dead kids between friends?¡±


    Enough! Shut him up! She obliged, facing the rapidly moving khan, blocking his blade thrust, backhanding his pincers, and tackling through the kicking legs. Iron Lord appeared to her left, swinging at her neck, and the warlord dodged the blow. Brood Lord immediately tried to use that second to split her legs, and Iron Lord struck him with the end of his glaive.


    The three-way fight. They stabbed and slashed, each defending against two opponents at once. There was little reason or logic to the clash; the blows hungered for exposed limbs and were stopped at the last second. Brood Lord¡¯s looming legs struck again and again at Janine¡¯s head, swaying it and escaping from her jaws. The glaive cut a wide swath from her chest, exposing a side of her body down to her waist. The warlord responded by slicing through Brood Lord¡¯s armor above his ribs and crippling Iron Lord¡¯s leg, leaving him limping.


    Sensing the shift in the battle of the beasts, the khans dropped their quarrel and faced Janine together, planning to finish off the strongest in this fight. She parried the glaive, and a bullet flew between the fighters, scaring the Malformed away as it chipped a piece from his helmet.


    ¡°Hey, whoreson!¡± Martyshkina landed nearby, holding a smoking revolver. ¡°We have unfinished business.¡±


    ¡°Piss off. It¡¯s Janine I want,¡± Brood Lord barely glanced at her.


    ¡°Too bad; I don¡¯t share.¡± Marty leapt forward, evading a sudden slash aimed at her slash. ¡°I hate unfinished business and unpaid debts.¡± She blocked the blade with the barrel of her revolver and fired the second, halving Brood Lord¡¯s severed leg. ¡°That¡¯s one.¡± Martyshkina smiled at Brood Lord¡¯s groan of pain. The agony made him sloppy, and Martyshkina pressed the advantage, kicking and breaking another of his six legs. The limb twitched and detached from the joint, first holding on to greenish strings covered in red, then falling off completely. ¡°That¡¯s two.¡± She pressed her revolver against her enemy¡¯s visor. ¡°And that¡¯s dead.¡±


    The blade smashed the revolver away, and instead of blowing his head clear, the bullet tore through Brood Lord¡¯s cheek, hitting the building behind him and causing it to collapse. That was enough for the khan, and he hurried to Iron Lord¡¯s side, hiding in the bubble of the shield field formed around the leader.


    ¡°I must say.¡± Brood Lord used his sword to deflect two of Martyshkina¡¯s bullets, slowed by the field. ¡°Your operation is shit, my friend. Had I planned it¡­¡±


    Fear.


    Everyone felt it. Janine stopped, her axe locked against the glaive. The packs moved hesitantly away from their opponents, dragging their wounded and Ice Fangs to safety. Bertruda yanked her spear from a corpse and took an uncertain step toward the APCs, shaking her head to clear the confusion. The cubs and citizens cried, their worst horrors manifesting in their minds. Impatient One drew a crescent with her finger, imploring the Spirits¡¯ favor. Anissa nearly fell and jumped from the roof.


    Rodents and insects emerged from under the building and from the sewers, scurrying away, vast living carpets trying to escape, obeying the unspoken demand to clear the field or the fangs would descend. Thunder bulls roared a challenge, and Iron Lord¡¯s steed approached its master, snorting nervously. Eyes¡ªomnipresent eyes¡ªwatched every combatant, tracking every moment. And in the midst of it all, she came.


    Warlord Alpha landed in the street, her weight buckling the stones, disrupting the nearest foundations, and even sinking the nearest point of the Academy next to her into a pile of rubble. The Bane of Disbelievers, the Punishing Paw of the Shamans, the Strongest Warlord, the Thousand Slayers, the Eater of Monsters, the Loyal, the Undefeated¡­ Hundreds of honorable names and titles she¡¯d been given and earned didn¡¯t even begin to do justice to the threat she posed.


    Her impossibly long claws reached down to her ankles, and gore covered tons of her power armor. Intestines tangled around her shoulders like a disgusting cape, and freshly skinned faces screamed wordlessly from her pauldrons, forming a silent orchestra. Her topknot, the pride and special joy of this warlord, was now braided with the recently torn spinal columns, and streaks of blood added to the burning crimson of Alpha¡¯s hair.


    A claw touched the ground, snatching Brood Lord¡¯s leg and tossing it into the open maw for Alpha to chew on with both sets of fangs.


    ¡°Retreat,¡± she commanded, burrowing her gaze into Brood Lord.


    ¡°Sword Saint Alpha!¡± Albert mimicked a gasp perfectly, unconcerned in the slightest about the terrible damage done to the suit he inhabited. ¡°The future lady of the House of Sunblade! Ah, her beauty is even more vivid than I had dared to imagine¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Janine begged, securing the axe to her back, morbidly curious to see what crazy implications filled the Ice Fangs¡¯ databases. And they called the Wolfkins crazy! She scooped the awed Impatient One into her paws as if the shaman were a cub. The Reclaimers ran for the APCs, not even to collect their dead. What was the point? A splinter of the divine was here, and the souls of the fallen had already been sent to a kinder reality.


    Alpha addressed Brood Lord in a growl that sounded like hammers pulverizing bones: ¡°You dared to harm a cub of the Wolf Tribe? The punishment is extermination. No trace of your lineage will remain in this world or another.¡±


    ¡°It is done,¡± said Iron Lord.


    ¡°Warlord Alpha! A moment!¡± Janine hurled her daughter to the transports and approached the Pillar of Terror against her instincts. Alpha¡¯s eyes looked at her, searching for a challenge, but the lesser warlord knelt, and an ear was offered.


    She told everything as briefly as she could.


    ¡°Iron Lord.¡± Janine heard the bastard who had crippled her son. ¡°I believe it is our cue to bow out.¡±


    ¡°Huh¡­ I see. Piss off my battlefield.¡± A gentle kick jerked Janine off the ground and sent her spinning dozens of meters in the air until she slammed her back against a transport and landed next to Impatient One.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been blessed, Warlord,¡± the shaman assured her. ¡°You interrupted Alpha¡¯s hunt and you are still breathing. What an honor for our pack! Marco is now surely guaranteed a long life and much fertility and health!¡±


    ¡°Get¡­ get into the transport,¡± Janine groaned.


    ¡°Correction. I will eat you alive, and that¡¯s it,¡± Alpha said.


    ¡°Not a fan of living up to your boasts, are you, beast?¡± The Malformed mocked.


    ¡°It is a privilege of the strong to be free to change their course in light of new information.¡± Alpha took a step.

 Chapter 126: The Flaming Man

    ¡°Stall her!¡± Iron Lord roared, pointing his weapon at Alpha. ¡°A khanate worth ten thousand souls to the one who brings me her head! Phaser, open the portal! Prepare¡­¡±


    Alpha advanced. Two thunder bulls flanked her; their riders raised their glaives. Plasma doused them both, converting their armors into steel waterfalls that crowned their steeds, drawing long cries from the tormented animals. Another raider charged the warlord with a spear. The claws caught him.


    Till Ingo once claimed that Alpha¡¯s murder tools could shave electrons from an atom. So prized they were that numerous government researchers attempted to replicate them, going so far as to clone parts of Alpha¡¯s body, but each attempt was in vain. If not immediately transplanted into her body, the grown part would shrivel and break down. Like Ravager, Alpha¡¯s body refused to share its secrets.


    And the raider experienced the touch of those claws. He wasn¡¯t so much sliced as shredded; the vicious talons passed through him unhindered by his suit or his flesh. A leg stepped on the steed¡¯s head that tried to ram the warlord. The limb pushed, splashing the skull against the ruined street.


    Clouds of mist hid her, and Alpha inhaled deadly fumes, never slowing her pace. Bullets bounced off her plates, not even notching them. The swing of her arm slaughtered another ironclad. She glanced at Zulfiya, and the woman yelped and ran to her father. Brood Lord picked an oversized gun from his belt and fired it at Alpha, gulping nervously as each of the projectiles was parried.


    That was a demonstration enough. No soldier dared stand up to the warlord.


    Janine pushed the rest of her pack into the APC and jumped in, checking to make sure the wounded and civilians were secured in their harnesses before almost tearing Marco from Anissa¡¯s embrace. Dropping to her knees, she cursed her own lack of medical knowledge and licked the venom from the poor boy¡¯s fur, avoiding his eyes.


    At the approach of an Ice Fang, a fur rose at the back of her neck until she recognized her as the irritating medic she had met before. The medic bared her throat, and Janine relented, watching the traitor remove the blood-soaked bandages and treat the injuries as the APCs roared their engines, their drives whipped into action by the fear wave.


    Iron Lord thrust his halberd into the claws that approached his force field. Like Janine¡¯s axe, they withstood the field of destruction. Unlike the Taleteller, they closed in, destroying blade and hilt and opening Iron Lord¡¯s side. Oil, mixed with blood and streaked with electrical hisses, poured from the mechanical guts onto the ground.


    ¡°Horkhudagh! I need you!¡± Iron Lord shouted, and in response, the sky answered.


    A beam of the brightest crimson burned its way through a cloud and streaked down, similar to the arrival of the cursed Lightbringer, the Elite of Iterna, and a New Breed superior to many. But Lightbringer traveled in a stream of photons, and what touched the ground now was the ultra-heated magma. Its heat burned away Alpha¡¯s ugly flesh and bone ornamentation, and as the ropes holding her topknot turned to dust, her hair spread, loosening to cover her like a cloak as she stood in the black and red light.


    Then the stream stopped, producing a molten crater that separated the fighters. An orb of blue flame rose from it, sprouting blackened arms and legs and forming into a humanoid. Two dots formed on the black skull, and a thin line opened a mouth, letting fiery red streaks lick at the forming teeth. Wings stretched out behind the floating man, each a different color: red, white, and blue. The video that appeared on Janine¡¯s HUD became blurry as her fellow warlord¡¯s cameras began to malfunction from the presence of the unbelievable heat.


    Iron Lord cursed in his human voice, limping away, his armor melting, his very blood boiling. The raiders surrounded him, and even Brood Lord shut up, fearfully holding a hand over his face. Flames raged among the ruins, blocking Alpha from reaching her prey, and piles of ruins spilled over, folding in on themselves as they melted. The figure grew, matching Alpha¡¯s size.


    ¡°Done!¡± Iron Lord gave a cackling laugh, facing a tear in space.


    Brood Lord gasped, clutching his heart. Alpha intensified her fear wave, stopping the hearts of those trying to escape. Iron Lord had to grab the khan, dragging him after himself, while the hordemen around helped themselves, abandoning their dying steeds. Only Iron Lord¡¯s bull survived.


    But Iron Lord kept laughing. ¡°A high-value target! More precious than all the others. Baited into my trap. Horkhudagh! Keep her occupied. It won¡¯t be long now, and if you annihilate the other warlords, I promise you the richest lands in Houstad!¡±


    ¡°Keeping her occupied?¡± Horkhudagh¡¯s voice resembled the crackling of burning wood, mixed with the noise of hissing water turning to steam. The black holes in his skull stared at Alpha. ¡°No. I have waited long enough. It is a rare sight to see Iron Lord Khan lose his composure enough to reveal his plans. Did your power do it?¡± The living pillar waited for the answer, but none came. ¡°Ever since I heard of you, I have been filled with anticipation. The second strongest in the Gilded Horde! Against the fifth of the Reclaimers! Aren¡¯t you just burning with anticipation to learn which legend will prevail?¡±This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°Meh,¡± Alpha replied.


    The two charged at each other with full force.


    ****


    Iron Lord stumbled out of the portal, panting and fighting for every breath. The internal systems sent repeated warnings. Risk of stroke. A vein in his brain burst. Eyes hemorrhaging. Organ failure from excessive damage. The khan shut them off, welcoming the familiar calmness returning to his mind.


    Still not there. Decades of extensive surgery on his body to merge him closer to a machine and an emotion manipulator had nearly done him in. But nearly doesn¡¯t count, girl!


    ¡°To the healers. And take that with you,¡± he told his bodyguards, dropping Brood Lord to the ground like a sack of shit. White foam frothed on the man¡¯s lips, his limbs convulsed, and he clawed at his throat, brought to the brink of death by a simple mental push. Pathetic.


    ¡°Father,¡± Zulfiya came closer, shocked to the core by the death of her heart. He smiled, proud of her ability to keep the panic at bay. ¡°What they said about Mehmed. Was it¡­¡±


    ¡°Not important.¡± He placed a hand on her shoulder. ¡°Girl, he¡¯s gone. Dead because he was one of the weak. Don¡¯t waste any more time. We are alive. We matter, and I need you. Can I count on you and the rest of my children?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Father.¡± She bowed her head. ¡°But if Mehmed is alive¡­¡±


    ¡°If he is alive, I will arrange a prisoner exchange,¡± Iron Lord promised. ¡°But the boy is gone. His mind broke. Your brother is no more. Understand it, accept it. I am proud of you.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Zulfiya blinked. He never said that to any of his children. ¡°But I ran.¡±


    ¡°So did I. So did everyone. We¡¯ll grow stronger. But you acted where I faltered. I was about to waste precious time killing a useless child, and you stopped me, Zulfiya. You did what I could not. Your mother will be so happy.¡±


    ¡°Mom¡­ So many of my brothers and sisters have died.¡±


    ¡°Yes, the unfortunate inevitability of war. What¡¯s important is that their sacrifices will be in vain if we join them. We owe them a victory.¡± He patted her shoulder. ¡°Enough distractions. See yourself treated and then head into the camp, collecting every captive doggie. Take them by force from Brood Lord; that bastard deserves an insult. Buy from Slavetaker and respectfully petition the Khatun¡¯s share.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ why?¡±


    ¡°I promised clemency, and I never go back on my word. Ask Slavetaker for healers and keep our guests alive, well, and comfortable. Give them chai and meat in abundance. We¡¯ll let them go when the subjugation is over.¡± Iron Lord told her.


    His voice wavered, his old body struggling to survive, and Iron Lord spread his arms, showing that the audience was over. Technicians surrounded him, repairing the damage done to his steel as it, in turn, worked to save him. And above them towered the Sky¡¯s Wrath.


    ¡°Helmets, idiots!¡± Iron Lord told his crew. Lesser men they may have been, but their enthusiasm was commendable.


    The war engine without equal, its supermassive cannon mounted on tracks larger than hills, shrouded the assembly in its shadow and hid the sun behind its barrel. Fired less than a dozen times in past conquests, the mere sight and rumor of its destructive potential sent the hosts into panic. Slaves were herded into wagons, stable masters sedated animals, and the hordemen hastily put on their helmets, for when the Wrath thundered, everything trembled.


    A clearing stretched out behind the superweapon, created by its immense mass flattening everything in its path, and hundreds of vehicles comfortably followed. The Sky¡¯s Wrath weighed heavily, tormenting the ground even now, and its tracks sank deep. Rows of deadly turrets, smaller artillery, missile launchers, and energy cannons bristled along its hull, ready to unleash hell upon any fool that dared challenge the beast of the apocalypse.


    Almost anyone would be felled by them, but not Alpha. There was a good chance she would have escaped. Her elimination required a more radical method.


    Inside the machine stood shield generators, far superior to the crude toys used by Iron Lord and even the Horde¡¯s vehicles. These were the artifacts of the Old World; their output could stop even the cannon¡¯s own fire. Up until now, its auxiliary guns were talking; it was the moment to let the main cannon declare its sentence at long last.


    ¡°Connect me,¡± Iron Lord said.


    ¡°Sir, your health is not in optimal condition to operate it remotely,¡± a technician dared to voice his objection.


    ¡°I am aware of that,¡± Iron Lord said, hating every second of hearing his old, frail, clattering voice. Why must humans grow old? He did not strike the man, respecting his competence. ¡°It won¡¯t be long, and then I am all yours.¡±


    The cables entered his back, and his conscience left his body and entered the terminals of the god machine. His brain was still working; it was still him, but the unique connection allowed him to see through each camera and experience the environment through the clarity of its sensors without the slightest effort. In the distance, the targeting systems located the city, and the cannon adjusted itself to his wishes.


    ¡°And now for the final swath. You arrogant mutant. Know the futility of defying your betters. Fire.¡±


    A single word. There was no need to speak it, for their crude devices translated his thoughts into binary language and carried out the command. Nor did anyone nearby hear him, for the cannon spoke. But the coming awe demanded a proper ritual.


    Imagine a hurricane born in a second. Think of an earthquake scarring a land with vast canyons faster than an eye can blink. None of these descriptions sufficed to paint the picture of what was happening around Iron Lord. Forests disappeared for kilometers around. The traversing shockwave didn¡¯t bend the trees; it uprooted them, then shattered the trunks into a neat dust.


    The cover of greenery disappeared, exposing gray rock and jagged stone. The heavy vehicles shook, and the technicians struggled to hold their ground, despite the advanced exoskeletons that were supposed to protect them, and if it weren¡¯t for his personal force shield, they would have been sent over the horizon. Far in the rear, the priests fell to their knees, chanting praises and ignoring cuts appearing on their bodies. There were even several deaths from the ranks of those who chose to ignore the precise precautions.


    It scarcely mattered. The Sky¡¯s Wrath had sent its load.

 Chapter 127: Destruction

    Janine rarely had the privilege of witnessing Alpha¡¯s battles firsthand. Her own duty always demanded her direct presence in the midst of carnage, delivering Reclaimer justice to any foes. But now, locked inside the APC, surrounded by the weeping cubs and civilians breaking down from a sudden exposure, the fear wave, with Marty and her trying their best not to fall and squash anyone, with the faint breaths of Marco risking to stop, she needed a distraction. Any distraction to quell the emotions pulsing through her and continue the basic routine of helping the field medic.


    Plasma dischargers on Alpha¡¯s wrists hurled overheated clots, and Horkhudagh weaved in the air to avoid them. Streaks of flames crackled around him as the skeleton flew under the straight thrust and rose behind the warlord. Blackened claws wreathed in blue formed at his hands. Solid to liquid and back to solid again. The last thing one would expect from a skeleton would be feats of agility.


    A quick elbow to the skull sent him back, saving the generator backpack from damage. Alpha whirled, and the multicolored wings of her opponent enveloped her, forming hands that pinned her down. The intense heat disrupted the video feed, but enough of it came through to show Janine how the hands overlapped, forming a superheated layer that exploded in a directional blue beam that melted the ground beneath Alpha¡¯s legs.


    Heat. He is trying to suffocate her. Metaphorical cogs in Janine¡¯s brain came to a halt, trying to draw her attention to something obvious. Flame. Why would he skirt around the attack¡­


    ¡°Warlord!¡± Janine yelled in the com. ¡°Alpha, the bastard¡¯s not completely immune to the heat!¡±


    Her HUD received nothing but the intense blue glow for several seconds, and then the claws parted its front to face the solidified, fiery talons of the hordeman. Horkhudagh grunted as his weapons and hands splintered, and Alpha hooked him by the elbows.


    ¡°Sister,¡± Alpha said, a camera briefly catching her reflection in the vitrified wall. Her suit held on, refusing to lose, but one by one the cameras were getting shut down. ¡°Not my first time.¡±


    She lunged, closing her maw on the flaming man¡¯s face, viciously hollowing it out. Then the plasma dischargers fired, almost catching Horkhudagh in his lunge to the left, and he lost the right side of his body. With a series of cracks, the body spat out fresh body parts, and a whirlwind of blows and cuts chained the fighters together, one shining bright as a star, spewing flames and heat, the other a raging fury adorned in the finest diamondoid alloy.


    Fiery blue splashes pierced the remaining apartments, spurting like blood from arteries. Alpha advanced away from where she was knee-deep in molten asphalt, forcing her opponent to the more solid surface. Tongues of flames burst, cracking the surfaces, and claws raked against the black bones and the state¡¯s armor.


    ¡°Sword Saint, consign me to termination if you so desire, but I simply have to remark on the stubborn refusal of your noble kin to accept valuable insight,¡± Albert¡¯s voice came with interference, partially hissing after all the damage.


    ¡°Nah, soulless buddy, yer truth,¡± Martyshkina remarked. Still holding onto the ceiling with one paw, she leaned over and quickly fixed the dislocated shoulder of a young Ice Fang. ¡°Better?¡±


    ¡°Ouch!¡± The boy blinked away the tears and moved his paw. ¡°Hey, it no longer hurts! That much. Thank you, lady!¡±


    ¡°Just Martyshkina, little one. Albert, don¡¯t apologize when you are right. She totally fired way later than needed, missing her opportunity. But she is too proud to admit a mistake.¡±


    ¡°She is gathering information,¡± Janine said, understanding. ¡°Warlord Alpha destroyed Horkhudagh¡¯s eyes and then fired. But he dodged. Why do so if he can form his body? And how?¡±


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t need his head to see,¡± Martyshkina said.


    Horkhudagh¡¯s belly erupted, temporarily covering everything in white, and Janine heard the rumbling and working of servomotors as Alpha jumped. When the feed resumed, she saw the claws closing in on the scorched man¡¯s legs, easily tearing through his leather skin. The strongest warlord landed on top of the enemy, thwarting his attempts to gain distance, and his hands morphed. Dozens of thinner and longer arms wound around Alpha¡¯s wrists; needle-like appendages protruded from the open Horkhudagh¡¯s back, quickly stabbing at the warlord, targeting her mouth, neck, joints, and lenses, denting and notching her armor. One bite destroyed a good dozen of them, and the warlord swung her arms, tearing at the bonds.


    Tiniest droplets of blood lingered in the air and vanished, evaporating. An ugly cut appeared on Alpha¡¯s lips, and one of the stabs found its way to her skin on the inner part of her elbow. But Horkhudagh suffered for this legendary deed. Janine finally spotted it¡ªnot exactly the orb from before, but another, lesser orb floating inside of the hordeman¡¯s body.


    Alpha struck this very core, shattering the black bones and cleaving through the arms raised in defense. The core itself was the size of a Normie¡¯s torso, but proved to be of far sturdier material as the tip of Alpha¡¯s claw scratched it, and Horkhudagh grunted, producing the noise of a roaring furnace, no longer mimicking boiling water of burning wood.


    It was a roar of sorts, but not one of fear or displeasure. Elation resonated in it.


    Horkhudagh rammed his elbows into Alpha, lifting the woman a little, and the needle appendages on his back merged into a single, wide palm of flame. It slammed the warlord to the ground and dragged the Wolfkin across the street, carrying her closer to the ruined academy in a river of melting stone. A web of cuts appeared briefly on the limb, so fast that Albert had to slow the feed a bit for Janine to even recognize it. Alpha broke free of the limb, her billowing hair resembling dancing snakes.


    The two charged to face each other again, Horkhudagh growing a fresh set of larger and thicker arms, closing any damage done to his fake body, and Alpha silently passing through several walls of flame that appeared in her path. A headbutt sent Alpha¡¯s head skyward, but her paw was doubtless already aimed at Horkhudagh¡¯s true body, and the hordeman launched a strike of his own.


    Neither managed to proceed as the clouds above belched a single piece of the armament, and something about this projectile terrified Janine, and she wrapped her arms around Marco and the closest cubs, shouting warnings for the troops to do the same. It was a weird premonition that touched her even before Alpha¡¯s combat armor signaled a warning.


    The threat of a WMD.


    There were three great nations in the world, three pillars of civilization and peerless industrial capacity. The despised Oathtakers, eternal rivals of the state, fanatics mistakenly believing in a falsehood concocted by their inane cult leader, and willingly surrendered partial freedom of their free will for the sake of unity, forever hindering their growth as humans. Janine despised them more than anyone in the world, even though her adopted daughter chose to live there. It was simply something she would never accept. The mutilation of the personality, the infringement upon the decision-making for those who had committed no crime, was a bridge too far for her to tolerate.


    Next in line was Iterna, the traitorous butchers. They should have shown the same hatred and vitriol to the countless gangs feasting upon the ruins of the Old World near their borders that they had shown to the literal cubs who came to study under their wings. But Iterna was said to have changed, no longer displaying the same rash decisiveness as before. They were uplifting and integrating instead of stopping atrocities. Idiots. The likes of Mad Hatter, Blood Graf, Thunder Emperor, Mincemeat, or Techno-Queen would never change. They had the might but lacked the willpower to act.


    The Reclamation Army was the last and largest nation in this union of necessity and perhaps potential friendship. Janine accepted they weren¡¯t perfect, but she firmly believed that the Dynast¡¯s vision and foresight were the only correct path for the world to take, lest it be destroyed in another war. Overthrow the slavers, bring the misguided fools back into the fold, and teach the people how to be better, to spare the younger generations the misery of existence under the unworthy rulers. Take away dangerous tools and use them to build, not destroy. Thousands of races, maybe even species, united under a single banner.


    These nations had shaken hands and signed many treaties, ranging from tariffs to tourism to stopping diseases and controlling potential Apocalypse-classes of New Breeds, promising never to use weapons of mass destruction and swearing to abide by the rules of war, treating both civilians and military humanely. The horrors of MAD that had occurred during the Extinction haunted their leaders.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    And the Gilded Horde¡­ These bastards lacked such reservations.


    ****


    The shell fired by the Sky¡¯s Wrath carried a payload of over nine hundred thousand tons of TNT. It exploded half a kilometer above Opul, forming a fireball of approximately one hundred and ten million degrees Celsius, bathing the town in a temperature hotter than the center of the sun and incinerating everything it touched.


    Alpha¡¯s armor reacted immediately, entombing the warlord against her will and cutting off contact with the outside world. Her long crimson hair fell and turned to ash, cut by the sharp edges of her helmet. The suit released its emergency supply of nanomachines to form a protective, solidified layer over the warlord¡¯s claws and sealed her mouth. Designed and manufactured to operate in the event of a nuclear attack, its artificial intelligence lacked Albert¡¯s cheerfulness or any personality to speak of and now labored meticulously to preserve the user.


    As the blast expanded, it resembled a semi-sphere of hellishly heated air, storming in every direction at millions of kilometers per hour, driving the fighters into the ground with the force of a falling meteor or spaceship.


    Hell reigned in the real world for but a second, as the raining destruction quickly cooled to merely the surface temperature of the sun. That second was used to overload a ship¡¯s shields and soften its outer hull before the main guns of another ship or a defensive station used further methods to strip the ship of its fighting crew or teleport boarding parties in.


    When used against the surface, unprotected by any shields, it turned Opul into a molten lake. The Knight Academy, a place of local pride and the defensive fortification, dissolved like a moth to an intense flame; parts of its masonry were simply ionized. The survivors, both Horde and locals, died so quickly that no one registered even a hint of pain. Statues, libraries, shops, homes, factories¡ªnothing was left standing. The traveling shockwave wrecked everything around Opul for kilometers, reaching the retreating convoy.


    Trees hit the APCs so hard that the transports nearly flipped. Then the world-collapsing cacophony of destruction tossed them, lifting the vehicles as easily as the wind plucked leaves. The cubs, secured in their harnesses, screamed in panic as a special foam appeared from their restraints to cover the passengers in protective cocoons. Unaccustomed to such overloads, they vomited against their will as the black- and white-armored forms around them tried their best to keep them safe. The civilian Normies suffered even worse, their organs bursting under the pressure as the faint shadow of the Horde¡¯s apocalyptic weapon barely grazed the vehicles.


    ****


    A wall cracked, spraying the soldiers with metal shards, killing a Wolfkin and paralyzing an Ice Fang. Janine weathered two more, forcing herself to trust the medic to keep Marco safe. She blocked several more shards from reaching her troops and was surprised to find a blade-sized piece of metal lodged between her radius and ulna bones. Kalaisa¡¯s family and several pack members closed ranks around the unconscious wolf hag.


    Their APC continued to spin. Up. Down. Left. Right. Janine caught a medic before the woman could fly into the gaping hole, holding herself steady with her claws. Her son was already safely nestled in a portable harness locked to the floor, and she tossed the woman to a knight, stopping another piece of debris from falling at the cubs. She didn¡¯t even see the piece of stone, moving on instinct, and her eye twitched at a sudden sting of pain. The knuckle and the plate above it were destroyed, and her finger dangled loosely.


    ¡°Even pebbles hit harder than you, Marty!¡± Janine teased in an emotionless voice, earning herself several chuckles. Good. Don¡¯t you dare think about dying.


    ¡°Ah, the delusions of youth¡­¡± Marty croaked, shielding the cubs with her back from a shower of debris.


    ¡°I¡¯m a day younger than you!¡±


    ¡°¡­are so amusing. It¡¯s not my fault that your bones are so brittle that I have to hold back all the time.¡±


    ¡°Hold back? What a load of cusack shit! I won our last spar, Granny!¡±


    ¡°Because I was holding back, suckling!¡± teased Martyshkina and Janine could¡¯ve sworn that the mood brightened after their bickering.


    ¡°Albert, can you reach Bertruda in the other APC? Is¡­¡± the traitor, the scum, the bitch I will slaughter,  ¡°¡­ the sword saint fine?¡± Janine swallowed the insults. Marco and the cubs were more important than her feelings.


    ¡°Negative, Sword Saint,¡± Albert answered.


    ¡°It is warlord¡­¡± Janine looked out of the hole. ¡°Brace yourselves! Rough landing!¡±


    ¡°We flew?¡± squeaked Tilden.


    ¡°Carried, I¡¯d say¡­¡± Martyshkina groaned as a piece of metal flew past Janine and got stuck in her back.


    The APC crashed to the ground and rolled several dozen meters. Blinking away the confusion, Janine realized they were a dozen kilometers from Opul. The town was no more, and a mushroom cloud hovered over it, and her tired imagination tricked her into seeing a grinning skull in the swirling shadows. She shook her head and contacted Bertruda.


    They lost seven civilians, one cub, a boy whose head was squashed, two drivers, and a male of Martyshkina¡¯s pack during the landing. Janine hated herself for even thinking it, but they got off lucky.


    ¡°Albert¡­¡± she began, looking numbly at the dead Ice Fang cub. They rescued them, dammit! She placed no blame on anyone and let the hawks of the Investigation Bureau conduct an investigation based on the video feed they could recover from their suits. Deep down, she knew that they had done everything they could.


    It wasn¡¯t enough. That¡¯s the bitter truth of a defeat. Sometimes you fail, no matter how hard you try. She cradled Marco in her arms, panicking that he could¡¯ve been in a place of this boy. Spirits, what will his parents feel?


    ¡°Any¡­ any radiation in the air?¡± She regained control over her voice.


    ¡°Not a trace, Sword Saint,¡± Albert hissed, the sadness clear in his voice.


    ¡°Understood. What are you lazing around for?¡± She snapped at a knight and a warrior who sat, resting their legs. ¡°Healthy? Congratulations, find a wounded person and get them moving. Medic, designate those who should not be walking. I will hear no objections!¡± She kicked a scout who was missing an arm back onto the cloth. ¡°If she tells you not to move, shut up and lie down like a cub. Bertruda, Martyshkina, organize teams to carry the wounded. Anissa, I need ten eyes on the perimeter.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for the confidence, Warlord,¡± the field medic said tiredly. She didn¡¯t correct her that it was a necessity.


    ¡°Yes, Warlord!¡± Anissa replied, and Janine looked up, silently thanking the Spirits for the deliverance.


    They survived.


    ****


    Unbeknownst to the warlord, the world was already experiencing changes. Iterna¡¯s satellites had detected the explosion that wiped out Opul, and an envoy demanded an audience with the Dynast to discover what was going on. The Oathtakers immediately called for the evacuation of their citizens, sending small parties to protect their tourists, infiltrators, workers, and diplomats. Cries of relief rippled through the shocked denizens of the Net as the citizens of the three countries slowly realized that an entire town had just been wiped off the map.


    In the far east, a white window touched the clouds. Outsider, the grand commander of the First and the personal champion of the Dynast, vented his anger upon learning of his nation¡¯s grievous loss. Basking in the light of his power, the defenders of the Abandonment glowed on the battlements, fading into nothingness, and their vast bastions soon followed. The slaves rejoiced as the Orais shattered their holding caves, freeing them.


    The myth of the dark figure walking in the sky, cloaked in white light, was born that night, culminating when the screaming tyrant vanished as the black gauntlet seized him. The entire castle disintegrated with him, adding to Outsider¡¯s legends, and belief in the Champion continued to spread, revered by the new citizens.


    Devourer reared high in the Wastes, arching his back and howling with such hatred that the nearby slavers dropped their weapons and surrendered immediately. Their leader arrived, carrying an entire mountain above his head with his gravity power, a proud New Breed who had never met his match.


    A single, casual tail slap ended his existence. Devourer planned to take his time with the scum, but his short lesson had its effect, and the resistance ceased in an instant. Grief and hatred coursed through the commander¡¯s body¡ªhatred for those who dared to harm his precious home and grief for the lives lost. His pride, his magnum opus, was hurting, and he wasn¡¯t there to help.


    Mad Hatter smiled blissfully, ignoring the blows of a frail man who had unwittingly won freedom and safety for his village. She inhaled the air, forgetting even the fleeting intention of visiting the local church and ignoring the dead soldiers at her feet. Her smile widened at the knowledge of the distant destruction and the low rumbling beneath the village, but then a worry replaced the joy. The liar and heretic on her shoulders no longer whispered; his psyche seeped into hers, intensifying her thirst for blood and conquest.


    She snarled, dismissed his offers of unrivaled power, and left the villagers alone, venturing into the camp. Mad Hatter felt it in her bones ever since she murdered that strange monster. Her own ascension, true divinity, wasn¡¯t complete, but it was near. It required only one more sacrifice. It was high time to march on Houstad to claim her destiny and announce the defeat of the Reclamation Army with the blood of one of its finest champions.


    The doors of the Dynast¡¯s fortress opened, and a host marched forth, accompanied by the Nameless, sons and daughters of the conquered rulers, and the Dynast¡¯s personal guard. Enhanced by the most secret bioengineering knowledge available to the Reclamation Army, they prepared to repel any assault. Reality itself cracked and screamed above them as the pocket dimensions opened, releasing vehicles so destructive that the state had banned their use. Emulated minds slumbering in the depths of the palace awoke and took control of the systems not meant for human use. Mechanical horrors of the Old World joined the royal forces, heading for the troops of the Provincial Army from other regions that would relieve Houstad in its day of need.


    And in the snowy mountains at the edge of the Inner Lands, sleeping on the disgusting carpet of hundreds of slaughtered wild bioweapons, Ravager stirred, disturbed by a strange dream that broke through the thickness of nightmares about the Room, or the scum who took her family, or Eugenia, who denied her a chance to escape, or even the simple dignity of dying normally.


    In this dream, she was conversing with her children, calming their fears and providing them strength to carry on, even talking the twisted girls out of immediate mischief. She decided that she had hallucinated it as she gave birth to no child and her wards rested safely in Houstad and their villages, while the skinwalkers resided beyond the Wall. Besides, a monster could not inspire, could not help.


    Covered in a thin layer of rime, Ravager slipped back into the emptiness of her sleep, amused at imagining the silly misunderstandings between her tribe and the locals in Houstad.

 Chapter 128: A Monster and a Knight

    Darkness surrounded her from every side; the stone around her melted into a parody of a cinder block, trapping her like an insect in amber. There was no air, and she had the vaguest notion of direction after the thunderous explosion had pushed her deep, spinning Alpha several times. Her suit was breached in several areas, and her pale flesh was scorched to the bone, and now the burns and wounds twitched from the irritation of reappearing nerves and steamed during regeneration.


    She worried more about her named allies than herself. The protective coating on the claws disappeared and Alpha began to widen her prison, cutting through the solidified obstacles. The echolocation function of her suit was useless; her own nose and ears couldn¡¯t pick up a single noise of a living being. That Abyss murdered everything, even more effectively than her fear wave.


    Slowly a finger moved, then an arm, and cracks spread from her armored form as the systems busily restarted the protocols responsible for air recycling and ran diagnostics on the damage. The important thing was not to panic. She would not need O? for hours, and she exhaled just once, mourning her hair. It seemed so insignificant, so selfish, but Alpha secretly adored this sweet and innocent part of her; the act of combing the shining reddish strands using a hairbrush clumsily held between her paws always brightened her mood, and their silvery touch proved that there was beauty in everything and that the circumstances of her creation did not define her.


    It took decades of care to grow them that long. Alpha intended to do so again.


    A claw widened the space before the warlord, covering her blackened suit in dust. The claustrophobic environment dawned on Alpha, but not in the way she expected. Her lenses dispelled the surrounding night, and the gray, occasionally glassy surfaces eerily resembled the walls of the capsule in which she had been held, or the corridors of that cursed laboratory.


    Unburdened, Alpha redoubled her efforts. The best way to handle the unpleasant things was to solve them, and she refused to stay buried. A report came in, announcing the failure to establishing a connection with Janine¡¯s pack. A shame. Alpha desired to know about Marco¡¯s condition and learn why in the Abyss her named sister wore that ugly-ass thin armor.


    The rumors about her and Bertruda must¡¯ve been true. Disgusting. The sword saint is married.


    Long and grueling years of terraforming went down the drain. Because of Ravager¡¯s softness. Alpha lifted a partially freed leg, so the knee touched her chin and kicked, carving herself a small chamber. Then again, she had no right to blame the commander. It was that very softness that spared her and gave many another chance.


    The roof above her cracked, filling the small space with the thuds of rocks scraping against her armor. Good. She straightened from a crouched position, sinking the claws into the above and splintering the artificial bedrock. Damn the feelings. Screw the past grievances. That was something Alpha had never understood about Ravager. Doubts crippled Mother, and that was well; a being of her abilities was wise to give more thought to her actions. But the madness of what had transpired chained Ravager.


    By the Spirits, Alpha herself had committed unspeakable evil, but what was the point of dwelling on it, of wallowing in misery? Now and here was what mattered; Ravager herself had taught Alpha that. Why couldn¡¯t Mother tough it out? Why must Ravager be so fallible, so¡­ human?


    No matter. Do your duty. The war isn¡¯t over yet.


    She continued to dig her way to the surface, using the navigation the suit¡¯s processor readily provided, soon swinging her arms fully. Alpha didn¡¯t make a simple, straight, ninety-degree tunnel, as climbing directly up would invite tons of rubble to fall down and send her back to the starting point. She swam at an angle, stubbornly paving a way for herself with the tips of her claws and gaining a new respect for the miners.


    And a hatred of cave diving. Proceeding on her stomach, stopping to chop particularly tough boulders into pieces, then placing her palms on the ground to squeeze her body into the tunnel she made and repeating the process for the hundredth time was maddening. She wanted to stand and run and spin and jump and crouch and hunt. Screw the caves of any kind and screw the skinwalkers offers.


    Getting scared, girl? Yeah. Nervous, at least. Alpha admitted to herself. She had gotten used to being surrounded by humans. Complete isolation gnawed at her nerves, evoking memories of absorbed people, and she turned on the music Zero had gifted her, and the infernal chanting, full of what sounded like garbage cans banging against each other and the riff of a guitar, filled her ears.


    Hands on my neck, legs on my back¡­


    How is it even physically feasible? Alpha tried to discern the lyrics sung by her named sister. Such an angelic voice, wasted on the unholy, gravelly throat singing. She tried to imagine a skinwalker holding Zero by the neck while another kicked the warlord in the back, and it still looked ridiculous.


    Locked in slumber, never awake in that metal coffin of mine¡­


    Then the paws reached me at long last¡­


    Though I am fighting alone, I am no longer alone; I¡¯ve got people for whom I want to survive¡­


    Want to. Curious choice of words. Alpha grinned. Zero considered herself to be the most progressive out of them, but she was a really slow snail, wary of leaving her shell after what had happened. But that? That was a step. Then her mood soured as Alpha summed the file onto her screen, and it was titled: Album 1: Song 36. Now I know that Miss ¡®I named my rifle Big Gun¡¯ wrote it. How is it possible to be so devoid of creativity?


    She pressed on, grumbling about the mindless nonsense spewing from the dynamics, and kept forming herself a tunnel ahead, occasionally listening to the collapses behind her. Half an hour later, she thrust her arm in the same, now mechanical motion, and a ray of sunlight broke through the prison of darkness, reflecting almost playfully off her lens. Without haste, the warlord pushed her body forward and stabbed again, opening an exit to the surface.


    Alpha crawled out into the desolate wasteland, recognizing nothing. Based on her current coordinates, she was below Opul, but the sky was blue above her, and several puffy white clouds were passing toward her destination. So peaceful, while the rugged ground was devoid of any sign of life. Not even the Ravaged Lands were this desolate. She didn¡¯t feel any parasites, no scavengers circling around in search of a corpse, nothing.This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Her helmet opened, and she took a deep breath, stopping when the ground shook. Cracks snaked out, spewing tongues of flame, and blackened fingers followed, gripping the edge tightly. The skeleton pulled itself from beneath the ground, the leathery skin wrapped around its bones tearing and reforming, and two points smoldering in its pitch-black eye sockets found Alpha, and in unison they prepared for battle.


    The absurdity of the situation was almost physically offensive. Here they stood, demigods in a world of ashes, a man-crafted butcher facing a freak of an accident. And neither of them could do anything but be driven to try to kill each other.


    ¡°Enough of it.¡± Alpha spat on the ground, shrugging off the metaphysics as the helmet closed around her head.


    ¡°Indeed.¡± Horkhudagh shuddered, giggling, and his bones rattled. ¡°No more traps and intricate plots involving the risk and sacrifice of others; we will settle this as it should have been from the beginning. Know that I respect your sense of loyalty, but unless you bow, there is only one way for your fate to end. I see dents and cuts in your armor, one of your launchers is gone, your left knee is unprotected, and there are exposed wires at your waist. Impressive. I wonder how much of your suit is still functional. What will it be? Submission or execution?¡±


    ¡°I extend the same offer to you. Why serve the Horde?¡± Alpha asked, tilting her head. ¡°The state pays better and prefers not to rule over ruins. How about joining?¡±


    ¡°The kind offer is declined.¡± The skeleton waved a finger, coating himself in an aura of flame. ¡°Perhaps if I had heard it earlier, before my comrades died, but now¡­ Loyalty is its own reward, and I have sworn mine to Iron Lord and, by extension, to Mad Hatter. My future, and that of my people, is tied to theirs.¡±


    ¡°Then you have no future,¡± Alpha told him plainly.


    Horkhudagh stretched the narrow opening of his mouth to mimic the smirk, and the ground between them erupted. A black bone blade, covered in the brightest blue flame, rose from the depths, its hooked end aimed between her legs. Alpha stepped back, heard the hiss of the bone scratching against her chest, and slashed, cutting the weapon in two.


    She leapt to the left and was caught by a blooming flower sprouting beneath her feet. From Horkhudagh¡¯s back, red threads spilled down into the cracks, and he continued to fashion weapons out of her sight. The flower closed around her, searing exposed parts of her flesh, and she gritted her teeth and fired the remaining plasma discharger, burning a path to freedom. Instinctively, she expanded her fear wave, forming a thin needle that touched the hordeman, who didn¡¯t even flinch. Whatever he was, her emotional manipulation had no effect on the man.


    How irritating.


    She kicked a stone at Horkhudagh¡¯s head and stopped, sensing the traitor¡¯s arrival. Feet shattered the stone, heading toward the battle, and a familiar faint hiss cut through the noise. The boulder melted in the middle, passing Horkhudagh¡¯s flame-crowned head. Blades of blue grew in his hands, and new tools of murder rose to the surface, bulging entire slabs of stone, trapping Alpha in the cage.


    The gallant fool made it first, and the heat of the newborn star touched Horkhudagh. First barely flicked his wrists, and the arms were already flying; his sweep took the legs from under the hordeman and the return slash decapitated the enemy. The Sunblade streaked past the column of blue rising around the suspended in the air torso and stabbed; his ancient sword, a torch shining brighter than the sun, landed in the very center of the column.


    But the attack failed. Horkhudagh¡¯s core fled with the rising column, still carrying the weapons he had conjured upon the warlord. No blade or claw touched her; the Sunblade, a miniature copy of his noble parents, stopped near her, and the cut in two tools fell slowly to the ground. He was clad in white, immaculate armor, every edge of his suit covered in gold. His chest, incrusted with diamonds and rubies, glittered with every movement, and a heavy purple cloak cascaded from underneath his pauldrons, untouched by the hordeman¡¯s flame. His own long hair was tied into a plait decorated by precious metals and tied at his waist.


    ¡°Tch. Cowardly cur.¡± First turned off the Sunblade, and only the handle was left in his paw. He placed it into the heavy sheath, tracing the flying upward enemy. Soon the orb disappeared behind a cloud, and the grandmaster faced Alpha, bowing respectfully. ¡°Lady Alpha, my deepest regrets for arriving at such a late hour. I endeavored to arrive with the utmost haste upon hearing the news of the foul peril that has befallen Opul. My brave hunters have already escorted to safety those of the citizens who fled toward our positions¡­¡±


    ¡°Drop the chit-chat, traitor.¡± Alpha shrugged, not caring in the slightest if he had saved her or not. To think that she considered him a comrade.


    ¡°I understand your disgruntlement, Warlord, and partially agree with it,¡± First said. ¡°I assure you, the fault lies solely with the Sword Saints, myself included. The members of my Order are innocent of any wrongdoing¡­¡±


    ¡°Are they?¡± Alpha scoffed. ¡°A cub of my sister was on the battlefield. Am I to believe that she brought him on her own on a field trip? That none of your filth said a word to stop the folly?¡±


    ¡°The circumstances of this incident are unknown to me, Lady Alpha¡­¡± First began cautiously.


    ¡°Then make them known.¡± She leaned his snout to his, the steam rising from her open mouth. ¡°Who¡¯s to say that you came to help me not because I am your ally, but because I am a useful tool to keep your ilk safe?¡±


    ¡°Lady, fatigue is warping your perception. Never would I look at you or the Wolf Tribe as tools. You are my family¡­¡± First stopped when Alpha opened her helmet to reveal the healing burn that stretched from her nostril to the left side of her skull. The lidless eye gazed at the grandmaster.


    ¡°Family? Were you our family when Tancred ignored Dragena¡¯s orders and led many to their deaths, exposing the cubs to danger? What about the communication blackout between our forces that resulted in the deaths of my sisters? My kin survived by mere chance after the Order¡¯s recklessness and refusal to cooperate caused them to be shot down during their escape. And this, today¡­¡± Her claws trembled; the wicked thoughts she seeped from the dead called for violence, threatening to drown the smaller personality. It took her several breaths to calm herself. ¡°One is a mistake. Two is an accident. More is an obvious pattern. Our youth has been exposed to danger again.¡±


    ¡°The Wolf Tribe is known for its harsh treatment of its children,¡± First said quickly and fell silent.


    ¡°Is that an implication I hear?¡± Alpha asked quietly. ¡°Shall we compare the list of sins committed by our groups? I know our history, and I was never in support of what happened to the cubs. I flayed the one most responsible and murdered those who led the little ones to their deaths, and if Janine is guilty of what you say, I will do the deed again, and with pleasure and intense hatred. But I have tasted her before. And doubt you, not her!¡± She pointed the claw at First¡¯s head and closed the helmet. ¡°Even now you try to drive a wedge between me and my named sister, seeking advantage in the coming argument.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t my intention. I simply sought not to blame anyone prior to the investigation¡­¡±


    ¡°Family doesn¡¯t do that. We argue, but don¡¯t deflect,¡± Alpha said.


    ¡°No, but you are projecting. Lady Alpha, right now you are condemning everyone for the sins and mistakes of a few,¡± First said. ¡°Nobles and commoners of the Order fought valiantly by the Wolf Tribe¡¯s side.¡±


    ¡°Tancred is no longer here, and Leonidas is gone, but our boy is still injured. Enough of this quarrel,¡± Alpha said. ¡°We are done being used, ignored, or fed shit by your kind. I am heading for the convoy. You?¡±


    ¡°Not immediately,¡± First said. ¡°Our holdings in the north are threatened, and while the buildings can be rebuilt, the workers cannot.¡±


    ¡°You are needed in Houstad.¡± Alpha growled.


    ¡°I will head there right away with my forces¡­¡± He looked aside. ¡°After I see him off.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious,¡± Alpha said. ¡°That¡¯s suicide.¡±


    ¡°That is his wish.¡±


    ¡°Is that so¡­¡± She tried to detect any falsehood in his words, but First stood still, his head bowed in sadness. ¡°Whatever. Another life lost to the war, then. Do what you must and act your rank by sending me information about your forces at paw and how soon they can reach Houstad. That city won¡¯t fail.¡±

 Chapter 129: Respite Part 1

    ¡°Filth.¡± Claws raked across the sage¡¯s snout, opening it to the bone from cheek to the nose. ¡°Scum.¡± An elbow smashed into the woman, flinging her into the wall with enough force to knock the air out of her. ¡°I gave you the order.¡± Pure, unadulterated hate shone from the amber eyes. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you report his disappearance the second you lost him?¡±


    ¡°We assumed that Marco had gotten lost somewhere around here,¡± the sage said, clumsily grabbing a railing and trying to stand up. She coughed out a red blob. ¡°I never imagined that the boy would dare to sneak onto a transport¡­¡± Her words changed into a shriek of pain as the foot slammed into her forearm, shards of bone piercing the bone on either side of the kick.


    ¡°Dare?¡± Janine whispered. ¡°You blame him?¡±


    ¡°I meant¡­¡± The sage choked on her words as the warlord grabbed her by the throat, yanking the woman into the air.


    ¡°He is a cub! You are an adult!¡± She punched the sage in the stomach, ignoring the vomit mixed with blood splashing on her head. ¡°It is your duty, your obligation, to watch over the young generation! I entrusted you with our precious gift as we risked ourselves to save the Order¡¯s cubs, and this is how you treat our future?¡±


    Janine dropped the sage, fuming in rage, and claws slowly slipped from her fingers. She stood, dumbfounded by what she had just heard, drool dripping from her jaw, her nostrils widened and still bleeding from the open wounds. The warlord had refused all offers of treatment, forcing herself to maintain composure near the civilians and rescued cubs while she sent Anissa to rush Marco to the medical bay alongside every other injured and assigned a sage to find the dead boy¡¯s parents. Then she had checked the thinned ranks of her troops, not ignoring the traitors, deliberately ignoring the bowed sage whose duty it was to watch over her own cub.


    Otherwise, she would¡¯ve murdered the female on the spot.


    Kirk had tried to hide a wide gash on his arm to avoid medical attention, and Janine kicked him, sending the infuriating male flying toward his destination through the corridors. The rest of the survivors got the memo and stopped fooling around.


    ¡°Marco is not to blame for what happened.¡± The sage frowned, the claws of her good arm scraping against the wall. She had a narrower snout than the most Ice Fangs and bronze-incrusted studs pierced her brow. Lumie was written on her badge, but Janine immediately refused to use that name. ¡°I would¡¯ve never laid the blame on him. I tried to¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord. You injured my soldier,¡± Bertruda said. ¡°Step away from her, and let¡¯s discuss this as reasonable people.¡±


    ¡°If she can¡¯t use her arms to protect the cubs entrusted to her, then she doesn¡¯t need them.¡± Janine raised the paw, her fangs chattering a tune of anticipation, and an urge gripped her stomach, demanding sustenance. ¡°If she can¡¯t use her eyes or her brain, then she has no need for them, either.¡±


    Claws met the blade, failing to reach and scoop the top of the sage¡¯s head. The warlord¡¯s arm bounced off Elegance¡¯s flat, and its edge swayed, pressing against her neck in a single, smooth, almost instantaneous motion, dancing just outside of adding a cut to her neck.


    ¡°You dare?¡± Janine asked in disbelief, raising her arm to stop Martyshkina and the packs from charging the Ice Fangs. They couldn¡¯t begin a civil war, not here. ¡°We fought for you. Our sisters and brothers died to save your cubs. We deserve retribution.¡±


    ¡°And I have nothing but eternal praise for your actions,¡± Bertruda responded calmly, not removing Elegance. Their eyes locked. ¡°This incident will be settled in a civil court¡­¡±


    ¡°To the Abyss with your gratitude!¡± Martyshkina roared. ¡°The sage was given an order and a ward! The price for the sin of complacency is death!¡±


    ¡°This is not the Ice Fangs way.¡± The stubborn sword saint refused to budge. ¡°I will not let my people be slaughtered like cattle.¡±


    ¡°Instead, you would risk an open war between allies.¡± Janine grabbed Elegance under the blade and pulled the spear down, easily overpowering Bertruda. She spoke without anger now; the seething rage in her soul pushed her beyond any reasonable limits of fury. ¡°Had I¡¯ve killed you upon returning, Opul¡¯s victims would¡¯ve died. I was wrong to act rashly and scar you.¡±


    ¡°Janine¡­¡±


    ¡°Silence. Listen to me, Sword Saint,¡± she interrupted her. ¡°Everything has its limits. Think. Think with that prideful skull of yours. You see us as savages, worse than dirt. What if you are right? What if in trying to stop what must be done, in refusing to sacrifice to placate, you spark bloodshed? How many of your kind will die?¡±


    ¡°And how many of yours?¡±


    ¡°Less than yours.¡±


    ¡°Are the lives of your people so cheap to you, Janine?¡± Bertruda asked.


    ¡°They are precious enough for us to die trying to bring justice. I treasure them so much that I am willing to work alongside traitors if it means honoring their principles and legacies.¡± Janine tensed.


    ¡°Then prove it!¡± Bertruda insisted. ¡°Janine, I didn¡¯t understand you. Not at first, and I was wrong. You are, to me, an ideal of duty and devotion, an awe-inspiring example of what we can be! Don¡¯t betray it,¡± she whispered. ¡°Please. Stay true to what is just.¡±


    Am I supposed to sacrifice again? Janine¡¯s grip tightened, her fingers twitching against her will, and blood spurted from her neck. Never before had a leader of the Wolf Tribe tried to stop a punishment by an officer of the Order by threatening violence. Sure, the lesser ranks and even the warlords and sword saints fought each other all the time, often violating the Blessed Mother¡¯s decree and even occasionally dying in duels.


    She sensed the packs¡¯ aggression, watching them shift from leg to leg out of the corner of her eye. Paws reached for shardguns, claws flashed, fangs bared, Martyshkina¡¯s fingers drummed on the revolver¡¯s handle. Bodies crouched, hungrily planning an attack. More Ice Fangs showed in the corridor, sages and defenders, and behind them the hunters blatantly raised their rifles, taking aim.


    So much for the claims of kinship.


    What would Marco and Bogdan have wanted? Janine stopped herself from decking Bertruda. These Ice Fangs, this filth¡­ They had little ones and family waiting for them at home. How would they feel if they learned that their loved ones had died senselessly in battle against the Wolf Tribe while the enemy was knocking at the gates?


    There is no honor in what you desire. They lack the strength of will to bear the sense of loyalty needed to satisfy a monster. But are you a monster or a human? That voice again. She wasn¡¯t sure if the loss of blood was causing her to hallucinate, but Janine thought she heard the Commander speaking in her ear. There was no inquisitorial insistence or condemnation, the Blessed Mother asked thoughtfully, serving more as a witness to verify any answer.


    And Janine chose. Damn the truth and damn being right. There would be no winner and no future for the state if the Wolf Tribe were to abandon unity. Janine brought Elegance to her neck, deliberately wounding herself against Bertruda¡¯s attempt to remove the edge.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°You still have an arm left,¡± Janine said to the sage, not bothering to look down at the sage. Her full attention was on the cold blade sliding up and down her neck, soothing her despite the pain.


    ¡°Janine. Stop,¡± Bertruda said.


    ¡°That¡¯s what you wanted, traitors. To see us hurt. Savor it, then, deceivers.¡± She grinned. ¡°You will fight beside Normies, stripped of your family name, dishonored, ranked lower than the lowest of your foot soldiers. Should you survive the war¡­¡± She pushed Elegance away from her neck and tore the metal lodged in her arm, dropping it before the sage. ¡°Do as honor dictates. Whatever you decide, never approach the villages of the Wolf Tribe or our offspring. Otherwise, devouring. Thus I declared.¡±


    ¡°And so it is heard,¡± Impatient One announced from the rear. ¡°There will be no further vengeance or discontent. Any fool wasting their energy or infighting shall pay the ultimate price. The shamans stand with Warlord Janine!!¡±


    ¡°The warlords join their sister!¡± Martyshkina thumped her chest and spat at the rising sage. The woman didn¡¯t wipe her face and tried to pick up the blade before medics forcibly led her away.


    ¡°The sword saints hear and obey the decree.¡± Bertruda saluted, nodding in thanks. She stomped, breaking the chunk in the silent answer.


    ¡°The verdict has been recorded and added to the Order¡¯s database,¡± Albert said as technicians wheeled away the half-ruined suit. Janine wordlessly wished him a speedy restoration and many worthy battles.


    ¡°Speaking of wasting their energy¡­¡± She thrust her arm into the ranks, grabbing her petulant daughter by the neck. Impatient One squealed and tried to bite the warlord, and Martyshkina chuckled, blocking the shaman¡¯s kick. ¡°Come ¡®ere!¡±


    ¡°I will not be humiliated, Warlord!¡± Impatient One snarled, trying to pry away the fingers.


    ¡°Then you should¡¯ve obeyed the order. Insubordination from the males I understand, but of you I expected better. Fine, if you want to be treated as a little one, I will treat you as one!¡± Janine laughed, easing the tension.


    With a possible massacre averted, Martyshkina howled, long and hard, stretching her voice to the limit, and the packs joined in that cry, begging forgiveness for those they had to leave on the battlefield and mourning the comrades they had lost. Bertruda knelt, encircled by sages and her elite guard, then by knight-captains and knights, and the lesser ranks formed the outer, third, circle. She led a more intimate prayer to the Twins and the Blessed Mother, holding a paw to her chest and intoning the oaths and the names of the fallen while the sages held smoking censers over her head. Several defenders and foot soldiers joined in the wailing, but the sword saint did not reprimand them.


    But the mourning did not last long. After a howl of sadness, there was a burst of jubilation. They felled the enemies, saved the cubs, and several civilians. Sages and surviving shamans of the Martyshkina pack had to physically restrain the scouts, wolf hags, and even several Ice Fangs from dragging the shocked cubs into the celebrations, following the ancient ways. The sages handed out stern disciplinary punishments, while the shamans let their claws do the talking.


    Tables were dragged into the hangar, and drinks¡ªbottles of vodka, cognac, sodas, and juices that the Wolfkins had grown fond of during their stay in Houstad¡ªbegan appearing on them, brought in by the cooks. Tasty-smelling carcasses of genuine cows, bulls, and deer followed, piled high for the soldiers to eat, and the exquisite meat of a white stag that scouts had found. The locals claimed this beast was a sign of luck, so the Wolfkins sent out for food, prioritized hunting it, and now it crowned this feast of excess. In a show of solidarity, Bertruda and Martyshkina broke the softest meat of this rare beast together, raising their fists high in the air to the delight of everyone, but Janine noticed a glimmer of hatred in Martyshkina¡¯s eyes.


    Technicians, engineers, off-duty doctors, civilian officials, black-coated agents, the Brood, and the Horde deserters¡ªno one was shunned away to the curses of the officer in charge. The crowd grew, interfering with the staff¡¯s work, and already the Wolfkins and Ice Fangs began clapping their paws, summoning a knight-captain to tell his story of how he had defeated an ironclad.


    And that was well, Janine decided. The Gilded Horde had tried to strike fear into their hearts. Let them know that the Reclamation Army was made of sterner stuff. As soon as the celebration was over, Marty would begin her merciless training in preparation for the battle.


    Stepping into the spacious halls of the medical bay, Janine sniffed a variety of scents, ranging from the usual tantalizing blood to the repulsive, pungent odors of disinfectant to the sweet tastiness of rot coming from a farmer¡¯s arm, corrupted by gangrene as the doctors sawed it away, while the burly man joked, wondering if he could install a multi-purpose tool in its place. Next to him was Kalaisa, stripped down to her scarred body, hooked up to the mechanical ventilator with a tube down her throat. Two nurses fought to keep her alive under the guidance of an Iternian doctor who had contacted the convoy from his station on Houstad.


    ¡°¡­Your onboard facilities should be able to synthesize the antidote based on the formula.¡± The Iternian clicked his tongue. ¡°What a disgusting sight.¡±


    ¡°She was injured in the line of duty! Show some respect, Mr. Diego!¡± barked the Ice Fang field medic.


    ¡°Honey of my eyes, I in no way intend to insult the patient¡¯s deeds!¡± The display showed the doctor placing a hand over his heart in mock horror. ¡°All women are goddesses and deserve a befitting outward splendor to match their inner beauty. I prescribe the scar removal procedure for our young wolf hag.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think she will agree,¡± the nurse said.


    ¡°Believe me, I know,¡± Diego sighed. ¡°I¡¯ve had my share of unruly patients here. I even had to stop four of them from escaping by using a tranquilizer. That¡¯s why I spend an entire night consulting lawyers from my home while we read through their contracts, line by line. If we use the excuse of acting in the best interest of the patient¡¯s mental health, we are free to schedule the procedure for a later date, regardless of the wolf hag¡¯s wishes.¡±


    ¡°Is it in her best interest?¡±


    ¡°Would you be satisfied if, Planet spare us, you were ugly, o dearest flower of distant lands?¡± Diego noticed Janine and stared at her, examining her short legs, long arms, and bleeding wounds, ignoring the shaman writhing in her paw.


    ¡°No,¡± she stated.


    ¡°That cannot be tolerated, I agree, my wild furball.¡± Diego nodded. ¡°I have no patience for suffering patients, mine or otherwise, so I fix everyone.¡±


    ¡°You must be an excellent doctor,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Sued sixteen times for wasteful spending.¡± Diego waved his hand. ¡°It¡¯s why they stuck me into Houstad; the Family thought I wouldn¡¯t have a chance to overspend here. Hah! They wish! Now I get to abuse both Iterna and the Reclamation Army¡¯s funds! Titanium¡­ no, it won¡¯t be durable enough to support you¡­ tungsten to lengthen legs¡¯ bones until they grow over the implants naturally, then remove scars to smoothen skin, and finally restoration of the bodily hair¡­ Honey, give me two months and all the men will be yours! Or women, if you swing that way.¡±


    ¡°Not unconscious, not giving my permission. Piss off, weirdo!¡± Janine threw to the overenthusiastic doctor. The Iternians were weird. And creeps, the lot of them.


    She stormed inside, ignoring Diego¡¯s demands, and nodded to Kirk and his family. His sister and brother good-naturedly teased the blushing male about missing the party.


    More than the state¡¯s servants worked here. Helpers from the ranks of the refugees joined in, including even four doctors from the Oathtakers. These were the tourists visiting. After they had been rescued, they willingly offered their assistance. Janine knew that she should be grateful for their valiant aid, and she was. Yet at the same time, the sight of a Troll, a type of New Breed very common on the battlefield, tending to the wounded Wolfkins filled her with unease.


    ¡°Not a step further!¡± Dokholkhu jumped from the ceiling.


    ¡°The shaman is here to have her wounds treated. I came to visit¡­¡±


    ¡°Your son, yeah, I know. My condolences; the doctors are operating on him as we speak. It¡¯ll have to wait.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t,¡± growled Impatient One.


    ¡°Bite me.¡± He took them by the arms and grinned as the two refused to move. ¡°You can try to make a scene and be denied patient visits, be maced by the guards, and then have your injuries treated, or you can follow me so we can end the unpleasant procedure swifter. Your choice, Khan.¡±


    ¡°Warlord,¡± Janine corrected him. ¡°Lead the way. When did you turn into a jerk, Dokholkhu?¡±


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s not my fault your tribe is so prone to self-harm, Warlord!¡± His lips twitched, and then the four-legged Malformed, wearing a medical robe wrapped around his waist, tapped nervously. ¡°About your boy. Listen, I am no healer, but I think everything should be fine. Your daughter is already there, so he is not alone if he wakes up.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not fair! I am better than her!¡± Impatient One complained as he led them into a separate compartment and sat them both on the operating tables. ¡°Why is the wolf hag free?¡±


    ¡°She wasn¡¯t hurt that badly. Take better care of yourself, and we won¡¯t have to bother you.¡± Dokholkhu grinned, used a device on the wall to call for a doctor, and then poked his head into the hallway.


    ¡°Thank you for the news, Dokholkhu,¡± Janine said.


    ¡°Just trying to be useful, Warlord. Doctor! Yes, right here!¡±

 Chapter 130: Respite Part 2

    Stitched, bandaged, and dressed, their wounds cleaned, and munching on vitamin bars, the mother and daughter followed their guide to Marco¡¯s room. Anissa was there, kneeling and chanting prayers in a soft voice over the unconscious boy. Like theirs, her fur showed signs of recent washing, and she wore a similar black jacket and blue pants. Ignacy was nervously pacing from one end of the room to the other while a tall and thin Troll in a green medical robe and a nurse finished cleaning the eye sockets.


    But not the eyes. Janine¡¯s fist clenched, nearly drawing blood. Her son no longer had eyes. His lovable, beautiful, gentle and kind eyeballs had been eaten away by the spat venom. My fault. The guilt threatened to buckle the warlord, but she stood still. Marco needed her now more than ever. I will fix it.


    ¡°How is he, Doctor?¡± Impatient One asked, placing a hand on Janine¡¯s chest to feel the heartbeat. She looked sharply at the taller woman, commanding silence. To the outsiders, the warlords had to be untouchable mountains that knew no weakness.


    A rule she had not upheld lately.


    Marco¡¯s stumps and the wound in his side were already treated: the doctors shaved away the fur, stopped the bleeding and covered them in elastic bandages. A nearby terminal projected a steady heartbeat on its display.


    ¡°Short of anything miraculous, the boy will live,¡± said the Troll in a deadly calm voice, without breaking from his task. He spoke without a hint of emotion, but his elongated, gray fingers tended to Marco gently, avoiding causing him pain. ¡°The blood began to clot; the venom lost its battle against the immune system, but we injected the antidote anyway.¡±


    ¡°Antidote?¡± Impatient One asked. ¡°No one offered the warlord one.¡±


    ¡°Your nation didn¡¯t have it then,¡± the doctor said. ¡°A colleague of mine, Maxence I believe his name is, used samples collected from Sword Saint Tancred and Warlord Janine to compare the split used and develop countermeasures. Thanks to the advice of the young man over there, we contacted Houstad and received the formula.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Ignacy forced the words out, and Janine''s paw slapped him on the shoulder in approval. ¡°Marco isn¡¯t that weak, and anyone would¡¯ve thought of it.¡±


    ¡°You were the first. Take pride in your part, Ignacy,¡± Anissa advised him, breaking from her prayers. ¡°Many things are often overlooked in the chaotic times.¡±


    ¡°Agreed. As the Taker of Oath said: Save for God, no person possesses the comprehension to account for everything; therefore, every little voice matters if we are to prosper,¡± the Troll said. ¡°My initial assessment is that it would be safe to wake him in a week and prepare our patient for augmentation.¡±


    ¡°Why is he still unconscious?¡± Janine asked worriedly, seeing how a long metal instrument went into her boy¡¯s eye socket, scrubbing the remains of an eye, and Marco did not even flinch.


    ¡°Healing coma.¡± The doctor paused briefly and pointed to an open book near the terminal, titled ¡°Wolfkin Physiology,¡± with an irritated-looking female who had a spotted black and brown fur coat standing cross-armed in a circle of yellow light. ¡°We recovered many survivors from the battlefields days after the battle and learned much observing their recovery. I¡¯d wish your leaders showed the same mercy.¡± He straightened. ¡°Is Terrific alive?¡±


    ¡°I killed her,¡± Janine answered.


    ¡°Good. Joy. Hope she burns in hell.¡± The doctor leaned closer. ¡°You¡¯re her, right? One of the two who stopped the torture.¡± Janine said nothing, and he shrugged. ¡°My kind owes you, but I am still going to write a report recommending removing the kid from your clutches. Doubtless it will be ignored, but I have a responsibility to at least try.¡± He set aside the instruments and faced the family. ¡°Any offense was intentional. I have seen the scars on the patient¡¯s body.¡± He pressed a finger to Anissa¡¯s nose, stopping her snarl, and continued unabashedly. ¡°With the pleasantries out of the way, how are you two related to the patient?¡±


    ¡°I am his mother. Name¡¯s Janine.¡± She offered to shake his hand, but the Troll ignored her offer. ¡°Why are you treating my son? I thought that the Oathtakers hated us.¡±


    ¡°Mother, please¡­¡± Ignacy said.


    ¡°Be silent, male; the warlord is speaking!¡± Impatient One said.


    ¡°Misconception. Weariness. We despise the Wolf Tribe¡¯s misguided and cruel culture and hated a specific individual, but have nothing against its people. The names of Martyshkina and Janine are spoken with respect back at my home, and our countries are long at peace.¡± The doctor massaged his temples. ¡°You should see a psychiatrist or take a prolonged leave of absence from the war. Preferably both. I am not a specialist, but you seem to have difficulty navigating through the past. Concern.¡±


    ¡°You could afford to be a little more respectful, then, dear ally.¡± Anissa noted, rubbing her nose. ¡°If it weren¡¯t for us, the Horde would have grilled your gray ass.¡±


    ¡°I could, but I won¡¯t, and also thank you for our rescue. But the past grievances are long forgiven, and after your actions, the Trolls welcome any Wolfkin to visit the Land of the Oath as a friend. Sincerity.¡± The Troll looked at Anissa¡¯s artificial eye and stepped closer, shamelessly sliding a finger inside its casket. The wolf hag almost choked on indignation but swallowed her pride and sat, tolerating the adjustment and tinkering with the augment. ¡°As for your question, Warlord Janine, I am the most qualified of the available personnel to treat children. If you plan to voice objections, shove them down your ass, please. The boy¡¯s health is my highest priority. Do any of you have the forty-eighth blood type for a transfusion? Our supplies are running low.¡±


    Janine caught herself liking the doctor. He laid out everything as he saw it and was brutally honest in his opinions. She could trust someone like him with Marco¡¯s fate, even if she¡¯d much rather have Maxence here. She was about to ask the shaman when her daughter stepped forward on her own.


    ¡°I do. Take as much as you need.¡± Impatient One offered her arm.


    ¡°Are you Marco¡¯s sister, by any chance?¡± The doctor asked, calling a nurse for assistance. She seated the tall Wolfkin and cleaned the fur and skin over the artery, while the Troll took a terminal and summoned the shaman¡¯s medical history on the display, skimming through it. ¡°Full of holes, no information about the family. As expected of Reclaimers¡­ Your and Janine¡¯s snouts look a bit similar.¡±


    Anissa tensed, licking her lips and glancing at the shaman. Janine shifted closer to the doctor, preparing to restrain her daughter if she tried to punish the male for such a grave insult, but Impatient One simply sighed, averting her eyes to Marco.


    ¡°Coming from a Troll, that¡¯s¡­ It is common for barbarians to be unaware of our traditions, so I forgive you,¡± she said icily. ¡°Marco and I came from the same womb, but he and I are siblings no longer, even though Colt¡¯s, the male¡¯s father, blood is coursing through our veins.¡±


    ¡°May I stay with him until we reach Houstad?¡± asked Janine.


    ¡°No. Sternly,¡± answered the Troll. ¡°You want to help your kid? Eat, rest, and recover. Make sure he still has a mother waiting for him when he wakes up, and not a sleep-deprived wreck.¡±


    She wanted to rage, to plant her fist into this dispassionate face over the fear of abandoning her cub when he was hurting. But the male was right, and Janine mastered her fear and knelt, touching Marco tenderly, wishing she could pass on her strength and vitality to him. She uttered to him the same simple prayer that a shaman of Terrific¡¯s pack had used to help the little one sleep better.


    Failed to raise him properly¡­ Impatient One¡¯s words came back to haunt her. Arrogant. Oh, how arrogant Janine was, thinking she knew better. She always treated Marco, her dear son, with softness, never disciplining him and always ready to come to his aid. She degraded her son by treating him as if he were less than Bogdan or Ignacy, and in spite of it, Marco had made her proud.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Traditions. No bite, no cruelty lacked meaning. His injury had proven Janine¡¯s parenting methods wrong. If she¡¯d bitten him, if she¡¯d taught him to obey during his last outburst, then Marco would¡¯ve stayed in safety. A little pain in exchange for survival. She did it. Her fault. Her guilt.


    I will make it okay. You¡¯ll be running again. Janine promised, plans already forming in her head. The state had cloning technology, advanced enough to restore lost body parts, even if the price of the treatment was beyond anything Janine could hope to earn in a reasonable time frame, regardless of her meager savings. As a warlord, she enjoyed free access to it, but Marco was out of luck. That was the problem. She would offer to become Till Ingo¡¯s slave if the scientist would pay for her son¡¯s treatment, or she¡¯d sell herself to the Wyrms, or maybe to one of the influential people¡­


    There were variants of how to give her little one back what he had lost without harming the Tribe¡¯s honor. The shamans would understand. She¡¯d lick Ingo¡¯s feet for the rest of her life or be his test subject if necessary. No personal shame was too great to bear for Marco¡¯s sake.


    ¡°The rest of you piss off, too,¡± stated Impatient One, sniffing the nurse. Her fangs flashed when another female touched her disrespectfully, but the shaman composed herself. ¡°Wolf hag! You have duties to attend to while the warlord recovers. Abandon the studies until the end of this crisis. Ignacy¡­ Read a book or make some cubs already; Elzada won¡¯t stay fertile forever.¡± She grinned, permitting casual talk.


    ¡°Says a cubless woman,¡± Ignacy shot back.


    ¡°I did my part, male. What¡¯s your excuse?¡± Impatient One laughed. ¡°You have a mate, she has you, there¡¯s an abundance of food; what more incentive do you need?¡±


    ¡°Education?¡±


    ¡°They are free to attend Normies¡¯ schools.¡± Impatient One waved at him. ¡°At least you think of having cubs. Progress.¡±


    Did your part? Janine wondered, leaving the room and clinging closer to the wall to let a Malformed rush a stretcher with the paralyzed Ice Fang past them into the operating room for surgery. Her daughter often embarked on pilgrimages to visit various holy sites where Ravager¡¯s grace lingered, forever altering the landscape and consigning the unearned bones of lost Wolfkins to the cleansing flame or fashioning talismans out of them. But bearing cubs? Never. Janine would¡¯ve known¡­


    Or would I? Anissa lied about the origin of her injury.


    Each shaman had undertaken such pilgrimages, taking no food or water as they braved the wilderness and desolation through raging sandstorms, poisonous hazards, and sated their hunger on the deadly wildlife. Alone they traveled, watering the areas where the Tribe bled more than ever with their blood. This was a ritual to placate the fallen spirits. The shamans sang songs, intoning the names of every missing Wolfkin to help the stumbling souls navigate their path to the Great Beyond and rejoice that the Tribe thrived.


    A humble and most worthy tradition, and hardly dangerous today. Bases, villages, or entire settlements have sprung up where the battlefields once were, and the sight of a large Wolfkin swooping in to pray and bleed, declining a free stay in a house or food, often puzzled the locals. The Planet¡¯s priesthood in the Outer Lands even incorporated similar pilgrimages into their beliefs, creating a tradition of sending gifts to those in need, bridging distant people together.


    During the spiritual journeys, the shamans began carrying written mail for those too poor to access the Net, growing more embarrassed but striving to fulfill their duties to the utmost. Predaig once had erupted into uncontrollable glee, summoning her named sisters to listen to a recruit¡¯s tale. The Normie told them that the villagers regarded the shamans as heroes, praising them more than even the Ice Fangs for delivering vital medicines and instruments to the farthest reaches and for cleaning the insectoid infestations.


    The image of her daughter striking a heroic pose had made Janine chuckle and earned the four females harsh looks from Lacerated One, but back then she didn¡¯t care. It was, no, it is still funny!


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Thyia¡¯s voice ripped her from the dreams. The woman bowed, pressing a paw to her heart. ¡°Sword Saint Macarius petitions for your presence.¡±


    ¡°I have nothing to say to that traitor. Carry on, Ally.¡± Janine stormed past the woman, frowning and grinding her fangs.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mom!¡± Ignacy mistook her behavior for brooding and slapped her on the back, receiving a smack from Anissa for familiarity. ¡°Marco is a tough cookie and an expert paws.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll gather enough heads of the Horde¡¯s servants to honor his deed with a celebratory pyre,¡± Anissa hissed, closing her natural eye. ¡°Marco enjoys reading those... What are the decadent picture magazines called again?¡±


    ¡°Comics,¡± Janine answered ahead of Ignacy.


    ¡°Comics,¡± Anissa said, almost as if she had tasted the word. ¡°Ignacy. Know how to order stuff online? Capital, get Marco the last batch; I¡¯ll give you the tokens.¡±


    ¡°He lacks eyes, Sis,¡± Ignacy said quietly, shaking from another heavy smack that almost knocked him down. ¡°What was that for?!¡±


    ¡°Because you and Mother are such downers!¡± Anissa bared her fangs at Janine¡¯s intense glare. ¡°Yeah, come on, bring it on, won¡¯t prove me wrong! You act as if his life is over!¡± She tapped at her crimson ocular. ¡°Little Bro got injured. Big fucking deal. Give it time, and he¡¯ll see better than any of us. Legs? Meh, I¡¯ll beat him into submission until he agrees to get prosthetics! Abyss, soon we will all be laughing and teasing him about this incident!¡±


    ¡°If he survives¡­¡± Ignacy never finished the sentence. A kick in the stomach sent him against the wall, and Anissa pinned his neck with the forearm.


    Janine placed a paw on Anissa¡¯s shoulder, warning her to stop any further violence, and nodded to the surrounding staff to assure them that everything was under control.


    ¡°Enough of getting high on despair!¡± Anissa screamed into Ignacy¡¯s ear, her eyes shining yellow and red. ¡°By the Spirits, look around! Yeah, we took a beating.¡± She let go of Ignacy and hugged him. ¡°But know what, brother? The Reclamation Army always prevails! The spirits never give a person a heavier load than she can carry, and who can hope to stand against us when the Blessed Mother herself is our progenitor? We are alive, we exist, and none of us is going anywhere, so stop acting gloomy!¡±


    ¡°Yeah. Yeah,¡± Ignacy said, first with uncertainty, then flashing a genuine smile. ¡°You¡¯re right! In a month, Marco will be hopping around on his new legs.¡± He snapped his fingers. ¡°No dilly-dallying; it¡¯s best to start researching to help cobble something better than the mass-produced version for him. I already have ideas; he¡¯ll love his electric, poison-coated claws, you¡¯ll see!¡±


    ¡°Just make sure they won¡¯t explode,¡± Anissa asked.


    ¡°Ignacy¡¯s arm worked fine.¡± Janine wrapped an arm around Ignacy and rubbed his forehead with her knuckles in thanks. ¡°I trust him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the way! But don¡¯t keep your honey cold, or Elzada will never forgive me for inspiring you.¡± Anissa stuck out her tongue and grinned, taking Ignacy¡¯s fist to the chin. ¡°I expect at least four cousins before the year¡¯s end. Get on to it.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t even had a single cub yourself!¡±


    ¡°Well, forgive me for being too busy to find a mate amidst wars!¡± Anissa retorted, rubbing her chin.


    ¡°Why are you piling up all the responsibility on me and Elzi, then?¡±


    ¡°Elzi?¡± Anissa pressed both paws together. ¡°So cute! Does she call you Igni or something?¡±


    ¡°Who knows more about bouncing back after being knocked down than the Wolfkins?¡± Janine chuckled and hugged both her cubs, lifting them off the floor. ¡°Thank you, Anissa, Ignacy. Assign someone to watch over Kalaisa; it¡¯s not right to have no one by her side.¡± She hurled her daughter, and the wolf hag spun elegantly in the air before landing. ¡°Ignacy, you head to Elzada and aid her however you can.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather join the pack and find a way to gut Brood Lord,¡± Ignacy said seriously.


    ¡°You leave him to me, got it, boy?¡± Janine jerked her son by the nape. ¡°That war is over for you. I¡¯ll collect the bastard¡¯s head and give it to Marco after I¡¯ve punished him for his disobedience. Dismissed!¡±


    There was little left for her to do. The guards refused to let Janine onto the bridge, directing the warlord to rest since Dragena had taken command and Elzada acted as her voice. Disappointed, Janine found Bertruda waiting near the den¡¯s door. The Ice Fang had already changed and was dressed in full civilian garb: a white shirt, pants, a yellow sash around her waist, and a flowing, wheat-colored cape. She came alone, bringing neither knights nor Elegance.


    ¡°Sword Saint,¡± Janine said. ¡°Either command your pack or rest and recuperate. A battle awaits ahead. There is no need for us to breed further enmity.¡±


    ¡°This is precisely why I am here.¡± Bertruda bowed her head and pointed at the door. ¡°May I?¡± Janine didn¡¯t move. ¡°I understand your rage, truly. And offer no apologies, for nothing can erase the guilt and insult done by me and my house. But know this: the Mountaintops will pay for the full restoration of your son. Cloned eyes, legs, everything.¡±


    ¡°Would that be nice?¡± Janine sighed. ¡°Would that be nice to trust you and see you as an ally... as a sister, the way I felt about you when we dueled after defeating Tecno-Queen? To view you as a family, as a kindred soul walking her own way. But that is not to be. Your kind are deal breakers. Liars. Dust-dwellers, barbarians¡­¡± She clanked her fangs, angered at the cub¡¯s insults. ¡°Is this what you teach your youth about us? It is painful, but it is best to know what you think of us. I will never again trust an Ice Fang.¡±


    ¡°Janine, I will speak to the children about their words, but they tried to save¡­¡±


    ¡°Not tried. Saved. And for that, I will tell tales of their heroism once I am home. But the problem remains.¡± She drew a line in the metal wall, concentrating on scratching the inanimate object, not attacking. ¡°I entrusted my son into the Order¡¯s care while my kin died to save yours. Do you seriously expect me to ever believe in the Order again? Sword Saint¡­¡± Janine took herself by the head, pressing a palm against an eye, ¡°¡­at this point, it is no longer a matter of mistrust between the Sword Saints and the Warlords. From where I stand, all your people are traitors.¡± She drew another line, stopping Bertruda from speaking. ¡°As for your offer, I am not a rich person, but if needed, I will sell my body into slavery to help my son. But I would sooner die than accept the Order¡¯s help. Your actions are laced with poison, and I¡¯ve had enough of it.¡±

 Chapter 131: Respite Part 3

    Caikhatu considered himself a simple man. He ruled over a small clan, and the prospect of earning a bountiful patch of land outside of the resource-scarce Steppes interested him. Bondsmen, flesh markets, and such interested him even less than they had his father, may the Sky bless his soul. He knew his limits and avoided attracting the ravenous eyes of the larger vultures, sticking to sure winners to stay alive. When the Khatun sounded her call, he wisely entered Iron Lord¡¯s shadow, believing it to be the safest place where he could avoid politics.


    But sometimes being a simple man no longer sufficed, and a spark of long-quenched ambition raged anew in his broad chest. To survive, he needed to win, and to win, he had to play, putting those of his clan in the camp at risk. And that thrilled him.


    Iron Lord rested in his private train, being repaired and refitted, as his dear ally reported. His future wife had proven herself rather resourceful, fueling Zulfiya¡¯s worries of meeting the same fate as Mehmed. Not to be outdone, Caikhatu soared off on his own hunt.


    Brood Lord, paranoid and cunning as ever, used his sycophants, of whom Caikhatu was a member, to spy on each other, but with his surgical augmentation, he summoned the strongest of them, creating a balance where none could betray him without exposing their backs to their rivals. Phaser pined over his wealth, secretly offering his services to the lesser minions, and a wave of assassinations swept over the khan¡¯s positions. And Drozna fell out of favor, but the man was too wicked and loyal for Caikhatu to draw him into his growing circle.


    Hm¡­ Who is left, then? Whose interests coincide with survival? The lesser khan mused, playfully getting irritated. The Khatun took over the Horde, leading it directly like in the first days of conquest. No traps hindered them; her raiding parties expertly turned any Reclaimers¡¯ ambushes right back on them, culling any resistance. The mindless marauding among Brood Lord¡¯s forces had ceased after the third flaying, and the Horde advanced in a single, unified front, pausing for their last rest before the siege.


    Glorious demise played a huge role in the Horde¡¯s everyday life, carefully fostered by the priesthood. Musicians and drunken soldiers sang legends of the past khans, and many yearned to achieve similar immortality. But the recent losses stirred a dissent of sorts. Here and there, words were hushed about pointless deaths and grumbling over the lost rivals, family, or loved ones.


    After them, Caikhatu hunted and strengthened his ranks. Most believed that he intended to betray Brood Lord and joined him in a desire to avenge their leader¡¯s wastefulness. In a way, they were right. No one sane would¡¯ve challenged Mad Hatter. Not unless they had a demigod of their own.


    He smiled, satisfied with his new khatun. Ashbringer wasn¡¯t bad, a bit too trusting, but well, that¡¯s what a head of chancery was supposed to compensate for. He briefly considered addressing Slavetaker. The man sulked and drank wine while the healers attended to his burns and arm.


    Even sitting, he towered over many of the visitors to his vast flesh market, his eyes hawkishly tracing every deal. Born a simple bondsman, this man had murdered his owner, ripped out her guts, and taken over her clan, building a reputation as a crazed beast who would never forgive a single slight, no matter who did it. His bloodline was of the dirtiest and lowest quality, but after sticking to his principles for so long, even the Purebloods respected him.


    That is why he wasn¡¯t viable. Not unless Iron Lord betrayed him. Widowmaker rested in an orange palanquin with yellow dots, surrounded by her clan of liberated slaves and former bondsmen. They chilled peacefully in the festival area, their patrolling duties done. They welcomed the Purebloods and even the lowliest bondsmen equally, and cheerful songs rang out from their direction from their encampment.


    But occasionally the ornate door of the palanquin opened, and Widowmaker sprang before drunken fools claiming their superiority over the bondsmen. Then a challenge was issued, and if the ambushed party was unwilling to grovel at Widowmaker¡¯s feet, her sword slashed out, creating a corpse.


    Widowmaker, a slave freed at Mad Hatter¡¯s whim, displayed none of the cruelty common to most khans, openly expressing her disgust with slavery and her desire to murder Slavetaker. She was also Sky-kissed in the head and unreliable. The woman had numerous opportunities to take revenge on the one who sold her family by joining one of the many plots against Slavetaker, but she never did, blindly obeying the Khatun until her debt was repaid.


    Too risky, Caikhatu decided. He wouldn¡¯t get involved with someone whose motives he couldn¡¯t understand. His eyes spied out his target. A lithe figure in a bright crimson bodysuit, with a chest painted in domino¡¯s colors. Heika, the remaining assassin of Brood Lord. She weaved around tents, often avoiding patrols, wandering through the camp as if at random, but never escaping his sight.


    He wasn¡¯t that stupid to assume it was thanks to his skills.


    They came to a row of storage crates in the south of the camp, not far from the circle of a defensive line. Skewered on spikes, the dead eyes of the Reclaimers saboteurs silently warned Caikhatu of the price of failure. He walked under them, exchanged a few jokes with a patrol, and squeezed into a space between two crates, watching the bright crimson disappear ahead.


    The tunnel led him to a small clearing ahead. A weary band of leaderless misfits gathered there, warming their palms over a small fire and sharing bowls of arkhi, while a carcass of a horned animal turned over the flames, spreading its delicious aroma.


    ¡°My sister died earlier today,¡± a Pureblood said bitterly, tearing a leg from a prepared animal, and to Caikhatu¡¯s surprise, a bondsman sitting nearby put a hand on the man¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Their cannons fired and fired, and Brood Lord kept throwing us after that freak Drozna. She was injured and suffocated on those damned fumes.¡±


    ¡°And Mad Hatter was nowhere to be seen,¡± another bondsman hiccuped, spitting out her broken tooth. ¡°What¡¯s the point of getting riches if we die before we can even spend it?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t utter her name! It¡¯s the khatun for the likes of us!¡± the Pureblood gasped, looking anxiously at the most unusual members of this dissatisfied gathering.


    Priests. Hidden by the shadows, Caikhatu experienced a small shock. A woman and two men, dressed in gray robes and gold chains, shared the fire with the soldiers. The fair-skinned woman¡¯s legs resembled avian feet, stout and strong, black and ending in talons. Sharp feathers covered the arms of her companions, and beaks served as mouths.


    ¡°Or what?¡± The bondsman wiped her dirty mouth, twitching as she touched a pus-covered boil growing on a poorly treated cut on her lip. ¡°She¡¯ll kill me? We¡¯ll die either way in constant wars of this crazy bitch, and her lapdogs and fresh fools are ready to replace us. Don¡¯t look at me like that! When was the last time you woke up without an ache in yer bones or free of fever?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± The Pureblood stopped, casting a pleading look at the priests. ¡°She didn¡¯t mean anything disrespectful. We understand that¡­¡±


    ¡°Dalantai may have been wrong to anoint her,¡± the priestess spoke with a voice of a raven¡¯s cry mingled with perfect human speech. ¡°Mad Hatter claims to serve the Sky, yet she lets the disbelievers prosecute her conquests and disappears when the faithful need her most. The blessing, if there was any to begin with, is wasted on her, and Dalantai trails after her like a chick, worshiping her instead of setting her straight.¡±If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    ¡°Much good these lands have brought us,¡± said her companion, picking a handful of soil with a bandaged, three-fingered hand. ¡°Ground to bury our best.¡±


    ¡°Even that is uncertain.¡± The third priest tried to lift his left arm, gave up, and reached for a bowl with his right. ¡°If Iron Lord keeps having his way, we won¡¯t even have ruins. Glass underfoot, what a reward!¡±


    ¡°Destroying an entire settlement. Insanity,¡± the Pureblood nodded, growing braver. ¡°Dalantai should¡¯ve ended him for such heresy.¡±


    ¡°If corpses you want, then it isn¡¯t evening yet,¡± a cold voice brought pale color to the Pureblood¡¯s skin.


    Heika jumped from a container and landed directly on the animal carcass, smashing it and spraying flames at the gathering. A priest raised her hand, redirecting floating fiery surge and pieces of wood back at the assassin, but a shimmering, blurry wall of swift dagger strikes hid her briefly, shielding her from damage.


    ¡°Dissent,¡± Heika accused, stepping over the meat and advancing at the limping Pureblood. ¡°Disloyalty. Disrespect. Calls for the death of your superior. I wonder, how far are you from the open rebellion, curs? Or is hoping that your betters will do the dirty deed for you, all you are good for?¡±


    ¡°Their deaths won¡¯t bring your brother back!¡± Caikhatu called, daring to step into the open before the group reached for their weapons.


    Now he understood why Heika had led him here. She had assumed that Brood Lord didn¡¯t trust her and had assigned him to watch over her. To prove her loyalty, she brought him to a group of potential rebels to soak her weapons in their blood.


    A good plan, and perhaps it was wise to sit this one out, cutting costs, but Caikhatu sensed a resentment in Heika¡¯s last sentence. There was a tiny chance here, and he decided to gamble.


    The crimson-clad figure crashed into him, beating him off his footing and slamming Caikhatu into the crate with an unexpected strength, pressing a dagger coated in poison, designed to kill even the finest purebloods, to his neck. Hateful eyes looked at him from behind the split mask.


    ¡°Mind repeating what you said, lackey?¡± Heika asked in a honeyed tone, unsheathing the second dagger.


    ¡°My death also won¡¯t bring you peace,¡± Caikhatu said, gulping against his will. Sweat rolled down his forehead under his collar; he leaned back, desiring to merge with the slightly rusty crate. Anything to escape the death hidden in her weapon.


    The dagger didn¡¯t move.


    ¡°He¡­ he brought you into that place alone and sicced you on unworthy targets, as if you were mere watchdogs.¡± Caikhatu licked his lips, trying not to squeal. ¡°Then you had to escape the place on your own. Did you even know about the coming explosion? Did any of our leaders bother to tell you of the danger? Is this any way to treat a loyal blade? The Reclaimers killed your brother, but who was it that put you in harm¡¯s way without support or cover?¡±


    For a long time, he thought himself dead. There was little beside hatred in Heika¡¯s eyes; the assassin desired, almost needed, to kill. She took several rasping breaths; waves passed across the fabric of her costume from shuddering and spasming; the poisoned edge danced and danced near his neck, preparing to bite.


    Then Heika released him and stepped back, not bothering to look at the crowd. He quickly gestured for the priests to relax and for the Pureblood to lower his gun.


    ¡°You have five minutes. If I won¡¯t like what you say, you are dead. If anyone tries to escape, they¡¯ll share my brother¡¯s fate.¡±


    Caikhatu smiled and wiped the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand. Miracles I perform for you, Khatun Ashbringer, lesser Khatun Janine¡­


    ¡°We all know who is the source of our woes.¡± He walked to the center, picked up one bowl still containing a little arkhi, and offered it to Heika. The woman took it. ¡°Liar and betrayer leads us. Why should we serve him? You spoke of fate, but what destiny other than destruction waits for us under his leadership? Brood Lord will never value anyone other than himself. My friends, I offer you another path, not of death, but of revenge and survival¡­¡±


    ****


    Stupid Normies. Bothersome, meddling Troll. Impatient One frowned, examining the chocolate bars on a tray next to vegetables and two steaks. The doctor had given her a simple choice after she had donated her blood. Either she would eat this ¡°balanced diet¡±, or he would remove her from the front due to her injuries. She tore a wrapper and watched the recording for the tenth time, praying to the Spirits that she was wrong.


    She had visited Soulless One in Houstad, admitting her inadequacy in setting Janine straight and her hubris in visiting Camelia, intending to create a true alliance between their groups. The older shaman gave her a simple penance, a hundred days without tasting sugar, wine, or other sweets. Only water and simple food. And she had already broken that oath she had sworn to her wise mentor.


    Impatient One commandeered a small room with a small terminal and turned on the records of the latest battles, diligently writing the last seconds of the fallen Wolfkins. No kinsman could remain unaccounted for. Later, other shamans would pass these records on to the orphaned cubs and offer them guidance. After completing her chronicle, she returned to a single moment that had haunted her, and a shiver ran down her spine.


    The floor shook, and Impatient One, distracted from watching, turned the armchair to the entrance. A pale snout showed from the darkness of the room; a little crimson fluff covered the white scalp, and a half-grown eyelid tried to close around the eye. Alpha, the strongest warlord, bowed, wearing a patchwork mesh of several coats sewn together to accommodate a Wolfkin of her size. Several of her injuries still steamed through bandages.


    Alpha had appeared half an hour ago, passing through the ranks of the soldiers unseen and unannounced, leaping high into the air as she approached the fortress and landing with a thunderous crash atop it. The sour warlord gave the guards a few pointers on how to improve the perimeter, then went to talk to her named sisters. Impatient One knew little of what they were talking about, but since Martyshkina and Janine remained unharmed, the three parted on friendly terms.


    ¡°You called, Shaman.¡± It wasn¡¯t a question. More indignation at having to answer the summoning of an unproven junior like Impatient One.


    She slipped off the armchair and knelt, praising the superiority of her sister and establishing the hierarchy. Alpha straightened and pointed at the food with her jaw. Impatient One scowled but resumed eating.


    ¡°Shamans of the Martyshkina¡¯s pack are overworked. Lacerated One assigned me to the memorial task, and I need an experienced opinion,¡± the shaman said bluntly, eating a crunchy nut nougat bar.


    ¡°Spiritual matters are not my forte,¡± Alpha answered and came closer.


    ¡°But this is.¡± She stopped the frame where Anissa stood over the dead clown in Opul, with the cubs and Kalaisa near her. A trembling claw tapped on the screen, drawing Alpha¡¯s attention to the important part. Plates bulged. Hard. And then the bulge receded, disappearing faster than the eye could follow. ¡°Is it the result of the reward? They defeated a mighty enemy.¡±


    ¡°It may as well be,¡± Alpha said slowly, watching the screen without blinking. ¡°I didn¡¯t smell anything out of the ordinary when I got on board.¡±


    ¡°Thank the Spirits!¡± Impatient One clenched her paws together. ¡°Oh, thank you for your mercy! The Supreme Shaman must be informed.¡±


    ¡°Obviously. If there is even a sliver of a chance that¡­ Shouldn¡¯t the shamans be happy about it?¡± Alpha asked, keeping her eyes on the image.


    ¡°Well, maybe I am a shitty shaman who doesn¡¯t want to lose any more kin even to divinity!¡± Impatient One shot back, frustrated by the situation.


    Lacerated One often began to call her for various odd duties after Impatient One delivered news about the incompetence of their sister tasked with raising Kalaisa. The inspection of various establishments in Houstad to form a verdict on whether or not they were a dangerously decadent influence. Direct involvement with tokens. Was she being shunned for ratting out on a fellow shaman? Was that a sort of humiliation tactic?


    A call from the warlord demanded her immediate attention, and Impatient One excused herself, quickly finishing food, gathering the letters she had prepared, and heading for the exit.


    ¡°Impatient One, was it?¡± Alpha called her. ¡°You would care for any sister?¡±


    ¡°And brother. I¡¯ll shield the good, guide the lost, and direct the bad,¡± Impatient One answered, reciting the vow of the first shaman.


    ¡°And if you ever make a mistake?¡± the warlord asked, staring at the screen.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll own it and apologize.¡±


    ¡°Even if it hurts your pride or goes against your ideals?¡±


    ¡°My pride is not an injury to kill me,¡± laughed Impatient One, genuinely amused at the question. As if Alpha or Janine would do anything less! ¡°And the truth doesn¡¯t give a damn about personal prejudices. Only the Tribe¡¯s well-being and our obligations to the state matter.¡±


    Alpha grumbled and said: ¡°Then perhaps you are not a shitty shaman, girl. Call me a Normie or an Ice Fang. I¡¯ll need paws here.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± Impatient One turned near the doors, her heart pounding. ¡°I thought we agreed that this wasn¡¯t it.¡±


    ¡°Humor me.¡± Alpha shook her shoulders, standing with her back to the shaman. ¡°In my condition, I am not fit to command yet, but I must review certain actions on the battlefield. Rest, sister.¡±

 Chapter 132: Respite Part 4

    ¡°Is something wrong, Warlord?¡± Impatient One asked when Janine asked her to stay.


    Janine did little to change the place; she just carefully gathered up the carpets and placed them in the corner. It felt wrong to stain the gorgeous cloths or ruin the exquisite tapestries with the blood that seeped from under her bandages as she scratched furiously in her sleep. With the Taleteller in paw, she slept and woke up reinvigorated and ready for anything.


    Immediately after waking, she checked her pack and was slightly disappointed to learn that Anissa had already visited both the armory and the wounded, completing both their duties. After eating and talking to Alpha, Janine had summoned Impatient One, who arrived with letters to be sent directly to the families of the deceased Wolfkins in each pack. Janine read the condolences, added her own touch and scent, and signed them, grieving for the lost.


    ¡°Just Janine between us. Sit with me, Yennifer.¡± Janine pointed to the floor.


    The eruption of aggression didn¡¯t come a second too late. A kick that aimed fully released claws at the warlord¡¯s eyes was stopped by a paw that grabbed the shaman¡¯s ankle. Janine pulled her daughter closer, knocking her off balance and pinning the smaller woman to the ground, biting at her neck.


    ¡°You dare? You dare use that name?¡± Impatient One roared, trying to elbow the opponent.


    Ignoring the pointless struggle, Janine sank her fangs deeper, forcing the shaman to relearn a very important lesson. Skills, knowledge, and determination¡ªall these factors played important roles in war. A fight could be won by blinding the enemy. The correct usage of every pack member¡¯s talents inevitably led to victories, despite differences in numbers. And a stubborn refusal to die could lead to a survival against all odds.


    But all this was useless in the face of overwhelming power. The Wolfkins sought pure, primal might. For without power, it wasn¡¯t possible to do or change anything. Janine held Impatient One in the hold, blooding her neck until the fierce girl submitted, accepting the victor.


    ¡°What do you want, Mom?¡± Yennifer asked, and the jaws released her. She accepted a cloth to clean her neck and exhaled as if a weight dropped from her shoulders and her posture shifted. She straightened her shoulders, crouching no longer, tossed her hair back, and grinned mischievously, shedding the readiness and seriousness of her position.


    ¡°You mentioned that you did your part.¡± Janine furrowed her brows. ¡°Elaborate.¡±


    Yennifer rolled her eyes, sighing, her fingers twitching, and cracked her neck. A loser obeys the winner. Shaman or wolf hag, every Wolfkin respected that sacred tenet, never disputing it and understanding the strength of the bond forged by shared brawls. They learned their place in a pack and in the world, constantly self-improving to avoid letting the ruling structure grow stale.


    ¡°Have you ever wondered why there are so many motherless curs living in our villages?¡± Yennifer asked, looking at Janine with warmth in her amber eyes. Her elbow touched the floor, and she rested her head on the fist. ¡°Shamans cut their ties with their families and surrender their names to ascend above petty notions of personal glory and focus on what is truly important. That is the said-out-loud part, which leaves us with the fact that it is unwise to remove fertile females if we truly care for the future,¡± she chuckled, pressing a paw to her mouth. ¡°I¡¯m surprised no one noticed it earlier.¡±


    ¡°How many?¡± Janine demanded to know.


    ¡°Counting the stillborn and those who died? Ten,¡± Yennifer answered. ¡°Two litters. The first was... difficult. Six still live to this day.¡±


    ¡°Congratulations, Yenni!¡± Janine leaned back and hugged her daughter, and Yennifer returned the hug. ¡°Where are they?¡± Grandchildren! Six of them! Boys or girls, who cared? Marco, Anissa and Ignacy will be so happy to meet their cousins! ¡°Are they healthy? What are their names? Do they need any help? How soon can we meet them?¡±


    ¡°Never.¡± Yennifer flipped her off, stopping Janine¡¯s lunge. ¡°You can kill me, Mom, but I¡¯ll never tell you or anyone. Upon birth, our cubs are taken away before we can even scent them. In secret they are delivered to a village chosen at random and left in the care of their parent. Don¡¯t worry, they are certainly happy with my mate.¡± She smiled, more shyly this time, and quickly banished it in favor of the previous smug grin.


    ¡°But¡­ why?¡± Janine asked, stunned. ¡°These are cubs! Family! Pack!¡±


    ¡°You dare ask why?¡± Impatient One rose, looming over the warlord. ¡°Are you truly this oblivious? My callous nepotism caused Marco to grow disobedient, and he was hurt.¡± She paced back and forth, sniffing and growling. ¡°Think it was easy for me to give them up? No, it wasn¡¯t. There is not a day when I don¡¯t think of them, but not knowing their muzzles, I learn to think of you all as my cubs. The shamans must be beyond reproach, pure, and dedicated. If not, well, you know what happens. If I commit faults now, imagine what disaster I would¡¯ve caused over my cubs if they were nearby?¡±


    ¡°What happened with Marco wasn¡¯t your fault, Yennifer,¡± Janine said. ¡°You are not to blame.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure, feed me more cusackshit!¡± Impatient One said the words, but the intonation unmistakably belonged to Yennifer. It was as if the two different personalities had overlapped, and together they had dented the floor with a frustrated punch. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Warlord, I am not berating myself for what Brood Lord did. Not that dumb. But the fact remains. Marco disobeyed a direct order, and that is on me. Soulmates around the tribe barely have time to raise their cubs properly, and who can blame you? Our wars are countless, and soulmates entrust the most precious to our care, denying themselves a chance to hold their own¡­¡±


    She stopped, grabbed her sides, and breathed hard. A shadow passed over the Impatient One¡¯s snout, then her eyes closed, opened, and she coldly met Janine¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°The world is a dangerous place. One day it won¡¯t be so, but for now it is a fact. Even here, in the Core Lands, the little ones sometimes go missing or are kidnapped, and very few of them are ever found. Their future, their safety, is our responsibility; if they suffer, it is because we have failed them. As such, they must be taught the basics of survival. End of discussion. With your permission, Warlord? I need to assist Alpha.¡±This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    Janine nodded and closed the door behind her daughter, a silly, broad grin forming on her lips. Grandchildren! Both Bogdan and Yennifer!


    Oh, how stupid, how insensitive she¡¯d been when her little princess needed all the support she could muster, but that was over now. She¡¯d find them and make sure they were okay. No scent... No problem; the harder the task, the better it sharpened the mind.


    Other warlords must know. She picked up her axe and went to meet Martyshkina, since two of her own girls were serving in the far north, finding cozy and safe areas to establish villages during the future migration into the Ravaged Lands. Her legs squeezed into cargo pants, she put on a simple buttonless jacket with long sleeves and looked in the mirror, planning to visit Marco one more time before Houstad.


    A time to fight and kill was upon them. She intended to ensure the survival of her allies and victory.


    They had a lot to live for.


    ****


    A dim circle of light trapped her, and darkness reigned outside its yellow rim. Confused and curious, she tried to remember who she was and glanced at a limb. A hand. No. A paw. A flood of memories poured in at that realization, bursting the dam inside her brain and forcing Kalaisa to gasp for air and cling to the spot of her wound.


    Nothing. Smooth skin and fur. Even her scars, the proud medals of her existence, vanished.


    Fury. It shuddered her; the urge to maim and kill clenched her fists, her lips curled, and she howled as she heard the scraping of metal, and brass gates grew from the darkness, piercing its veil as it was a water surface. They stood featureless, covered in scratches and notches. Twin braziers illuminated these ugly slabs, and even with her enhanced eyesight, the wolf hag couldn¡¯t make out anything deeper in the dark.


    A loud step came from behind the gates, and Kalaisa tensed, prepared to defend herself. The first step was cautious, the toes of the foot tasting the darkness, and then a cacophony of stomping filled everything, accompanied by a rabid giggling as something truly immense danced on the outside, bringing unholy visions.


    Kalaisa saw a field covered in bodies, their limbs twisted, skin peeled away to expose nerves to the wind, and their mouths sucking air in agony, living despite their ribs pried back from the chest to set wicked crests onto the poor souls¡¯ backs. She quailed, repulsed by the disgusting sight, and tried to retreat when paws, so much larger than her own and devoid of fur, rose up of their own accord and closed in on Warlord Ashbringer¡¯s neck.


    Ashbringer ended up being cast down, and the creature mounted her.


    Kalaisa fantasized about a rematch. She dreamed of a time when she would beat Ashbringer in a single move, returning the humiliation. But the wishes that flooded her mind were something else, something she had never desired. Kalaisa no longer cared about winning or losing; these concepts had lost their meaning to her. Even her anger was gone, no longer meaningful. She laughed, enjoying every act of inflicting pain and living in the moment. She wanted to kill Ashbringer or kiss her or invert her. Endless possibilities vied for the right to be realized.


    The warlord retaliated, spearing Kalaisa through with a single stab, and that made her laugh from joy. The mortal wound in her chest closed, trapping Ashbringer¡¯s arm inside the regrown breastbone, and the clawed paw grabbed the woman by the jaws, opening them wider and wider until she heard a wonderful snap. Bliss, unrivaled by anything, set her brain on fire, and Kalaisa¡¯s fingers found eyes, her own and the gurgling warlord¡¯s, and tore them out.


    More obscenities came. A dream of Marco¡¯s restored body, a feat done by her genius. She had given the boy a minute to lament his dead family and swallowed him whole, hearing the boy dissolve in her stomach. A throne of throbbing organs, connected by veins and secured by bones taken from all around her, awaited her. A seat fit for a queen, fashioned by her paws. Through these horrors, Kalaisa heard it.


    A knock. The creature on the other side tapped softly on the gate, pleading to be let out, promising the existence of a never-ending excess of fun.


    ¡°No!¡± Kalaisa roared, pressing her own claws to her heart. ¡°I refuse! I will never, ever hurt my family or my pack again! Back! Away from my head, demon!¡±


    It giggled and then laughed, its voice echoing from the very darkness, without malice or anger, and their consciences briefly joined. How could the locked creature hate Kalaisa? The outcome was irrelevant; it adored every decision the stupid girl made and loved her for it.


    But being imprisoned here is no fun. It spoke directly into her mind, communicating with words now instead of feelings or visions. Or not. We¡¯ll be one in time. Or not. Who cares? Get the fuck out of here and do whatever, little me. Sleep is for the weak. In time I''ll be you and you''ll be me and we''ll be one and I''ll be all and you''ll be naught...


    Kalaisa¡¯s snarl made the gate disappear, crack before her eyes. They merged with the darkness, slipping to her left and right, unraveling and exposing her to a void filled by a softer, white light in the distance. She longed for it and lunged forward¡­


    Right into a stinging pain that shook her head back onto the pillow. Blinking away accidental tears, the wolf hag touched her nose, sensing the broken cartilage. She lifted her eyes to see Anissa standing beside her, eyebrows raised and a fist prepared for another strike, standing near her.


    ¡°What was that for, douchebag?¡± Kalaisa groaned, her poor nose throbbing with heat.


    She found herself in the brightly lit room of the mobile fortress. The lighting itself was adjusted to be bright enough but not irritating to her eyes, and there were doctors treating patients nearby. A soiled and wet blanket covered Kalaisa¡¯s legs, and her chest was studded with sensors that transmitted her condition to the nearby terminal.


    ¡°You shouted and your jaws snapped, so I thought you were having a go at me,¡± Anissa mumbled, rubbing the back of her head. An Ice Fang nurse shoved her aside, checking the broken nose. ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Feel like crap,¡± Kalaisa complained. She closed her eyes in pleasure as the Ice Fang set her nose back with a crack and inhaled through blood. ¡°Hey, it works again! Thanks, Miss! Also¡­¡± The Ice Fang caught her paws, not letting her touch the nose or the wound as the wolf hag looked down. ¡°I don¡¯t think my blood is clotting.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t, but it will,¡± the nurse promised. ¡°Your immune system is recovering. Take it easy.¡±


    ¡°I am hungry. And I think I pissed and shit myself.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll clean you in a minute, don¡¯t worry,¡± the Ice Fang said. ¡°Don¡¯t be hasty, just a few check-ups¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll help!¡± Anissa volunteered. ¡°Kind of feel bad about the punch. My mistake.¡±


    ¡°Mistake?!¡± The nurse exploded. ¡°I¡¯m calling the guards!¡±


    ¡°Hey, I was helping around; cut me some slack!¡±


    ¡°Yep. It happens. Forgiven,¡± Kalaisa¡¯s vision blurred, and she tried to focus. ¡°Argh! Like a cub! Annoying! Anyway, why are you here? I thought you despised me. Wait, how is Marco?!¡± She would¡¯ve stood up if the nurse hadn¡¯t restrained her.


    Lost to an Ice Fang. And Anissa saw it. Fantastic.


    ¡°You assume too much,¡± Anissa said with a smile. ¡°My brother will be fine. I check on him from time to time, but I shooed your brother away so he would get a normal sleep.¡±


    ¡°Wow,¡± Kalaisa said gladly. ¡°Just¡­ Wow. You know, I think they shielded me from something. Don¡¯t remember what¡­ Say, what¡¯s the best way to become a good person?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be a bitch.¡± Anissa replied.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying!¡± Kalaisa grinned and twitched as the medic started to change the bandage. ¡°Also, you owe me a match, so don¡¯t you dare die on me, Ani, got it?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll survive you if you keep acting like an idiot,¡± Anissa said. ¡°I¡¯ll go grab us some food. Ever tried coffee? Want me to tell your family you are awake?¡±


    ¡°Nah, let them rest¡­ Wait, I thought you were going to help me clean up?¡±


    ¡°Do you want food or not?¡±

 Chapter 133: Respite Part 5

    ¡°What¡¯s gnawing you?¡± T asked, twirling a chain in his hand. He threw it at a crate and ducked, grabbing his head as the blunt hook bounced right back at him. ¡°Ouch.¡±


    ¡°Retard,¡± Jay noted as a bruise grew on T¡¯s forehead.


    ¡°Glad to hear you finally admitted your flaw. Don¡¯t worry, I am sure even a Normie can find a job,¡± T said, coiling the chain around his forearm. ¡°How about scraping shit from toilet seats?¡±


    ¡°And put you out of business? Never.¡± Jay grinned. ¡°By the way, I heard that the Sunblades released a new card pack.¡±


    ¡°No shit?!¡± T cried, facing Jay. ¡°What¡¯s its name and element?¡±


    ¡°Troll King. Green.¡± Jay took himself by the chin and looked up. ¡°While you were sulking, I asked one of the noble pups about it, and they showed it to me. Legit cards, no printed shit. Its strongest card is called Mind Goblin.¡±


    ¡°Mind Goblin?¡± T repeated. ¡°What¡­¡±


    ¡°Mind goblin these nuts?¡± Jay asked innocently.


    ¡°Asshole!¡± T roared, swinging his chain, and the other laughing boy ducked under it. ¡°Screw you! I walked right into that one!¡±


    ¡°See, I was right about the retard part!¡±


    ¡°Double screw you!¡±


    The wolves brought them into the mobile fortress, leaving them in the care of a white-furred sage. The woman had introduced them to other kids, but after T heard of several boys talking about their parents, he began to sulk, and Jay secretly escorted him away to cheer him up. T had used that weird power of his to summon a clone who was currently occupying a toilet, while the boys sneaked into a hangar on the lowest level and lied to the technicians about getting permission.


    Jay wasn¡¯t sure if they were believed, but a friendly mechanic gave them a tour of the area, during which they pocketed this chain and a hook.


    This kingdom of machinery was awesome! Assembly lines snaked from one hall to another, carrying damaged suits of armor, while mechanical arms floated around them, dancing akin to sand snakes. Then they stabbed, and sparks flew, and a seam replaced a gash in a plate. Occasionally they brought modules with them, as the technician explained, and installed them after extracting damaged parts from the suits.


    And the sounds! He had half expected it to be noisy in here, but the cracking and grinding of the outside never reached here, and glowing generators emitted a pleasant, almost reassuring hum, and the pounding of automated pistons filled his heart with awe at the knowledge of how much stuff was manufactured here. Engineers, retainers as they called themselves, even showed and later let them assemble a simple batch of automatic pistols using one of the consoles.


    When T had asked why they didn¡¯t do it themselves, the shift supervisor, a dark-skinned woman in orange overalls who had four fingers replaced with multipurpose augmentations, had sat the boys down and let them assemble a gun by themselves. They had followed the instructions to the letter and finished in five minutes, winning a bottle of soda and chocolate. While the two ate, the woman had shown them how much faster the assembly was.


    Jay loved this place and immediately pleaded for permission to stay here and do serious things instead of playing, and the supervisor sent one of her own to ask their teacher, who was probably freaked out after T¡¯s clone had disappeared. Meanwhile, the workers took the boys to the break room and closed the door.


    ¡°Are you going to answer the question, or shall I whip you?¡± T sent the chain spinning.


    ¡°No need to show me them dominatrix moves. I was thinking of Halina,¡± Jay admitted and dropped onto the couch, throwing protective goggles at T before he could blind himself with his damn toy. After a second of thought, he put the goggles on as well.


    ¡°Lovebirds,¡± T teased. ¡°Bet you think of sitting under a tree and holding her hand, chatting about¡­¡±


    ¡°Envy is bad, T,¡± Jay laughed, picturing the scene. ¡°Keep up the heroics, and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll find a girl, too.¡±


    ¡°I am not doing heroics.¡± T frowned, and the chain stopped; its end dropped to the ground. ¡°Heroes accomplish stuff. They save people and don¡¯t let others die. Even if they lose, they¡¯re not useless like me.¡± He pursed his lips.


    ¡°Don¡¯t sell yourself short; you saved our bacon out there.¡± Jay tried to cheer him up, but T started to pout again. ¡°Why the chain, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Range.¡± T blinked and hurled the hook at the wall. He smiled, catching it safely as it bounced back. ¡°Knife gets me caught all the time.¡±


    ¡°Then use a pistol.¡± Jay shrugged.


    ¡°No one is giving me one!¡± T kicked a table, and the boys rushed to save their soda from spilling. ¡°Listen, I thought it through.¡±


    ¡°Just like you did with the soda,¡± Jay complained, wiping the table clean. It felt wrong to mess up the place when everyone had welcomed them so warmly. He reached out and grabbed the chain, pulling T closer to him. ¡°See? What if this happens?¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t be a problem!¡± T assured him. ¡°When I split, my other self carries everything that I had on myself. So if everyone tries to drag me closer, my clones will lacerate the bastard¡¯s neck until he lets me go. It¡¯s a perfect weapon!¡±


    ¡°Which gave you a bruise.¡± Jay checked the reddish skin on his friend¡¯s head. ¡°Use a grenade. Imagine a clone popping up; it rushes to the bad guy, and boom! No more bad guy!¡±


    ¡°And where will I get a grenade? I tried to nick¡­¡±


    ¡°Wait, you tried what now?¡±


    ¡°But everyone watches the weapons hawkishly. They are worse than Miss Williams and her no-knife policy!¡± T landed on the chair and gulped down a glass of soda, then chewed on a sausage. ¡°She thought I¡¯d cut myself,¡± he complained. ¡°Can you believe that shit? She kept checking my arms every morning. Stupid. Why would I want to cut myself? I want to stab them!¡±


    ¡°T,¡± Jay said softly, sitting nearby. He knew little of his friend¡¯s past. T was stingy with details and guarded his past stubbornly, but his occasional whimpers during sleep had told enough. ¡°I can listen.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t change the topic.¡± T pointed a fork at Jay and then tried to steal his sausage from the tray. The boys¡¯ forks clashed, and T backed off, not using his full potential as a New Breed. ¡°You. Halina. I thought we were friends. Did you seriously think I¡¯d be jealous just because you found a girl?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that, dummy!¡± Jay¡¯s smile disappeared. ¡°I asked an operator to call Houstad, since her convoy should have been there.¡± He clenched his fingers.


    ¡°Should have been?¡±


    ¡°They made it,¡± Jay quickly reassured him. ¡°Miss Williams was worried sick, but most of the group is there. Except Halina. She entered Houstad, but the place is almost empty, and no one knows where she is¡­¡±This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°I¡¯m in,¡± T said, scratching his nose. ¡°What? She told the wolves of us. Who knows, if not for her we might¡¯ve been skinned. I owe her that much. And besides¡­¡± He smiled mischievously, elbowing Jay. ¡°Don¡¯t want to see you cry that your girl¡­¡±


    ¡°She is not my girl,¡± Jay said hastily.


    ¡°¡­Gone missing. Okay, big brain, any ideas on how we are going to slip awaaa¡­.?¡± A whoosh of the opened door interrupted him.


    An armored figure stomped inside, one of the white wolves assigned to watch over their group, and the chief engineer followed the sage. Keen crimson eyes glanced over the boys.


    ¡°How did you wind up here?¡± the wolf asked in a pleasant, warm baritone.


    ¡°We got lost,¡± Jay lied instantly. ¡°We turned left from the restroom and followed the same corridors as usual, but this time there was a stairwell and we had no idea, so we¡­¡±


    ¡°The right way was to the right,¡± the wolf said without a hint of annoyance, then blinked and crossed the room faster than Jay could breathe. The cape flapped behind the armor as cold fingers touched T¡¯s jaw, moving his head toward the light.


    ¡°Kiddo didn¡¯t have it when we left them here,¡± said the supervisor.


    ¡°You left the children unattended.¡± The crimson eyes shifted, looking at the chain. ¡°Did you try to chain them, you hoodlums?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± Jay, T, and the woman yelled in unison.


    ****


    The thick adamantine door rippled; the image of the Twins holding up the sun on it glowed brightest yellow, and a seam appeared on the previously solid surface. It slid to the left and right, allowing First to enter the Hall of Remembrance, the holiest place in the entire Order. Cool air poured from within, enveloping the approaching Grandmaster, and the rime cracked beneath his feet.


    Automatons rushed to attend to him, reverently touching his skin to read the genetic codes, and red light scanned him from head to toe, searching for any abnormality. His identity confirmed, the turrets designed to disintegrate an intruder disappeared, and the ancient mechanism illuminated the place with the brightest light.


    Precious artifacts of the Order and the Sunblade rested here. Gems fashioned by the Twins¡¯ own hands glittered around the crystal that held the body of his own daughter, Marina. Her lifeless paws rested over the gaping hole in her chest; the crystal and the cold forever held the brave knight-captain in the stasis that kept her body from rotting.


    First placed a paw on the crystal, silently asking for forgiveness for the past grievances. They often argued over her choosing a Wintersong woman for her partner, and he never really came to accept it. But he understood the nothingness of his resistance on the day when a gravity beam had pierced the chest piece of his little baby and snatched her from him and the Wintersong lady. They had wept together, all grievances forgotten and forgiven, sending the person dearest to them here.


    Coffins, decorated urns with ashes, and similar crystals shimmered in the long and narrow hall, each containing either his direct child or their immediate offspring. Here slept the original Wintersong, Summerspring, Ironwill, and his other siblings, and just knowing it stirred his heart, troubled by their absence.


    ¡°Your descendants are worthy,¡± First swore warmly. ¡°If you had just seen the passion and dedication they exhibit in protecting the weak. But then again, you never doubted them.¡±


    He patted a long capsule in the middle of the hall. Its occupant wasn¡¯t dead, and inside the viewing screen, another Ice Fang, bearing striking similarities to First, breathed faintly, kept in slumber by the cold and technology. His third son had grown weary of the world after outliving his children and left to have a two-century-long sleep, hoping to awaken to a kinder era. First strived to bring it about for his son¡¯s sake, never blaming his child for a choice many considered selfish.


    ¡°May you dream happy dreams, Cesare,¡± he whispered softly and looked up. ¡°I beseech thee to forgive this rude intrusion of mine, King Father, Lady Mother.¡±


    At the far end of the hall, taut chains suspended a sphere in the air. Soft, blue light from a gravity engine shone on it from below, aiding in holding its weight and its occupant undisturbed by any collisions. Two arms, two silent guardians, were embedded in the Sunblade emblem. Enormous in size, the sheer elegance of their fur, the smoothness of their curves, the perfection of their skin and muscles put even First¡¯s own body to shame.


    The Twins. All that the Blessed Mother had been able to recover after they had brazenly charged into that battle, ignoring her orders. That saved the civilians.


    And how many more had died in their absence? Came a treacherous thought.


    No cloning procedure of the Reclamation Army had been able to recreate what had been lost. Scientists working for his house conducted a series of experiments, but the organisms died as soon as they left the growth vats. Today, it was impossible to let the fallen walk again.


    ¡°Brother,¡± gurgled a voice, and First hurried to the sphere, abandoning hopes about tomorrow. The restoration of the Holy Trinity could wait. ¡°Greetings.¡±


    Distraught, he quickly inputted the release codes on the panel controlling the life-support system. The one floating inside the sphere was in no danger, but it eased his everyday troubles. Lines crossed the top of the colorless sphere, releasing the gas inside, which was sucked into recesses. The liquid drained from the inside; the sphere opened, and a hand the size of First¡¯s grasped the edge of the open casing.


    Second Sunblade, the weapons master of the Sunblade house, clumsily climbed out, proudly declining the silent offer of help. His sight filled First with anguish at the unfairness of this world.


    One of his brother¡¯s arms was almost a body length longer than the other, and veins bulged under the skin, spreading the fur wide. Fingers on this arm were all different lengths and sizes; only the thumb and little finger had enough control to be trusted. The head showed out, one eye so enlarged it threatened to fall out of its socket, the other a beaded, wet orb of crimson, no white visible. Second breathed hard, slurping oxygen, his ribs stretching the skin.


    Another arm appeared, clutching the serrated blade in a richly encrusted sheath to the chest. Second used its tip as a walking stick, carrying his misshapen, inelegant, horrible, and swaying bulk to freedom. His left leg resembled a fleshy appendage, its bones bent and twisted at every angle, but it served as an unstable platform. The other leg was rigid, absent of any elasticity, and he placed its knee on the ground and crawled to First, dragging his body with the larger hand.


    The flaws of their parents. The grievous secret of the Ice Fang Order, carefully curated and fed to the younger generation in very small doses so as not to traumatize them, was the reason for the strict control of marriages.


    Why for me? First asked himself. Why am I the bearer of all the beauty meant for both of us? Why can¡¯t I share?


    ¡°Second.¡± He spread his arms, and his brother embraced him, using the sword to help himself stand.


    ¡°I urged them to stop.¡± Without programs to change his voice, Second sounded wet and slurred, spitting sentences as much as he said them. ¡°Again and again I warned them of the folly they had committed, but Camelia told me not to fret, trusting Leonidas¡¯ plan over my concerns.¡±


    ¡°You are not to blame for what had transpired,¡± First said. ¡°Rashness is our shared trait, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Parents gave us too much fire,¡± Second agreed, letting go of him. ¡°Mend the rifts, First. They are our kin. Trinity must be restored and preserved.¡±


    ¡°Preserved it will be,¡± First said. ¡°Must you go?¡±


    ¡°Foolish question, big brother.¡± Second tried to smile; his lips quivered, exposing his fangs in a terrifying visage of a forest of blades. Catching his reflection in his brother¡¯s eyes, Second turned away, disgusted by his flaws. ¡°The wretches unbutchered by our fallen sisters are worming their path to Houstad, bringing sorrow and woe. Even if those living there weren¡¯t our servants, I would still race to their aid. For that is what a knight does.¡±


    ¡°A knight also knows when not to engage in hopeless battles to survive and fight another day,¡± First made the last attempt. ¡°A certain weapons master taught me that.¡±


    ¡°If the combat is hopeless, yes, but my presence there will make enough of a difference for the partial evacuation to be completed.¡± Second nodded, his head jerking back and up. ¡°I have sent you a file of my recommendation for my replacement, Grandmaster. Pray, give it thought. Her skills are nothing to brag about, but it¡¯s not the role of the weapons master to be a supreme duelist, and the lady has a cool head on her shoulders and has mastered my lessons well, preventing our offspring from getting hurt.¡±


    ¡°That is a valuable quality,¡± First agreed, stepping aside to salute the limping behemoth, who was about to show his true face to the Order for the first time with his own weapon. Sages and knight-captains, hand-picked by First, stood outside the chambers, waiting to give the departing knight the laurels he deserved. Yet pain gripped the grandmaster¡¯s heart, and he broke the ritual. ¡°I love you, little bear.¡±


    ¡°And I you, peacock.¡± Second swung his head toward him. ¡°I have never hated you for saving me. You gifted me a chance to see the world, and I decided to fight for it. I¡¯ve met and raised thousands of wonderful warriors. Thank you, First. Take care of the House.¡±


    ¡°Always, Second,¡± First promised. He kept the tip of his sword pointed at the Twins¡¯ arms until his brother left the hall, then wept, grieving for the lost brother and for his own loneliness.


    Soon he would be alone of the first generation, and despite his talents and the advantages his body and lineage afforded him, there was nothing he could do about it.


    The battle for Houstad was waiting.

 Chapter 134: Back in Houstad

    The convoy proceeded to Houstad without further troubles. Screams of hoverbikes often contended with the cracking of trees under the weight of the mobile fortress and the roar of engines. The riders skirted at the outmost edge, occasionally firing their pulse rifles to keep the soldiers on edge. A joint unit of hunters and scouts, led by a Dewglitter, deterred any attempts to close in. Anissa itched to lead a punitive expedition, but Dragena forbade it.


    Heavy, square-shaped APCs roamed seemingly mindlessly in the distance, carrying potent shield generators to block the Reclaimers¡¯ shelling. The drivers often retreated under the hissing cover of the shimmering domes, streaking back through receding explosions. Janine understood that they were trying to lure the soldiers away from the convoy.


    The bait wasn¡¯t taken, and neither side suffered casualties, and soon the riders dropped the pursuit as dawn broke and the convoy passed through the empty farmlands. Harvests of potatoes, cabbages, tomatoes, cucumbers, and more vegetables, abundant enough to feed the Outer Lands for no less than a year, lay unattended and forgotten in the fields.


    Several Wolfkins wept, mourning the loss of such a bounty as the vehicles reduced it to mush. Janine assigned five mixed packs, groups of Normies under the protection of shamans, to gather what they could without slowing down. They brought aboard several tons of food and over a hundred head of abandoned cattle, a pittance compared to what was left, but the accomplishment brightened the mood.


    Four sprawling defensive lines encircled Houstad, with the first almost clinging to the city¡¯s walls. Normies of the Third weren¡¯t lazing around, and they already finished setting minefields and preparing an extensive tunnel system to safely evacuate the outer circles. Sniper teams, armed with hunters¡¯ long-range weapons and exotic rifles donated by the black market, waited for their hour in skyscrapers and at the battlements; anti-aircraft installations and heavy artillery soon opened fire, covering the horizon in dark clouds.


    ¡°They are impatient,¡± Bertruda noted as the shells flew atop their heads and slammed into the showing APCs. Their shield spewed sparks, and the enemy hastily retreated.


    They stood atop the Mountaintops¡¯ behemoth. Martyshkina and Bertruda stood bareheaded and clad in full combat gear. Elegance rose, saluting the defenders on the ground. Janine, uncomfortable in an officer coat, was pushed between them, and Alpha, the reason for such an unusual gathering, loomed at their backs, critically examining the defenses.


    The strongest warlord decided to parade Janine around like a trophy, celebrating her escape from the Gilded Horde¡¯s clutches. She waved to the familiar and unfamiliar faces of the troops, not quite understanding why this was worth celebrating. The Brood and the deserters had been instrumental in their escape. They were the ones to be praised.


    ¡°Martyshkina,¡± Alpha screeched.


    ¡°They began driving back as soon as the first shells landed, Alpha,¡± Martyshkina replied, perching on the railing like a gargoyle. Her eyes narrowed, piercing the veil of floating soil. ¡°Fifty. Seventy. Over a hundred transports are lining up, unloading infantry. The riders have shown up, too.¡±


    ¡°Are they planning an assault already?¡± Bertruda clenched Elegance tighter.


    ¡°No,¡± Alpha replied, and a projectile flew in from the west, crashing into the energy shield around the front line. A sickly green mist covered the field, but the impact of the missile fizzled out. ¡°It is tenderizing.¡±


    ¡°They are testing our capabilities,¡± Martyshkina explained to Bertruda, jumping off the rail. ¡°Though I¡¯m surprised they didn¡¯t hurl their troops into the meat grinder like before.¡±


    ¡°I hazard a guess that whoever is in charge is planning to deny us the opportunity to inflict casualties on them,¡± Bertruda said. ¡°A siege it is, then?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine said. She felt it in her bones, a kind of animal dread at the prospect of facing an opponent who dwarfed her in everything. Flames flickered at the Horde¡¯s position, coalescing in the fiery figure, and Drozna appeared, but they weren¡¯t the source of her worry. A demigod was coming. ¡°Whatever it¡¯ll be, there will be no siege.¡±


    High bastions, built in the distant years, surrounded the inner parts of Houstad, while defenders leveled the outskirts in preparation for battle. Gates to match those on the border stood proudly at strategic points, positioned so that an invader would have to walk up to reach them, or near the river, utilizing the natural moat for an added layer of protection. Soldiers waited in bunkers and pillboxes, while tanks moved aside, inviting the convoy into the heart of safety.


    And what a sight the defenders were! Howls erupted from outside and inside as the packs greeted their returning kin. Mercenary companies poured in from the occupied regions, hastily signing contracts and flying the state colors. The personal symbol of the Dynast, a fist grasping the planet, could be seen in several places, awarded to the most decorated and respected units. Criminals, former members of the Assassin¡¯s Guild, war chiefs, tyrants, and conquered foes turned citizens joined the defense, some arrogantly scowling at the fearful volunteers or greenhorns, others busy boosting morale with boastful and exaggerated tales of heroism, and a few drooling at the prospect of carnage.


    Thousands upon thousands of the defenders pressed weapons to their chests in unison. The Provincial Guard and the Third joined in, merging into a single gestalt army, their equipment painted green or sand. The volunteers answered the call, manning the undermanned positions, led by the Third and the mercenary instructors.


    She noticed Reaper, the best cleaner of the former Assassin¡¯s Guild. The heavily augmented man¡¯s silver skin shone. He briefly nodded to the warlords and walked over the battlements, searching for any potentially overlooked entrances.


    ¡°Heeeeey!¡± Martyshkina yelled, and Janine and Bertruda almost jumped. The warlord ignored it and pointed at the wall. ¡°Lookie there! My sweeties!¡±


    ¡°Sweeties?¡± Janine asked, concerned.


    Long-range artillery, hauled all the way from the Wall, was placed on the bastions. They had a shape of upright rectangles on triangular feet, and their main cannons pointed at the enemy position, while radomes on their stern transmitted field maps to the crews¡¯ displays. On their hulls were emblems of women in seductive poses, white birds with black heads, tallies of taken lives, and other symbols. Bertruda and Janine cringed at the sight of a painted Ice Fang and a Wolfkin females with their tongues stuck out, raising a cannon together.


    ¡°If this brigade chose its emblem because of you, I¡¯m clawing you, Martyshkina,¡± Alpha rumbled, maintaining the stony expression.


    ¡°What? Eh, no idea if that was me.¡± The warlord shrugged. ¡°Ah, my beauties. The effective range of one hundred and twenty kilometers can be placed on any surface, even on the slope; their feet are capable of gluing and evenly distributing the turret¡¯s mass to prevent a fall¡­¡± Janine coughed, and Martyshkina stopped babbling. ¡°You know, when I was a short-nosed brat under Terrific and I first saw them in action, I dreamed of growing up and wielding them like my revolvers, one in each paw! Probably sounds stupid, but, eh.¡±


    ¡°We all shared our own unrealistic dreams in our youth,¡± Bertruda said.


    ¡°But there is no Wolfkin alive capable of wielding those things,¡± Janine remarked. ¡°Not even Alpha would be able to do it.¡±


    ¡°Want to bet?¡± Alpha asked, and Martyshkina laughed at her blushing friend.


    ¡°Shut your mouth and get inside already!¡± A roar interrupted her, and Martyshkina glanced down.


    ¡°Wowzie!¡± she cheered, waving her arm like a young girl at the Malformed near the gates. ¡°If it isn¡¯t Slaughterer! Glad to see yer bloated mess coming around at last! How¡¯s life?¡±


    ¡°Was way better until I heard your noisy squealing again!¡± Slaughterer reeled on seven elephantine legs. ¡°Shut up before I tear out your tongue!¡±


    Janine raised her brow. Slaughterer had been Martyshkina¡¯s first mark as a warlord. A cruel, merciless, and rather direct tyrant, he ruled his tribe with an iron talon. The man lacked a torso; his oversized, almost ballooning pink head was mounted on seven legs, two of which were crowned by hooked claws. Fourteen eyes, grown without sense or reason on his veined head, stared at the grinning warlord.


    His and Martyshkina¡¯s duel lasted for a good portion of the day, and by the end of it, both had their own share of serious wounds and could barely stand. But it was Marty who sat on the Malformed¡¯s forehead, holding a claw to his eye, and the man obliged the promise by surrendering his tribe without further war.


    ¡°You will address the superior officer with respect!¡± an officer from the Third snapped at the Malformed.


    ¡°My apologies, sir!¡± Slaughterer pressed a tentacle to his head in a mocking greeting. ¡°Please seal thy speaking orifice, Ma¡¯am! Otherwise, I will be compelled to dine upon thy fleshly organ, Ma¡¯am!¡±


    ¡°Feisty, aren¡¯t we? Ah, I am so proud to see you integrating into society and picking up new vocabulary so well. The last time we met, you could barely growl,¡± teased Martyshkina and wiped a fake tear from the corner of her eye. ¡°Don¡¯t press a hand to an empty head, soldier!¡±


    ¡°Ma¡¯am, yes, ma¡¯am!¡± The Malformed tried his best to stop swaying his ever-moving head and stand at attention. ¡°I dare say if you test me again, the result won¡¯t be the same!¡±


    ¡°Save this energy for the Horde, and I promise to give you an hour of my time for a rematch after the victory!¡± The warlord clenched her paws above her head to the cheers of the soldiers.


    ¡°It¡¯s a deal, Ma¡¯am! Hundreds shall perish in my belly in your name!¡± Slaughterer smirked bloodthirstily, licking his lips with a broad purple tongue. The officer near him kept looking at him, and the former tyrant sighed. ¡°Enemies! I¡¯ll only eat the state¡¯s enemies, sir!¡±


    ¡°Cannibalism is forbidden, volunteer. Eviscerate them instead,¡± said the officer.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Houstad itself, this never-sleeping megapolis teeming with life, had become a tome city, eerily reminiscent of the closed-for-conservation capital of Techno-Queen. Cars were gone from its streets, either taken away or thrown on the sidewalks by the defenders. Jaquan and Dragena¡¯s headquarters had performed a feat of logistics rarely seen before, evacuating most of the population. Several elderly citizens marched out to welcome the soldiers back and were immediately escorted to the trucks by the civilian workers.


    The Third arrived at the joyous and thriving population center. Now the wind blew through the streets, occasionally stirring up trash and the bodies of the blinded and hanged marauders. Most hospitals either relocated underground to treat the soldiers or were evacuated. The power plants were shut down, but according to reports from the far east of the city, a skeleton medical crew remained in an vacated Iterna private hospital, keeping patients in critical condition and underdeveloped infants alive. These people knew the risks, yet they refused to abandon the city.


    No children were running on the sidewalks, no couples chattered in cafes, no rowdy crowds argued over a winning match, the policemen no longer watched for peace, and soldiers replaced them, hunting for thieves or marauders. The smells of bread and freshly cooked meat and exotic drinks disappeared alongside the stench of cars¡¯ exhaust fumes, and Janine caught herself even missing the loud advertisements on the screens.


    Houstad, the way she had briefly experienced it, was truly dead, and the battle didn¡¯t even reach it yet.


    Half-manned defensive positions were set up in Houstad, mostly barricades and pillboxes, with the intention of letting the soldiers take one stand after another against the invaders, making Janine wonder if the Horde wouldn¡¯t use them against them once they broke through. She trusted in Dragena¡¯s wisdom, but the host of their foes was far too large.


    Ygrite, wearing a bright red cloak over her armor, stepped out of an alley, greeted the patrols, and leapt on the mobile fortress, nimbly climbing to the top. She shook hands with Martyshkina, bowed to Alpha, and ignored Bertruda. Then she grabbed Janine in a bear hug, tickling the warlord¡¯s chest lightly with the fangs growing on her strained neck.


    ¡°I am so sorry for your loss, sister.¡± They headbutted in cordiality. ¡°Don¡¯t you dare to worry. Little Marco will pull it through, got it?¡±


    ¡°Of course he will! And thank you, sister,¡± Janine started, but Ygrite had already released her and moved to a figure stepping through the opening doors.


    A slit appeared in her lower jaw, and the warlord¡¯s mouth opened in three, exposing countless fangs filling every spot in her mouth and throat. The maw closed in on the standing-still Kalaisa and stopped just short of the woman as Janine¡¯s paw firmly landed at Ygrite¡¯s belly.


    ¡°I submit, Warlord! The pack is yours again,¡± Kalaisa said quickly, and the maw closed with a snap. Ygrite smiled and patted the wolf hag, sniffing her from head to toe.


    ¡°You still reek of poison. I expected better of you, girl.¡±


    ¡°It was an injury for a life, Warlord!¡± Kalaisa said defensively.


    ¡°You traded one for one in combat!¡± Ygrite took her by the shoulders. ¡°No matter. Foibles happen, and you learned. No need to dwell on it. Able to lead?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± Kalaisa licked her lips and hung her head, moving the side of her jacket to show the bandaged wound. ¡°No. My body is strong, but my mind wavers. I can¡¯t properly lead a pack into battle. But I can fight as a soldier, and my sister is a fine wolf hag¡¯s replacement!¡±


    ¡°Well, hasn¡®t someone matured, eh?¡± Ygrite said. ¡°Maybe I should send you away more often!¡±


    ¡°Maybe you should teach your pack better so the others don¡¯t have to pick up your slack,¡± Alpha said.


    ¡°Were there any problems while we were away?¡± Janine asked.


    ¡°Not much.¡± Ygrite stretched. ¡°People wanted to fight, but Jaquan and Jacomie were adamant about permitting only those with combat training into the force. Farmer, builder, and lab¡­ lab¡­¡±


    ¡°Labor,¡± Bertruda prompted.


    ¡°Yeah, those guys. So many queer organizations here, sisters.¡± Ygrite shook her head. ¡°The unions threw a hissy fit, wanting to stage a strike over their desire to stay and fight for their city. Freaks. That¡¯s why they are feeding us.¡±


    ¡°Respect, Ygrite,¡± Janine interrupted her.


    ¡°Sure, sure. Schalk buttered them up, solved the mess peacefully, and a bunch of them joined up to help the medics and workers, and the rest buzzed off as they should.¡± Ygrite nodded eastward. ¡°Should be in Stormfiend or close to it by now. We opened the prisons, scared the minors into obeying and not causing a stir as they got shipped out to other cities, and enlisted those with lesser offenses into helping.¡±


    ¡°Without Alpha around?¡± Martyshkina smiled at the predatory gaze. ¡°Can¡¯t imagine the New Breeds or powered freaks doing so voluntarily.¡±


    ¡°They didn¡¯t,¡± Ygrite confirmed. ¡°I employed my personal charm.¡± She cracked her fingers. ¡°Broke the limbs of the ruffians and crazies, and the rest quickly fell in line. Don¡¯t worry, Janine, I didn¡¯t kill anyone and even persuaded a dozen or so into joining. Like that chick.¡±


    They faced the direction of her finger and saw a yellowish, barely visible bolt of lightning wrap around a skyscraper, moving faster than a bullet. The energy moved higher and higher, its trail fading, and soon its forked top slipped into the open window of the thirtieth floor, transforming into a panting girl with a weird, half-shaven haircut. She dropped the large bags full of warm rations to the snipers and dropped at her ass, breathing heavily and declining water. Around her neck was a brown explosive collar with a tracking device, a model often used by the slavers.


    ¡°Saw me neutralizing another female and quickly changed her tune, pleading to join in,¡± Ygrite explained and pressed paws to her snout before roaring at the top of her lungs. ¡°Oy! The Abyss are you still doing here?! I told you to get your ass in the trucks!¡±


    ¡°I can help, geriatric!¡± The girl jumped back to her feet, yellow streaks racing up and down the zipper of her jacket. ¡°And you, like, promised me a job, Ygrite!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s warlord, you asshole! You¡¯ll get your job when you¡¯re sixteen; until then, be productive. Do school or something! Off to the trucks and away from Houstad! And stop grinning, you animals!¡± she yelled at the snipers. The warlord took a remote control, pressed a button, and the collar fell from the girl¡¯s neck. ¡°Nice lass. Needed a person to give a shit about her, and she seemed to be improving. Anyway, we also got a punitive battalion from the convicts who asked to join the defense. Dragena equipped them with simple exoskeletons and machine guns. With any luck, they¡¯ll soak up bullets for us.¡±


    ¡°Or they¡¯ll shoot our own troops,¡± Kalaisa said.


    ¡°Girl, we weren¡¯t born yesterday, okay?¡± Ygrite patted her on the head. ¡°Dragena gave them the same chances of survival as the rest of our troops. No foul, although if it were up to me, I wouldn¡¯t be so kind.¡±


    ¡°Or farsighted,¡± Alpha said. ¡°No wonder your pack is a mess.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I got a superpowered convict that wants to join me! Can¡¯t say the same about your pack, sister.¡±


    ¡°Yes, you can¡¯t, sister. Trash gravitates to trash.¡±


    ¡°Alpha.¡± Janine swallowed. ¡°Kalaisa saved my son.¡±


    The heavy look turned to her, and Alpha craned her neck to examine two warlords and a sword saint ready to confront her. Her arms didn¡¯t move, and Alpha glanced at Kalaisa briefly before shrugging.


    ¡°There could be rough gems anywhere. Right, Ygrite?¡±


    ¡°Your truth, Alpha,¡± Ygrite quickly answered, obeying the flogging intonation of the sentence.


    ¡°Question.¡± Bertruda exhaled, and Alpha nodded. ¡°What about the research facilities?¡±


    ¡°Oh, we raided those,¡± Ygrite said eagerly. ¡°You should¡¯ve heard Till Ingo¡¯s wailings about ¡®barbarian appropriation¡¯ of his precious projects. We stripped the places clean except for several of his immediate projects and sent everything we could into Stormfiend under the supervision of your kin.¡±


    ¡°Immediate?¡± Janine¡¯s ears perked. ¡°Are you telling me that bastard is still here?! Why didn¡¯t you break his everything and package him? Ingo is far too valuable to die here!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, let¡¯s put slave collars on the stupid minors and terrify them, but ignore the people who actually matter for everyone¡¯s survival,¡± Martyshkina agreed.


    ¡°I wanted to.¡± Ygrite lifted her paws, stepping back from the advancing sisters. ¡°But his bodyguard is hitting really hard¡­¡±


    ¡°How do you still exist, sister?¡± Alpha asked. ¡°Never the matter. Until later.¡±


    The mobile fortress drove up to the emptied airport and disgorged its passengers. The civilians weren¡¯t given time to stretch their legs, and officers rushed to form them up and escort them through the eastern gates, where several protected convoys prepared to move them. Under Dragena¡¯s supervision and with assistance from the local forces, the massive undertaking went smoothly and swiftly.


    Aside from the Inevitable, which dominated much of the airport, several other aircraft landed here. Elegant and sleek VTOLs from Iterna waited for their own refugees brought in by the convoy, and a group of problemsolvers, genetically enhanced soldiers, formed a line, all dressed in similar blue, deceptively thin-looking body armor. Their serene faces peered through the visors of their helmets, free of any imperfection, let alone a scar.


    ¡°I¡¯d thought you¡¯d already be in Iterna,¡± Ygrite laughed, extending a paw to Jacob. Immediately, a problemsolver dashed to them, not touching the warlord¡¯s paw, but his helmet scanned it for dangers. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, kiddo, these are for enemies only.¡±


    ¡°And miss a reportage of a lifetime? No.¡± Jacob bravely shook her paw; two orb drones buzzing in the air quickly filmed it. ¡°Say, if you have¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine interrupted him. ¡°Jacob, I know this is unexpected and perhaps rude, and I want to emphasize that I address you as a fellow human, not as a warlord or an official.¡± She pursed her lips, unsure how to proceed. ¡°We have families with infants with us. If that is not too much to ask, could your birds take at least several to safety?¡±


    ¡°The decision is not up to me.¡± Jacob¡¯s face darkened. ¡°But I¡¯ll ask the captain. It should not violate the Noninterference Act.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°What¡­¡± Alpha interrupted, her lips curling to bare fangs, her eyes fixed on a single VTOL standing to the west of the crawler. ¡°Are you mad to bring that into our country, Iternian?¡±


    ¡°I am not sure I understand¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play coy with me, Iternian!¡± Alpha glowed, taking a step and positioning herself before the warlords. She paid no attention to the Problemsolver¡¯s hand moving to his rifle. ¡°We have treaties. That should¡¯ve never set foot in our lands. Is¡­¡± A communicator buzzed in her ear, and Alpha tilted her head, pressing her ear to her shoulder, denying Janine the chance to hear. The strongest warlord growled but eased her tension. ¡°Fair enough, sir. Sorry, Jacob, the higher-ups are aware.¡±


    ¡°Aware of what?¡± The reporter turned to the VTOL. ¡°You said foot. It is a person, then? Who is there?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Alpha said, monitoring the transport. ¡°Nothing that isn¡¯t permitted.¡±


    Martyshkina wanted to inquire more, but Janine grabbed her friend¡¯s head and forced her to look at a blackened bird of the night. The Oathtakers¡¯ plane needed a full runway to land or take off, but it was still a feat of their engineering ingenuity and the first perfectly functioning manned aircraft produced by the Reclamation Army¡¯s rivals since the Extinction.


    A figure easily matching Ravager¡¯s size stood beside it, covered in power armor of an utterly dark color. Lenses resembling twin pools of molten metal watched the surroundings, and maglocks clamped a cleaver the length of a truck to its back. For a second, the lack of smooth curves caused Janine to mistake the newcomer for Dominator, the strongest New Breed of the far nation, but then she calmed herself, recognizing the helmet stylizing after a dragon head and the lack of medals or honor symbols. Ur-Champion. Servant to the Big Three, a warrior of rare physical prowess that eclipsed even Alpha in a pure slugfest. A warlord¡¯s slayer, a butcher of twenty-five shamans, and a merciless bane of the Order.


    Bertruda¡¯s paw instinctively began pointing Elegance at the man, and Martyshkina prepared to take her revolver. Janine elbowed both women at the backs of their heads and twirled a finger around her temple.


    Sagas would¡¯ve been sung about the one who would¡¯ve felled that Malformed and the blood price called for his head, but he wasn¡¯t an enemy. Even prior to the peace, Ur-Champion walked into the Reclaimers¡¯ lands, returning lost cubs taken captive by mistake as thanks for the Wolfkins¡¯ rescue of his own citizens. On that day, the blood debt had disappeared, and the Tribe gained a grudging respect for his tenacity in the face of Alpha¡¯s claws.


    Wolfkins, shamans, wolf hags, and Ice Fangs glared at the man longingly, and Kalaisa even drooled, imagining the glory earned through defeating him. Alpha gave the man a quick nod and shook her head when he pointed to the cleaver, declining the offer to a bout to the disappointed gasps of every Wolfkin and the Normies¡¯ surprised glances. Jacob clicked his tongue, watching the VTOL alongside Alpha, while Janine¡¯s eyes were on the small figure beside the giant¡¯s leg, a figure that looked like a starving cub protected by a fierce mother.


    Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest, Janine¡¯s eyes widened, and she forcefully craned Marty¡¯s head, briefly overpowering her friend despite the support Marty¡¯s suit gave her. She heard the gasp, and the woman¡¯s paws twitched, and her nose sniffed, trying to catch the scent of a person not carrying any¡­


    ¡°Lyudochka!¡± Janine and Martyshkina cried out, grinning wildly as the metal legs ran towards them.

 Chapter 135: Military Council

    The person who ran into the embrace of Janine and Martyshkina might have looked strange to some. Horrifying even. She was a metal skeleton with ribs fused together, an eternal grinning smile, the dim white forever smoldering in the lenses sunk deep into the cranium, often instilling fear in anyone who hadn¡¯t spoken to this petulant child. Janine tossed her axe to Impatient One, and, together with Marty, took Lyudochka into a spin.


    There was no clever trick about that metal body; no brain case was hidden inside the chest or agile limbs, nor was she an AI. Born as a human, she had been uploaded into circuits and processors. She had ¡®grown¡¯ during their separation, if such a word could be applied to an ageless machine. Her thoracic cavity expanded; longer, multi-jointed limbs replaced the previous humanoid appendages. A cloak of woven chains and white cloth rustled; its upper ends seamlessly entered the smooth surface of the bones.


    ¡°I¡¯ve missed you so much, Moms!¡± The girl, no, the woman, cried, hugging them. ¡°Sorry so much for writing so rarely; a bunch of stuff happened, and then even more stuff happened, and then this and¡­¡±


    ¡°Beat it.¡± Martyshkina patted her skull. ¡°We also haven¡¯t been the exemplary parents lately.¡±


    ¡°Then we all suck at communicating! Let¡¯s fix it.¡± Her jaw closed, surprising Janine. She hadn¡¯t been able to when they found her in the underground laboratory. ¡°How have you been doing?¡±


    ¡°Existing,¡± Janine answered evasively and noticed ornate insignias welded into her cub¡¯s limbs. ¡°You are an ambassador in Houstad?¡±


    ¡°Sorta.¡± Lyudochka jumped back on the ground and proudly showed them her staff.


    The top was made of gold, the bottom of platinum, while the shaft itself was of stainless steel. Letters of spiritual wisdom covered the golden part, while warnings to temper religious fervor and focus on fostering friendship covered the lower end.


    ¡°Well, to tell the truth, I worked as a clerk in the embassy.¡± Lyudochka scratched her chin. ¡°Gaining experience, meeting new people, filling out papers for immigration, but then the war broke in, half of our terminals exploded, wounding my colleagues, and Abel ventured on his murder spree, while Mister Wickedbreed was last seen at the Wall. It was scary and stressful when Lord Steward himself had promoted me, but!¡± She pointed a thumb over her shoulder at the giant standing silently at her back. ¡°Ur-Champion arrived after Abel had to be recalled before he joined the Reclaimers to wreak retribution.¡±


    ¡°Is that bad?¡± Janine ruffled her hair. ¡°Lyudochka, sorry if I sound like an ass, but you said your people were wounded. We wouldn¡¯t mind welcoming Abel into our ranks for a while.¡±


    ¡°First for a while, then forever. At least such was the reasoning of the Commune¡¯s geezers,¡± the woman dropped her voice volume to imitate hushing. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell them I said it; they¡¯ll scream at me again. I am sure they have valid concerns; it¡¯s just that I don¡¯t get them. The Gilded Horde is an enemy to all; we should team up against it, not play politics.¡±


    ¡°Our mouths are sealed,¡± Martyshkina promised.


    Lyudochka gestured, and the two women leaned in so she could whisper in their ears, ¡°I¡¯m sort of freaking out here and really want the real ambassador to return. I don¡¯t have the faintest idea if I am doing a good job, and I keep asking the military about the whereabouts of our people, and no one knows anything! Argh!¡± Her voice modulators conveyed the roaring frustration. ¡°All I want is to do the job well, but I am not the right person to handle the situation well!¡±


    ¡°But you are doing your duty, regardless. Take pride in that,¡± Janine advised her. ¡°And let us lighten your burdens, daughter. Anissa!¡±


    ¡°Warlord?¡± Anissa closed in, watching Lyudochka warily from a distance. ¡°Why does the machine call you mothers?¡±


    ¡°Because she is our daughter.¡± Martyshkina slapped the Oathtaker across the back.


    ¡°But¡­ you are women! A girl and a girl cannot produce offspring!¡± Anissa stammered. ¡°Are you a mutant, Mom? Am I one? Was it an immaculate conception? Or did you eat a chunk of steel before copulating? Is that why she is like this? Or was it Warlord Martyshkina? How did this happen? What did you do?!¡±


    ¡°And you never deemed it fit to tell us, why?¡± asked Impatient One, stepping closer to Lyudochka.


    ¡°Shamans have their own secrets; we have ours.¡± Martyshkina shrugged. ¡°Lyudochka is not to be treated as a Wolfkin. She is gentler, less rigid than us¡­¡±


    ¡°She is literally made of metal,¡± Anissa noted, baring her neck at Janine¡¯s snarl. ¡°Observation, not an insult, Warlord!¡±


    ¡°¡­But neither is she an outsider, and her name will be added to the memorial stones.¡±


    ¡°You are Anissa, right?¡± Lyudochka shoved herself past the warlords and shook paws with the wolf hag. ¡°Mom told me a lot about you. Is it true that you used a spine to¡­¡±


    ¡°To club a bastard to death, not my proudest moment,¡± Anissa finished the sentence, nervously examining the lifeless fingers that touched her and shuddering.


    Lyudochka stopped; her head turned smoothly to look at Impatient One, who quickly rubbed her muzzle against the metallic limb and frowned. ¡°What¡­ what is she doing? Is this a ritual to ward me off?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care that you are a soulless abomination and a foul affront to all that is natural; I care that it isn¡¯t possible to mark you as part of the Tribe,¡± Impatient One answered, rubbing her muzzle again. ¡°Why can¡¯t I scent-mark you?¡±


    ¡°My surface cleans itself, Impatient One.¡± The ambassador regained her composure. ¡°Mom, what about Ignacy, Bogdan, and Marco? Can I meet them?¡±


    ¡°Bogdan,¡± Janine¡¯s voice almost broke, but she held on, accepting Marty¡¯s paw on her shoulder. ¡°I failed him and many others. Ignacy is fine, but Marco is injured.¡±


    ¡°Injured¡­ But he is only a child!¡± The ambassador pressed a hand to her mouth.


    ¡°Happens in service. He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Janine asked in a tone that left no room for argument. ¡°Lyudochka, we brought several of your people back with us. Maybe they¡¯ll know about the ambassador¡¯s fate. Anissa, escort your sister to Ignacy and explain the situation, then report back to us.¡±


    ¡°How can I explain when I don¡¯t even understand... I mean, yes, Warlord.¡± The wolf hag saluted and rushed to the mobile fortress accompanied by the clanking of Lyudochka¡¯s legs. On the run, Anissa turned to the metal woman and asked, ¡°Can I have your number, sis? Don¡¯t really have enough time to chat right now, not with the war happening.¡±


    ¡°Sure thing!¡± Lyudochka slipped a hand into the bag around her waist.


    ¡°Brings back memories,¡± chuckled Marty. ¡°Mommies.¡±


    ¡°Any other cubs you failed to mention?¡± Impatient One asked icily.


    ¡°None of your business, Shaman,¡± Martyshkina said.


    ¡°It is a part of my business, as we are charged by the Blessed Mother herself to maintain a chronicle of each family in the Tribe.¡± The shaman frowned. ¡°Can you imagine the shame if we fail to mention her lineage?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you need to worry about it, Impatient One,¡± Bertruda said. ¡°It¡¯s unlikely the lady can reproduce.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t stop these two from ejecting her somehow, so anything¡¯s possible. I am just preparing for the worst.¡±


    ¡°To the command center, at once!¡± Janine barked, not wanting to have this argument with the shaman right now. What wasn¡¯t forbidden was allowed, and adoptions were never added to the list of unworthy sins.


    The Inevitable dominated the center of the airport, a palace of steel, tracks, turrets, sensor arrays, missile launchers, and bristly cannons. Its ammunition fully replenished, the centerpiece of the Third stood ready to aid the packs in any way it could, and to rain Abyss down on anyone approaching Houstad.


    As they hurried inside, Bertruda flinched, noticing obvious aggression in the air. Usually rowdy, the packs stood unmoved, fully armored including helmets, watching with unblinking lenses at the Ice Fangs standing opposite of them. The Order¡¯s host outnumbered the Tribe¡¯s three to one, an unnecessary testament to the consequences of betrayal and who had paid the price.


    Gone was the usual banter, and a low growl passed through the tense packs as a Sunblade knight-captain gave the command, and the knights raised their banners, hailing the return of the warlords and welcoming Bertruda. A mistake. It would be better for the Order to let the wound heal rather than cutting it wide open with their fake pretense of caring. And the situation will worsen even more when the news of the Ice Fangs¡¯ failure to protect Marco and their refusal to pay the blood debt becomes public.


    Janine had considered banning this revelation, but she couldn¡¯t find it in her heart to do so, knowing full well that someone would tell the truth and then she would have to murder the disobedient soldier. She did not want to see another Wolfkin die because of the Order¡¯s either direct or indirect treacherous actions ever again.


    No Wolfkin clumsily offered a place at a bonfire and food to the defenders or knights. Hunters and scouts did not sneak into the ranks of another group to tease them. Shamans didn¡¯t explain the faith in the Spirits to curious souls, and the sages refrained from educating warriors and males. If the reports spoke true, for the first time since the two groups had united under Ravager, several shamans had banned the ice boys from attending prayers. Lacerated One punished the shamans responsible, but the fact remained.


    When they had left this place, a unity had chained them. Now, the threat of violence hung in the air, and any wrong move could spark the irrecoverable. Without the Blessed Mother, the alliance of the Tribe and the Order was falling apart.


    ¡°Anissa!¡± She heard a screeching voice, and the long, segmented body crashed into the wolf hag as she and her companion stepped onto the ramp of the mobile fortress, bringing a flush to Janine¡¯s cheeks. ¡°You¡¯re alive! Oh honey, I was so worried sick upon hearing about Janine¡¯s capture! Let me just check if everything is fine real quick¡­¡±


    ¡°We are tougher than this¡­¡± Anissa giggled, hearing the melody drummed by the toxicognaths on her helmet. Lyudochka raised a finger and stopped, but then Chak whispered words to Anissa, earned a kiss, and slithered off her, pursuing the company.


    ¡°And you!¡± Chak¡¯s coils neared the group; his black eyes faced Janine¡¯s. ¡°Where is my armor, barbarian!¡±


    His outburst drew a couple of chuckles from the rows of soldiers, and Alpha nodded in approval of his game.


    ¡°My armor,¡± Janine corrected him. ¡°It broke like a rotten egg under Mad Hatter¡¯s fingers.¡±


    ¡°My crew maintained and repaired that marvel, you ignorant, savage pest! I spent sleepless nights polishing it, replacing damaged servomotors, bundling fiber muscles, and keeping it clean of dirt!¡± The black clusters of his eyes shifted. ¡°Your armor? A brute such as yourself wouldn¡¯t know how or when to recharge its generator! Your armor. Bah! You piss and drool on it and claim to possess and know these things. Ridiculous. Lost my armor, lost my rifle, but kept that useless axe. Whatever.¡± He sighed, falling in line. ¡°What¡¯s done is done. It¡¯s good to see you all alive. Visit me at the maintenance bay, Council. We¡¯ll see what we can do to ensure that you¡¯ll stay alive. It will be unseemly if my wife¡¯s mother is not present at our wedding.¡±


    Calmness. Janine bit her tongue at the mocking laughter of Alpha and the congratulations for Martyshkina and Bertruda. Peace and tranquility. You are a whiff of sand carried by a storm, relaxed and unbothered. Her paws clenched, the fingers pressing hard against the palms. You can¡¯t murder your daughter¡¯s soulmate even if she¡¯s completely wrong about choosing this insect!


    As they approached the Inevitable¡¯s ramp, Alpha lightly elbowed her sisters and nodded at Jacob, who followed after Lyudochka. Janine didn¡¯t understand the meaning of that at first, but then she looked at the ground. Chak¡¯s sharp legs had cracked the stone during his intense stampede, scattering pebbles. One such pebble disappeared¡­ Wrong. It had been stepped on and crushed to dust without so much as a crack.


    An invisibility field, advanced enough to suppress noises of anything that touched it.


    Iterna brought more than just the Problemsolvers. Their deadliest servants, the Shadows, lurked here. A clear violation of the signed treaties, but Alpha didn¡¯t raise a fuss. What in the Abyss is going on here?


    The group entered the crawler, reached the elevator, and it carried them to the bridge doors, where Lacerated One rose from the floor, bowed low, and then remained at the entrance alongside Impatient One, ready to lay down their lives to protect the war council from any unexpected intrusion.Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    Calm discipline prevailed on the bridge. Dragena, her arms folded behind her back, listened to the officers report on the preparations, occasionally ordering relocations as she studied the holographic map of the city. The operators, stationed in the cavities on either side of the main bridge leading to Ravager¡¯s throne, finished gathering information on the supplies. Jacomie, dressed for battle, sat in Cristobo¡¯s seat, coordinating the regiments of the provincial forces. Zurkov used a walking stick to traverse around and faced the mayor.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t over, Jaquan,¡± he hissed into the mayor¡¯s face. ¡°The Dynast will hear of it.¡±


    ¡°Please, Commissioner, none of them died, and we evacuated them to safety as per agreement¡­¡± Jaquan spread his hands, smiling sweetly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play coy with me. Six of them have burns on their necks!¡± Zurkov slammed his cane against the table, and Jaquan had to catch him before the man could fall when his leg gave way. ¡°At attention!¡± he yelled, spotting the Wolfkins entering.


    Anji leaped from her seat, closing the distance and placing a paw on Kalaisa¡¯s shoulder. The two women touched foreheads momentarily, saying nothing as Janine took her place beside Alpha, her back to the viewing screens and the lower deck where the operators worked, while Bertruda flanked First, sheathing the exposed edge of Elegance and pointing it down.


    ¡°Janine.¡± Dragena broke from the map and embraced her. There was no warmth in her voice or passion in the gesture, but Janine appreciated this ritual nonetheless. ¡°Are you capable of fighting?¡±


    ¡°I can murder, Dragena,¡± the warlord growled. ¡°You are not keeping me from the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it,¡± the woman answered coldly. ¡°Bertruda. Your arm?¡±


    ¡°Working, Warlord,¡± Bertruda replied. ¡°Scars already formed.¡±


    ¡°Sorry for not being there, sister.¡± Janine blinked in surprise, finding herself in the iron hug of Ashbringer. Her named sister spoke without spite or the usual mockery, lowering her voice but not dropping it to a whisper and ignoring that the Sword Saints heard it. ¡°I should¡¯ve returned to the convoy, been at your side.¡±


    ¡°Ashbringer. It isn¡¯t your fault,¡± Janine reassured her, embracing the woman, their differences forgotten, and she no longer cared about one-upping the arrogant and prideful soldier.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be fine,¡± Ashbringer said intensely. ¡°My boys and girls, I have tokens. We¡¯ll find a way to fix him, don¡¯t worry.¡± She lifted her head, looked at Kalaisa, and nodded.


    ¡°You were a fool to take him out of the pits,¡± Alpha stated bluntly.


    ¡°Yes.¡± Janine blinked away tears. It was selfish. So many of her soldiers had died. Bogdan hadn¡¯t been avenged, and her soul wailed, torturing her heart over what had happened to Marco. But she couldn¡¯t help it. ¡°Yes, I was,¡± she agreed wholeheartedly.


    She brought him here. She trusted him to the Ice Fangs and doubted the wisdom of tradition. Brood Lord took the limbs, but it was her hubris that permitted it to happen to begin with.


    Ashbringer broke away from Janine and stepped up to Alpha, releasing the claws.


    ¡°Shut it.¡±


    ¡°Are you challenging me, little sister?¡± Alpha asked and grinned. A touch of fear spreading from her caused people to shudder.


    ¡°I am telling you to shut up.¡±


    ¡°Kneel, sister.¡± The smirk changed into a scowl, and fangs flashed in the lamplight. Muscles bulged at the white neck. ¡°Or be shamed.¡±


    ¡°There is no shame in protecting kin, sister.¡± Ashbringer stepped close to Alpha, and their bodies touched. It wasn¡¯t just brazen courage. At that close a distance, the taller warlord would have struggled to land the first blow with her longer arms.


    Not that it mattered. Not against Alpha.


    ¡°Spirits speak through you, Ashbringer,¡± Alpha snorted, relaxing herself. ¡°I overstepped the bounds. The lesson has been learned.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, sister!¡± A paw slapped Janine on the shoulder, and she jumped from the unexpectedness. Onyxia was behind her, her toes gripping the edge of the platform, and she had crept up on her named sister without so much as a crack. Janine¡¯s heavy landing thump brought a smile to the shadowy lips. ¡°While I draw breath, no hordemen will approach the kiddo. And¡­¡± She swallowed, glancing aside. ¡°Iterna owes me, and we are calling in that debt. Don¡¯t argue! It¡¯s my decision. Their medical services are superior to ours...¡± She turned to First. ¡°And far more trustworthy.¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Dragena stepped between the two groups, silencing any further barbs. ¡°The Horde is coming. The question is whether they¡¯ll lay siege or attack immediately. Based on the evidence gathered from their previous invasions and the fact that their centerpiece, that Mad Hatter, is coming, the latter is more realistic.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯ll ram their army into ours, no lubrication,¡± Martyshkina said.


    ¡°Foul,¡± Dragena said. ¡°Not inaccurate. They gain nothing by being delayed here, so stalled they won¡¯t be. The Commander is not here, but she has never failed to arrive in our toughest times. It won¡¯t be any different now, either. But with or without the Blessed Mother, we are staking our claim in Houstad. The Horde breaks here.¡±


    ¡°Idiotic,¡± Onyxia said. ¡°We¡¯re not built for trench warfare. The Third is famous for our swift attacks, ambushes, and fluidity on the battlefields. This place is mere rock, steel, and glass. Let the Horde have it; there is nothing to devour here. What do we care about useless ancient toys or pretty paintings in museums? When our enemies overstretch themselves, the gleam of our claws will greet them in the darkness of the forests, and our shells will deny them the luxury of sleep. Before the First and the Second arrive, we will fertilize the fields with the corpses of those who oppose the state. We¡¯ll haunt their nightmares and poison their reality, never relenting until they break!¡±


    ¡°You just love forests,¡± Martyshkina accused.


    ¡°I do, and I am tired of pretending otherwise.¡± Onyxia spun, stepping on the platform. ¡°Darkness is our home, and starless nights keep us safe. When I die, I¡¯d love to be buried in the densest forest around here, in a place where the sunlight never reaches.¡±


    ¡°Noted. But you miss a crucial point, sister.¡± Dragena raised her paw, stopping Janine from arguing. The map changed to the image of the terraforming complex. ¡°Our future. The future of our descendants and the future of those we serve and protect. If it is destroyed, the ecosystem of the region will suffer. The damage will be severe enough to set back the restoration project by decades, if not centuries.¡± She snapped her finger, and the image disappeared, giving way to the regional map.


    This model showed the predictions of the geologists and biologists, highlighting forests, parks, farmland, lakes, and rivers. Slowly, the plants withered, and patches of yellow and gray sand ate up large rings among the dead brown fields. These rings of desolation grew and soon covered everything; leaves fell from the trees, and the trunks cracked under the occasional wind. Lakes dried up, leaving hollow craters. Over the course of a year, the thriving region was replaced by nothing but another desert.


    ¡°This is the predicted result if the complex is severely damaged or destroyed, based on several simulations. This outcome we will deny,¡± Dragena said and addressed Janine. ¡°Sister. The northern gates are yours to hold. I will join you shortly after the battle begins.¡±


    ¡°I am joining you,¡± Jacomie declared, rising to her feet with the whine of working servomotors. She stubbornly met Dragena¡¯s emotionless eyes. ¡°I refuse to abandon my city or my people, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°And what of your wounds, Captain?¡± Dragena asked. ¡°The Inevitable will soon be down to a skeleton crew, and the New Breeds capable of blocking teleportation are gathered in the complex. I had planned to put you in charge of our crawler, as it plays the most crucial role in our coordination and support.¡±


    ¡°To hell with it!¡± Jacomie fired. ¡°Our citizens have died, been wounded or enslaved. And you expect me to cower in the rear? Jaquan joined the volunteers. Put his unit here and let the professionals fight!¡±


    ¡°As you wish, Captain,¡± Dragena said evenly. ¡°Janine¡¯s pack will be reinforced by the mixture of volunteers and soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Well, if that¡¯s the way it is, then I¡¯ll go get suited up too,¡± Zurkov said, struggling to get to his feet. ¡°I¡­¡±


    Jaquan kicked his walking stick, and the policeman fell to the side, almost hitting his head on the table, but Bertruda and Martyshkina¡¯s paws caught him and helped the man to stand.


    ¡°Son of a whore,¡± the man cursed.


    ¡°That was the practical demonstration,¡± Jaquan said cheerfully. ¡°Commissioner, I understand your desire, but I do not share it. Personally, I¡¯d be happy hiding in the back. Houstad will need help to rebuild. Zurkov, we have had our differences, but I hope you can overcome your prejudices and continue to serve our city as bravely in the years to come as you have served it lately. I¡¯ll do my part here.¡±


    Zurkov¡¯s face darkened, but he said nothing and left, supported by Jacomie. Dragena resumed her speech, addressing the warlords and assigning positions in the city for them to defend. Hearing her orders, Janine experienced near despair. The city seemed endless; its sprawling streets, even cut to the most important districts by the walls, stretched on and on, intertwining and forming a colossal labyrinth. Subways, skyscrapers, sewers, and factories¡ªnot counting apartments¡ªpresented a nightmare to try to hold on to. Once the walls shatter, the hordemen will spill across the entire city, doubtless giving them ample opportunities to flank the defenders.


    Surely Dragena could see it, too. What good was the clever placement of fortifications if they lacked the numbers to properly man them? In the battle against the New Breeds, the regular troops will not have the luxury of a safe retreat. Everything will be decided in a frontal confrontation.


    ¡°What about the Horde¡¯s superweapon?¡± she voiced her concern. ¡°The one that wiped Opul off the map.¡±


    ¡°I believe that Mad Hatter intends on capturing this place relatively intact.¡± Dragena highlighted three possible locations on the map where the Horde could deploy the Sky¡¯s Wrath. ¡°By the time we change her perception about the feasibility of such a goal, it will be too late to use it. Make no mistake in underestimating our opposition or thinking the victory is granted. We are facing approximately a force of two hundred thousand, much of it New Breeds. The land itself is groaning under the sheer mass of combat vehicles bearing down on us. It is do or die.¡±


    ¡°Butcher them all and watch bodies fall.¡± Alpha gritted her fangs, rumbling out the words. ¡°If the worst comes to pass, it was an honor, sisters, brothers, allies, and the traitors.¡± She glared at the Ice Fangs. ¡°I¡¯ve never been the best person around, but you accepted me, and for that I¡¯ll give it my all.¡±


    To their credit, the Ice Fangs took the insult in stride. Alpha was testing them, Janine understood. Zero and Dragena always had a positive influence on the strongest warlord, cooling down her violent urges, and right now her named sister was testing the white-furred, guessing how much they could be counted on the battlefield.


    ¡°Warlord Dragena,¡± First said, breaking his silence. ¡°The Order has received no assignments. May I inquire as to the reason?¡±


    ¡°What good are soldiers who cannot follow orders and refuse to cooperate? What good are troops incompetent enough to lose cubs?¡± asked Ashbringer.


    ¡°Ashbringer, please, let us be reasonable.¡± First started in a soothing voice. ¡°We had our differences and arguments, true, but you can¡¯t think¡­¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t think? Are the mindless beasts for your ilk, First?¡± Alpha interrupted him in a deceptively calm tone. ¡°Or has the Order deemed it fit to tell us what to think now? Give me back my sisters. Return Predaig and Eled. Give Marco his limbs back this instant. Resurrect our every lost kin, then you¡¯ll get the right to tell us what to do.¡± She spat on the floor. ¡°Since the beginning of this war, the Order has done little more than feed its own vain pride, and the packs are now riled up; they are enraged with you, and they have every right to be. We won¡¯t quench that fire; the tales of your betrayal shall survive everyone present. Step outside and count how many of us are left. The Tribe is close to our own Extinction.¡±


    ¡°This is why you have to accept our aid,¡± First insisted. ¡°And not engage in useless arguments. The demise of the Wolf Tribe was never in our intentions, and we¡¯ll sooner die than see our kin disappear.¡±


    ¡°What sort of cohesion do you expect of our forces in our current predicament?¡± Alpha dropped the mocking tone. ¡°First, open your eyes and try to see the situation from our point of view. We have tried everything to appease you and to build a kinship with the Order, and yet you still betrayed us. How can we rely on you now, when not a single one of our leaders holds a shred of respect toward your hides?¡±


    A stomp interrupted First¡¯s response, and Dragena stepped between the two groups. The impact shook the platform, causing the operators to turn in their seats, and Lacerated One charged in, taking up position at the warlord¡¯s side, looking for any signs of insubordination from the Wolfkins present.


    ¡°Enough. We are soldiers. Disagreements and grievances no longer matter. The Wolf Tribe will meet the enemy in the old way, fighting on the side of those we can trust.¡± She nodded to Alpha. ¡°But the Order won¡¯t be forgotten either. You wish for glory and triumph, and that shall be given to you in abundance. After interrogating the prisoners and learning all we can about Mad Hatter and her commanders, I believe I know a little of how she thinks. Seeing the city weak, she¡¯ll launch one singular assault to overwhelm everything we have, using her own might to break through the defenses at their strongest point. My guess is that she won¡¯t try any complicated approaches and will come in from the west. That means the north and south will be left unattended. We will weather the brunt of the storm.¡± Her cold eyes looked at First. ¡°So that you can secure the destruction of their war machine and stand triumphantly on our corpses at the end of it, Grandmaster.¡±


    ¡°We do not act in pursuit of glory,¡± Bertruda said.


    ¡°Mayhap,¡± Dragena conceded. ¡°Consider it as a bonus incentive to ensure that no Ice Fang is offended. Think us ungrateful and paranoid if you must.¡±


    ¡°Mad Hatter isn¡¯t in the command alone,¡± First cautioned. ¡°Whoever she chose to command the rearguard will bolster the rear¡¯s defenses.¡±


    ¡°That was accounted for.¡± Dragena took a terminal from the table and handed it to First. The grandmaster read the information, and a thin smile appeared on his lips. ¡°Yes. We know who it¡¯ll be and how to bait them.¡±


    ¡°I am afraid I must point out a flaw in your plan, Warlord Dragena,¡± First said, handing the terminal back. ¡°You said north. For that to work¡­¡±


    ¡°I have never made a mistake, Grandmaster,¡± Dragena answered, watching the observation console showing the crawler¡¯s corridors. ¡°Now silence. Not a word, that¡¯s an order.¡±


    The doors to the bridge opened, and Schalk stepped inside, quickly saluting the officers.


    ¡°Your will is done, Warlord.¡± He flashed a smile. ¡°It took more effort than I am willing to admit, but the unions and my boys have loaded every beast from the zoos onto the trucks. If any of those disgusting animals escape... well, I don¡¯t know, shoot me, Ma¡¯am.¡± He noticed Janine. ¡°My deepest condolences about your children and sisters, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°Impeccably done.¡± Dragena inclined her head. ¡°Warlord Janine and I will join the defense of the western gates. Your unit will be added to the crawler¡¯s security. I understand the unusualness of such an order, but the bridge plays a crucial role in our plans.¡±


    ¡°We get to sit out the fight?¡± Schalk beamed, then forced a cough. ¡°I mean, yeah, of course you can count on us, Warlord! Smash the bad guys, my girls and boys will keep the place nice and warm; don¡¯t you dare worry, ma¡¯am!¡±


    He saluted and left the bridge. As the doors sealed them off from the corridors, Dragena calmly returned to the map, issuing orders and outlining strategy. The operators and several officers exchanged glances, too concerned to bother the warlord for clarification. Finally, the youngest of them, a boy of twenty-six and a veteran of two campaigns, left his seat and approached Dragena, baring his throat. The warlord waved away Lacerated One and gestured for the soldier to speak.


    ¡°Warlord,¡± the operator never bowed, holding his throat exposed, imitating the Wolf Tribe¡¯s tradition. ¡°I believe you have made a mistake. You assigned Warlord Janine to defend the north before.¡±


    ¡°Never in my life have I made a mistake, brother,¡± Dragena assured the man. ¡°The deaths of Keon and Maxim Puchkov. The ambush on Captain Cristobo. And precise knowledge of our vulnerable locations is available to the Gilded Horde. None of that was an accident.¡±


    ¡°Which one?¡± Janine demanded to know.


    She sniffed the air and sensed no scent mark from the operator but caught a very familiar scent from an opened recess above them. Overjoyed, she rubbed her snout against the man¡¯s neck, marking him as kin on her own volition and granting him the unofficial privileges of more senior crew members for his bravery.


    ¡°One. Another. Both. Maybe the third. Neither. We will waste no effort guessing,¡± Dragena said. ¡°One way or another, the path to your target will be open, Grandmaster First. I advise you to use the southern gates for the majority of the Order¡¯s units. Allies. The Gilded Horde believes us to be foolish and brutish. They think our civilization is weak and pathetic. It is an apt time to educate them about our cunning.¡± A snap of her fingers brought back the image of the terraforming complex. ¡°Janine. I have a job for your soldiers.¡±

 Chapter 136: Omega

    ¡°What is that?¡± Janine asked, cringing at the rubbing of chitin plates against the skin.


    Chak and Anissa decided not to postpone their reunion for later, and segmented coils almost fully submerged the armored Wolfkin. It took an inhuman exertion of will not to grab the bastard for whatever passed by his nape and not smash him into a broken smear for daring to come near her princess, much less do whatever the Abyss was going on. But everyone deserved their bit of happiness, no matter how unnatural or degenerate it might have been, and so she focused on the thing in front of her.


    They were in the underground hangar bay of Ingo Augmetics. The wide hall felt wrong; emptiness stretched for dozens of meters in every direction and disconnected and half-torn wires lay forgotten and damaged; their assembly lines had long been taken away. Arenas used for testing and areas for engineering and shipping purposes stood abandoned. Half of the lights didn¡¯t work, and even most of the mechanical arms disappeared from the ceiling. The scents of hundreds of people absent from their workstations didn¡¯t seem right to her.


    We¡¯ll fix that. Janine promised herself, looking at the chains hanging from above. They held a harness containing a single object, shaped after a Wolfkin. Dull, red lenses reflected the light of her eyes; blunt vambraces seemed useless until she touched them with a finger and cut her skin. A wire, invisible to the naked eye, covered it, sharp enough to cut through her skin.


    ¡°Power armor,¡± Banshee said, running a finger over the gray surface. The woman still wore her usual white uniform, but added a green coat over it, fastening its collar with a choker. ¡°Prototype of the future mass-produced MK7 combat suit. True to its name, we no longer need to slowly fit it to the user piece by piece. Instead¡­¡± She pressed a remote controller, and seams opened on the plates, creating an entrance large enough for Janine to fit in. ¡°¡­ you just hop in and operate the beauty. Sorry for the blandness; we didn¡¯t have time for painting. But we added the emblem based on Marco¡¯s sketches!¡± Banshee turned the suit in its harness, showing the image of crossed muscular arms on the backpack.


    ¡°That wire¡­ Why use it and not sharp edges?¡± Janine inquired.


    ¡°Another test of Dad¡¯s newest product,¡± Banshee said happily, and fired a pistol from her hip without taking it from its holster. A black dot appeared on the smooth floor near her leg, lengthening itself as the woman took out the pistol and dragged its barrel to the side. ¡°An idea from our new student.¡±


    ¡°Slave.¡±


    Janine tensed, unsure where the voice came from. The word followed Banshee¡¯s sentence, correcting her, but she saw no one behind the woman.


    ¡°Hush! No one enslaved you. The wire is technically alive; we bred it from an organo-polymer compound, and it has to be kept in a liquid state to be successfully used in a ranged weapon.¡± Banshee squeezed the trigger a second time, and a line of dust retracted itself back in the barrel of her gun. ¡°Unless you are an Ice Fang, you can¡¯t even see it without special equipment. I bet the Investigation Bureau will have a field day using it for assassinations¡­¡± Janine coughed, and the pale New Breed nodded. ¡°Yeah, right. Nerves. When exposed to open air, the wire¡¯s lifespan reaches four hundred years, during which it never loses its sharpness. Pretty cool, huh?¡±


    ¡°Amazing,¡± Janine agreed and took the open helmet, looking in. ¡°There are no sockets!¡± she exclaimed. ¡°No connection cords either. How am I supposed to use it?¡± She tapped hard on the steel, expecting the alloy to yield and bend, but it resisted. Curious, the Wolfkin intensified the pressure, slowly growing amazed that the thinner plates had more durability than her lost gear.


    ¡°Please stop trying to ruin it, Warlord; you¡¯ll just waste your time,¡± Chak said, wrapping himself around Anissa. They rubbed their foreheads, and the quartermaster continued. ¡°Short of drilling it with diamonds over a course of a week or submerging it in a bath of inorganic acids at a temperature of two thousand degrees and proper catalysts, not much can damage it. It doesn¡¯t mean that you¡¯re invulnerable; the New Breeds will hack you just fine if you stand still, but since the development of the plates used by Alpha and First, the Reclamation Army has never produced such an advanced technological marvel. Feel honored.¡±


    His tail moved, touching the sleeve and showing it to Janine.


    ¡°The previous model improved your physical strength marginally. To give you an example you¡¯re capable of understanding, a Normie wearing your old gear would never have beaten dear Ani in an arm-wrestling match, but this model can fold her into a ball.¡± The antennas on his tail caressed the suit¡¯s arm and let it drop. ¡°Its HUD is immune to most known types of EMP; its communication systems can establish links spanning over forty-two kilometers, ignoring jamming. Solid stone, steel, spatial distortions, and even anomalies resulting from reality warping hardly matter! The lenses can discern the heat sources of an individual organism even through the thickest sandstorm or firestorm. Night vision is present, sure, but now you have access to spatial anomaly detectors that will give our warlords precious milliseconds to evade the exotic attacks of scum like Phaser.¡±


    ¡°Good. Where are the cables? The plugs to connect my implants?¡± Janine asked exasperatedly, sticking her head into the armor.


    Anissa freed herself from under the coils and joined in the examination. They frowned and exchanged glances.


    ¡°Mom¡¯s right,¡± Anissa stated. ¡°This thing is useless if it cannot work in sync with a fighter. It will end up being more of a hindrance in high-speed combat. You might as well offer her a foot soldier¡¯s exosuit.¡±


    ¡°O ye of little faith,¡± Chak smugly chittered and pushed a crate closer to Janine. Inside was a skin-tight suit that resembled leather but was silky smooth to the touch. ¡°It¡¯s called the Underarmor MK. 2. Put it on and then gear up.¡±


    Banshee and Anissa helped the warlord into the ridiculous garment that covered her from neck to ankles and wrists. It refused to rip, stretching so that she could move her limbs freely, unhindered. The fabric clung to her skin, compressing the fur. Anissa searched for zippers, but Banshee stopped her.


    ¡°It is fully comparable to the prototype recycling systems,¡± assured Banshee, misreading their intentions. ¡°We tested it ourselves; feel free to piss and sweat; not a drop of moisture will be wasted.¡±


    ¡°We? Not to harp on your enthusiasm, Your Highness.¡± Anissa bowed, spreading the side of the non-existent cloak like an Ice Fang would. ¡°But you are a tiny little bit smaller than the warlord. Unless you gained and burned through several hundred kilos while we were away.¡±


    ¡°Something like that, yeah!¡± Banshee giggled, and Janine heard a chuckle that almost went unnoticed amid the laughter. Now she was certain. The noise came from the woman¡¯s back.


    ¡°Enough chatter!¡± Chak commanded. ¡°Put on the armor. And no helping!¡±


    ¡°Where is Till Ingo?¡± Janine inquired, pushing her arms into the sleeves.


    ¡°Here,¡± the scientist¡¯s voice boomed from a loudspeaker in the ceiling, and the screen of an observation room opened. Ingo¡¯s silhouette sat behind an examination table. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I observe, ideate, and search for flaws. You have brought me quite an intriguing gift, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°Gift?¡±


    ¡°Yes, this¡­ Your name is Mehmed, is it not, young man?¡± A wordless groan filled the compartment, voicing a plea to end the misery. ¡°Why are they always suicidal initially? Oh, no, my life is over,¡± Ingo mocked. ¡°In a few years they cringe over it when you bring it up at the annual roasting,¡± he grumbled. ¡°Frankly, I have never seen such extreme cyberization.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± Janine leaned on the comfortable upholstery, feeling the artificial fibers in the padding expand, encompassing her sides and spine. ¡°Haven¡¯t you met Reaper or Lyudochka?¡±


    ¡°The ambassador treated me to tea, yes. The thing is, you can hardly call her a human at this point. She has no trouble learning, but her emotional maturity is stunted. Even in the Old World, a full upload was frowned upon, as the sensory circuits were not yet perfected. To do this to a child. I¡¯m not sure I would have done the same to my¡­ children.¡± Ingo grunted, filling the air with the hiss of a welding instrument. ¡°And Reaper has over sixty percent of his body intact under that shell of his. Excuse my absence from the field test; I need to understand how to sustain and ensure the survival of the newest member of my research crew.¡±


    ¡°Kill me,¡± Mehmed begged. ¡°End this suffering.¡±


    ¡°Hush, student! Don¡¯t make me ask a therapist for help. Nobody dies in my care; etch this into your brain matter,¡± Ingo coldly reprimanded him. ¡°Trace! Attend me. I need a professional opinion about restoration!¡±


    Waves passed over Banshee¡¯s coat, stretching it; the sleeves washed away from her arms, and the entire thing slumped with a wet slurp. The mass twisted, sprouting wet bones. Veins sprouted across the gleaming white; nerves followed, then muscles intertwined, reaching out to forming phalanges, and in the span of several breaths, a woman in a green coat stood up, checking the choker that moved from Banshee¡¯s neck to hers.


    ¡°The fuck?¡± Anissa reacted ahead of everyone. ¡°It¡¯s that terrorist! Trace!¡±


    She crashed into the slender woman, all two tons of her heavy armor and body. The claws dug into Trace¡¯s forehead, and the skin gobbled them up, blanketing the paw to the wrist. The terrorist leaned backward a little; her spine rearranged itself, and she shoved a tendril of her arm into Anissa¡¯s mouth.


    ¡°Away from my daughter!¡± Janine roared, and the suit closed around her, adjusting itself. The start-up of the reactor echoed her fury, and the warlord lunged at the bitch.


    A dark train of segmented chitin joined her. Chak and Janine attacked simultaneously; punch and toxicognaths landing on the swaying woman. Her flesh, hot and soft as plasticine, swallowed both, coating around the warlord¡¯s fist and spewing venom pumped in by Chak through the opened sores in the billowing coat.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Janine didn¡¯t care. The fear that Anissa might suffer the fate she had allowed to happen to Marco drove her to action better than any stimulant. She unclenched the fist within the woman¡¯s face, grasping the dissolving bones, and tried to tear it free, stabbing with her clawed paw. Chak¡¯s spiky legs closed around the hordewoman along with his coils, and his body moved circularly, planning to shred her into pieces.


    It didn¡¯t work. Her claws and the legs¡¯ tips scratched pointlessly against the very air that solidified around Trace.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Banshee yelled, her lower jaw reaching down to her belly. She fixed her mouth with a snap and grabbed Janine¡¯s arm. ¡°She is not the enemy! Trace, let Anissa go.¡±


    ¡°I am not harming her.¡± Trace¡¯s face no longer existed. Janine¡¯s paw and Anissa¡¯s forearm were still in it. She spoke through grown lips on her belly. Her right arm was a thin appendage, lodged deep into Anissa¡¯s mouth, and she pinned the wolf hag down using the elephantine limb of her left arm.


    ¡°Bullshit you are not!¡± Janine reached for the Taleteller, but the limbs moved away from Anissa. ¡°Wolf Hag? How are you?¡±


    ¡°It was as if¡­ as if I had bitten a mass that kept on growing inside my maw.¡± Anissa pressed a paw to her snout and retreated. ¡°Mom, I could feel it. The harder I tried to bite, the more my fangs bogged down in that swamp. The threads connecting me to her, I should not have been able to breathe, yet I could and¡­¡±


    ¡°Bad tooth.¡± Trace regained her humanoid form and tossed a yellowed fang to Janine. She checked her daughter¡¯s mouth and was greeted with a perfect white gleam of other fangs and a fresh replacement in place of the lost one.


    ¡°Never dare pull a dentist on me without my permission ever again! Got it, witch?!¡± Anissa barked.


    ¡°As long as you refrain from the offensive craniotomy, sure.¡± Trace smiled thinly, shortening and lengthening her own nose until she was satisfied. ¡°Your eye. Want me to replace it¡­¡±


    ¡°Stay away from me, abomination!¡± Anissa hid behind Janine. ¡°Why is she here, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Dad isolated and removed the genome responsible for Trace¡¯s slavish obedience to every decision of her former masters,¡± Banshee explained.


    ¡°That¡¯s fucking horrifying!¡± Anissa stammered, hugging Chak. ¡°So she is unbound and can do whatever? Why? Why would you ever do that?¡±


    ¡°Not free.¡± Trace scowled. ¡°They tampered with my genetic structure, adding a sentient virus. Should I overstep my boundaries or become aggressive¡­¡±


    ¡°You mean you weren¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°¡­I¡¯ll die. Nothing has changed; I¡¯m still a slave.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± Banshee argued. ¡°You have free will to disobey an order. I mean, I would rather you didn¡¯t and served your sentence in Dad¡¯s employ and be free, but you have a choice about what to do now.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡± Trace shook her head. ¡°Sure. Anyway, Banshee is what interests me now.¡±


    ¡°Still too young!¡± the pale woman screamed.


    ¡°Not in that sense.¡± Trace stepped closer to Banshee and walked around her. ¡°I don¡¯t mind being outdone or inferior. All I care about is learning what the end result of this will be and how to share it with humanity.¡±


    ¡°Not into orgies either!¡±


    ¡°Trace, if you are finished fooling around, I expect your assistance!¡± Ingo called. ¡°I need your opinion about extracting the implants and restoration.¡±


    ¡°Restoration?¡± Mehmed¡¯s voice trailed off, distorted between horror and hope.


    ¡°Yes-yes, a complete vat-grown body,¡± Till Ingo said, and Janine heard the clanking of metal. ¡°Don¡¯t expect anything fancy. We haven¡¯t learned how to make a New Breed from scratch yet, but you¡¯ll get a Normie body for your participation in broadening my knowledge of augmentation. Shame about your frame¡­ Warlord. How is the suit? Maneuverable enough?¡±


    ¡°Fits like a second skin,¡± Janine thanked him, understanding that she moved with the same ease as if she hadn¡¯t been wearing anything at all, adapting to the new model without a hint of difficulty. She picked up the Taleteller and wove a web of slashes and stabs, testing and enjoying the limits of her protection. The HUD was wider than she was used to, and she changed the gold lettering to a more familiar silver color. ¡°No complaints, sir! Pure perfection. Wait!¡± she yelled into Trace¡¯s back.


    A grown fang. Janine swallowed and approached the woman, wary of whatever she might be. An artificial creature, was it? Eh, no different from us, then.


    ¡°I¡­¡± She licked her lips. ¡°Trace, my son is hurt. Badly. Could you do to him what you did to Anissa? Only on a larger scale?¡±


    ¡°And you would trust me?¡± Trace tilted her head. ¡°An abomination? Inhuman?¡±


    ¡°With my life.¡± Janine pressed a paw to her chest. ¡°Name your price.¡±


    ¡°And if my price is your body? I collected organs, you know.¡±


    ¡°Then take mine after the battle,¡± Janine said without hesitation, her heart pounding and her imagination painting a picture of claws and pincers slicing through her arms and legs, pulling at nerves like ropes as the pincers carved their way through her body, searching for quivering organs. ¡°If I¡¯m still alive, use my body as you wish; just give Marco back his eyes and legs¡­¡±


    ¡°Eyes and legs?¡± Trace laughed, clearly and easily. ¡°That¡¯s not extensive damage at all! I thought there might be brain damage or an invasive poison coursing through his veins. That? Phh. I ain¡¯t taking payment for community service. Survive and find me, and we¡¯ll see what can be done. I never recreated a Wolfkin¡¯s body part, but it can¡¯t be that difficult.¡± She waved and headed for the elevator.


    ¡°Thank you so much, Trace!¡± Anissa yelled, hugging Janine. She lurked in Chak¡¯s shadow when the vat-born turned. ¡°But stay away from me! Don¡¯t ever invert me to heal me or otherwise!¡±


    ¡°I would be able to feel again?¡± asked Mehmed.


    ¡°Eventually. Now, Warlord, to test your¡­¡±


    The Wolfkins missed the rest of his words. Their hearts almost jumped from their heads; the unexpected, energizing sensations brought them both to their knees and blood pulsed in their temples to the surprise of everyone present. Janine¡¯s lips parted in a grin, showing her fangs, and Anissa mimicked it. The Spirits themselves gazed upon them, their attention directed by their very daughter. It didn¡¯t matter that the two were underground; Janine could hear the call even here. War! Slaughter! Hunt! Hope and unrelenting rage against the intruders drove them to their feet, and together they charged, almost mindlessly, to their positions.


    ¡°Hunt!¡± Janine cried, and her daughter echoed her as they tore through the elevator¡¯s ceiling and climbed into the shaft, hurrying into the city.


    Their prayers had been answered.


    ****


    Alpha entered the medical bay, sniffing her way to the destination. Lamps dimmed, the limpid panels turned gray, hardening as the mobile fortress prepared to reassemble and extract modules containing vital patients for the army to transport them while the unburdened Order waged war. The exhausted snoring of a sleeping Brood Lord¡¯s whelp raised her brow, and the warlord coiled the fear around herself to let him dream in peace a little longer and walked past him, softly and quietly like a cat.


    She carefully curated her image of a hulking brute, purposely provoking bouts and stomping loudly. Surprises saved lives on the battlefield, and she hoarded the true extent of her agility, capable of outwitting even scouts of her own pack at stealth.


    The medics wheeled a patient past her, a young male injured during the retreat from Quatindor. His wounds had long since healed, no longer threatening his health, and an artificial lung soundly worked, secured in the built-in case that replaced half of his ribcage. But a sizeable bulge on his skull, the result of a rifle butt trying to bash his brains out, judging by the shape of the bulge, kept the soldier in a deep coma.


    Terror gripped his mind, and the Wolfkin gasped, catapulted back into reality. Crimson overtook one of his noble amber eyes and kept its pupil collapsed into a dot. An inconvenience, but nothing the kiddo could not handle in the future. Alpha compressed the terror needle and let the medics explain the situation to the confused male.


    The smell led to the exact room she needed. She faced the closed door, the bane of her existence, and cursed her claws. It would be cub¡¯s play to cut her way in, but that was hardly the way to treat allies, Ice Fangs or not. Calling for help felt humiliating. She wasn¡¯t a cripple. Alpha knelt and used her nose to press the combination, letting herself in and standing too fast for anyone to notice her kneeling.


    ¡°What now?¡± The Troll turned, rapidly tapping at the rail of the patient¡¯s bed. ¡°I already told them we need more time to safely prepare Marco for the evacuation.¡±


    ¡°I need to talk to him.¡±


    ¡°Impossible,¡± the doctor positioned himself between the warlord and the boy. Her claws twitched, and his hand touched the scalpel. ¡°I have heard of what your kind does to your wounded. Crippled¡ªis that what you call them? If you so much as try to harm the patient¡­¡±


    ¡°I will not,¡± Alpha said. ¡°I swear. He is in no danger. P-please,¡± she forced out the unfamiliar voice, amused at how soft she had become of late.


    ¡°This discussion is futile. He is unconscious.¡± The doctor¡¯s posture relaxed.


    Alpha no longer paid him any attention. The fear whipped from her mind, not touching the Troll out of respect, and penetrated Marco¡¯s brain. It wasn¡¯t a gentle touch like in the corridor; she used more force, turning his dreams into nightmares as punishment for disobeying an elder. Marco whimpered, reminiscent of a cub begging for milk, and thrashed, spreading the disgusting stench of emptied bowels.


    ¡°Mommy! Dad!¡± Marco whisper-shouted, trying to break free from restraints and touch his face. His eyelids blinked, closing and opening the empty holes. ¡°Dark! It¡¯s dark! I can¡¯t see!¡± The doctor was at his side, patting the paw, calmly explaining the boy¡¯s situation, assuring him that everything would be all right, and giving him water to drink.


    Alpha waited two minutes for this orientation and scraped her claws together.


    ¡°Marco,¡± she said mercilessly, ¡°your stupidity distracts Janine. She obsesses over healing you, the worry over your condition anguishing her, distracting from what is important. It almost got her killed in Opul.¡±


    ¡°I am sorry.¡± His tiny fingers clutched the blanket. ¡°I¡­ I am ready to pay the price.¡±


    ¡°No, you are not,¡± the Troll interjected.


    ¡°Fool.¡± Alpha growled, sniffing over him, tearing away the smallest dried molecules of blood, absorbing his memories. His dreams, hopes and fears were laid bare for her. ¡°Never surrender. Cling to survival! Janine was right. You don¡¯t belong in the regular packs. Nothing but death waits for you there. You would¡¯ve been happier in the exile.¡±


    ¡°I can serve!¡± He shouted, crying red tears.


    ¡°And serve you will if such is your desire.¡± The Troll tried to push her away, but the warlord ignored it. ¡°Marco, I offer you two choices. You can continue to be a burden to your family, not letting them focus on their duties. It¡¯s not a bother. Fed up with her inaction, one of the pack would soon wrestle the leadership from that softie in charge. Or¡­¡± She leaned closer, breathing at him. ¡°You can disappear. Janine will grieve, but she¡¯ll move on eventually, and you¡¯ll serve the Tribe, but always in shadows. I am creating a new pack, a unit molded for entirely different purposes. Houstad had taught me of our inability to protect ourselves from the treachery within, and of the perils of relying on the Ice Fangs to navigate us through civilization. You have managed to befriend the Ice Fangs, are unafraid of our females, and are willing to learn. Exactly the qualities I seek to foster. Where brute force is not enough, my special pack will pave the way, compromising, negotiating, infiltrating, trading, sabotaging, doing everything we are not used to.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t honor,¡± Alpha admitted. ¡°Your name will be stricken from the records, and any lineage you sire will not know your heritage. Songs won¡¯t be sung of your prowess, martial or otherwise. What I promise is service to the Tribe, the means to do so, and equality. In that pack, you and the others will be brothers and sisters, never knowing dominations. You will be a glimpse of our future, aiding the Tribe better than you could ever otherwise. Silence!¡± She raised a claw, stopping Marco from speaking. ¡°Know that your mother is willing to do anything to heal you back to your prime. You are not abandoned or hated. Janine, Ignacy, Marco, and Yennifer kept visiting you. They love you. I do not hate you.¡±


    ¡°Where¡­ where will I be of more use?¡± Marco whispered.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± Alpha said, allowing the sadness in her tone. ¡°It is up to you alone. If you refuse me, you¡¯ll lose nothing and regain everything, I swear. Choose. And choose freely, kin. What is your wish? To be in the family or to become a person capable of protecting them?¡±


    A surge of adrenaline hit them both, and the two growled, confused and without aggression. The doctor experienced it, too, through the hand contact and let go of her, grasping the rail to help himself stand. For all her bravery, a shiver ran down her spine. But it wasn¡¯t a cold and clammy touch of fear, but a warm pat of an answered anticipation and the joy of relief.


    Zero had completed her mission. Their chances of survival had just shot through the roof.

 Chapter 137: What Comes Around...

    Ignacy found Elzada in front of the wall. The wolf hag stood on a pile of crates, barking orders and coordinating several maintenance teams. Her pack also hurried up, carrying supplies inside the bastions. The wall surrounding Houstad was a technological marvel, far from the single monolithic structure it appeared to be from the outside. Its interior was honeycombed, creating a labyrinth of compartments containing barracks, generator rooms, defensive installations, medical and prison facilities. Secret passageways opened easily in the heat of battle, releasing soldiers for a clever counterattack or unleashing a deadly New Breed to claim the head of an enemy commander. Whole sections moved around freely, sparing the most valuable compartments from destruction.


    Tanks and APCs already filled the narrow tunnels, and walkers created from the samples of Techno-Queen¡¯s machines loomed over them, making it impossible for the supply trucks to bring in additional ammunition, energy cells, or repair parts; so troops rushed back and forth, adding to the surplus of supplies by emptying the storages.


    The rumble of a mountain range of machinery reached his ears. Gears grinded, pistons thundered, elevators carried defenders to their positions, and generators activated with a hiss. On any other day, Ignacy would¡¯ve made every effort to sneak in and at least admire this feat of engineering, or at best, try to learn a little or be of any help. Or maybe he would have spent his time admiring the lone Iternian VTOL at the airport and talking to its crew. But not today. He had a more important goal.


    A Wolfkin nearly dropped the crate, the size of a modest cusack, on his leg, and Ignacy helped the man regain his balance, holding the grenades alongside him until a scout arrived. He slapped his paw on the knee and turned, sensing Elzada¡¯s eyes at his nape. She somersaulted off the crate, landing gracefully with her arms outstretched, then scowled at the pain in her stomach, her magnificent amber eyes shining with a mixture of concern and anger.


    ¡°I love you,¡° Ignacy said, and the bonfire of anger vanished. The two of them embraced, forgetting for a selfish moment the world, their pain, the friends they had lost, and every worry. Nothing existed but them, and the Wolfkins and Normies nearby redoubled their efforts, grinning at the scene. ¡°Are you going to fight today?¡± Ignacy whispered.


    ¡°No,¡± Elzada answered. She bit him lightly on the neck, and he responded in kind, drawing blood and tearing meat. By tasting flesh and vitae, they sealed the soulmate pact in front of everyone, and until death separated them, the two became part of a greater whole. ¡°Half of my pack is either dead, and the rest are wounded or too young. They may hate me, but I have accepted the warlord¡¯s order. We will escort the refugees to Stormfiend and then to the Wastes to¡­¡± A cheeky smile flashed across her lips. ¡°¡­ breed a new generation. Up to the task?¡±


    ¡°Always wanted to see the place.¡± He took her under the arm, teasing Elzada. ¡°And in good company. I heard Stormfiend¡¯s spires are incredible. Pity I am more interested in other things than exploring them.¡± He returned the smile. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°Nervous,¡± Elzada sighed. ¡°But I enjoy being a mother. Time to gift siblings to our boy.¡±


    Horns blared warnings, and the two tensed, looking up to see the crimson light appearing on the plates of the radar arrays. Laser beams struck, bringing in the cacophony of a titanic blow from the outside that didn¡¯t overload but tore through the force fields capable of withstanding nuclear strikes. The hiss of burning logs, the explosion of ammunition silos, the opening of fissures during an earthquake, and the billowing of the fiercest sandstorm were in this wailing. Purple lightnings flashed in the sky above as the shield reformed itself and the batteries answered, shaking the very ground.


    ¡°DEVOUR THE WORLD!¡± The words, accompanied by the boastful laughter, crept in, echoing off the buildings in Houstad and reverberating in the eardrums.


    Fears for Marco¡¯s safety and worry over Elzada almost paralyzed Ignacy; he pulled his beloved after himself, and they walked away on the shaking legs. Panic spread around them; the haughty battle cry brought the promise of utter devastation and pointless death to all who opposed a literal god stalking the ground. This paper barricade won¡¯t hold us! Thundered in the laughter. Nothing can save you! Clouds of smoke coated the outer side of the shield, shrouding Houstad in darkness.


    Then his fears were washed away by a distant, faint, yet so familiar howl that shook everyone present. Its sound ripped through the Wolfkins, energizing the wounded and the healthy alike, absorbing their despair. Even the Normies blinked, shaking at the nightmare. The howl did not call for slaughter or shame for cowardice. Nor did it summon armies to battle.


    A promise that everything had not been in vain sounded in that call, bringing Ignacy memories of Dad and Mom purchasing an entire cake to celebrate the New Year, and how no squabbles occurred that night, and how Mom insisted they eat the chocolate off the cake before it melted away. He imagined a paw on his shoulder and even said the name.


    Along the way, they encountered an Ice Fang; the knight-captain held a paw to his head, his eyes wide open and the mouth agape as he drooled unsightly. Instinctively, Ignacy reached for the man, and he felt a presence pass from him and Elzada, who held him by the shoulder, to the white-furred, and he imagined seeing two titanic bodies reflected in the crimson eyes. It couldn¡¯t be them; the two had the fur of the purest snow, and their eyes shone brighter than plasma.


    ¡°The Holy Trinity.¡± The Ice Fang gasped and straightened up. ¡°It is restored,¡± he said, awestruck.


    ¡°We are not holy,¡± Elzada giggled, full of unexpected joy. ¡°We¡¯re, like, the opposite of anything holy.¡± She tapped her metal leg. ¡°And don¡¯t flatter yourself, ice boy; you are not divine either. Survive, traitor.¡±


    ¡°Same to you, kin.¡±


    Bogdan¡¯s laughter resonated in the howl, competing with Dad¡¯s encouragement and Mom¡¯s love. Death approached Houstad, and life answered it, stubbornly refusing to kowtow or disappear. And the Wolf Tribe howled, mocking and teasing the hordemen, inviting them to set foot near the gates, their fears forgotten. Ignacy, Elzada, and the knight-captain added their voices to it and darted in different directions, as if slapped by a mother irritated by their procrastination.


    The Butcher Maiden answered with her own promise. The sun will shine.


    ****


    Janine raised her snout to the smoke-filled sky and howled, answering the call. An urge kept shaking her body. She could almost taste the Spirits permeating the very foundation of Houstad and driving the Tribe into action. Janine wanted to kill. No, wanting wasn¡¯t sufficient. She needed to kill someone, and she needed to do it now.


    Mother and daughter charged across the streets, parting ways, and Chak¡¯s clanking legs trailed after Anissa, carrying him along the buildings¡¯ walls. The Inevitable activated its engines, firing the first volley above the walls, and the trucks carrying the wounded hurried to leave the battlefield. Rivers of amber-eyed figures filled the streets, heading in perfect unison to their assigned positions, the deafening cacophony of their battle cries answering the booming laughter.


    Alpha overtook Janine, saying nothing, and leapt thirty meters into the air, continuing running on the rooftops to not step on her kin. Onyxia, wreathed in the shadows, appeared briefly in a window alongside Anji, and nodded once. Janine¡¯s HUD activated, and she instructed her unit to reinforce the defensive posts. Jacomie obeyed, and Reaper entered the sewers, creeping toward the ambush point.


    Even through the preparations to repel the assault, the packs found time to say their farewells. Impatient One met Elzada and Ignacy on her way and gave them both a quick blessing. Wolf hags selected to participate in the defense good-naturedly roasted several wolf hags responsible for protecting the citizens, promising to solve any grievances in the future dominations. Kalaisa¡¯s own cameras showed Janine the wolf hag standing in the crawler¡¯s shadow, addressing her pack as they prepared to leave Houstad.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be asking forgiveness for my misdeeds. Don¡¯t deserve one,¡± Kalaisa said plainly. ¡°I was a shitty leader, a terrible sister, and a worthless human being. But I can fight to buy you time. To give my family a ghost of a chance at happiness, and to spend my life securing my pack¡¯s retreat. This much I can do. Lead the pack well and try to forget me,¡± she asked her sister.


    ¡°Should we wish you a good death?¡± the scout asked sarcastically.


    ¡°Pretend like you never existed?¡± the brother added.


    ¡°Is that how it should end?¡± Kirk¡¯s shaking voice joined theirs as he struggled to look at his older sister. Unable to bear the fear, the male concentrated on his legs and clenched his fists. ¡°What, you die and we¡¯ll be sorry and forgive you, K¡­ sister? Screw that! Live! You don¡¯t get to get off the hook so easily! Never forget what you¡¯ve done! Want to atone?! Keep on being a better person! The dead can¡¯t make amends. A dead sister is worth nothing but grief!¡±


    ¡°Grief¡­¡± Kalaisa repeated, Kalaisa repeated, and Janine switched the HUD¡¯s view and saw the woman smile. ¡°Thank you. I know I didn¡¯t earn it, but thank you so much. The future exists.¡±


    ¡°Concentrate on today, dumbass!¡± her sister advised. ¡°Let your claws breathe, shoot, explode, and kill. Hurt them!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that bit, sister. I itch to fill the graves,¡± Kalaisa growled, and her brother hugged her, her sister patted her, and Kirk stood aside, breathing heavily. Then they parted, the siblings escorting the armored trucks, and their wolf hag raced to join the ambushers. Ygrite assigned Kalaisa to one of the safer places, desiring to preserve the future warlord. Short of anything impossible, she will survive.


    Safe challenges, kin. Janine wished to her.


    And throughout the city, the scene repeated itself in countless variations. Old grudges were forgotten, forgiven, or cast to the wayside; the Wolfkins exchanged heartfelt apologies and hugs, wishing each other survival. Rivalries erupted over who would claim the biggest tally, and the Tribe marched merrily to war. Thoughts of death vanished from their eyes. Even Janine didn¡¯t think about it. A colossal weight had been kicked off her heart, and the faint, barely audible call brought her hope.


    It isn¡¯t over. Let the Horde come.


    And come they did.


    A wall of flame rose to the west, its tongue licking the very clouds. Scanners and cameras bypassed the heat, and drones swooped down, showing an orderly host of infantry and vehicles advancing, shaking the ground with the thunder of tens of thousands of armored boots and the wailing of numerous engines. Hoverbikes flanked the host, their riders ready to charge the second the wall was breached. Mechanical, arrow-shaped flying transports danced above, waiting for an opportunity. For now, they focused on taking out the drones, cutting them in half with bursts of small-caliber weaponry.


    Iron Lord led from the front, riding calmly between two mobile shield carriers, Slavetaker and Widowmaker, at his side. New plates were welded to his body, metallic tendrils writhed at his back, and the cannons on his shoulders shifted constantly, searching for targets. He replaced the destroyed glaive with a similar one and pointed it at the defenders in a silent promise.


    The carriers activated their generators, blanketing the space around the advancing forces. Lightnings flashed in the places where the defenders¡¯ laser beams harmlessly fizzled out, and smoke mushrooms emerged, the results of the destroyed artillery shells failing to penetrate these screens. Spheres of hissing energy rolled across the ground, punching holes in the minefields, and the fabled siege tanks of the khatun fired their first shots.


    Brood Lord postured atop a battle tank in the rear. Ivory-colored and gem-incrusted armor covered his body; the long-range cameras caught the confident grin in his visor. Prosthetic limbs, gleaming with gold and platinum and thicker than his natural limbs, replaced his missing hind legs. Casually carrying a sword on his shoulder, the khan motioned, and hulking shapes lumbered ahead of the front.


    Taller than their leader, these Malformed used knuckles to support their oversized and misshapen bodies ripped with muscles, mouths on their warped shoulders eagerly opened and closed, bubbling with violet liquid on their half-rotten fangs. The soldiers in the first line of defense opened fire, hiding the Horde from view in the horizons of eruptions, and several shells and shots even breached the shield, tearing chunks of flesh from the Malformed.


    Out of their mouths, the Malformed vomited streams of filth, and the flame wall parted, letting the acidic torrent soak the soil and detonate the remaining mines.


    ¡°Fourth brigade, to the second line,¡± Janine ordered.


    ¡°They are still capable of inflicting damage,¡± Dragena noted calmly.


    ¡°They will inflict far more if they fall back and stay alive,¡± Janine stated.


    The defenders hastily abandoned the front line and retreated to the rear trenches as the hissing mass melted through the force shields and enveloped several towed artillery pieces, instantly reducing them to corroded wrecks.


    Behind the Horde, it moved. The superweapon that spelled Opul¡¯s doom was visible in the distance, despite the enormous distance. Compared to it, even a crawler seemed small; it was a pure mountain of metal, baring its fangs, its turrets, and keeping the main cannon ready.


    Drozna. Heika. Phaser. Janine spotted neither of them as she joined her unit, greeting the confused Jacomie clad in full armor and wielding a four-barreled machine gun.


    ¡°Warlord, what is going on?¡± Jacomie asked on the private channel, handing a plasma cannon to Janine as they entered the tunnel leading to the bridge. ¡°We were supposed to be reinforcing the north!¡±


    ¡°Change of plans,¡± Janine assured her, waiting for Dragena¡¯s trap to sprout.


    How to deal with a teleporter? Dragena had used the New Breeds, blessed with predictive abilities and not shying away from enlisting the criminals guilty of trying to bankrupt casinos, and had laid out her plans and available information to them, demanding approximate percentages of success for her ambushes. Not satisfied with that, she had also used the analytical officers of the Investigation Bureau, consulted Till Ingo¡¯s experimental computer processors, and talked to the Brood. Gleaning clues from every possible source, Dragena now knew exactly how Phaser wielded his power and deduced potential locations based on Brood Lord¡¯s personality.


    The first invading party emerged from an open portal in the sewers, fifty men strong. Their leader¡¯s neck was sliced in two by Reaper, who then threw a grenade in the direction of the portal, causing Phaser to close it before the explosives designed to breach the wall could be sent. Jumping backwards and disappearing into a nearby tunnel to hide from the hail of bullets, the assassin began his grim business. The next incursion took place at a power plant in the south. Three assault teams appeared in its corridors.


    Here the plan ran into its first difficulty. A unit of sixty soldiers positioned themselves behind the barricades in the main hall, ready to kill the invaders as they came. To their woe, Drozna stepped out of the blue portal¡¯s surface, utterly ignoring the bullets and laser beams heating his hide. A single sweep of his arm tore the defenders from the barricade, collapsing it and sending the men and women splattering against the wall. Heavy blows liquidated them and the hordeman roared an empty warning about the ¡®betrayal¡¯. The Reclaimers¡¯ jammers came online, preventing the enemy¡¯s coordination, and the trap was sprung.


    While the first group had failed to hinder Drozna, Slaughterer gleefully pushed over the soldiers of his unit, his tendrils wrapped around the shocked hordemen, squeezing them dead and throwing the carcasses in his mouth. Lacerated One, arms folded, stared down the last raiding party in the control center, where a skeleton crew of technicians oversaw the silenced plant.


    ¡°A meager offering,¡± said the Supreme Shaman. Her claws slashed, deflecting the projectiles away from the allies and screams of agony filled the room as she bit the first hordeman.


    Inside the crawler, Ygrite smiled, spreading her arms wide in greeting to those infiltrating the Inevitable¡¯s armory. Volunteer Jaquan Kruger and his bodyguards gave her no time to gloat, and immediately opened fire on the enemy, using the crates for cover. The warlord rolled her eyes and joined in, slicing off limbs.


    In the north, another portal opened near the fuel silos. The raider in charge of this group tapped on the nearest fuel tank and yelled, ¡°The bastards had us! Into the city now, take cover in¡­¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the rush, little lambs?¡± murmured Kalaisa, climbing down the tank; the electric lamps caused her long shadow to stretch over the invaders.


    She bounced off it the second the first of the saboteurs fired, and her paw closed on the leader¡¯s head, twisting it away and using the dead body to slam the nearest hordeman dead. The wolf hag dropped a couple of grenades and shoved a hordewoman off her path with a shoulder tackle, running to ward off the soldiers¡¯ positions and clutching her old wound with one paw. Acid flowers bloomed in her wake, speared by the suppressive fire of her allies.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Not every group handled the sudden invasions as planned. Janine watched as several companies of mercenaries and even former assassins met their match, dying to the superior firepower of the invaders. Several scouts had their brains splattered on the pavement by heavy boots, their troops slashed to the last. Then the enemy spread throughout the city, carrying out their sabotage.


    Cruel as it was, the situation was still within acceptable parameters. They had no way of protecting everything, and with the citizens safe and the vital facilities secured, the freed units could hunt down the intruders like insectoids¡­


    ¡°Incoming!¡± Janine roared, spotting a single shell fired by a siege tank from the Horde¡¯s position. It broke through a weakened segment of the shield and was about to fall atop the wall.


    Then it disappeared. Janine narrowed her eyes, looking at the trembling air, and the HUD of her helmet confirmed a spatial distortion that obscured the projectile¡¯s trajectory and warped it away.


    ¡°Dragena,¡± Janine contacted the bridge. ¡°Are you aware of any teleporters or spatial manipulators on our side?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sister,¡± came the cold reply. ¡°Everything as expected.¡±


    A tear on the bridge stopped Janine¡¯s further inquiry. The blue line ran from the ceiling to the path leading to Ravager¡¯s throne, and Phaser rolled from it, laughing at the bullets fired far above him. His hands slashed, cutting through reality, and blobs of plasma flew from the opened passages, vaporizing two soldiers all the way to their ankles.


    The hordeman immediately drew himself high and launched himself off the path down to the operators. His touch split a human-sized terminal, and in its place opened a window into a storage bay. Servants began rolling a cart full of explosives. A single shot from an energy weapon startled the servants, and Phaser darted away from the window, closing it in a hurry as another shot followed into the portal. If there was an explosion, Janine¡¯s cameras didn¡¯t catch it.


    ¡°I need to kill you without touching your claws?¡± Dragena asked no one in particular, jumping down and sending tremors through the floor. She leveled her rifle, scaring Phaser away from killing an operator. ¡°Simple enough.¡±


    ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be¡­¡± Phaser started talking.


    His eyes widened in fear, and a swipe of his claws opened a portal that swallowed the searing heat aimed at his head. The warlord took a single step, sliding under the portal before its edges could touch her armor, and neared Phaser, pausing briefly at his smile and reaching for a knife on her leg.


    Space shattered above her head.


    ¡°That¡¯ll cost extra to Brood Lord,¡± laughed Phaser, dousing Dragena in the familiar violet sludge. ¡°Didn¡¯t see that coming, doggie?! I can handle anything you throw at me myself!¡±


    His claws stabbed, destroying the reality around them and forming a tunnel that kept Phaser¡¯s arms safe from the acid. Ten claws aimed for Dragena¡¯s neck, and she rammed the butt of her hissing rifle into his stomach, throwing the man straight into the wall with enough force to leave a footprint in it with his body. He screamed in pain and agony, noticing two fingers missing from his hand, and Dragena broke from the downpour.


    ¡°Open emergency ports, oxygen masks, now,¡± Dragena commanded, dropping the useless rifle and unsheathing the second knife. ¡°Captain, take over. It¡¯ll take a while.¡±


    Schalk¡¯s unit went dark; their IDs disappeared from the HUD, marking their last location as they deserted the crawler via the emergency exits amid the confusion and raced toward the city, firing at every camera in their path. But this time we know what you are planning, traitor. You¡¯ll pay for Keon¡¯s death. Janine clenched her fist, wishing she could be there to deliver retribution to that lying piece of human garbage.


    She trusted him! Janine really thought that the man really welcomed her to Houstad and wanted to help out of duty or the goodness of his heart. She pitied and grieved for his people¡­ Then again; they didn¡¯t deserve what happened to them. Janine reproached herself. Schalk¡¯s betrayal did not lessen the old tragedy.


    But he¡¯ll die. Anissa and Yennifer will make sure of that.


    ¡°Soldiers of the Reclamation Army!¡± Jacomie visibly shuddered, hearing Captain Cristobo¡¯s voice. The man lowered himself from the compartment above the bridge and sat on the throne. ¡°We have identified the traitors. Schalk is hereby stripped of his rank. Every loyal soldier of the state is to shoot him and the 4336th platoon on sight.¡±


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Jacomie demanded. ¡°Warlord, first we blatantly ignored the orders and took a different post, and now¡­¡±


    ¡°Forgive the deception, Captain. I myself have only recently learned of Captain Cristobo¡¯s survival. Though I admit I was a fool. The Blessed Mother gave him the gift of immunity to poisons; I should have realized it sooner.¡± Janine placed a paw on the captain¡¯s shoulder. ¡°I am not privy to every detail, but Dragena and he were busy flushing out the traitors and countering their actions.¡±


    ¡°But Schalk¡­ He is¡­ That¡¯s just not possible.¡± Panic flashed in the captain¡¯s eyes. ¡°The complex! Warlord, that traitor wanted my troops to take over the complex! If he¡­¡±


    ¡°Nothing will happen to it. It is impossible to teleport in there, and we took precautions about the rest,¡± Janine assured the woman. ¡°The lies were laid bare at last. The scorching flame of the Dynast¡¯s judgment awaits the traitors, and they will be found wanting.¡±


    ¡°DEVOUR THE WORLD!¡± The hordemen boomed their battle cry, shouting on top of their lungs.


    ¡°Choke on your own blood!¡± Janine roared back, exiting the gates leading to the bridge.


    The artillerymen of the Reclamation Army answered with their actions. Cannons fired and missiles streaked from the wall, raining upon the advancing army. The very ground trembled, and were it not for the shield protecting the state¡¯s positions, Janine had little doubt that many of the defenders would be crushed by the shockwaves alone. Explosions rolled upon the ground, slipping off the Gilded Horde¡¯s shields and reaching the defenders¡¯ field.


    Specialized missiles failed to burst the enemy¡¯s protection. The enemy leader gathered enough shield generators to form several individual domes of protection, so when one failed, more rose to stop the incoming barrage. But the Reclaimers kept at it, unleashing enough firepower to level hollow cities and collapse entire mountain ranges. Something had to give. The soldiers stepped nervously from leg to leg, watching as the flaming wall advancing on Houstad was riddled with canvas created by the long-range weapons of both sides.


    Dozens of hordemen, far too few, died when the protective shield failed to quaff and not choke the incoming barrage. A similar scene played out in the Reclaimer ranks, and dust fell on Janine¡¯s temple from above as a laser cannon hit one of the platforms on the wall, destroying the parapet and killing the soldiers there. Janine caught a falling body, briefly checked the man¡¯s pulse to confirm his demise, and respectfully handed him to be carried away.


    Where one enemy soldier fell, two more took his place. The Horde lived up to its name; their numbers seemed endless, advancing in waves of gold, green, crimson, and black toward the defenders. A young man near the warlord cried out as the artillery flattened a section of the trenches, and broken bodies were tossed callously into the air as the rest of the Third¡¯s vanguard retreated. Janine didn¡¯t reprimand the young man, softening her impression when she realized the boy was about twenty years old.


    Dragena placed Janine¡¯s unit on the bridge leading into Houstad, and the structure was wedged between two bastions. Soldiers already manned bunkers and pillboxes, preparing to repel the invaders when they entered inside the shield. Officers had ordered trenches dug into the concrete in preparation to fight for this place with fang and claws. The shallowness of the river at this point prevented the command from blowing up the bridge right away.


    It served better as an obstacle and a desirable target.


    Ignoring the shells, Janine walked to the young mercenary, not even batting an eye at the approaching devastation. She checked the soldier¡¯s weapon, made him adjust his helmet, and nodded at him. The panic was understandable. The mercenaries of the Core Lands handled gangs, corporate competition, and hunted an occasional monster from the Outer Lands. They never expected to fight in a real war.


    ¡°This is your home!¡± Janine shouted, raising the axe above her head. ¡°A place to raise your cubs, a den that you have worked so hard to build! A rare safe haven in the world resisting the grip of insanity and violence, a testament to human dignity and honor. The world demanded of your ancestors to surrender to their primitive instincts and be reduced to a crazed rabble, squabbling over the dregs. Instead, they spat in the face of that demand and built a place for all of you! The question is, will you fail to live up to their example?¡± She raised her voice, changing it into a roaring tornado. ¡°I say no! I am a product of savagery and cruelty, and I refuse to let Houstad burn! There are things worth fighting for! What about you? Will you run and hide? Will you let your cubs be raised in slave pens, devoid of a future?¡±


    ¡°NO!¡± the volunteers screamed back, joined by the provincial and the Third¡¯s soldiers.


    ¡°If any of you were drafted by trickery or against your will, now is your chance to leave.¡± The blazing flame behind left her a vast shape against the red. ¡°As a soldier, it is my duty to stand and fight. A civilian¡¯s duty is to live and prosper. The state has failed; I have failed to ensure that you¡¯ll have this priceless opportunity. No one will condemn you if you leave. Nevertheless, I, Janine of the Wolf Tribe, ask you. Join me in the defense of Houstad.¡±


    ¡°Janine.¡± Jacome stepped forward, checking her rifle. ¡°No need to ask. Houstad has become the home of my people. No one person can carry the weight of the world, but together we can shove it down the Horde¡¯s ravenous throat hard enough to end them. We are staying.¡±


    ¡°I am from the west¡­¡± said an elderly man in a fitting uniform and a body armor of an outdated design. ¡°I had hunting dogs¡­ I had hounds.¡± His finger moved closer to the trigger of his rifle.


    ¡°You can rebuild,¡± said a nearby volunteer gently, armed with a spiked mace in addition to the standard machine gun.


    ¡°For most of my life, I¡¯ve been murdering people for money,¡± said another man, dressed in a mesh of loose-fitting power armor and body protection. His eye shone with a yellow light of the targeting matrix, and he spun a knife in his hand. ¡°Might as well kill for something that matters for once. I¡¯ve skinned several fatties. They die just as easily as anyone else. Don¡¯t bury us yet.¡±


    ¡°Meh.¡± A half-woman, half-machine clanked forward, traversing on pistons that served her for legs. An unblinking green ocular had replaced one of her eyes, and most of her hair went gray. The mercenary captain smirked, rotating the cannon protruding from her left forearm. ¡°My crew busted our asses to get citizenship. And now the Dynast has handed it to the rest of our families and relatives on a silver platter. You can bet your pretty head that we will kill for it. Waste no more words, ma¡¯am. Not a bad company has gathered here. Sure, some may wet themselves, but they¡¯ll shoot and, more importantly, kill.¡± A group of Malformed and convicts laughed. ¡°Yours to command, Warlord.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Janine smiled back and faced the fire. ¡°Anyone willing to die, try to get past us!¡±


    ¡°Janine. Your challenge is accepted,¡± they heard the voice. Boastful, full of arrogance and knowledge of one¡¯s might. These simple words resonated in souls, filling even Janine with icy dread.


    Mad Hatter stepped out from the wall of flame. She was wearing a pristine white dress with gold trim and brown pants adorned with bracelets and necklaces. On her shoulders were the furs of great beasts, her hair touched the back of her waist, and a leather cap with a blue feather covered the woman¡¯s face up to her nose. Her lips smiled while bloodshot eyes focused on the warlord.


    For all Janine¡¯s bravado, she knew better than to hope to stand against this creature. The woman, dressed more for a party than a battlefield, might as well be death itself. It wasn¡¯t a matter of possibility; she had not even a percentage of a percentage of a chance to deal a fatal blow to that.


    Cristobo directed the assault on the khatun immediately. Energy cannons, artillery and turrets, missiles, and even grenade launchers loaded with every deadly gas and substance conceivable¡ªthey fired it all, and a sphere of devastation rose around the Khatun.


    She breathed in the white phosphorus and nerve agents as if it were air. The khatun¡¯s scimitars drew arcs around her, sending the regular ammunition aside so that nothing would damage her clothing. Her legs carried her away from the energy beams. Swaths of land around her were torn and vaporized; the sand turned to glass. And still she advanced, unharmed, undamaged, her arms blurry from the creation of wind slashes that repeatedly swatted away everything fired at her.


    A single such slash touched a line of the defense, barely grazing it, but no soldier in its path survived. They weren¡¯t crushed by the pressure, or cut; they didn¡¯t even turn into a crimson mist. Two hundred and sixty-seven soldiers of the Third simply vanished, as if they had never existed.


    ¡°Abandon equipment and retreat to the wall,¡± Janine ordered, interrupting Cristobo¡¯s coordination of the retreat. He can reprimand her later. They had tools in abundance.


    The Sky¡¯s Avatar moved further ahead from her host, concentrating on Janine, and the soldiers retreated, abandoning the second and third lines of defense.


    ¡°You should have accepted my offer,¡± said Mad Hatter. It should¡¯ve been impossible for her words to reach the Reclaimers, but Janine heard them loud and clear. ¡°It isn¡¯t wise to resist a demigod. Fall to your knees, worship the Sky, praise me, admit that your faith is inferior, and I¡¯ll spare you and your spirits.¡±


    ¡°Demigods don¡¯t make mistakes. But you did,¡± Janine answered. ¡°You should¡¯ve killed me when you had the chance.¡±


    ¡°What for?¡± Mad Hatter laughed. ¡°You are powerless. Your gods are powerless! Even that progenitor of yours is not here to save you! And without might, you cannot forge a legacy, nor can you change anything!¡± She pointed the tip of her scimitar skyward.


    The battlefield ceased going. Sounds faded, shells froze in mid-air, tongues of flame grew still, and even laser beams burned their way to their target slower than Janine could run, and, as the warlord surveyed the situation, a terrible realization struck her. Mad Hatter wasn¡¯t faster than light. She was dodging the shots before they were even fired.


    It was insanity. No mind, no awareness that she knew of, was capable of such a feat. The Khatun¡¯s eyes never left Janine¡¯s; she had no HUD to share the omnidirectional vision. It could not be happening.


    ¡°My offer stands,¡± a voice whispered to her left, and a familiar white shape took place near Janine. The warlord tried to sniff it, to touch that weird man, but her muscles refused to obey her. ¡°My touch is reserved for the faithful. My child, you stand at a precipice. Accept me and be plunged into greatness and face your enemy as an equal. Reject me and know that Abyss of yours.¡±


    Janine didn¡¯t answer; she didn¡¯t even see fit to pay any further attention to this figment of her imagination. The Spirit of Rage often teased his victims, and she didn¡¯t know a woman who would¡¯ve been glad of trading her self to become a skinwalker. The figure glowed; the infernal crimson of its eyes resembled two mouths of active volcanoes. At last it disappeared, saying nothing, and the time resumed.


    Mad Hatter blinked and smiled; the corners of her lips touched the ears.


    ¡°Unfortunate. I hoped for an appetizer before the main event.¡±


    ¡°There are worse things than being weak,¡± Janine said bluntly. ¡°When you die, Mad Hatter, you¡¯ll be little more than a footnote, another maniac in the long history of the Reclamation Army broken under the Dynast¡¯s heel, an accessory to the Blessed Mother¡¯s legacy. Unloved, uncared for, and even your own slaves will forget you.¡± She sighed. ¡°No friends, no family, no comrades or allies. By your own choice. If I am weak, then you are a pathetic squanderer of gifts.¡±


    ¡°Bold words. But here¡¯s the thing, Janine. If I want a family, I¡¯ll have one. Friends too. And I¡¯ll be strong enough never to lose them. The question is, are you?¡± Veins showed on Mad Hatter¡¯s hand, and she slowed directly opposite of Janine, and a cold sweat ran down the warlord¡¯s back. ¡°What is the matter? What is there to be afraid of? It¡¯s just a single slash, and I am so far away, and you have that bubble created by those comrades of yours. Surely, if they are so precious, you have naught to worry about...¡±


    ¡°Permission granted!¡± said a new, familiar voice on the communication and unknown images joined the shared vision. The perfect and smooth interior of a highly advanced room. A gloved hand held a slightly crumpled terminal. The hand tossed it aside; the machine drummed against a carpet and its surface straightened.


    Nanomachines. And that blue glove that covered the hand¡­


    ¡°Elite Eugenia, joining the battle!¡±


    A pillar of blue rose from the airport, streaking into the smoke-filled sky. The top of the beam hit the force field and bounced off, quickly changing direction, and Mad Hatter looked up. The blue line, the Elite, passed above the walls by jumping all the way from Houstad¡¯s airport. Still spinning, the round ball nearly touched the ground and then spread herself into a feminine form.


    Blue boots touched the desolated ground, soon followed by the hem of a blue cape. A growing, sprawling oak, painted white, flashed briefly on the cape before a living cloak formed by blonde hair, so long it almost touched the ground, covered it. Similar national emblems were on her gloves, boots, and chest. She was a head shorter than Ravager; her helmet covered the face similar to Mad Hatter¡¯s mask, and from the deep blue of her visor, two eyes flashed fiercely, meeting the khatun¡¯s gaze.


    Her attire seemed to be paper-thin, yet it could withstand more damage than even Alpha¡¯s suit. None of that body was made of leather or spandex; every part of that foreign thing was formed by the nanomachines. Janine had seen it before, clouds forming technological ¡®cinderblocks¡± over soldiers¡¯ bodies, assembling themselves into armor like pieces of a puzzle.


    These smart machines unnerved Janine. They weren¡¯t mindless; they thought and acted. Several soldiers who had no right to remain whole after swings of her own axe had survived that way, and then their own suits turned into complicated medical instruments that helped the unconscious injured survive even mortal wounds. As per the accepted rules, the Reclaimers didn¡¯t try to retrieve them from the wounded as the nanomachines terminated themselves to avoid revealing their secrets.


    A section of the shield parted briefly, and the figure walked bravely toward the khatun.


    ¡°Hey!¡± Eugenia Mylli, the pinnacle of the achievements of the Iternian bioengineering, pointed a finger at Mad Hatter. ¡°Why don¡¯t you pick on someone equal for a change?¡±


    ¡°Murderer! Butcher! Traitors¡¯ spawn!¡± Janine roared, spitting saliva. Her son dying, his desperate squeals, the females and males lost during the Culling¡­ ¡°How dare you set foot on our land? Has Iterna lost all shame? I will slaughter you here and now!¡±


    ¡°Janine,¡± Eugenia softened her voice. ¡°I am sorry.¡±


    ¡°His Excellency himself has authorized the involvement of Elite Redeemer, Warlord,¡± Cristobo warned.


    ¡°Hey, Janine.¡± Jacomie took her by the arm. ¡°I don¡¯t know what cat came between you and her, but let¡¯s not. Not right now, anyway.¡±


    ¡°That would be a first, because no one is my equal,¡± Mad Hatter responded, straightening up. No weapon was fired at her anymore, and the khatun tilted her head. ¡°An Iternian. Hm. Hm. Why are you here? I haven¡¯t had any beef with your country. What is there to gain in helping your prime rival? Let us fight, witness the destruction of the Reclamation Army, or¡­¡± She smiled. ¡°Could it be that you wish to join me? I have heard of you, manufactured sparrow. The rabble has elevated you above itself, but isn¡¯t it tiresome to forever be chained by responsibilities and rules? Take flight; become yourself for once! Stand at my side and let us feast upon the world together!¡±


    Mad Hatter¡¯s words resonated with Janine¡¯s soul. She recalled her anger aimed at Terrific, the disappointment after meeting her mother, Bertruda¡¯s betrayal, and more. Alpha had always underestimated her, called her a coward. The shamans were stubborn idiots. She knew better; she was born better, so why was she fighting for the side that¡­ Her fangs bit her tongue to the blood, and the feeling disappeared. Janine slapped the glassy-eyed Jacomie, snapping the woman out of her trance, and together they went to wake their soldiers.


    ¡°Megalomaniacal speeches put me to sleep,¡± Eugenia laughed, her voice clear as a river. ¡°The Intelligence was right, not just emotional manipulation, but a passive invasive mind control to boot.¡± She tapped the side of her helmet. ¡°Don¡¯t waste the efforts, punk. Been there, toughed it out, became immune. Wanted to know, why am I here? To stop you. Why? Because lives are at stake, and I am here. Because you have destroyed cities, engaged in slavery, killed minors, and endangered our citizens.¡± A white mist gathered around the Elite¡¯s hands. She clenched her fist, gripping the handles of silver tonfas formed by the nanomachines. ¡°Because I owe debts. Iterna will no longer tolerate your wanton terrorism. Your war ends today. And your crimes will be punished.¡±


    ¡°By whom, little imitation?¡± the khatun asked.


    A soft, blue glow covered most of the battlefield. A portal that made Phaser¡¯s tears look positively tiny had opened in the south, widening and expanding to reveal another portal within, one that led into the depths of the cosmos. The pleasant hue soon turned orange and then bright red as a chunk of stone, large enough to serve as a wall¡¯s bastion, pushed through the portal. Jacomie quailed, grabbing Janine to stand, and the warlord gulped.


    Eugenia was dropping a meteor. The wind roared, blowing in every direction, displaced by the sheer mass of the meteor, superheated by the friction. The helmet closed around the Elite¡¯s head.


    She is going to murder us all. Janine thought.


    ¡°And they call me mad,¡± Mad Hatter remarked.

 Chapter 138: Ravager Awakens

    Big Sis!


    A crust of snow cracked beneath her paw as Ravager reached the mountaintop. Corpses still rolled down the slopes, torn, slashed, gutted. She didn¡¯t indulge her hunger today, marveling at the surrounding heavenly scenery. Whiteness covered the entire mountain, burying several desolate settlements below. The Extinction had scarred this area of the world, and the biting cold covered the stones in reflective ice that shone wonderfully, reflecting morning rays after she had climbed above the clouds that denied even a glimmer of light to the surface.


    And everything was covered in this white blanket! Normies explained to her that this thing was called snow, a kind of frozen water that fell from the clouds. She didn¡¯t believe them at first and had grabbed a heap of this snow. Her sharp eye noticed thousands of individual ice crystals, all merged together and melting so quickly in her paw. But how could ice be so gentle to touch? Ravager didn¡¯t understand, and frankly, she didn¡¯t care. Ignoring the mission at first, the Commander had squealed like a child and jumped into the white pale, sweeping her arms to make an angel print. Janine¡¯s cough had reminded her of the importance of their mission, and the group resumed their travel.


    Crudely embedded houses led to the top. These weren¡¯t abandoned; she smelled the faint scents of frozen bodies inside. Swarms of insectoid creatures composed of long-bladed limbs and smallish dark green carapaces had spewed themselves from the interior of the vast network of tunnels that penetrated the whole place, their minds distorted by the nightmares descending from above.


    They had found it. The Apocalypse class, an individual whose power affected the entire world. And they weren¡¯t alone. Terrific, always eager to please, had opened the corpse of a large slain beast, frowning at the strange, repetitive arrangement of organs in the body. Ravager had joined her, examining the triangular heart chambers, clearly designed to survive extensive blood loss. Someone tinkered with the Old World¡¯s knowledge.


    Ravager had ordered Terrific and Janine to head above using the tunnels while she braved the outer side of the mountain, attracting and butchering the insects, various creatures, and madmen fighting them. She had carried a screeching individual into one house, staying silently above a bullet-ridden child¡¯s cot, saying nothing, and compared the woman in her paw with the frozen little one. Not a local. Her suspicions had been proven true, and the claws closed, squashing the pleading bitch.


    Hunters vying for the prize.


    At last, she reached the summit, stepping on top of the world and looking down at the heavy clouds passing below. Ice, both clean and covered with ichor, and blood, both red and sickly yellow, reflected multicolored flashes into her eyes, pleasing the monster. Her skin tingled, craving warmth. An adaptation followed soon, and her body temperature normalized.


    How beautiful. Ravager decided, thrusting a paw through the mandibles of a creature that was stalking her. Occasionally, shimmering peaks of smaller mountains peeked through the swirl of black clouds, as if they were islands rising from the depths of the dried-up seas. The sun bathed her in its rays. A top of the world. Back when she was locked in the laboratory, back when she grieved for the dead civilizations, she never dared to imagine seeing such a brilliant scene anywhere! The monster clutched fists to her chest, her concerns about hundreds of slaughtered beasts abandoned.


    A squeal broke Ravager from her concentration, and she raced, faster than a bullet, to its source, hearing Terrific fighting several levels below. Janine¡¯s cub, Kostaltyn, the first of her litter to survive, thrashed in agony, bleeding flammable oil and sparks, his eyes bulging out of sockets. Ravager elbowed Janine away and was on him, using her brain to the fullest.


    The situation became known instantly; his clumsy and crude implants overloaded, igniting his nerves instead of transmitting synapses to the exo-suit. I warned him not to trust these toys! She carved them out of him, but Kostaltyn¡¯s heart gave in, and Janine howled mournfully.


    Again. So many gifts, and I can¡¯t even save a single soldier even when I want to. Her fangs gnashed as she handed the body to the mother.


    A group of people in thick, blue clothes formed a line, barring them a path to a makeshift pile of planks behind them. Each had an emblem of oaks on their arms, and they bore weapons. Her eyes swept the summit, taking in the information.


    A heavy step left by Kostaltyn¡¯s exosuit. It was a lunge in response to a threat. Janine¡¯s tattered coat and sharp objects stuck in her hide. Not bullets, tranquilizer darts. Her Wolfkins lay scattered about, asleep and with a few broken bones, but otherwise unharmed. Claws and bullets damaged the group¡¯s clothing, wounding four, and their weapons did not resemble those used to eradicate the locals. No cause for blood vengeance yet.


    A figure showed from the shack. He was a gray Malformed, his skin hung in sacks along his oversized limbs, bandages covered his limbs, and to move around, he relied on a person who had a white armband with a red cross on it. Ravager sniffed the air, catching frozen pus and medication from his body and a tingle of nightmare, a complete copy of the ones that had denied her sleep for over ten days, touched her brain.


    The target.


    She raised herself on two legs with a crack. Ravager didn¡¯t like that choice, having grown accustomed to the quadrupedal style during the two years of her imprisonment. However, her liege always berated the ¡®animalistic¡¯ posture, insisting that she would walk on two legs to avoid needless intimidation during a negotiation.


    ¡°Hand him over.¡± Ravager extended a paw. ¡°Otherwise, death.¡±


    ¡°Please, listen to us!¡± A teen jumped from the line, her long blonde hair tied up in a bun hidden inside her cowl. The hanging eyelids, reddish eyes, and dark circles around them told Ravager that this girl had not gotten her share of sleep either. ¡°This was an accident! We¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to hurt him.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t relevant, fool!¡± Ravager growled. ¡°That one¡¯s power¡­¡± She pointed at the Malformed. ¡°¡­threatens everyone¡¯s existence. Turn it off.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± the Malformed spoke in growling and mewling, drooling saliva, but a little communicator near his ear translated the words into the Common. ¡°I wasn¡¯t even aware I was doing anything. If I¡¯d known, I would¡¯ve stepped into the sky.¡±


    ¡°Then death it is.¡± Ravager stepped toward the Malformed. A slash of her claw propelled the air to draw a recess in the snow, slicing the weapon of a man in blue as he tried to aim at her. He blinked, struggling to comprehend her speed, and she wished to plunge her head into his chest and feast on his hot insides. His lack of aggression saved him.


    ¡°There is no need to fight anymore. Don¡¯t die because of me.¡± The Malformed broke free and hobbled toward her. ¡°I never meant for any of it to happen; I never wanted my tribe to suffer because¡­¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t your fault. But I can¡¯t let you live.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, you are right. Stop it.¡±


    ¡°No!¡± The teen jumped high and struck down with her tonfas. She was fast, faster than a scout, but to Ravager¡¯s amber eyes, the girl moved in slow motion. Every cell in the monster¡¯s body demanded an immediate sacrifice, but she refused to oblige, and the tonfas¡¯ ends struck the snow, covering Ravager in yellow lightnings that weaved around her limbs, biting gently, and she laughed, amused at the feeble efforts. ¡°How are you standing?¡±


    ¡°Useless.¡± Ravager let loose the claws.


    ¡°We can help him!¡± The girl pleaded, surprising the monster with her determination and willingness to fight against her. ¡°There is a drug that can stop the abnormality from working! No one has to die¡­¡±


    Ravager raised an arm, stopping Janine from lunging, and stood, oblivious to any sounds around her. At a snap of her fingers Janine, good, sweet, loyal girl, rammed into a creature that climbed up a cliff and began tearing it apart, while the rest of the Wolfkins patiently waited. It can¡¯t be. Even the information about a medicine capable of stopping powers wasn¡¯t that important to Ravager. Her breath grew heavier as she examined the girl¡¯s almost perfectly formed skull, her arms that had grown in muscle since the last time she had seen them, and a new ear¡­


    ¡°Eugenia¡­¡± Ravager whimpered to the thief who had robbed her of her chance at freedom. The girl stopped talking and looked the monster over, her eyes widening.


    Why? Is there any justice in this blasted, half-dead rock? The vat-borns were dead, and this bitch who hunted them for fun still lived? How dare there be such a deep remorse in her eyes, and why did it stay her paw from correcting a mistake of the past? Why was Eugenia pure, still human, dressed in fine clothes, while she was a merciless monster suffering from constant headaches and gripped by barely suppressed violent desires and memory loss?


    I won¡¯t return to the Room. ¡°You can¡¯t enslave me again,¡± Ravager growled, loud enough for the ice covering the cliffs to crack. Janine almost fell down, but she regained enough of herself to grab the woman by the nape and pull her to safety, assigning two Wolfkins to protect their unconscious comrades.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ you.¡± Eugenia touched her ear and the visage of that teen from that fateful night when the world was still alive briefly flashed in the tormented mind. ¡°I am sorry. I am so sorry for what I have done to you.¡± Her voice broke, and she dropped the tonfas. ¡°I didn¡¯t k¡­ no, I have no excuses. Let me help. Cut me if it¡¯ll help you, or I can go to prison for life. Planet is my witness; I deserve it and more. But please, come back with us. There are people ready to help you.¡±


    And Ravager believed her, recoiling in pure horror at the sincerity of the offer. She followed a simple ideology. Help? She was a monster; that was why she had been dragged back to the laboratory, why she had been punished, and why she had lost her family. By resisting her nature, by refusing to fight as a monster would, she spelled their doom. A road of death and slaughter waited for her. Spitefully, she cheated her fate, choosing to wield her talents for the sake of people rather than sink to the depths of depravity. But the core rule of her simple ideology remained unchanged. It wasn¡¯t possible for those destined to be evil to turn good.


    Take away my aggression, change me? After everything she had done? After refusing to show mercy to her mother, after abandoning her family and inverting the spawn cloned out of her? Ravager¡¯s paws trembled; a jolt of pain coursed over her brain, bursting veins, bringing her closer to the instant where she would phase out and wake to piles of corpses around. No. There is no redemption. I can¡¯t¡­ It isn¡¯t right. Yes, it made sense. A lie. It had to be a lie. If there was a shred of goodness in her, a piece of hope, why didn¡¯t she rescue anyone other than Zero or not befriend and change the people there?


    She was grateful for the wailing sound in the air. The space ten meters above the plateau took on a reddish hue, mingled with occasional darkness, and it burst, shattering and releasing the blinding white light to illuminate the gathering. Ravager¡¯s snarl sent her pack toward the group in blue; Janine glanced at Eugenia with half-dead eyes, but did not attack, holding her dead boy.


    The caustic smell of anesthetic wafted from the round hole, then Ravager heard the noise of mechanical joints shifting, and a humanoid machine landed on the top of the mountain, sending cracks with the weight of its twenty-meter-tall frame. Its feet were wide enough to kill a Wolfkin with a step; the heat coming from under the gray plating began melting snow, and rivers of water poured from the cliffs, creating steam and freezing without reaching the ground. Green blades flashed on the long fingers, and three oculars at the head found the group.


    It was a trick. Her ears picked up the excited beating of two hearts in the center of this thing, below the neck. And there was another quiet beating far too slowly to be human. This last person was hiding in the tunnels, clearly not wanting to be found by those who controlled the humanoid machine or by Terrific. Another competitor?


    A stream of flesh poured out of the portal. Cracks of bones filled the air as bodies strained to separate from a single mass. Muscled beasts and bladed insectoids landed on the wet ground, circling the machine¡¯s feet; membranous wings flapped as dozens of screeching creatures, little more than torsos attached to wings, took flight.


    Ravager was thinking, restraining herself from attacking. She scanned the cannons¡¯ barrels, calculating the potential radius of their shockwaves if they would indeed be firing projectiles and had taken into account that the hunters very obviously sought to claim the Malformed for themselves. The fact that the beast hadn¡¯t attacked them yet supported that theory; these creatures showed no mercy to anyone they¡¯d encountered before.


    But if those bastards could teleport, why didn¡¯t they retrieve their prize already? Were they luring other groups into a trap or was there a limitation to their teleportation method? A line-of-sight requirement, perhaps?


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Hand over the mutie,¡± a twin laughter boomed from the robot¡¯s head, confirming Ravager¡¯s theory. ¡°And no one will have to die.¡±


    ¡°That is a lie,¡± said a man in blue. ¡°Their words contradict the mindless slaughter unleashed by their minions¡­¡±


    ¡°Correct.¡± Ravager nodded and reached for Eugenia. ¡°You can help him?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    Eugenia didn¡¯t scream. Not even when the claws took away her ear and tossed it into the open jaws. The girl had changed, alright, and not just mentally. Her body¡¯s structure was different, but Ravager cared more about claiming what was hers. Eugenia had no right to that part of her body. She leaned in and rubbed a scent mark into the Malformed¡¯s cheek, engraving herself into his very DNA, forever linking the two through a bond felt by her. No matter the distance, he won¡¯t be able to hide if Eugenia lied to her.


    ¡°Still able to open portals?¡±


    ¡°You bet.¡± Eugenia grinned, holding a hand over the missing year. ¡°On me, we are getting out¡­¡±


    ¡°You are getting out,¡± Ravager corrected her, dropping to all fours, fangs jittering, eyes locked on the machine. ¡°And monsters battle.¡±


    To her surprise, Eugenia opened the portal and stepped through it along with the Malformed, while the rest of her group remained, quickly changing their weapons to what she assumed would be a lethal mode. Domes of force shields spread from their wrists, and they ducked to cover themselves and the Wolfkins, while Ravager positioned herself in front of the gathering.


    ¡°Who are you people?¡± she asked, the madness nearly consuming her.


    ¡°Iternians, miss,¡± answered the man, suppressing his anger at her maiming his comrade. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°Reclaimers. Why did you stay?¡±


    ¡°Saw the dead children on the way here.¡±


    ¡°Ah. Then we are of the same mind. Don¡¯t get killed. We must chat later. Janine, you are in charge until Terrific finally deems it fit to get her ass here.¡± Ravager crashed into the machine, sending it staggering backward. The two fell into the vast emptiness while the united crew opened fire.


    What a weird day it was.


    ****


    Sister, we need you!


    Her paws touched the concrete, softly landing before the apartment. Iterna and the Reclaimers had forged a fragile peace after the Culling, and, in theory, nothing prevented Ravager from entering this country legally, but the pain brought to her sister by the treacherous country forever ruined any trust. I was right about the implants and the danger to our kind here. Eugenia lied. There is no helping me.


    The Iternians prided themselves on their force field, their scanners, drones, search parties, cameras, radars, and more means of identification and suppressing threats. And yet she snuck past everything, digging under their shield, evading patrols, and dining in the trash cans, both disappointed and delighted at the absolute lack of homeless. Those always provided the most curious gossip.


    There was no threat in Iterna. Zero. Its citizens grew metaphorically fat; their children played, unaware of the need to stay away from radiation zones, and never felt the fear of an insectoid creeping up on them or bandits raiding their homes. Smooth roads connected cities, fields of grass and forests provided fresh and clean oxygen, and there was no shortage of anything, be it food, water, or doctors.


    We¡¯ll build a nation just like that. Ravager promised herself, genuinely curious that her anger seemed to be subsiding, and it was easy to commit to the stealth.


    The monster, hand-crafted to lead armies, topple countries, and devastate population centers, entered an apartment building, crawled under the half-asleep concierge¡¯s window, and made her way up, contorting herself to avoid cracking the walls. Her ears picked up heartbeats, so many of them, but most were asleep at this late hour, and her nose led her to a door on the third floor. She rang the bell, waiting patiently for the resident to say, ¡®Coming, coming¡¯ and for his feeble footsteps to stomp toward the entrance.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­ you,¡± said Brur, squinting his eyes to better see her. Occasional strands of hair on the Malformed¡¯s body went gray; he no longer smelled of pus, and a medical intervention ¡®trimmed¡¯ his sagging flesh, lessening the burden on the limbs.


    But it was him. The Apocalypse class she had met thirty years ago.


    ¡°Good night.¡± Ravager bowed her head, still towering over him. ¡°Mind if I come in?¡±


    ¡°Call next time,¡± Brur laughed, his voice dribbling, but she didn¡¯t catch any annoyance in it. ¡°It¡¯s challenging for me to stay awake these days.¡±


    He invited her in. Wooden planks covered the floor, various ceramics stood on the shelves leading into the kitchen, well secured so that guests could not accidentally knock them over. Ravager glanced into the living room and noticed a family photo of Brur, a woman, and three smaller mutants who shared little of his traits. There were several such photos, but the woman was absent in the leftmost photo, and an urn standing on a table answered Ravager¡¯s curiosity.


    Dolls lay on the table: a soldier in need of restringing its lame leg, a broken egg-shaped princess waiting for her head to be repasted, and a weird six-legged animal smelling of fresh paint.


    They sat at the table, and Brur offered her an Iternian drink called coffee. She didn¡¯t enjoy it, and the gracious host simply gave her the milk. Brur briefly told her how he had opened a small shop selling handmade ceramics and a repair shop focused on fixing antique or old-fashioned toys brought in from outside Iterna. Such jobs were rare, as the children here preferred to spend all day in terminals or entertaining themselves in virtual reality, but it was enough to get by for a person who once had enough power to potentially conquer the world.


    Brur¡¯s power wasn¡¯t just temporarily shut off; it was sealed during several surgeries; he explained to Ravager. He told her a story of how he met his wife, of his family, of the citizens who protested his family being thrown into the camps during the Culling. The local commissioner and the mayor ignored the presidential order and stalled long enough to join the nationwide revolt that toppled the president and her cabinet.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pity that I still had to sell the shop,¡± Brur said, resting his head on his fist. ¡°But both of my sons have left for the Oathtakers, disgusted by what happened to their friends, and my daughter will follow after¡­ this house will be sold,¡± he avoided clarification. ¡°They call me daily, but I miss them. It isn¡¯t the same without them around.¡±


    ¡°But why get old?¡± Ravager asked, furiously scratching her chin and sniffing the blood in her nose. ¡°You could be young forever! Join your kids; see the world!¡±


    ¡°And forever be at risk of being used to harm the others. Or in danger of having my family kidnapped to influence me. I don¡¯t wish that. Besides, I have had a happy life, thanks to you, Eugenia, and everyone else who gave me a chance.¡± He sighed. ¡°Folks say you communicate with the other side. Tell me and be honest. Those people who died because of my power. Is that my fault? Will I go to hell when I die?¡±


    ¡°I am a god,¡± Ravager lied. ¡°Even if that Planet of yours considers it a sin, I absolve you of any guilt regarding your power.¡± She embraced the elderly man, noticing that he was dozing. ¡°Be at peace. I should be going.¡±


    ¡°Sorry.¡± Brur smiled weakly. ¡°Old age. I used to stay up all night to finish orders. Now I can do two a day, if I¡¯m lucky.¡±


    ¡°You have problems with tokens?¡±


    ¡°We call it credits around here.¡± Brur rubbed his eyes, trying not to fall asleep. ¡°No, nothing of sorts. But I enjoy working. There¡¯s a drill up my ass; it¡¯s why I braved the top when¡­¡± He paused. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll have the strength to stand and close the door just yet.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about that,¡± Ravager promised.


    She waited in the living room, listening to his snoring for several hours, until a mutant from the family photos came in, loudly and worriedly calling her father. Ravager slipped behind her back, not producing any sound, squeezed through the door before it could close, and escaped to the roof.


    I can¡¯t save people. Nor can I build. What I created, what I made of the little ones, is vile. She pondered, watching the rising sun. Eugenia didn¡¯t lie, however incredible it was. Brur, a person capable of potentially granting Iterna¡¯s world domination, had been provided succor and a home. I murder and corrupt. Between me and Eugenia, one was destined to be bad and another to be good, and fate corrected our paths as we tried to escape our destinies. There is no happy ending in the end for me, but my arms are strong enough to throttle those who threaten others, and I can lie and pretend to bring calm. Zero, The Dynast, Eugenia, Devourer, Outsider, Alpha, everyone. It is up to you to build a future.


    She paid Brur three more visits, both to test Iterna¡¯s vulnerabilities and to learn more about the man. In two years, the link they shared had disappeared.


    ****


    Wake up already, Commander!


    ¡°You held back.¡± Ravager accused Geni, stalking around her. They were in the tunnel a kilometer and a half deep, forcibly dug by the Elite¡¯s body after she missed an attack.


    ¡°The pot calls the kettle black.¡± Geni coughed out a tooth, grinning. Her cloak was tattered, half of the hair was missing, and ripples coursed across her suit as nanomachines were fixing the gaps. ¡°Where were your claws today?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t need them,¡± she barked, crushing the rocks with her fingers. ¡°You will never beat me like this, weakling. Your every blow must carry an intention to kill. Stop worrying over imaginary rules; use your portals to cut my body, and I¡­¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯ll bring about the resolution in which we¡¯ll both live.¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t happen.¡± Ravager shook her head. ¡°You¡¯ll fail.¡±


    ¡°Am I?¡± Geni¡¯s grin grew wider. ¡°Listen to the sounds above. The battle has stopped. I bet you can hear your captain calling for you to come back.¡± She spread her arms. ¡°None of us or our troops had to die, and the Reclaimers never got the data core. Your side lost.¡±


    ¡°We weren¡¯t here for it.¡± Ravager bared his fangs at the mocking look that accused her of lying. ¡°Fat chance of getting the data when you were already in the control room. I never planned on getting it, and I knew your wimps would call a truce the second we showed up.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ what then? Why fight¡­¡±


    ¡°Geni, you are too immature,¡± Ravager sighed. ¡°Iterna¡¯s shortsightedness comes from the abundance of everything. It makes you oblivious to what is right under your noses, dangers, opportunities, or treasures. Alloys, resource crates, even dismantled Old World technology can aid our progress, and that is why I have removed you from the bunker. Have what you came for; with your surrender, we have secured what we sought.¡±


    The Elite paused. Then she slapped the ground near herself. ¡°Let us sit and parley. Surely even you are bored after fifty years of us mauling each other. I can get us something to eat. What¡¯s your favorite dish?¡±


    The world collapsed. Geni denied the course of fate set for her. How dare she? Rage boiled within Ravager; her body spasmed at this cruel treachery. If an angel won¡¯t smite a monster, how could a monster pay for her sins and be reborn into a happier existence as a human? Did this fool think she enjoyed waking up to corpses or harming those calling her a friend and family?


    ¡°I liked the old you better.¡± Ravager ripped the helmet off Geni¡¯s head and grabbed her ear, planting a foot into the woman¡¯s chest. In a single thrust, she tore away the ear and then ate it, tasting the changes in the body of her rival. Nowhere close yet. They had time. ¡°She was more honest.¡±


    ¡°That Eugenia was a self-deluded brat, oblivious to what she was doing,¡± Geni groaned and pushed the foot off herself. ¡°Stop doing that! Use the claws next time; I am sick of you stepping on me.¡±


    ¡°Then fight, pretty doll! Resist, go all out!¡± Ravager cheered her. ¡°Hold nothing back; show me the full potential of Iterna¡¯s bioengineering before I show you the futility of your attempt and drown you in despair. Think back to the painful humiliations of the past years, recall every bone I broke, and pay me back tenfold!¡±


    ¡°I am fighting you, dumbass!¡± Geni laughed; her bleeding had already stopped. ¡°Pay you back? No problem, but I¡¯ll choose the currency, and it¡¯ll be the very mercy you showed me. I¡¯ll beat you in my own way, and then I¡¯ll help you, Ravy.¡±


    ¡°Help me?¡± Ravager whispered, retreating back, and soon her eyes glowed in the dark, watching the limply lying woman at the end of the tunnel. ¡°Impossible. Improbable. Get this into your thick skull, Geni. I am better than you, always was and always will be. Our cat-and-mouse game has amused me so far, but stay wary of me growing tired of it. Because when that day comes, I¡¯ll hunt you down for real.¡±


    ****


    4,403 kilometers from Houstad.


    ¡°The people are in danger! Our Tribe is in danger! Ravy, your children are in¡­¡±


    The amber eyes opened, filling the cave with a yellow light. Ravager woke up, facing her little sister, Zero. Her sole success in anything other than war.


    What exactly did I do right in raising you? The question pounded in her temples whenever Ravager looked at Zero. Out of her spawn, her reflection risked being set to grow as the worst. The seeds were there; she drank the shamans¡¯ bullshit, believed in the ridiculous superstitions, and maimed Dragena. Then¡­ Ravager corrected her. How did I do that? She desired to know, believing that in it lay the key to reforming the Tribe to be better than she. But her memory refused to answer.


    The little sis took care of her appearance, combing her fur and hair after washing herself clean and preferring practical clothes, although after the incident in Iterna she stuck more to things that covered her whole body, like her current black uniform with silver buttons that complemented her natural dark fur.


    ¡°Situation?¡± the commander demanded, picking up a frozen bone and gnawing at a little remaining meat that had belonged to a slave trader trying to smuggle children out of the Inner Lands. The bone dropped as Zero hastily explained the situation.


    An invasion. A howl escaped Ravager¡¯s lips, tearing away the roof of her remote rest and sending an avalanche of stones crashing down. She put her everything into it, wordlessly sending love and care to her distant kin. Zero raised her paws, shielding her face; the force of the air drew lines with the released claws of the woman¡¯s feet. Her uniform got torn, and she was left standing covered by many leather straps that held her guns, utility gear, and a helmet at her waist. The howling continued, carrying Ravager¡¯s message to every corner of the Inner and Core Lands.


    Ravager stopped howling and plucked a terminal from Zero, activating it. She never bothered to learn how to read, but the gifts of her creators kicked in, solving that obstacle. The images made sense to her, giving her the current lay of the land and rough estimates of the prey¡¯s positions. The Gilded Horde will strike Houstad, but there were many settlements in dire need of more immediate rescue. Dragena was a smart girl, and Ravager trusted in her ability to endure.


    Zero scowled, checking her guns and finding the ones that got crumpled by the air pressure. She sighed, shivered at the cold, and put on her helmet, checking the rest of her gear.


    ¡°Mind giving me a ride to Houstad¡­¡± Zero squeaked as Ravager tucked the terminal under her armpit and closed the paw around her sister. ¡°Major danger! Not that! Bad idea! Ravy, don¡¯t you dare. The last time you pulled it off, I had to wait a month before my fangs¡­¡± The ropes of muscle pressing against the skin and the thoughtful, calculating look made the warlord grab her sister¡¯s big thumb and try to pry it away. ¡°Let go of me, or I¡¯ll post photos of you in the morning on the Net! I swear, I¡¯ll do it. Ravy, for the love of Spirits, you are heading the same way¡­¡±


    Her words were cut off as Ravager threw her sister, sending her flying across the sky, and a dark comet aimed at Houstad streaked through the clouds, shouting, ¡°Fuck yoooo¡­.¡± that grew more distant and quieter every second.


    Ravager¡¯s fingers splintered the rock as she stood on all fours, her body swaying slightly as her muscles tensed. She craned her neck, fixing the position of her vertebrae. Blood dripped from her nose, her poor brain argued, demanding a return to sleep, but she ignored it, welcoming a surge of adrenaline. Her body had had enough rest; she¡¯ll hold out long enough; she won¡¯t collapse or falter.


    The leap propelled her forward faster than any missile, and the mountain trembled, slowly coming apart as a wide, uneven chasm, the result of the paws that sent Ravager flying, split it in two. The commander did not howl; her mind was clear, helping her formulate the most acceptable approach to tackling the task.


    There will be murders, but they had to be the right murders. She won¡¯t allow a repeat of the Mincemeat campaign, not here. Today, Ravager will control herself, even if that¡¯ll kill her afterwards.

 Chapter 139: The Reformed and the Incorrigible

    Mad Hatter swung hard enough to create an air wave that struck the incoming meteor. A thin line appeared in the middle of it, vast fissures opened on the rocky surface, and the mountain-sized object burst, spilling a pool of debris and smaller crimson pebbles over the field and into laughing khatun as the woman basked in the results of her own destruction. Eugenia moved the second as a large boulder briefly obscured Mad Hatter¡¯s field of vision, introducing Janine to how Normies must¡¯ve felt when confronted with a Wolfkin.


    She disappeared, not raced, not turned blurry, but might as well have teleported to the warlord¡¯s eyes, and only the shower of dirt against the shield served as proof that it was actually a physical action.


    The tonfa speared forward, its cracking end breaking the stone, and swiped through the empty air. Not fooled by such a maneuver, Mad Hatter circled around her opponent, casting a long shadow on Redeemer and raising her scimitar for a decapitating strike. A portal opened, revealing Mad Hatter¡¯s back, and Eugenia leapt into it. The khatun turned around immediately, stabbing in the blue rectangle, and the length of her scimitar almost kissing her back, forcing the woman to dodge as Eugenia thrust a tonfa from the opened portal above, aiming its hissing tip at Mad Hatter¡¯s temple.


    Blue rifts opened around the battlefield, swallowing the shattered meteors without allowing them to fall on the Horde or the Reclaimers¡¯ position. True to her name, Redeemer refused to kill anyone.


    Didn¡¯t mean she was incapable or unwilling of breaking her opponents to the point of them barely being alive.


    The left scimitar rang from the impact, and dirt flew left and right from the fighters as the wind, driven by Eugenia¡¯s movements, finally caught up with them. Yellow electricity snaked down the blade, shaking Mad Hatter and drawing a hiss of irritation from her lips. She recoiled, stepped back awkwardly, and slashed, sending a wave of air at the peeking Eugenia. Redeemer disappeared into the portal; another one opened before the khatun, and the woman had to block her own wave, redirected at her, sending her back a hundred paces.


    Overlapped portals. Janine understood in amazement. Eugenia wasn¡¯t just using a single attack; she had baited Mad Hatter into the previous thrust, deliberately showing the woman her exposed back, and when the khatun thought she had her opponent figured out, Eugenia immediately ¡®draped¡¯ another portal over the first, jumping from one exit to the other without ever exposing herself and sending her enemy¡¯s thrust right back at her. The same thing happened with the air slash.


    ¡°Physical type? Is that all? So much for your claims of divinity.¡± Eugenia teased, flicking back into reality near Mad Hatter, her tonfas almost touching the chin of the dodging woman. ¡°You are not even that fast.¡±


    A smile graced Mad Hatter¡¯s lips. Her scimitars struck and were blocked by the tonfas. But the strength behind the blows cartwheeled Eugenia backward, and she disappeared into another portal. Simultaneously, more holes in reality opened around the khatun, and the meteor¡¯s chunks that had been swallowed up were unleashed right back at the woman.


    Then she did something unexpected. Mad Hatter sheathed her weapons. She clicked her fingers and closed her eyes to the incoming stones.


    ****


    650 kilometers to the north of Houstad


    Florent Bocuse smiled to the surprise of his parents. They probably thought them crazy. Iron shackles held their wrists; the family and the captured citizens had been forced into uncomfortable harnesses inside a large armored truck that had driven into their small village, bulldozing its way through several buildings after the raiders had swarmed the area.


    The slavers had said nothing, had placed them like puzzle pieces, much like the one his parents had given the boy on his first birthday, celebrated together after his adoption and arrival from the Wastes. Or, and he was afraid to think about it, like cusacks¡¯ carcasses.


    They were in the cargo hold, which was at least five meters high. Florent had little doubt that two or three copies of Dad could stand freely on their shoulders here and still have space above. It seemed insane to think about it during their enslavement, when the dream of the safety of the Core Lands was crumbling around him, but he was often called weird.


    Not by Mom and Dad, though. They accepted him, a wildling from the Wastes, into their family, and even now Mom kept whispering words of encouragement to him and the nearest kids, despite the unique harness that so cruelly folded her green, scaled tendrils. The hold was divided into three levels, with catwalks leading to the upper levels. On each level was a series of harnesses, more lodged than welded into the smooth gray walls, restricting any movement and preventing attempts to so much as shift posture. Over the past few hours of their confinement, the boy was drenched in the urine and other waste coming down from above. It was a humiliating technique designed to help break a slave¡¯s spirit. His grandma, Planet rest her soul, told him a little about it to scare the boy from carelessly wandering away from the village.


    The people moaned, pained by the stiffened limbs, cried out in terror; the constant grinding of the caterpillar tracks rang in everyone¡¯s ears, while the oversized, fat giants walked by, grabbing their chins and uttering their guttural judgments to the eager wrenches trailing behind. Water was given to the prisoners who could no longer endure, and their wounds were treated, reassuring the boy that at least they wouldn¡¯t be killed immediately. But until a few seconds ago, he had dreaded parting from his family, as young and old slaves were used for various purposes in his homes. His friends, children of the former slavers, told him about it, hammering it into him just how dangerous leaving a settlement could be.


    But he wasn¡¯t scared anymore. He heard it. A howl, faint and distant. There wasn¡¯t a soul in the Wastes who didn¡¯t know its meaning. Scoundrels dropped their vile deeds, villains quaked in their boots, and monsters tried to hide under rocks when a wrathful goddess walked the craggy sand seas, protecting the Reclaimers. Sure, folks back at his old home often hushed about corpses found on the outskirts, but obviously these belonged to the baddies, since the goddess had rescued his grandma!


    ¡°Florent,¡± whispered Guillaume Bocuse, turning his horned head toward his son. ¡°I need you to be brave. You are the man of the house now. When the ramp opens, I need you to grab Mom and rush toward it.¡± His slender arms turned, unexpectedly bulging bracelets around his wrists, and the boy noticed a glint of metal on Dad¡¯s blue skin. A knife concealed under the skin. Dad looked at the nearest fat giant, listening to his laughter as the man examined a woman.


    This was the bastard who had pressed a remote control to open the ramp. Florent opened and closed his mouth, understanding the plan, and then smiled again.


    ¡°No,¡± he hushed back. ¡°Don¡¯t do anything, Da.¡±


    ¡°Florent,¡± Guillaume said sadly. ¡°These people aren¡¯t nice. Where they take us¡­¡±


    ¡°But they won¡¯t take us anywhere!¡± The kid laughed, and the fat bastard turned around, irritated by his voice. ¡°I hear her, Da! Trust me, nothing will happen!¡±


    ¡°Are you talking about your grandma, Flori?¡± Mom asked kindly.


    ¡°No, about the goddess!¡±


    ¡°Cretin.¡± The slaver approached them, and his hand closed around Dad¡¯s wrists, pressing the two together and drawing a groan from him. The second hand grasped Florent by his neck. ¡°Ruin the game. Think us foolish, yes? Idiot,¡± he said with a thick accent, pausing as if he were remembering words. His helpers giggled. ¡°No god, expected for the Sky. Hmmm¡­ Healthy, adorable, lanky¡­ Parent strong, cunning¡­ And the woman¡­¡±


    ¡°You better worry about yourself, cusachy,¡± Florent mocked to distract him from Mom. The hand let him go, closing into a fist for the punishment.


    A screech of tearing metal silenced every sound in the hold, and darkness swept past the boy, disappearing the slaver and his company. Florent thought he saw a glimpse of yellow, but he wasn¡¯t sure; the goddess came as a specter, a ghost of claws and destruction, striking the machine with the force of a comet. A tornado of wind caught the boy; the bonds vanished; he was free, carried by the otherworldly creature that ravaged all around, damning the guilty and saving the innocent. So quickly. He¡¯d never imagined anything could move so fast. The floor, the walls, the guards and the captive slaves¡ªnothing remained in less than a second, and as he blinked, trying to prevent his brain from rationalizing the irrational, his ass touched the grass.


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    The family found themselves sitting at the wayside, about a dozen meters from the wreckage of the convoy. The former prisoners sat beside them, equally confused. Booms ripped through the air, sending pieces of metal flying past the heads of the liberated people, and not a single sharpened edge injured anyone, not even when several panicked people jumped to their feet, only to be dragged to the ground.


    ¡°On your bellies, everyone!¡± Guillaume roared, throwing Mom, Florent and two kids down and shielding them with his body while his adopted son grinned.


    There was no need to worry. She rescued them. A flash of orange, caused by the explosion of the engine, briefly stained the ground, and soon the rest of the vehicles joined it in a series of eruptions.


    ¡°What is going on here?!¡± Florent heard a man shout. ¡°Who does that? Is that an artillery barrage?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Mom gulped, wrapping arms and tendrils protectively around the children. ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s the aftermath.¡±


    ¡°Aftermath?¡± The same man panicked, throwing himself to protect two women. The ground rose, carrying the remains of the convoy to the left of the group, utterly destroying the created road. ¡°Of what?!¡±


    ¡°You know how you can hear thunder seconds after lightning strikes?¡± Mom gulped again, shaking. ¡°The ensuing chaos around us obeys the same principle. Whoever rescued us is doing it.¡±


    ¡°Did it.¡± Florent dared to correct her, hugging his parents. ¡°The goddess isn¡¯t here anymore.¡±


    ¡°You mean Ravager?¡± Dad asked tensely, and Florent pressed his hands to his mouth, silencing the scream as a head dropped from the sky, splashing blood and brain matter at him. More body parts rained down, scaring the terrified group further. Several rifles landed on the ground, discharging their shots away. ¡°Is she the one who brought us here, away from harm?¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t possible¡­¡± someone mumbled. ¡°This is witchery. No one is this fast. Ain¡¯t no way it is possible to predict everything in such clarity.¡±


    ¡°The commander can!¡± Florent insisted and tried to raise his hands for a quick prayer, but Dad restrained him. ¡°The Spirits protect the entire Reclamation Army, not just the Wastes!¡±


    ¡°And the monsters who captured us are about to learn a lesson,¡± Guillaume remarked. ¡°Okay, Florent, you were right; I was wrong about doubting you.¡±


    ¡°See! I am not dumb!¡±


    ¡°I never said you were dumb, son. Just that you were uneducated. But don¡¯t go drunk on praise,¡± he joked, tapping his happy son on the forehead, ¡°pull yourself together. We still need to find a safe place, but the scary part is over. The same goes for everyone! No panic, we are getting out! Keep the kids¡¯ eyes closed; no need for them to see that! Sound off if you know how to use weapons! Anyone see moss or know where we are?!¡±


    ****


    Fingers clicked, first on the right hand, then on the left. Even despite the distance, the distant bombardment, and the stones scraping against each other in the air, Janine heard it. Mad Hatter was playing a tune, some kind of tribal melody, gracefully dodging the rocks, not letting a single one stain her clothes. Her limbs swayed a little, almost as if they had gone limp; her quick movements were interwoven with strange, unusual motions that were in perfect sync with the tune her fingers were playing. Nothing was out of place; no element of the chaotic battlefield disrupted the calm serenity on the khatun¡¯s face, and the Gilded Horde roared their thunderous cheers.


    Eugenia opened a portal right into Mad Hatter¡¯s face. Without opening her eyes, the khatun leaned back, and the tonfas missed her chin. A leg moved upward, kicking against the block and sending the Elite into the opening portal above. Mad Hatter, deliberately slow, stomped the leg into the ground, avoiding being hit by the rocks that seemed to choke everything with their presence. Janine¡¯s eyes widened as the khatun spun to the side, the hem of her clothing forming a circle.


    She was performing. Mad Hatter played the role of a dancer, and the entire battlefield was her scene.


    The blue and the white clashed in the midst of flying reddish, overheated stones. Again and again Eugenia pressed her attack, using the portals to appear right on top of the khatun, and Mad Hatter kept playing her tune, not letting the electric tonfas touch her. For every kick blocked by her weapons, Eugenia responded with a hail of blows. The blue raged against the white; the two colors almost blended, briefly becoming one in Janine¡¯s eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, the Elite simply couldn¡¯t land a blow or even break her opponent¡¯s rhythm. Then, suddenly, her swing almost caught Mad Hatter¡¯s left arm, and the khatun¡¯s face appeared before Eugenia¡¯s.


    She made a low sweep, missing the Elite¡¯s boots by a hair. A sweep. Nothing to be taken seriously. But that single move cleared the air of the crimson streaks, sending rocks and a large swath of the ground directly at Houstad¡¯s shield, ramming it with the force of several missiles. Eugenia landed and stepped back, dodging a bump of Mad Hatter¡¯s waist as the woman resumed her dance, inviting more portals to pop open.


    ¡°Nice dance,¡± Eugenia grumbled, dropping low.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mad Hatter said, pausing briefly and letting the shards fly dramatically past her, almost grazing her clothes. ¡°I have half a mind to let you live. It¡¯s rare to have a partner with whom I can let loose in a theater. Ah, what plays we could stage¡­¡±


    ¡°Kill her!¡± Janine heard Dalantai and the avian man pushed from the hordemen¡¯s ranks, almost pressing his forehead against the shield. ¡°End it now, Mad Hatter, and ascend! Before a terrible happens¡­¡±


    ¡°There is nothing more terrible than incurring my wrath for the crime of disrupting my pleasure, Dalantai,¡± the khatun sighed. ¡°Iron Lord, if the priests address me without proper reverence again, chop off his head and throw the remains into the incinerator for a couple of months. Perhaps through agony he¡¯ll remember proper veneration. What say you, little toy?¡±


    ¡°Thanks but no thanks, kitty.¡± Eugenia pointed a tonfa at the khatun. ¡°I came to smite evil, not dance. But we can have a go after you¡¯ll serve your sentence.¡±


    ¡°If you can¡¯t even handle my dancing, how are you supposed to handle my fighting?¡± Mad Hatter inquired, producing clicks first with her right hand and then with her left.


    ¡°Drop the pretense,¡± Eugenia said. ¡°Your left arm is still shaking. That¡¯s why you chose that tune, and that¡¯s why you panicked and attacked. You are not invincible, no matter what delusions you have drunk in your past. There is enough weakness for me to chip away at it.¡±


    ¡°A dog barks, but the caravan moves.¡± Mad Hatter smiled sweetly. ¡°If an ant wants to bring down a thunder bull, it better start biting rather than snapping its mandibles.¡±


    Eugenia said nothing, but the khatun arched back, and Janine¡¯s lenses zoomed in, showing her the crack in reality as lines of portals formed in the air where Mad Hatter¡¯s shoulders were a second ago. But this time they didn¡¯t open in full, and a passing piece of the meteor was parted in two upon touching the blue hovering lines.


    ¡°Phaser once tried to pull the same thing to assassinate me,¡± Mad Hatter said. She somersaulted, escaping a portal trying to swallow her legs. Another opened to catch her mid-flight, and the khatun found a foothold on a passing stone, stepping aside the gaping hole. ¡°So many tricks and all pointless, fake godling.¡± Two new portals released blinding white beams that missed the woman, and then the third spat bullets. ¡°Physical strength is¡­¡±


    Sizzling cut her off to Eugenia¡¯s chuckle. The casings of the bullets flying next to Mad Hatter¡¯s nose disappeared, and large spheres of energy formed a twenty-meter-wide dome, trapping the woman inside. Electrical surges shook her body, steam came out of her ears and nose, the traces of blood and her feather vaporized, and even the trapped pebbles were reduced to ash as the licking energy continued to lacerate the khatun. A wall of vapor rose around the dome, hiding it in the mist.


    ¡°Sorry, you thought that was one-on-one¡­¡±


    ¡°§¤§Ú§é§Ú§Û.¡±


    The dome was cut in two. Janine never saw it happen; it was just as fast, if not faster, than Eugenia¡¯s initial movement. The mist was cleaved, and Mad Hatter shoved herself to freedom, breathing heavily. Her furs disappeared, a part of her dress burned away, and horrible burns covered her from a cheek all the way to the breast. In her hand, she held a scimitar, but after a second step, she sheathed it.


    Eugenia cried, drawing Janine¡¯s attention, and a cold sweat of fear ran down her back. The wave of air that sliced through the dome crashed into the tonfas, failing to break them, and the suit saved the Elite, not letting the weapons break the sternum. But the slash was an arc. Just because it stopped in one place didn¡¯t mean the whole thing was blocked, and two wide gashes, about thirty centimeters high, were on Eugenia¡¯s body, just below her ribs. Her cloak had also been cut and was only held in place by the middle section. Light from the city¡¯s projectors shone through the gaps, and red soon tainted the blue suit.


    So fast. The outcome defied everything Janine could think of, and she briefly mistook Mad Hatter for Blood Graf. Only the woman was worse; she did not need to draw power from the spilled blood, her own or anyone else¡¯s. The khatun clapped, clearing the battlefield of the projectiles. She inhaled, her chest swelling and ribs pressing against her skin. Dark clouds of smoke descended, some sucked inside the khatun¡¯s lungs. Sounds disappeared from the created vacuum, and then Mad Hatter exhaled into an open portal, straight through the beam that grazed her shoulder, adding another burn.


    Tongues of flame and sparks shot from the portal before it closed, and Mad Hatter turned to the wounded Elite. No more portals impeded her way as Eugenia focused on healing and gathering her strength. Shaking the ground with each step, Mad Hatter walked toward her, restoring her smug confidence and testing her fingers as new pink skin grew over the horrible burn. She bared her feral teeth, licking them in anticipation.


    And the Horde cheered, mocking the silenced Reclaimers and inviting its leader to partake in the bountiful feast.

 Chapter 140: Approaching

    100 kilometers south of Houstad


    ¡°We are too late,¡± said an officer of the provincial guard in a stern tone that left no room for argument.


    Jeanne sighed, keeping her head low. Ever since she had been forced to leave her church, she had chosen to enlist in the army. Her belief didn¡¯t permit any violence, but there were ways to help, and she traversed the region, warning the stubborn farmers about the invasion, debating elders until they agreed to evacuate, and assisting the squads assigned to the task in any way she could. Inspired by her example, the ranks of the volunteers swelled, and they made good progress thanks to the brave sacrifices of their defenders.


    But their luck ran out today. Heavy long-range missile launchers drove into the farmlands. Oblivious to the panicked screams of the settlers, the hordemen secured their positions, and six farmers lay dead while the rest sought to escape. The officer was right; it was too late; if their group tried to get anyone out, they¡¯d just add to the list of future victims.


    The abbess closed her eyes as the first missile took to the sky and smoke covered her people. Faithful or not, she prayed for the deliverance of their souls when she heard a gasp and broke off the prayer, worried that they had been found.


    Not a single enemy was left in sight. Battered remains of the missile launchers boomed at the horizons, callously flung away; the take-off missile was absent from the sky, and only a distant explosion high above the clouds lit up the surprised faces of the farmers. And Jeanne didn¡¯t blame them. Five hundred enemy soldiers and six missile launchers vanished in an instant. With a creak, the intense wind that swept over the place carried large swaths of earth skyward.


    ¡°How is that possible?¡± she whispered.


    ¡°The Dynast watches, ma¡¯am!¡± A soldier proudly admitted to committing the heresy; his hand reflexively formed a mace sign. ¡°He is always around in one form or another, and his servants are mighty!¡±


    ¡°Well, then, mighty servant.¡± The officer slapped the young man behind his ears. ¡°Less yapping and more serving. Escort the farmers out of here. You saw nothing, ma¡¯am.¡±


    ¡°My hearing also grew worse with age.¡± Jeanne forced a smile.


    ****


    Accompanied by a crack of her neck, the khatun reached Eugenia, saying nothing and without so much as grasping her weapons. Nanomachines already covered the wounds, restoring the smooth surface of the Elite¡¯s suit and repulsing the blood so that the surface shone a cheerful blue hue again. But Eugenia was breathing hard; her posture no longer betrayed certainty, and she threw her arms up.


    A blurred line connected with the tonfas. Mad Hatter¡¯s punch, so terrible and powerful, hurled a tornado against Houstad¡¯s shield, all concentrated on a single point, and Janine yelled for the troops to take cover. The wind burst in, blowing into the warlord¡¯s face harder than most sandstorms she knew, but the dome restored itself, sparing the troops the worst.


    On the field, Eugenia reeled; Mad Hatter¡¯s punch sent her own fist against her helmet hard enough to shatter a part of the faceplate and utterly flatten her nose. Janine didn¡¯t need to guess to know that the Elite¡¯s wounds reopened, but the worst sight was a shimmering line hovering before the perfectly calm khatun. She was baited into this rapid flickering punch and still struck far too fast for Eugenia to take advantage of this move.


    A hand caught the Elite by the collar of her suit, crumpling the alloy as if it were mere paper, and pulled Eugenia closer to Mad Hatter.


    ¡°Tell me. Do you see him?¡± Mad Hatter asked. ¡°Do you hear his words pouring poison into your ears, promising gifts in exchange for servitude?¡±


    ¡°No¡­ no idea what you are blabbering about,¡± Eugenia exhaled, panting heavily.


    ¡°Hm. So he doesn¡¯t call to you.¡± Mad Hatter looked up. ¡°Curious. Is that because you were born before the Extinction? Or maybe you lack certain qualities¡­¡±


    The sizzling edge of the tonfa flew past Mad Hatter¡¯s head, missing it entirely, and Eugenia gasped for air as a knee rammed into her solar plexus, hard enough to make the woman vomit blood. The grabbed ¡®collar¡¯ of her suit disconnected itself from the main mass, and a portal readily opened behind her. But an elbow in the back of the neck sent the Iternian away from the escape, and then a leg sweep finally landed on Eugenia¡¯s right leg.


    A metallic pimple grew on Eugenia¡¯s leg moments before the contact, as nanomachines reinforced the threatening area to cushion the blunt damage. And it exploded, scattering metal shards everywhere. The leg plunged into Eugenia¡¯s flesh like a razor, breaking the kneecap and severing tendons. The tonfas dropped, lost from pain, but the blue fist swiped at Mad Hatter¡¯s face, right at the regenerating, steaming flesh, bouncing off and grabbing the hair, ripping a chunk out.


    ¡°That¡¯s just childish.¡± Mad Hatter slapped Eugenia, sending her down. ¡°All this effort just to ruin my haircut. What are we, concubines, squabbling over which of our children to prompt to authority?¡±


    She took Eugenia by the ankle, jerked the woman over her head, and whipped her, using a living body as a whip. A loud crack of dislocated bones reached Janine¡¯s ears; the Elite arched her body, still holding the torn hair, her mouth open in a wordless scream. Mad Hatter purposely let everyone see that weakness and then slammed her fist into the helmet, breaking half of it and crushing Eugenia into the ground with enough force to send a torrent of ground into the air.


    I never imagined it would be this one-sided. Janine clenched the Taleteller. How long had it been since Redeemer and Ravager first clashed head-on? The two had evolved together, one through the genius of bioengineering, the other through the reward of her power. They grew; their potential seemed limitless, and even if that traitorous butcher had been forced to throw their fights first, the Tribe at large came to consider the two as equals.


    If one was dominated so¡­


    ¡°Listen to me, hero.¡± Mad Hatter¡¯s knuckles pressed hard into Eugenia¡¯s cheek. ¡°You got your consolation prize. Now it¡¯s my turn to have fun. Yes,¡± she chuckled to something, ¡°I know you can hear me, and I have figured out the reason why you are here truly, imitation. I am going to increase the pressure against your cheekbone, slowly. First it¡¯ll crack. Then it¡¯ll shatter.¡± Spurts of red colored Eugenia¡¯s pale cheeks as the woman struggled to breathe. She elbowed Mad Hatter in the ribs, to no avail. ¡°Eventually, the pressure will reach your ears, and if you¡¯re lucky, they¡¯ll burst. Or not, and they¡¯ll be sent flying, dangling on the optical nerves, further confusing you. You have options, though. Feel free to complete your mission and escape through a portal, but then I swear I¡¯ll eat those near the gates alive. If you stay, you¡¯ll fail your wimpy country, and I¡¯ll have your flesh for a midday snack, but on the other hand, my mood will improve, and I promise to spare... I don¡¯t know. Hey, Ismaeel, how many doggies have your brats collected?¡±


    Mad Hatter positioned herself above her victim. Her toes dug into the ground, left arm behind her back, the right hand kept digging into Eugenia¡¯s face as the woman lay on her side, elbowing the tormentor. They both tensed, straining their muscles, but one pushed herself to the limit, and the other easily countered any attempts at resistance.


    A prong formed on Eugenia¡¯s elbow, and it briefly pierced Mad Hatter¡¯s skin, drawing blood. A casual blow broke it, bruising the elbow. Electricity erupted from Eugenia¡¯s suit, brightly illuminating both women, and sparks danced in the khatun¡¯s ears. Yellow arcs licked the unprotected body, melting the surrounding ground, but whatever the armor¡¯s generator was, it couldn¡¯t match the tonfas¡¯ discharges, and the taller woman didn¡¯t so much as bat an eye.


    ¡°Five hundred and six, Khatun!¡± Iron Lord responded, paying no attention to the light show. ¡°Four more in critical condition. The healers are unsure if they¡¯d survive; they refused augmetics.¡±


    ¡°Five hundred and ten it is. That many of the defenders I¡¯ll spare.¡± Mad Hatter snorted. ¡°A good number. For five hundred days, the Sky tested our ancestors with constant hurricanes before deeming them worthy to worship him and leading them to the Steppe. It is a sign of my true father¡¯s favor. So what will it be, fake? Duty and self-preservation? Or lives?¡± Eugenia opened her mouth to answer, and the khatun shoved her fist harder into the other woman¡¯s head, dusting four teeth of Eugenia right inside their gums. The pale skin reddened, slowly swelling under the merciless pressure. ¡°No more speeches. No glorious end. It¡¯ll be cowardly or ugly, and whichever you choose, someone is going to die.¡±


    ****


    50 kilometers northwest of Houstad:


    To be aware of how to do a thing and be utterly incapable of performing the feat was torture. Second¡¯s eyes, misshapen as they were, picked up the smallest particles; the gifts bestowed upon him by his parents helped him see the bullets in slow motion, and he could do little but slash at them, far too late to save his plate from being besmirched.


    He had arrived at the zone of the failed evacuation, quickly evaluating the siege camp set up by the hordemen. They had bombarded the troops sheltering in the food processing plant and were making steady progress, already breaching the walls. With their khan murdered in the north, that gang exhibited cautiousness, never taking risks, using long-range ordinance to drive the defenders away from the gaps, while widening and then sending in multiple assault teams, sticking to ranged combat and using their naturally superior biology and better armor to overwhelm any resistance. Once taken down, they¡¯ll chase after other escapees.


    Or would they? What was the reason the hordemen sought to capture this place? The convoy had transported family relics and gathered resources from a Sunblade gold mine. Perhaps this rabble would indulge in pointless competition¡­


    A knight had to know when to run to fight another day, for a knight¡¯s duty lay not to the individuals, but to the state. Second had already strained the limits of this rule by arriving here, driven by the Ice Fangs¡¯ values. The moral reasoning for him being here was that he refused to abandon those in need. The practical reason was simpler; tying up an enemy force here reduced the threat to Houstad and spared other escapees, as emboldened by the glint of gold, the scoundrels would doubtlessly pursue them, hoping to double or triple their ill-gotten gains. Or so he lied to himself.


    The Ice Fang leaped, landing on the mortars in the enemy¡¯s rear; a single swing of his arm cleaved through the four bodies. He didn¡¯t pause, charging toward the walls, aware of his limitations. In a contest of physical prowess, not even First or Alpha could stop his blows, but he lacked their overall quality. His unevenly sized limbs forced him into the impractical quadruped stance, and without his sword as a cane, the Ice Fang could barely traverse around fast. His organs swayed inside his body, saliva choked his lungs, denying him the stamina to perform feats of speed, and occasional confusion played tricks on his mind. He lacked speed, agility, endurance, and even health. When he fought the enemy, his body fought him.


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    But a true nobleman never lamented what he couldn¡¯t do. Second¡¯s plate was a marvel, equipped with several ranged turrets, which he used to scatter the unworthy from his path. Those who remained, the bigger imbeciles wielding pathetic excuses for swords and cracking with energy hammers, became his targets.


    Foolishness had no place in war. Even a child would have understood that his rapid advance would not give the turrets enough time to score enough kills, and the mere fact that plates cracked under his projectiles should have convinced the foes to form a line and face him, trusting in their ability to survive long enough. Upon contact, they should have flanked him and later surrounded him, striking at the joints and denying him the answer to who their champions were.


    That was what he would have done had he commanded a unit facing such an unexpected and brazen assault. Fortuitously, his opponents lacked the sophisticated and superior faculties of Ice Fangs or the brilliant combat instinct of his black-furred kin. And so grenade launchers mounted above his protected shoulder blades fired smoke grenades, enveloping the group, and holographic projectors in his limbs activated, surrounding Second with copies of his finest students. The first brute was baited into attacking a lithe, spear-armed Ice Fang, and his hammer flew through her ethereal head instead of blocking the incoming doom.


    Second¡¯s swing was akin to a wrecking ball, lacking any innate elegance, yet precise enough to land under the hordeman¡¯s armpit. His sword plunged full length, slicing through the reinforced plates as if they were little more than freshly toasted bread. The man¡¯s torso slipped from his body, and the slash continued, one of the many prongs of his serrated blade slamming into another¡¯s helmet and lodging in the woman¡¯s head.


    The body went limp and was dragged from her feet as the second-born of the Twins rose on two feet. It was an ugly sight; his purple cape swiped the dirt, one leg was a column, and another immediately buckled to stand on a knee as ragged breath and drool spilled through the half-open mouthguard of his helmet. Second pummeled two nearest foes into piles of broken bones using the very body of their comrade.


    Such a display of savagery had several objectives. First, to lure them into a foolish belief in his poor thinking habits, falsely warning them of his armor rather than his intellect. Second, to partially evade the maddening shooting of the lesser threats. Durable as it was, his protection wouldn¡¯t last forever, and already notches and cracks were beginning to cover it. He needed to preserve the holograms as long as possible. Finally, Second had to cough the fluid that was clogging his airways through his swollen gums, and he found that standing upright helped.


    His larger hand caught a panicked hordeman and slammed the hapless fool to the ground. Such uncivilized fighting might be worthy of a defender, but it was beneath a knight. Second hated every second of seeing the viscera on his armored fingers. What would First think of him now... He jumped into the fray and joined the soldiers.


    ¡°Sir!¡± the wounded retainer of the Sunblade House, a Normie, had saluted him then. His mouth barely twitched, but the rest of his unit recoiled, half-disgusted, half-terrified by the drooling, crawling creature. The lenses of various sizes on his head and the elaborate silver and gold combat plate only added to the ridiculous sight. ¡°Has there been a change of plans?¡± asked the man with a hint of hope.


    ¡°Negative, officer.¡± Second shook his head. ¡°I am all the help we¡¯ll have.¡±


    Inspired troops fought harder, but a deceived unit was a source of future insubordination. On the slim chance that any of the present would survive, the Sunblade decided to stick to honesty, unwilling to participate in a deception that widened the rift between the Order and the Tribe.


    ¡°Shit. We have children here,¡± the retainer cursed. ¡°There aren¡¯t enough of us to guard every entrance, and I am worried that the fatties are about to level us off the face of the planet.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t,¡± Second assured him. Fatties, eh? What does this make me, then? ¡°Not unless they are willing to forgo their prize. Come, everyone. Civilians are owed our protection, and in my name, I swear to stand alongside you until my very last drop of blood.¡±


    It was a less-than-optimal strategy as the bombardment resumed. But faced with the choice of being withered down attempting to silence the mobile artillery or being chipped away inside, he had picked the latter option, intending to hold for long. Miracles, or rather happy accidents resulting from a change in morale, did happen in war. There was a tiny chance of survival. For four hours, Second traveled through the food production facility, confronting the invaders in the narrow corridors. His perception of time slowed, and he memorized the last moments of soldiers dying under his command.


    To be outside his capsule, to apply his theories to combat firsthand, was... exhilarating. For the first time in years, he tested his theories firsthand, organizing ambushes and retreats, taking into account the health of his precious allies. The turrets announced his arrival, lighting up the smoke-filled, partially ruined corridors with bursts of projectiles, and he followed, smashing, slicing, cutting, tearing, even biting. He had never even conceived himself capable of such fury, but as his weapon rendered the bodies, he accepted this part of himself as he accepted every flaw his fate had bestowed upon him.


    The end of the road. He kept thinking that thought, gathering the remaining retainers at the center of the facility, in a place the enemy would not dare bombard. Civilian workers hid behind containers filled with precious metals, artifacts, or simple diamonds and gems. They clutched a gift far more precious, their children, to their chests, trying to calm down the little ones.


    A meager dozen and a half combat-ready soldiers stood ready to protect them. The rest died; their commanding officer faced his doom after he was shot and then stomped by the hordemen, and Second assumed full command. He, a descendant of the Twins themselves, would die leading the Normies. Bereft of glory, denied a last charge unless he wished to abandon those he guarded.


    Gashes covered his plate, pools of torn flesh across his flesh spurted blood, his bones ached, his lips parched from a catastrophic lack of water. The holograms no longer surrounded him, and even the remaining turrets fell silent.


    ¡°I have taken your every assault, your toughest blow, and I am still standing!¡± Second roared, rising to two legs. ¡°Come! Is there no champion among you brave enough to collect my head or die a dog¡¯s death? Am I facing a swarm of insects or warriors? Face me if you dare!¡±


    He frowned, confused at the sudden silence that had befallen the corridors. A mere second ago, he had heard laughter, curses, and the boasting of the foreign scum. They were taking up positions, fanning out, and surrounding the great hall with the intention of overwhelming the survivors in one fell swoop. Now there was nothing, not even the clicks of reloading machine guns.


    A giggle came from the corridor leading to the main entrance. Then another came from a breach in the wall, a wicked mocking noise mimicking Second¡¯s sucking, watery speech. The giggle intensified, forming an orchestra of cruel mirth that echoed off the walls, frightening the children and their families and turning the soldiers¡¯ faces pale. Second himself stiffened as he noticed a tall figure racing through the shadows of the corridor. The speed of the figure overwhelmed his cameras, but the pallor of its skin and its height brought him to a halt.


    ¡°Took our toughest blow?¡± a high-pitched voice asked in a tone full of venom that made Second¡¯s ears hurt.


    ¡°Tease,¡± growled another voice, a sound of an animal imitating brass tonality through the grinding of fangs.


    ¡°If face us thou wish¡­¡±


    ¡°Then face us, you get!¡±


    A section of the wall leading into the hall erupted, briefly showing Second the standing hordemen. Covered in dust and debris, two figures burst in; one landed sprawled on the floor, and another pirouetted over the shocked defenders, landing with a clack of claws against the floor and wincing at the trembling children. Their bodies, naked except for their dangling, tangled, and dirty hair, bore no scars; their snouts stuck out a little farther than those of most Ice Fangs and Wolfkins. Tall as Sword Saints and Warlords, the newcomers possessed both the grace and might of the two groups, creating a perfect mockery of every shared virtue of both groups.


    Second didn¡¯t waver. He did not wonder why the fallen had joined the Horde. They did not. Their goals were momentarily aligned to maximize monstrous amusement, and amusement meant one thing to the lost souls. These creatures were too dangerous to let them be.


    His sword slashed at the standing skinwalker¡¯s head, but the woman shifted her body axis slightly, barely tilting her head, and the edge passed over her temple. She immediately returned to her standing position, fast enough that the humans might not even notice her movement. To the Normies, it looked as if the sword had phased through the skull. Then she kicked backward, sending Second rolling to the ground.


    Strong. The pain of a single blow, masterfully calculated to be delivered at the exact moment of his brief release of tension to combat the innate spasm, throbbed in his gut. His own intestines were now pressing against his liver. He grasped the dented plate, forcefully fixing it, and tried to stand up.


    ¡°Why?¡± The skinwalker¡¯s head turned to face him, breaking her own neck in the process, and the families screamed at the gleaming bone piercing her skin. ¡°Because the inside mirrors the outside.¡±


    He stopped, confused at the accusation, and the second skinwalker bounced off the floor, delivering a punch to the joint of his armor and numbing Second¡¯s larger arm. She held back the claws, but he heard the crack of bone.


    ¡°How could you be beautiful?¡± growled the second skinwalker, dancing away from his stab. ¡°The Horde came for the riches. There they are.¡± She motioned at the containers.


    ¡°And these are whom you swore to protect,¡± said the first skinwalker, her claws closing around the head of a terrified girl. ¡°Tasty, sweet¡­ morsels.¡±


    ¡°Begone!¡± Second swung overhead, and the skinwalker dodged the blow, jumping away from her prey.


    She and her sister flashed around the Sunblade, laughing, giggling, and pointing fingers, inviting his aggression and skirting around his sword. Their counterattacks followed, aimed squarely at his joints. Both monsters growled with pleasure, enjoying the fire of the retainers, not even bothering to dodge the bullets as their bodies healed the damage in seconds.


    ¡°Calls himself a knight¡­¡±


    ¡°Yet he refuses to surrender goods to save his subjects!¡±


    ¡°Selfish! Greedy! Cries about his appearance!¡±


    ¡°And always hides in the bathtub!¡±


    ¡°How many of your students have died without your assistance!¡± Their accusations heaped on Second, bringing more pain than any of their blows ever could. ¡°Hypocrite! What sort of teacher refuses to practice what he preaches? Asks the universe why, when the answer is obvious! Rotten on the inside, corrupt on the outside! An eternal disgrace to his parents!¡±


    Their bobbing, blurry forms weaved around Second, lobbing righteous accusations at him, pointing out every hypocrisy in his actions, and tearing down every delusion he had. He didn¡¯t even ask how they knew about the exact deaths of his siblings. It was undeniable. Even monsters and lunatics acted, while he shut himself away in his shame, relying on the relief of the machines, providing words and expertise, as his siblings perished one by one, and their offspring shouldered the burden, braving the dangerous world. And he... what had he accomplished?


    He hadn¡¯t even been able to save anyone. The battle for Houstad had undoubtedly already begun, and he wasn¡¯t at his brother¡¯s side.


    Second was kicked around; his slashes no longer carried any precision, and even desperation couldn¡¯t fuel his weary limbs. He lost count of the shattered bones; the plate was pulled off him piece by piece, exposing his ugliness for all to see. A double kick to the stomach lifted him into the air, and another skinwalker elbowed him in the head, nearly popping his larger eye. He tried to bite her, but the creature laughed, stealing his front fangs as he was dropped on the containers, breaking them with his weight.


    He rolled off them, afraid to crush the families, and two feet pierced his sides, bringing him down on the hiding people by force. The skinwalkers stood on one leg, juggling his sword between them, and laughed, one happily, another gleefully.


    ¡°You never acted! A dead weight for your sibling! And weights crush, hahahahahah! Look at you, an alcoholic sucking on a tit full of self-loathing and pity! And because of that, your appearance¡­¡± They stopped, and for a while the only sound in the hall was the gunfire. Then the dishes of their eyes widened, gaining something resembling focus, and Second himself heard it. A faint howl, a call of the person he thought to be a second mother. Ravager¡¯s noble proclamation that all would be well, and in it he found the strength to push himself higher, using only three limbs, and tried to claw at the thoughtful face with his dried-up appendage of an arm.


    ¡°¡­Doesn¡¯t matter.¡± The legs let him go, and the skinwalker pushed the sword into his hand. They took him by the head and whispered in his ears. ¡°You think yourself ugly, cursed, and useless. Silly, silly boy. Haven¡¯t you proven yourself wrong? Your teachings have helped the Order to shine. To them¡­¡± They gestured to the soldiers and civilians. ¡°You are a savior. Your appearance no longer matters to them. Don¡¯t waste time crying over missed opportunities. Ain¡¯t worth your precious tears. Get what you can today. Become the pillar of the Order that you know you can be! Be a teacher, be a fighter, be a lord, but be, not hide! Carry on, and you¡¯ll be surprised how many don¡¯t give a shit how you look.¡± They trembled, glanced up, and streaked toward the hordemen. ¡°We¡¯re helping, Mom!¡± they cried, carving themselves a path through the escaping enemies. ¡°We don¡¯t do mischief, honest!¡±


    ¡°What just happened, sir?¡± asked a young retainer, reloading her pistol.


    ¡°Not a faintest idea,¡± Second answered, using his sword to stand. ¡°But we can¡¯t get complacent. This place is safe no longer. Leave the valuables, and let¡¯s hurry north.¡±

 Chapter 141: An Angel, a Conqueror, and a Monster

    Mad Hatter could not be stopped. Her might tortured the very planet itself, and the ground around Houstad groaned and shuddered as the fist kept pressing into Eugenia¡¯s cheek. She had endured everything the Reclaimers had thrown at her, withstood heat capable of vaporizing a warlord, ignored poisonous gas meant to decimate entire settlements, didn¡¯t bat an eye to any kinetic projectiles, and toppled a titan.


    Janine had dared to believe that the Elite would be able to defeat her. That belief was being crushed right now as the cracks snaked from the two struggling women. Ripples passed through the soul, shattering the vitrified sand into tiny, shimmering pieces that reflected the lights of the projectors. An unnatural sinkhole began forming underneath Eugenia¡¯s body; an area of uneven circular area thirty meters in diameter sinking, and mounds pierced the moon-surfaced battlefield in response to the ungodly pressure being unleashed upon a human body.


    They all heard it, New Breeds and Normies alike. A crack of bone, so loud that it briefly silenced every ongoing cannonade. Mad Hatter raised her head, meeting the defenders¡¯ eyes, and smiled.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. Inexorable. Invincible,¡± the echo of elbows against her ribs accompanied each word. ¡°Throw yourselves upon your blades or join the Horde, for the suffering I shall unleash upon those who stand against me will be worthy of legends to immortalize this day. I¡¯ll torture you until your screams are heard, even by the ears of your cowering leader!¡± she laughed.


    A shaman stepped forward, a recently promoted female, too small compared to the proud sisters of the old. The Supreme Shaman was busy; Soulless One no longer drew breath; the Alpha Pack had suffered dire casualties among their spiritual leaders. The legends had died, but the traditions lived on, and the woman boldly folded her paws and began chanting a prayer, calling upon the Blessed Mother to deliver the Tribe in its darkest hour upon the Spirits to lend them strength to carry out their will.


    Voices joined her. First it was Wolfkins, but soon several Reclaimers and volunteers repeated the prayer, decrying the madmen and tyrants and declaring their intention to stand firm. Inspired by their example, the thousands joined in, matching Mad Hatter¡¯s laughter with their defiance.


    And through it a second crack sliced, audible to everyone.


    ¡°She is going to die,¡± Janine stated the obvious and headed to the dome. ¡°I¡¯m going out.¡±


    ¡°Warlord, the Elite gave us strict instructions not to interfere,¡± Cristobo said tensely. ¡°It may as well be that she has a hidden trump card capable of ending that bitch.¡±


    ¡°Do you believe it?¡± Janine asked mirthlessly.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Me neither.¡±


    ¡°Janine, the plan hinges on him abandoning the position,¡± Dragena said, accompanied by the noise of breaking bulkheads and knives slashing through the air. ¡°Sister, consider the broader picture.¡±


    ¡°If the Blessed Mother won¡¯t arrive, then our plan is for naught, am I right?¡±


    ¡°That is correct,¡± Dragena conceded. ¡°Mad Hatter¡¯s capabilities exceed everything prepared by us.¡±


    ¡°So we lose nothing,¡± Janine stated stubbornly. ¡°My conscience doesn¡¯t let me stand. Open a path for me. Jacomie, you are in charge until I return.¡±


    ¡°Warlord, Eugenia is responsible for the death of your son,¡± the gray-eyed volunteer said, and Janine froze in her tracks. ¡°If she dies here, Iterna will be weakened. It may be beneficial for the Reclamation Army¡¯s future expansion. I believe the captain and the warlord have sound points. Is it really reasonable to enter an unnecessary fight¡­¡±


    The collar of his shirt sticking out of his armor whipped, and the man frowned as a gust of wind whipped across his face. He raised a hand to keep his companion from coming to his aid and kept his other hand from reaching for his machine gun or a mace. The Taleteller¡¯s edge nearly sliced through his neck, stopping a millimeter from the gorget, and the warlord¡¯s jaws opened, ready to swallow his head whole.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ever try to play me, little man,¡± Janine warned. His skin was no longer heavily tanned, and his chin was cleanly shaved after he had stopped nearly murdering himself from exhaustion in the camps¡­ She shook her head, recognizing the man as Daniel. Why did I assume that his skin was supposed to be tanned? I¡¯ve only ever met him once. ¡°An unnecessary fight, was it, boy?¡± she growled.


    ¡°Janine, that¡¯s enough,¡± Jacomie tried to stop her.


    ¡°That Iternian out there is saving our butts. My grudge against her is my own, and I¡¯ll die if needed to see it settled on my own terms and in war, but in peace the state expects better of us.¡± She faced the volunteers. ¡°The world is large. It has enough place for us all. If we are to indulge in dishonor and let a foreign ally die, then it is just another step toward the Abyss. What¡¯s next, exterminate this group of people here, eradicate a faith there, let the natives unable to follow our laws perish instead of amending the rules to ensure integration¡­ Turning into another unscrupulous horde is in no way beneficial to our nation, people! We¡¯ll see the world unite under the Dynast¡¯s vision. That way, we will build a future worthy of our cubs¡­¡± She stopped blabbering and stormed toward the dome, contacting Command. ¡°Cristobo, that volunteer, Daniel. He heard you and Dragena. Send an agent here¡­¡±


    ¡°It is under control, Warlord,¡± Cristobo interrupted her, and Janine snorted. More secrets. Was Daniel and Oakster or something?


    A section of the dome opened, and she hurried to the growing sinkhole. Mad Hatter was at the bottom of it, still shoving her fist into the swollen cheek of her enemy. Eugenia stuck out her tongue, as if in teasing, but her own teeth were sunk into it; one eye almost escaped its socket; she exhaled a cloud of white dust, shaking and keeping elbowing her opponent. The ground level kept decreasing; the bastion¡¯s lights no longer reached here, obscured by the mounds of bulging earth; the heavy swirling clouds above choked all natural sunlight, and only Janine¡¯s lenses illuminated Mad Hatter in full as she descended toward the beast waiting for her.


    ¡°Nice armor,¡± the khatun commented. ¡°It suits¡­¡± A ball of plasma splashed against her face, brightly lighting up the surroundings. Its substance raced down the khatun¡¯s hair, highlighting it with a blue-white color and drying the blood over her burns until it formed a black crust. ¡°Rude.¡±


    Janine fired again. And then a third time, following the old rule Marty had taught her. When you come to kill, shoot and don¡¯t talk. She lunged as the unleashed ball fully covered Mad Hatter¡¯s face. She swung the Taleteller, preparing to bury the blade in that neck. The edge rebounded, stopped by a palm. Janine kicked straight into the fiery hell, her instincts screaming a warning. She jumped back, a nanosecond fast enough to dodge the clanking teeth that nearly bit her kneecap.


    ¡°What¡¯s the matter? Scared of a still woman?¡± Mad Hatter snorted.


    ¡°Finally, your appearance reflects your soul, liar.¡± Janine returned the chuckle.


    ¡°Again,¡± the khatun¡¯s face contorted, lessening the pressure. For a second, Janine imagined the woman lunging at her, tearing her limb from limb. Eugenia sucked in the air. ¡°Explain the meaning of your insult.¡±


    ¡°Not for free. Spare her and I¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Mad Hatter said. ¡°Those who refuse my grace always bask in my terror. That¡¯s how it is; that¡¯s how it will be. Answer my damn question, or I¡¯ll shatter her skull here and now.¡±


    ¡°Invincible,¡± Janine dared to sneer, tapping her head with the flat of her axe. ¡°So much for not lying. Tsk, tsk. Not winning as easily as you used to? Gotta say, the ugliness suits you.¡±


    Come on, attack me already. Janine pleaded, preparing to survive the worst beating of her life. Mad Hatter should become enraged and vent her frustration on the warlord, giving Eugenia precious seconds to either finish off the khatun or escape. Yes, Mad Hatter could¡¯ve easily killed Janine from any place here, but the humiliation of being proven wrong¡­


    Did nothing. The woman¡¯s eyes shifted to her burn; her fingers tore away the scab, revealing smooth, fully healed skin.


    ¡°You were saying?¡±


    A snap. Janine looked up, startled by the unexpected sonic boom. The dark sea in the sky parted, opening the view to the pleasant blue and soft yellow rays. A blot dropped from the center of that snap, darker than any night and yet attracting the sunlight. It fell, shining and yet not shining, gathering itself into a knot and releasing the accumulated tension into the kick that speared the ground.


    Janine lost her footing. The sinkhole rose, rapidly smoothing the battlefield. She clumsily cartwheeled once or twice, and then a paw caught her under the armpit. The Blessed Mother placed Janine upright, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Reassurance, greeting, worry, and care shared themselves in this simple gesture. Fingers closed around the warlord¡¯s neck, hurling her back toward the readily opening shield. She didn¡¯t mind the rough treatment and laughed, her voice joined by the Wolfkins.


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    The sun came back! And with it, their hope.


    ¡°Not yours.¡± Ravager stood on four legs. ¡°Return.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to her!¡± Dalantai yelled. ¡°Khatun, do it now!¡±


    Mad Hatter drew herself high and tossed Eugenia to Ravager. The commander caught the Elite on her forearm, and the Iternian slumped weakly on her legs.


    ¡°No!¡± Dalantai wailed, pounding his fists against the Horde¡¯s field. ¡°You could¡¯ve been the Sky itself! A daughter standing by the father¡¯s side, one reigning over spirituality and another reigning over reality!¡±


    ¡°And escape my fate? Avoid challenging the odds, forever not knowing if I deserve to ascend or not? Admit even a hint of fear of uncertainty? I don¡¯t think so,¡± Mad Hatter said haughtily. ¡°If a goddess is to walk today, it is to be done properly, through a trial of blood and endurance, the way a child leaves a mother¡¯s womb and not the other way around. There is no cheapening of destiny, Dalantai. Those who try always regret what they have lost. I¡¯ll claim what is mine by right.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Eugenia grabbed Ravager by the fur to stand up. ¡°You take her from the left and I take her from the right¡­¡±


    ¡°Can you even stand?¡± The massive snout bonked the Elite, and the woman collapsed back on her knees, her hand slipping off the fur. ¡°That answers it. Take what you came for and go. It¡¯s the Reclamation Army business now. No need to push yourself any further; otherwise, Artificer is going to cry. You can¡¯t give her salvation. I¡¯ll exterminate her.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the only reason I came,¡± Eugenia said, standing on one leg. The claws neared her helmet. They retracted back into fingers, which drummed on the surface, tracing the shifting nanomachines.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been¡­ pretty good, Redeemer,¡± the Blessed Mother grumbled. ¡°Can a machine cry?¡± she asked suddenly.


    ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what he conjures up in the laboratories.¡± Eugenia coughed. A blue light shone from under her legs, opening a portal. She fully disappeared in it.


    The khatun and the blessed mother approached each other lightly, not bothering to stay wary for weapons. They raised their right arms, and the chaos of battle ceased. No longer was Houstad bombarded, and the defenders¡¯ batteries went silent. Ravager sniffed Mad Hatter all over, and the Sky¡¯s Avatar returned the favor, examining her opponent unabashedly, even rubbing a strand of fur between her fingers.


    ¡°Prey,¡± they said in unison, fangs and teeth bared.


    Ravager¡¯s voice was clear and collected, utterly distinct from the crazed beast from the war against Techno Queen. She moved smoothly, her shoulders spread wide, not a twitch in her limbs. If it weren¡¯t for the occasional sniff of blood, Janine would have suspected a doppelganger. On the brink of defeat, the Blessed Mother shrugged off her troubles and returned to her prime, radiant and a perfect hunter.


    ¡°Strong,¡± Mad Hatter said. ¡°I taste that. Made a deal with that liar to get it?¡±


    ¡°You heard him.¡± Ravager waited for a nod. ¡°No. What mine is mine and in service of the Dynast and the people under his legitimate rule. I know little of whom you speak. But I have met a group called the Godsworn, all of whom had taken the deal. They vary in power, but every single one is a lunatic and stages carnages for fun. Freaks. Kind of like you.¡±


    ¡°Where are they?¡± Mad Hatter demanded to know.


    ¡°Plan to join?¡± Ravager released her claws and began trimming her own hair. ¡°No idea. The last one I met, I ate. Is that why you came? To find this God? Is he their leader?¡±


    ¡°Should be,¡± Mad Hatter answered. ¡°He never offered the deal to that fake.¡±


    ¡°What can you do? She is a better person than we.¡± Ravager studied the woman¡¯s face. ¡°You could¡¯ve simply asked instead of invading. I would¡¯ve joined you on that hunt.¡±


    ¡°Ask? What am I, a bondsman?¡± Mad Hatter smiled, clenching her fists around the scimitars¡¯ handles. ¡°Do I look like someone in need of help? Above or below the sky, no one is my equal. The weak whimper and beg. I take what I want. Whom I hate, I kill. The strong command, and the weak obey. I sense the boiling animosity. What bothers you about my invasion? It is the rule of nature; the losers have only themselves to blame for being weak enough to be trampled underfoot. No one sane is going to cry over butchered animals in a slaughterhouse.¡±


    ¡°Cubs have such adorable imaginations,¡± Ravager chuckled. ¡°The strong exist to ease the way for the weak. Such is our duty, and our reward is an unexpected helping paw to get us back on our feet. United we stand, divided we fall.¡±


    ¡°Is that an excuse for why your armies failed to stop us?¡± Mad Hatter burst into a booming laugh and put a hand to her mouth. ¡°Cub. You dare call me a child while spouting such hopelessly na?ve, idealistic nonsense?¡±


    ¡°Forgive the insinuation.¡± Ravager stood on two legs, and a hint of steel showed itself in her jovial speech. ¡°A child I might¡¯ve spared. Fine, let us play by your rules, forlorn.¡±


    They laughed good-naturedly together, their heads held high. Janine blinked, surprised at the lack of aggression and the genuine happiness in their voices. The two acted more like friends reunited after a long separation than mortal enemies. Their laughter swept across the battlefield, echoing from the destroyed bunkers, drowning out the rumble of working engines and generators, and silencing the groans of the injured and dying.


    Janine missed the scimitar¡¯s thrust. Mad Hatter¡¯s hand had vanished, turning into a white streak tinted gold by her weapon. It pierced the amber orb, but the black form faded like a mirage. A titanic swing landed on the khatun from the left, caught by the second scimitar, but the erupting force of the blow scattered any debris far and wide, sending some of it bouncing between Houstad and the Horde¡¯s shields. The claws drew blood from the neck, and a kick aimed at the knee followed, landing at nothing but emptiness as Mad Hatter scissored at Ravager¡¯s back with her scimitars, lightly cutting the skin.


    A sphere formed of cuts and slashes formed around the fighters; the wind blew, forming a growing tornado that further cleared the sky above. Swathes of ground flew aside, uprooted by the attacks¡¯ collisions. Janine heard officers hastily ordering the emptying of the underground tunnels leading behind the enemy lines as the conflict collapsed them. Occasional detonations haloed both titans, as most of the traps in the area were prematurely triggered by the resulting earthquakes. Acidic sludge, carefully prepared to thin the infantry, spilled out and was splashed aside without touching anyone.


    Ravager and Mad Hatter resembled ghosts, phasing in and out of reality amid the roaring tornado. Their struggle dispersed the flames around the Horde¡¯s position, and Horkhudagh, awestruck, joined Iron Lord. Their bodies weaved around the attacks; a cleave that should have bisected a body merely sliced a fleshy ribbon from Ravager, creating a canyon hundreds of meters long in the ground. The returning swipe, poised to eviscerate a belly, scratched five lines on the khatun¡¯s body.


    ¡°Astonishing,¡± First said over the comms, and Janine agreed with his assessment.


    ¡°Feast, Commander,¡± Janine whispered and pressed a paw over her heart. She felt it. Not exactly happiness, but a calculating focus spreading from the Ravager. Move. Plan. Murder. Parry. Repeat. Her broken mind gathered itself, and if she could push through her madness, what excuse did the Tribe have?


    In a heartbeat, hundreds of blows and fents were exchanged. Attacks were launched and immediately withdrawn as the fighters planned elaborate strategies, luring and positioning each other for the follow-ups. These two didn¡¯t think at the same speed as Normies or most New Breeds. To them, a second was worth an eternity; their keen minds caught the slightest muscle twitch and predicted entire scenarios in a blink. Twice Janine had missed witnessing such battles firstpaw, and while she felt honored to be present for the third, she caught herself hoping it would be the last time.


    Gods should not fight each other.


    The sound disappeared alongside the tornado. Ravager and Mad Hatter, these divine incarnations of the deities that had molded them, had created a zone of perfect vacuum around themselves.


    Blades and claws visibly edged closer. Tufts of reddened fur and bloodstained clothing emerged from the blindingly fast sphere of death. The two adapted to the unfamiliar styles. Any moment now, the balance will be broken.


    Ravager caught the golden scimitar aimed at her heart, stopping it dead. She countered with her left arm, opening Mad Hatter¡¯s cheek to the bone. The khatun elbowed the arm aside before the attack could go deeper and stabbed. The second scimitar pierced through Ravager¡¯s jowls and was caught by the fangs. The commander slammed her elbow into Mad Hatter¡¯s wrist and grabbed the scimitar, pulling it out. She shoved the weapons aside and prepared for a bite, closing her snout to her enemy¡¯s.


    A knee strike closed the jaws, sending Ravager¡¯s head back. The equilibrium was finally shattered, and Mad Hatter smiled, enjoying taking the lead as the ground erupted around the two, almost hiding them in an upward stream.


    And the one who did not miss the moment was the Blessed Mother. A split second of smugness equaled an eternity of distraction. This was Ravager¡¯s trap for her enemy, understood Janine, witnessing an upward swing prepared to shave off the woman¡¯s face. The khatun leaned back, and the knuckles struck her in the jaw, sending her flying high and adding to the widening chaos on the ground.


    Mad Hatter sought pleasure in the combat, while Ravager had a different purpose, fighting as a leader caring for her troops. If the two went all out, the resulting collateral damage risked destroying both armies and forever reshaping the region. Win or lose, if the battle continued here, there would be nothing left of Houstad.


    The two clashed in the air; Mad Hatter did not panic after missing the blow; she relaxed her body, calmly preparing for the inevitable confrontation, and when Ravager appeared behind her, she turned, tensing her abs and enduring a painful kick to her stomach. She drove her scimitar through the commander¡¯s foot during the kick, lacerating the leg up to the knee. Neither had a chance to twist their claws or blade to widen the damage. Mad Hatter was sent over the horizon, and Ravager spun, using a passing piece of debris for a springboard to chase after the woman.


    Just how far did she calculate it? Janine thought, humbled. Yes, the Blessed Mother often surprised the Tribe with her occasional sparks of genius, but that was otherworldly. She purposely sent the broken remains bouncing between the shields to not let her opponent have any opportunity to prepare herself.


    From the north came a shockwave, tearing up grass and ruining fields. Entire forests were uprooted, roads sunk underground, and barns were flung away. The city¡¯s force field groaned, painfully, straining to shield the wall and collapsed. Dozens of generators inside the bastions flickered and exploded, wounding and killing nearby technicians and guards. The same happened among the Horde¡¯s ranks. But that was a prelude. The ground shook and screamed, tortured by a foreign object collapsing into it.


    A mountain range rose far on the horizon, turning everyone equally pale. Waterfalls from the underground rivers, violently pushed above the surface, crowned it, turning to steam as they slid down the slopes, and the yellow glow of lava painted this new formation. Fissures, wide enough to gulp entire vehicles, snaked from the mountain range to Houstad, forever changing the local geography. A single drop of blood came from the north, charting the ground between the armies with the force of a falling comet, and the tremors continued, announcing that the titans were far from dead.


    ¡°End this rabble and secure Houstad!¡± Iron Lord commanded, pointing his glaive at the gates.

 Chapter 142: People

    Reach the bridge. Ganbaatar pushed himself back onto his shaking legs, his head aching from the explosion that had toppled him. See the world, they said. Join the glorious conquest; serve the deity. Rubbish. He had seen how a shell reduced four experienced riders to a bloody mix of smelly meat and metal, and he was no longer sure why he had joined the Horde. The bridge. The survival is there. There we can fight.


    He limped toward the destination, across the field full of devastation. Death rained down from the walls, death was coming from the ranks of the defenders, and death waited for him behind if he chickened out and ran. He, a Pureblood, shrieked like a common bondsman after two of his friends lost their heads to sniper fire. Blisters covered his legs and armpits, turning every march into a never-ending torture, and still Mad Hatter had refused to give them any respite, and Iron Lord and Brood Lord obeyed her every whim.


    Smoke, pale and red, covered the vast field, making it difficult to navigate despite the aid of his HUD. At least a dozen hordemen lost themselves in it, their minds shell-shocked, and fell to their deaths in the cleft cut by the demigods. The storm continued for an hour, and four times the Gilded Horde swept to the gates and was repulsed, retreating and returning in a tide.


    Iron Lord wasn¡¯t a coward. Ganbaatar gave the man that much. He accompanied them on every charge, his glaive reaping dozens, his cannons massacring more, but when his protective field burst under concentrated fire, the man had to rejoin the main force and order another assault.


    Remnants of shattered war machines littered the ruined field outside the city, providing a modicum of cover as well as a deadly trap and moat of sorts. Ganbaatar¡¯s cousin, who had roped him into this endeavor, had disappeared after a generator exploded, engulfing the woman while they crept through the metal maze. Occasionally, he noticed the wounded and eagerly reported back, hardly believing his eyes as the priests evacuated them.


    A shield carrier pushed its bulk through the steel forest, and hundreds clung to its underside. Ganbaatar joined them, only to be thrown aside as the humming field popped under intense bombardment, shells riddling the vehicle full of holes. He got up, found his weapon, and helped another hordeman.


    Scary. So scary. I want to go home. The insistent thought pulsed in his head; he longed to see his family, even that arrogant bastard of a brother, but he stubbornly headed for Houstad. There was no retreating; treads and legs of his allies would trample him underfoot. Ganbaatar teared up as the leading tank ahead exploded, dousing four soldiers, including the one he helped, ablaze. Join the raid! Become a warrior! Bring food and concubines to the clan! Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it! He cursed himself for listening to his cousin. What if he had been born with a spark of the divine? He had always had a knack for craftsmanship, and artisans were never short of orders in the steppes. Sky almighty, even his hobby of making musical instruments brought him a steady income.


    Survive. Don¡¯t want to die. There was a certain music here: deafening tank blasts, the wail of falling shells, the roar of rockets and human screams. The cacophony drowned many commands. But the bridge loomed ahead, enticing the hordemen with its relative safety from the batteries¡¯ thinning scything. Get there. Win the battle and return home. A pox on his mother¡¯s curses, a spit on his cousin¡¯s dream, he¡¯ll never let any delusions make him a conqueror again. He never even beat slaves at home; why did he give up his trade?


    He tried to help another fallen Pureblood. Only the woman¡¯s upper body was lifted; her legs and waist remained on the ground, and the insides spilled out. Ganbaatar vomited inside his helmet and ventured on, shaking once as a bullet ricocheted off his pauldron. The initial front line had been filled by the bondsmen and low-ranked Purebloods like him, but as the battle raged on, Malformed, Dirtybloods, and the core of the Purebloods joined in. Tremors from the north rocked the ground, and pillars of lava spurted around the distant mountain range as if the planet itself bled, convulsing from the demons clashing at its core. Scared. Dad, Mom, brothers, sisters, I am so scared. Save me, take me away. An enemy soldier emerged from the trench, taking aim at the advancing hordeman. Please.


    A bullet struck the soldier¡¯s helmet, splitting it open. The ruined faceplate exposed two wide eyes that mirrored Ganbaatar¡¯s own expression. It took him a second to understand that he had fired first. The insanity of it confused the young man; he had wanted to ask that boy if he too was interested in crafting when the soldier raised his rifle and the training took over. Ganbaatar¡¯s cleaver crushed into the soldier¡¯s neck, failing to penetrate cords and fibers, but the force of his blow broke the boy¡¯s neck. My sixteenth kill today. His mouth twisted, and the young man stifled a psychotic giggle at the understanding that his unnamed enemy probably had a family to feed as well.


    All distinctions between Purebloods, Dirtybloods, bondsmen, and Malformed disappeared on this battlefield. They were comrades, helping each other and trying to kill their counterparts on the opposite side. Madness. What sense does that make? Don¡¯t think. War is hell. Break through the gate. Win. Enter the city. Be safe. Then wage no war ever again. He joined the flow of hordemen, scared shitless over the possibility of getting maimed and paralyzed. Who would feed him then? What would be the point of living?


    Explosions covered the ruined road leading to the bridge¡¯s ridge, and he pushed through it, feeling every shockwave reverberating in his poor bones. A Malformed ahead of him toppled; a spiked mace broke his neck. The Reclaimers met them at the base of the bridge, Normies and Abnormals. Forced out of their trenches, their bunkers, dots, and pillboxes leveled, the defenders formed makeshift barricades, piling on dead bodies, and fired from that disgusting cover. The Abnormals leapt over the wall of corpses, stifling the thunderous charge head-on.


    Ganbaatar coughed blood after a bullet pierced his chest plate and tore off a nipple. He raised his left hand and fired the wrist-mounted autocannon, hearing the whine of the weapon¡¯s three barrels. His rounds knocked two defenders back, their visors replaced by gaping holes. I won¡¯t die or become disabled! He advanced, wreathed in flames of incendiary grenades and sparks from bullets notching his armor. A blend of human body and machinery tried to bar his path, but a Malformed tackled her, and he cleaved through her pistons of the legs, firing into the head until the soldier dropped dead. He nearly took another soldier¡¯s head with a horizontal slash, stopping after she dropped her weapon.


    Her blue, tired eyes, sharing the same deep fear as his, saved her. One and the same. Ganbaatar laughed madly, kicked the fool aside to relative safety, and walked on. People were similar everywhere. Everyone wanted to live! But he must prevail.


    The bridge had been reduced to little more than a pile of rubble in the previous onslaughts, and Ganbaatar clambered over the rocks, cutting his way through the defenders, heart pounding. A burst of machine gun fire flew overhead, liquidating the faces of two Purebloods, and the next burst rumbled over Ganbaatar¡¯s shoulder, destroying the emblem of honor given to him by Iron Lord Khan himself. A group of Abnormals and Normies, led by a man wielding a mace and a rifle. The hordemen crashed into them, and the young man faced the mace flying at his face. He had seen that bastard bashing heads before.


    He would¡¯ve liked to say that he was brave and skilled, but in actuality he wet himself and largely unintentionally blocked the spiked mace with his cleaver, saving his visor. He rammed his shoulder into the man, slamming his back into a rail and bending it. A battle raged around them; men and women shot and stabbed; claws, pincers, and talons slashed and stabbed; hands, tendrils, and other appendages crumbled and choked; and Ganbaatar barely recognized any of them. Walkers activated thrusters and took flight, joining the Abnormals blessed with gifts in attacking the upper levels.


    Alone. Everyone I knew died.


    He caught the rifle, breaking it, and the Reclaimer twisted out of his hold, stepping on the side of Ganbaatar¡¯s knee, buckling the entire leg. The mace landed briefly on a gash in his armor, and the hordeman stumbled in pain as the spikes scraped against his ribs. He raised his cleaver quickly enough to block the following hammering and save his head.


    I can¡¯t die! My family is waiting for me! Panic turned to adrenaline, and he let go of the ruined rifle, standing through the hail of blows, matching each blow. He headbutted, shattering his own visor and the enemy¡¯s helmet. The sound of the bastard¡¯s nose breaking was music to his ears. The young man shuddered, hearing the tear of his own armor. A golden clawed gauntlet had covered the Reclaimer¡¯s hand. I still haven¡¯t gifted Toragana that necklace I made! It was a simple, yet beautiful chain, a silver chain holding a locket inlaid with jade to accentuate her sweet eyes. He didn¡¯t wait for another swing of the gauntlet, rammed his fingers into the gray eyes and stabbed the man in the chest, twisting to rupture the lung.


    A tank rumbled past him, smashing the damaged barricades, and around Ganbaatar, the soldiers were overwhelming defenders. He sighed, twitching from his wounds and observing how the first tank was closing on the gap leading inside the city. Survived.


    From the above, a great gray figure landed, throwing up bodies and debris with its sheer weight. In one hand it held a ruined wreckage of a walker, corpses of flying abnormals fell in its wake; from its opened jaws dripped blood of the slain; and to her back was fastened a huge axe, more resembling a fang on a stick. The monster kicked, lifting the tank to Ganbaatar¡¯s disbelief. The war machine weighing 200 hundred tons briefly stood upright, and the same leg lacerated its underbelly. Then the monster fired its plasma rifle thrice into the interior, and a splash of flames and a downpour of molten metal mingled with steam briefly hid her.


    The ammunition exploded, tossing soldiers of both sides off their feet. Through the burning carcass, it stepped out, crimson lenses burning, searching for victims and the axe now in hand.


    ¡°Step forth, she who dares! Face your doom!¡± The devil roared, basking in the hellfire, and proudly raised the axe, pointing it at the hordemen. Unharmed, aside from several notches on the armor. ¡°I shall spill your entrails and dine upon them.¡± A brave raider closed in on it and was cleaved in two. ¡°Your bones will be dusted by my paws. And your meat¡­¡± It bit another soldier with unimaginable speed and closed its jaws on the still struggling body. With a soft crack, a pair of gauntlets fell to the ground as the legs were sucked into the insatiable maw. ¡°¡­Shall sustain me!¡±


    The entrance! Ganbaatar panicked. That damned creature had cleared the upper levels, and the intact defense turrets and rows of soldiers began taking aim at the gathered crowd. His comrades shared his concerns and charged the lone figure. The whirlwind of steel and plasma met them; the axe parried bullets, swatted aside grenades and rockets, and opened bodies as if they were protected by mere paper. Jaws snapped, snatching limbs, giant legs stomped, breaking bones. Violence incarnate passed through the disorganized ranks, and no one could stand against it. It traversed like a force of nature, hungrily gulping soldiers and spitting out mangled corpses. It clubbed them with its own plasma rifle, not bothering to reload, and never stopped laughing.


    A Malformed the size of a truck knuckle-walked to the creature and caught the axe on its boned wrist. The Malformed mewled and gurgled, trying to say something. Acid sludge spewed from the mouths on its shoulders, hissing across the gray surface and melting bodies. The large fist raised, and the Malformed screamed in its mewling voice, his kneecap destroyed by a clawed foot. The creature freed its axe and lodged it under the square jaw; the edge went into the brain, stealing the light from the fighter¡¯s eyes.


    All in the span of a heartbeat. Two priests swooped from above, pointing their crooked, taloned fingers at the doggie.


    It grunted, withstanding the telekinetic pressure that formed a perfectly round circle of dented reinforced concrete around it, and a tank hurried to fire at the immobilized target. Bursts of gunfire from the defenders¡¯ ranks vaporized both priests, and the doggie sliced through the shell. A single shot from her plasma rifle traveled through the tank¡¯s barrel, exploding ammunition and murdering the crew.


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Will anyone provide me with a decent challenge?¡± The monster asked. ¡°Or is facing unarmed innocents all you are good for?!¡±


    I must survive! Sky, watch over me! Ganbaatar joined the desperate charge. They had to remove that thing out of the entrance and inside before they would get mowed down. There was no other way; it was way too late to retreat!


    Mowed down they ended up being. Men, women, mutants, machines¡ªnone could pass this war incarnate. The doggie no longer fired, wielding its axe with economic swings, harvesting lives with every move. He had faced her white- and black-furred kin before, but this shared no hints of the innate ferocity. It calculated, stepping aside, dodging blasts and missiles, countering with brutal force. The legs woven their own web of death, clawing through the solid plates with sickening ease. Ganbaatar, daring to believe in the impossible, brought his cleaver to the thing¡¯s back¡­.


    Agony. His eyelids opened beyond limits, tearing the skin. So much pain. He found himself flying in an arc. Everything hurt. He got splattered against the wall, slipping back and leaving a trail of blood. When he hit the ground, he dared to raise his head, freaking out at the wide gash that opened from his groin to his upper chest. Organs pulsed in the wound, and a gush of air added to his pain.


    More tremors, both from the khatun¡¯s duel and from the artillery bombardment, shook the battlefield, and Ganbaatar cried out; his exposed organs jumping up and down with each passing wave. On the crest of the ruined battle, the massacre began in earnest. More howls joined the monster¡¯s, and doggies climbed out from underneath the ruins, from their hiding spots, and swarmed the exposed soldiers. It was a trap. And they walked into it. At least his blisters and exhaustion no longer bothered him. Maybe he could even take a little nap¡­


    A click of the weapon drew his attention. The soldier he had spared pointed a machine gun at his face.


    ¡°Surrender, yes?¡± he spoke with a thick accent, barely remembering the words and trembling with every fiber of his being. Only now did he realize he was missing a hand. A cripple. He would become a cripple, a burden to his family, unless he wanted Merchants turn him into a soulless abomination. Toragana would never marry him now.


    The soldier nodded, lowering her weapon to his surprise. He planned to ask why, when part of the wall, broken by the artillery, came crashing down in an avalanche. The heavy chunks buried them both alive, entombing them in the darkness.


    *****


    ¡°Come on, whores¡¯ spawns! Don¡¯t line up; death waits for you all!¡± Marzena of the Alpha Pack cheered, blood bubbling on her lips.


    The wolf hag¡¯s power armor was a mess. Riddled with bullets, two unexploded shells lodged in it, and a fist-sized hole in her belly. Her intestines dangled, touching her greaves. So irritating. Ideally, she should have retreated and let Maxence¡¯s nannies tend to her wounds, but today she couldn¡¯t care less about surviving. Her pack died. All sixty of them, precious girls and boys whose lives she had fought so hard to spare over the course of this war. The last of them, Scout Justyna, had been torn asunder by a Malformed fifteen minutes ago. What use was a wolf hag without a pack to lead? So this was her go-time.


    Besides, she was fighting in the shadow of the Blessed Mother! When the wall had suffered a breach and the honeycomb of the defensive installations crushed down, Alpha took the place at the widest gap. They fought for hours, turning back the sea of soldiers. The strongest warlord¡¯s claws had torn through hundreds, staining their mound of concrete red. And the Alpha Pack fought alongside her.


    To them, Alpha was more than a warlord. She was a mother, cruel, often merciless; she pushed her troops far and beyond their limits, breaking and mending their souls and bodies. But the results were worth the suffering. Steeled by discipline, carrying the flames of rage in their hearts, the best pack held, luring in large swaths of enemies into well-placed ambushes and letting some escape to sow panic as they reformed their vigil, not surrendering a meter. Rather than engage in prolonged melee, they had spiced things up with acid grenades and laid mines during brief pauses, howling with glee when the fools stepped into them.


    Outnumbered at least fifteen to one, they denied Houstad the Gilded Horde, never panicking even when communications occasionally went down. Alpha had often faked her own death, teaching every single wolf hag and scout the value of independent thinking and fluid command structure.


    Pity I won¡¯t get those tasty sandwiches again. Marzen giggled, half-crazy from pain, and caught a fatty by the hand. She sank her claws into the woman¡¯s throat, saving a shocked Reclaimer on the ground.


    A sandwich. Stupid as it was, her pack had almost dragged her to one of the so-called bars selling piss called alcohol in these parts. There she tried one, enjoying the pleasant-to-the-palate mix of bread, meat, cheese, and veggies. She must have been delirious from the blood loss if she had longed for it over her friends and family, but when she picked up a shardgun and fired it, she understood that she was okay with it.


    There was no better reason for a last brawl. It was best defending something, even if it was a small bar serving sandwiches. Her shot tossed down a hordeman, and she added another into his broken visor, just for good measure.


    Alpha fought beside her, splashing red with every swing. The strongest warlord didn¡¯t shield herself; bullets and beams of energy failed to even graze her armor. Her fear wave expanded, stilling the hearts of fifteen troopers, and she lunged into the fray. Where she walked, the dead remained and a crowd of former convicts flocked to her side, firing their rotary cannons, and Marzena reluctantly accepted a hand helping her cross a tall boulder.


    Former. Yes, that¡¯s the word. The state might disagree, but to her, these males and females had atoned for whatever crimes they committed. At her command, the collars dropped from their necks, but none tried to flee, and Alpha said nothing.


    A streak of flame flowed above the advancing forces, crashing into Alpha with the force of a meteorite. The strongest warlord¡¯s feet claws scratched the stones as she tried to stop the fireball while those around her were thrown to the ground. Mighty arms grabbed at the ball, trying to squeeze it as the stones and debris melted and the bodies caught fire. A blackened hand reached out from the orb and grabbed Alpha¡¯s head, shaking it violently from side to side, and then a leg of similar color tried to kick her in the neck.


    The sharpest claws sliced through the limbs, and the flame gathered into a figure resembling a demon from the ancient religious books. Its skin was a dark, cracking bark that held an inferno within; two dim, eyeless holes tracked Alpha¡¯s movements, and its lipless mouth was frozen in an eternal grin. Red, blue, and white tongues of flames covered the body like regal capes. It reeked of smoke and nothing more.


    ¡°We have a duel to finish, Alpha,¡± the newcomer said in a crack of wood. Black talons grew on the tips of his fingers. ¡°If you would be so kind¡­¡±


    Alpha simply speared his chest, not bothering to answer. The ruined torso¡¯s legs locked around Alpha, and the flaming corpse took flight, slamming the resisting warlord into the walls and dousing the exposed corridors with liquid heat. They soon disappeared at the top of the wall, still fighting, despite the constant bombardment.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare lose, Mother!¡± Marzena shouted as the ledges above began dripping molten stone.


    Well, she had gone and done it. The last wolf hag to call Alpha her mother in a drunken stupor had had the skin peeled off her back and then reattached to the bare flesh with clamps, both to hurt and to preserve the fur. But in the face of impending doom, and just to give the warlord an extra incentive to win¡­.


    Eh. Worth it.


    ¡°Split up and retreat to the bastions!¡± Marzena coughed out the command, baring her fangs at the soldiers and convicts¡¯ hesitation. ¡°That¡¯s an order! You¡¯ll die in vain out in the open!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bare your fangs on me; you aren¡¯t that scary, lass,¡± said a former convict, summoning his exact copy from the stones. And then he created another. ¡°We started together; I say we end it together.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not up for debate, dolt! The ground is shaking; their cavalry is coming! Hide, resist, and bite!¡±


    ¡°What about you, Wolf Hag?¡± asked a soldier.


    ¡°Done my share of walking, son,¡± Marzena chuckled, and the rest of her guts fell out. ¡°Go! Have a few drinks in my memory after we kick their asses!¡±


    The soldiers scattered, helping the wounded, and the stone clones carried away the most grievously injured and helped allies to crawl from under the wreckage. Thumb. Thumb. Items jumped up and down as Marzena walked to the breach, witnessing that what she had said was true in the most literal sense of the word.


    Fuck, I never thought I¡¯d be dying to a blasting cavalry in the age of tanks! She fired once into the oncoming stampede, and Iron Lord¡¯s glaive slapped away the shards, slicing through her head before the first thunder bull even reached her.


    The Horde entered Houstad.


    ****


    ¡°Boss!¡± Slavetaker yanked his blade from a mutant¡¯s twitching head, ignoring the spasming pincers touching his armor. A light push of his foot squeezed the body of a half-dead doggie. A shame. Their kind brought much profit, but that one had a mortal wound. He turned to face a Pureblood climbing to him over the rocks. ¡°Iron Lord Khan ordered us to join Widowmaker and clear the walls of enemies so our main host could enter unopposed. One or two warlords are still prowling around.¡±


    ¡°And where is he?¡± He looked at the city, the tingling sensation of the present prey almost tugging at his nostrils. Here. They didn¡¯t escape.


    ¡°On his way to finish what Phaser couldn¡¯t! Besides, he said that our inside agent is acting weird, so he wants to ¡®settle the matter before anything happens,¡¯ as he put it.¡± The Pureblood saluted. ¡°Want me to gather the band?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but we won¡¯t be doing hunting.¡± He shot, downing a Reclaimer running to the streets, and pointed at Houstad. ¡°Iron Lord promised me hides, but I had much fighting and too few cheating skins. No longer! Today, we flay those brats.¡±


    He walked down, both certain that his troops would follow him and not caring about possible betrayal in the slightest. None cheats Slavetaker. He broke into a run, closing in on the soldiers trying to man a trench outside the fortifications. A single swing killed all three, and then he fired again, eagerly moving toward his marks.


    ****


    ¡°Let¡¯s make us some widows!¡± Widowmaker cheered, her sword catching bullets from the air. Soldiers died as she headed up the stairs, cleaving through their bodies. ¡°What, are you planning to live forever?¡±


    ¡°No!¡± her soldiers roared, following.


    This battle was amazing! Tens of thousands on each side and no sign of weakness! Doggies, mutants, Abnormals, powers, machines! Her heart pumped with excitement at the prospect of repaying the debt owed to Mad Hatter. Truth be told, she¡¯d never skipped that battle no matter the debt, even joining the enemy if that would mean being part of something historical.


    Widowmaker didn¡¯t care much about surviving, but she didn¡¯t want to die either, or see her troops wasted. This was her way of life, and she intended to see it through to the end. Her group had approached the breach under the cover of one of the remaining intact shield carriers and broken in, decorating the fortification with the corpses of the Reclaimers. A boy of about eighteen dropped his rifle, and her blade stopped a millimeter from his ribs.


    ¡°You just had to ruin it! Scurry away.¡± Widowmaker scowled and proceeded up the stairs. ¡°Such a perfect day to fight and die and¡­¡±


    The bulkhead in front of her exploded, opening a view that instantly brightened her mood. Dozens of Reclaimers took positions in the operator center, firing at them from almost point-blank range. Her Chainbreakers slammed their shields into the floor, taking the brunt of the gunfire, while the Unbroken fired in the spaces between their shields.


    Unable to wait any longer, she leapt, bouncing off the ceiling, her sword blocking the bullets. Widowmaker landed in the enemy ranks, unafraid of the raging gunfire. A soldier before her glanced down at the cut on his chest, and then his upper part slipped down alongside the armored casing of a terminal behind which he was hiding. Her return blow sliced through a woman¡¯s neck. The khatun continued, enjoying the tingle of bullets passing near her cheeks and the occasional explosions as the Reclaimers tried to take her with them. Her perception of time slowed, allowing her to pick out the tiniest details.


    To her left, a man turned into water, surviving both her slash and a hail of bullets. The water splashed across the floor, past her feet, and she felt the figure transform from a moving stream into a solid form. At the sound of the moving trigger, she whirled around and stabbed the man in the heart, enjoying the utter horror on his face as he failed to change form fast enough.


    A wave of heat touched her cheek, and she smelled intense chemical fire, quite different from the prevailing stench of sweat, blood, smoke, released bowels, and sparks permeating the place. Widowmaker jumped back, saving herself just in time as a wall of flames rolled down the floor, somehow avoiding incinerating the Reclaimers. It came from a crack in the ceiling, and a violent kick sent the entire roof crashing down.


    ¡°Up,¡± a voice growled, and the soldiers scrambled across the ruins. The Unbroken opened fire, but a hiss announced a burst of heat that detonated much of the ammunition in the air. Armored legs emerged from the opening above, calmly descending, and Widowmaker raised her arm in anticipation. ¡°You killed my wolf hag.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve killed many,¡± Widowmaker admitted.


    ¡°Her name was Arruda. Loyal, smart, kind.¡± The doggie showed in full, her forehead scraping the debris above her as she stepped down into the room. Mounted flamethrowers on her wrists stained the unleashed white claws red with their fires. ¡°You took her in her prime.¡±


    ¡°Clearly her prime wasn¡¯t much to brag about, if she died so unremarkably that I don¡¯t even recall her.¡± Widowmaker cracked her neck. ¡°But I claimed her, and now you¡¯ll belong to me, too. I hope you¡¯ll be more of a sport¡­¡±


    ¡°Wrong,¡± the doggie interrupted her. Arms pierced the wall behind her, rapidly widening the cracks, and more crimson lenses, armored figures, emerged from the dust. Widowmaker beamed. ¡°You are ours. The Tribe pays its debts.¡±

 Chapter 143: Blink

    The ground shook with the stampede of the thunder bulls. Iron Lord led his forces through the weakened underbelly, widening the gap in the inner defensive lines positioned inside Houstad, accompanied by his children and recently elevated bodyguards. Inside his helmet, cords snaked around his head, entering his temples and establishing a neuro-link that connected him to the helmet¡¯s lenses, slowing everything down and buying him precious seconds. His scuffle with Janine had been a valuable experience, and Iron Lord would not be found wanting again.


    Time slowed to a crawl, and he swatted bullets from the air. The usual perception resumed, and his steed smeared four soldiers. The fifth lost his face to the passing disruption field of his glaive as the shoulder cannons hissed, spewing sizzling orbs detonating pillboxes. Mechanical tendrils uncoiled, grasping Wolfkins and the regulars alike, breaking the former and murdering the latter. His troops got the cue, avoiding the wounded and firing on the fortifications ahead.


    In their wake, the Horde streamed in, flooding the exposed trenches, breaking into the building, and wreaking havoc. A steady flow of information poured directly into Iron Lord¡¯s brain, letting him immediately correct the little foibles caused by the overzealousness or arrogance of his followers.


    That was his hour. The artillery batteries at the airport were his current target. Silence them, wreck the crawler, and the Third Army¡¯s ability to resist them will be greatly diminished.


    Everyone understood that much. Soldiers, volunteers, mercenaries, and even some conscripted criminals gathered to try to stop his force. None of them succeeded. Thunder bulls shoved themselves through the defenses, their hides shrugging off grenades and bullets. His own force shield kept those at the front safe from energy weapons. Glaives, spears, and axes murdered the nearest enemies, and discharges of their ranged weapons dissuaded any prolonged combat.


    They came to an abrupt halt at Verevarsk Square. Once bustling with tens of thousands of citizens hurrying about their businesses, two figures now waited for the hordemen. One was undeniably Warlord Onyxia. Shadows, thick and impenetrable even to augmented vision, drifted from her joints. Near her was a female standing upside down on one arm, her legs dangling nonchalantly. The top of her helmet was tinted white, and her size matched that of her mistress. Corpses of the Horde infiltrators, each blinded to preserve the sanctity of this place, hung from the statue of Houstad¡¯s first mayor, which stood opposite Iron Lord. The khan scowled and fired his cannon, forever ruining the chiseling features and freeing the useless failures from further humiliation.


    He kicked his thunder bull, slowly entering the square alone. Something was off. A single dividing line separated three halves of the square from the rest. His lenses picked out craters, picked up traces of exploded missiles, and calculated firing ranges based on the melted roofs of the buildings. A trap. A warlord to hold while they gut us¡­ Onyxia walked to face him, hands on hips.


    Onyxia, the stealth killer of the Wolf Tribe, was known for breaking entire armies. Driven into a delirious state by the careful use of stimulants and drugs, the doggie prisoners had revealed enough of her. A lax commander overly reliant on her officers to command her troops. Of which there was one present here, meaning the rest fought elsewhere, lest his sensors fail to locate them.


    Her style relied on psychological intimidation, combining lethality and speed. Soldiers standing in orderly ranks would suddenly notice a missing comrade. The situation repeated itself during the search. Blink and find that your childhood friend went missing. Blink and you would find that the strongest champion had fallen, his spine severed. A base commander would disappear from the circle of his bodyguards or from his toilet, silently and without a trace.


    Entire armies surrendered, unable to withstand such psychological pressure, but Iron Lord was calm. What passed for armies in the north must¡¯ve been either critically pathetic, stupid, or far too small. He was made of sturdier stuff and had already figured out her trick.


    Blinking. Every Wolfkin mentioned it in one variation or another. The light of his lenses intensified. She won¡¯t have such luck here.


    ¡°Your lenses will relay our position to the crawler. As soon as we cross that line, all hell will break loose. Is that right?¡± Iron Lord asked mundanely.


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Onyxia replied, stopping a hundred paces from the line.


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll rip them out.¡± Iron Lord passed the line and spread his arms in anticipation of hearing the missiles. His cannons took aim.


    A blow jolted him back in his seat, too fast even for his shield to activate in time. He heard the screech of torn metal and the explosion of stone. Onyxia had vanished, reappearing behind him, almost completely shrouded in shadows. Both of his cannons fell to the ground, and the claws of her second hand gouged gashes into his plate near his waist.


    Fast! Outpaced my optical zoom!


    Patience 2 struck back, its end spearing through the dark veil and scraping against her side. Onyxia reached out and grabbed his shoulder, and Iron Lord activated his field, shoving the woman down. He spun his glaive, bringing the shimmering edge down, and his tendrils whipped, seeking, if not to harm, then to entangle.


    The glaive missed, sending cracks across the stone and severing the tip of a tendril. Onyxia bounced off the ground and landed on the thunder bull. The swipes of her claws split his pauldron and scratched his helmet.


    ¡°You blinked,¡± she whispered, and cold sweat rolled down Ismaeel¡¯s back.


    Impossible! She can¡¯t see my face. My voice is synthesized. Steel betrays no emotion.


    Blink. A wolf hag among the captives had explained it, whispering its secrets as he grafted the lips of her ghastly wound together. People assumed Onyxia wielded some power, based solely on the strange phenomena that manifested in the strange dark vapors emanating from her pores and fur. But if the prisoner was to be believed, Onyxia had developed an uncanny ability to read the twitching of the tiniest muscles, unmistakably guessing the exact movements of her prey. Paired with unnatural precision and processing capabilities, it was an annoying style to fight against, as she struck during the slightest distractions, catching her prey unaware.


    Onyxia expressed increasing frustration toward the Tribe¡¯s so-called ¡®ranking matches,¡¯ hating them with a passion. As the wolf hag explained, when an opponent focused on the shadow warlord, she wasn¡¯t overly difficult to defeat, but as soon as a challenger blinked, Onyxia always went for the jugular, bleeding out the opposition. Even after her occasional defeats, victors often had to spend days or weeks beside her in the emergency room, and what kind of triumph was that? Such victories did not entice the Wolf Tribe, as Iron Lord had learned.


    It was a body-reading technique that had no right to work on him!


    His tendrils whipped again, and the Wolfkin, wearing several tons of steel, disappeared from his cameras, leaving bloody footprints on his steed and weaving around the glaive¡¯s swing. Her claws sunk into his shield generator, disabling it. A pang of pain grazed Iron Lord, and the laughing woman rolled off the bull, waving a bloody paw at him.


    The khan glanced down. She had attacked him in the exact spot where she had left gashes in his armor during the first attack, cutting through the weakened parts to reach his body.


    ¡°Blinked again. Tsk, tsk. Are you really the one who killed the Berserker?¡± Onyxia grinned. ¡°Oh, how I will tease her on the other side.¡±


    ¡°You seem to be eager to join her,¡± Iron Lord said dryly, releasing a burst of code.


    It was foolish to argue against reality. Whether or not he accepted it, continuing to fight individually brought a certain element of uncertainty into his plans, and he was not going to let the situation go awry.


    Zulfiya. Marduk. On my mark¡­


    ¡°No,¡± Zulfiya said aloud, and his systems activated, erasing the immobilization command from his armor.


    ¡°What is the meaning of it?¡± Iron Lord demanded to know as several of his offspring held their immobilized relatives inside their suits. ¡°A betrayal?¡±


    ¡°A response to your actions,¡± Zulfiya answered, nodding to Onyxia. ¡°This line was not drawn for you. It was for us.¡±


    ¡°And you seem to¡­¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Zulfiya told the warlord. ¡°A Reclaimer contacted me, and I listened¡­¡±


    ¡°Listened?¡± Iron Lord laughed incredulously. ¡°Daughter, you ought to be wiser than that. They¡¯ll spin any story in an attempt to change their fate! Their words are nothing but lies.¡±


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    ¡°Sure they are. But not Mehmed¡¯s,¡± Zulfiya said. ¡°Father, I know what you did to him. You condemned him to a fate worse than death, trapping him in a suit¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you judge me when you are doing the same to your siblings to usurp my position!¡±


    ¡°A pox on your position! I am saving my family! I don¡¯t want any more of them to die or end up like Mehmed! We don¡¯t need that kind of strength!¡± Zulfiya snarled, pointing her spear at Iron Lord. She lowered it. ¡°Dad. We are not going to fight against you. We are heading to the uncle. If you ever cared or felt anything for us, join us! What are your conquests for? What good will they bring you, except a dead family? Look at you, experimenting on your own children! Lying to them! You have become another Brood Lord. Is that what you wanted? Where is the father I was always proud of? Where is the man who protected me, read me bedtime stories, and taught me how to fight? I want him back! It¡¯s not too late. We can mend things! Let Mad Hatter choke on her war; I want my family to live!¡±


    ¡°Daughter. Don¡¯t worry. I am not angry. It is normal to have a mental breakdown under pressure. It will pass; you will recover. We will talk after the city falls,¡± Iron Lord answered calmly.


    ¡°No.¡± She shook her head, moving the steed away. Those of his children who had sided against him formed a circle around their immobilized siblings and led them to the breach. He motioned for the arriving infantry to let them pass. ¡°I don¡¯t think we will. Good health to you, Iron Lord Khan. Goodbye.¡±


    Any mistake, loss, or trouble was the commander¡¯s fault. Iron Lord adhered to this rule and did not blame Zulfiya in the least. She was bright, and perhaps he had indeed overstepped reasonable bounds and treated the failure too harshly. And the comparison to Brood Lord. It stung more than he wanted to admit. He should have ridden the Golden Horde of the tainting element, regardless of the man¡¯s usefulness.


    ¡°Ha. What sort of ruthless moron are you if even your cubs abandon you?¡± mocked Onyxia.


    ¡°I am the grand commander of the Gilded Horde. Iron Lord Khan.¡± He pressed the hand holding the glaive against the wound, shielding the vulnerability, and closed his fingers around the distant solar orb, not looking at Onyxia. Zulfiya didn¡¯t reveal anything about the code. He still had the advantage. ¡°The one who trampled nations. The one responsible for defeating your miserable armies. And you are¡­¡± Onyxia disappeared as his eyelids dropped. ¡°¡­a gullible fool.¡±


    The claws barely touched him as the gunfire engulfed them both. His bodyguards opened fire on his previous command, and both mass-reactive rounds and laser beams scarred the fighters. Where his suit was thick enough to withstand the hail of death with a minimum of discomfort, Onyxia¡¯s armor cracked, and her backpack spewed fire as a blow from his glaive sent her sprawling, shearing off a strip of flesh, including a finger.


    ¡°Did you seriously assume that you had enough brains to corner me?¡± Iron Lord thundered, advancing upon her. ¡°Fool! While you were wasting opportunities and doing nothing, I was positioning my troops. If you had the artillery to spare, you would have used it to eliminate me by now. No, you wanted me to divert my forces, to take the long way around the square, where ambushes or mines awaited them. Now learn, mutant. Learn the difference between a leader and a brute!¡±


    ¡°Why¡­¡± Onyxia croaked, rolling on all fours. ¡°Why not both?¡±


    ¡°Fall back!¡± Ismaeel yelled.


    Too late. The crawler diverted its light artillery and launched a full-scale bombardment at the entering hordemen, murdering dozens and driving the rest back. Even power armor could do little against the raining hell. The shell bent and twisted limbs, shattered skulls, and set the area ablaze, denying the wounded a chance to escape. Iron Lord remained unharmed, standing too close to Onyxia, but the cohesion of his forces was broken, and Marduk¡¯s icon disappeared from his HUD. He immediately named his replacement and ordered him to restore order in case of a sudden attack.


    But that will take time.


    ¡°It¡¯s true.¡± Onyxia dropped low. ¡°The Third¡¯s infantry rarely see action because of us, but our artillery is second to none, boy! Every warlord reveres our thunder from above. Sure, you were a tough bugger, that shield and all. Why waste the effort to scratch you when we could¡¯ve thinned out the litter you lead?¡± She laughed. ¡°It didn¡¯t matter to me what your choice was! Go the long way around, face my ambushers, and later us. Take my bait and die. Either way, we¡¯ll win! We are Pack Onyxia, and we are hunting you!¡±


    ¡°You dare assume this changes anything?¡± Iron Lord asked, leaning forward. Rotary cannons slid from the secure casings in his arms to his wrists. An extra layer of metal closed the wound as his internal systems worked to stop the bleeding. The shield generator reactivated with a low hum. ¡°I alone am enough to change the situation. Keep her in your sights.¡± He patted his steed and sent the fierce beast into a gallop.


    ¡°Anji! Showtime!¡± Onyxia said.


    ¡°I thought you¡¯d never ask, Warlord!¡± The wolf hag cheered.


    She hurled a flashbang that exploded before his face, filling his oculars with a bright white flash and hiding the sounds behind the loud noise. Iron Lord fired, missing Onyxia, who closed the distance, zigzagging and dodging the incoming projectiles. He could barely see her form and swung his glaive, knowing he would miss. His shield formed around him, but the damned mutie aimed at his steed, cutting the leg¡¯s artery.


    A grenade landed at his shield a moment later, distracting Iron Lord long enough for the warlord to gain distance. The enraged beast stomped, bulging out chunks of stone and widening cracks; it snorted, blinked to clear its vision, and charged after the warlord. The wolf hag leapt from behind a stone, firing once at Iron Lord¡¯s cannon, jamming it, and then ducked under a swing. Two shots to the chest sent her back, but the cursed woman wanted it, relying on armor to survive and using the impact to gain distance, and Onyxia slashed at Iron Lord from behind.


    The hunt was on, and he intended to gut these wretches for stalling him.


    ****


    Lacerated One turned to the door, drawn by the approaching murmur, and prepared to shield the operators from any harm. Fat, muscled fingers crumpled the meter-thick titanium, widening the gap to fit an entire arm inside. It latched onto the rest of the door and ripped it free, shaking the room. The huge New Breed stepped in; recently healed scars covered the rough slabs of his body. He dragged Slaughterer¡¯s head with him, wielding it like a battering ram.


    ¡°You are tall. A warlord?¡± Drozna breathed.


    ¡°Can you hear them?¡± inquired Lacerated One, stepping closer to the intense wailing. Cubs¡¯ cries, males¡¯ curses, wailing of desperate females¡­ I¡¯ll bring you succor. She promised, folding her arms in prayer.


    ¡°What are you talking about, whore?¡± Drozna asked, raising the head.


    Slaughterer had lost his appendages, and most of his eyes were missing, but she spotted a single, convulsive sucking of air, a desperate act of the anguished soul trying to survive. That complicated things.


    ¡°The ghosts of those whom you killed. I see them around you, a great whirlwind of grudges and curses.¡± The supreme shaman walked toward him, relaxed, addressing Drozna the same way she would address a member of her flock or a misbehaving cub. ¡°My kin, the state¡¯s soldiers, the civilians of this and other lands. Tortured and murdered at the behest of your misbegotten master. Can¡¯t you hear them? Have you forgotten the pleas for mercy you denied? Do you not feel the cold grip of their inevitable retribution closing on you at long last?¡±


    ¡°A whirlwind of souls.¡± Drozna smiled. ¡°Around me? I like it. But all I hear is the whining of a soon-to-be-dead bitch¡­¡±


    Distracted. For a breath, but it was enough. Lacerated One assumed Onyxia¡¯s persona, kicking as his eyelids closed for a blink. The trick stank of Onyxia, but the attack itself belonged undeniably to Eled, who enjoyed adding extra to everything. It landed on Drozna¡¯s belly, knocking him back a dozen steps and creating a shockwave that splattered the workers against their consoles.


    In a single smooth motion, the shaman closed the gap between them, dropped to her knees to dodge the swipe with the head, and greeted Martyshkina. She punched at Drozna¡¯s talus bone in his right foot, knocking him off balance. Ashbringer brought her up, and Alpha directed the claws at the exposed lower jaw, but she abandoned the stab as her opponent moved a hand to block. It was Janine¡¯s hold that closed around the elbow of the arm holding Slaughterer, pinching the nerve with Terrific¡¯s technique. She tackled the man, following Predaig¡¯s advice on grappling. Her own elbow slammed into Drozna¡¯s solar plexus, as Janine would have done, and the man wheezed for air, instinctively letting go of the hostage.


    Drozna erupted in violence; his fist sliced across Lacerated One¡¯s forearm, tearing a chunk out of it. He spun off the ground and brought an apocalyptic kick to the shaman¡¯s shoulder. There was no time to dodge, and she lacked the strength to block it completely, so she welcomed the blow instead, going limp as Dragena occasionally did. The kick landed on her relaxed shoulder and brought her down. Had the floor and Drozna¡¯s legs been of equal durability, her trick would not have worked, but her body broke through the floor, and she grabbed the edge of the hole, pulling herself up and dancing away from the incoming blows, cheered on by Fatima.


    The light in the room changed, illuminating it in every color of the rainbow, from chrome to green to carmine red. She heard a chorus as the Spirits, both big and small, stepped into reality, calling to the souls orbiting Drozna. The dead didn¡¯t oblige; they weighed down the wicked, desperate to spare others the fate they had suffered, and Lacerated One recognized Bogdan among them, so uncharacteristically serious.


    ¡°Poor sweeties. It is okay,¡± Lacerated One said, tossing the wounded Slaughterer to safety.


    ¡°Have you gone mad?¡± Drozna asked, and she heard murmurs behind.


    ¡°Do you not hear them?¡± she asked sadly, addressing both Drozna and the working crew. A similar cloud cloaked Slaughterer, but the souls splintered from it, indicating that the man was on the right track. The guilt will remain; it will never be completely erased, but his victims no longer saw any point in lingering in this realm. ¡°I see, I understand. Spare him, protect them, and cull this one.¡± Her claws scratched down her shoulders, damaging the armor, reopening the healed wounds, and splashing the blessed waters to celebrate the passing. The hiss of sparks from the severed cables delighted her ravaged body.


    ¡°I told you, all I hear is the buzz of a crazy chick,¡± Drozna said. ¡°Are you planning to skin yourself to save yourself the pain?¡±


    ¡°Cubs of the other gods,¡± the shaman said kindly, no longer bothering to address the lost one. His salvation will be on the other side. The helmet slipped from her head, and she scarred herself. ¡°The Spirits are already beside you. Take their paws; they will safeguard your journey to the realms of your masters, or to a new life if you are faithless. Have no fear, be at ease, be at peace. I shall see to the retribution myself.¡±


    ¡°S-shut up. Shut. Up!¡± Drozna passed the hole, clenching and unclenching his hands. ¡°You are weirding me out. There are no gods or ghosts to help you!¡±


    ¡°Help me?¡± The shaman snorted as the room returned to its original colors and the chorus faded. ¡°Silly boy. The Spirits tend to the divine. Only humans are here, and humans are fallible, often unable to forgive. You showed no mercy. Expect none in return.¡±


    ¡°As if I¡¯ll ever need it!¡±


    The two collided, grappling, trying to take each other down. Kicks bruised reinforced abdomens and pelvises, claws gouged deep wounds, their maws opened, biting and tearing flesh from the opponent. Lacerated One fully embraced Eled and Predaig, fusing the two inside herself, using Drozna¡¯s violent and highly contagious rage to fuel her own berserker fury as she dug her claws under his ribs, head-butted the man, and licked the blood from her own broken nose.

 Chapter 144: Live Through Fear

    ¡°Out of all your idiotic, confusing, and absurd ideas, this one takes the crown of utter retardation,¡± T complained as the boys shot from an alley, covering their heads with their hands. Soot and white dust from destroyed buildings covered them in uneven patches. ¡°We don¡¯t even know if she¡¯s there! I bet she¡¯s in Stormfiend by now.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t overly difficult to escape. They had asked for spare robes, claiming they were cold, and then T had sprouted two of his clones, nearly depleting his inner supply. The clones had covered themselves with the robes and blankets and dozed off, pretending to be Jay and T while the boys made their escape from the evacuation. The rest was easy, as Houstad had an extensive sewer system, and Jay knew its layout like his own five fingers.


    ¡°Nobody asked you to come if you are afraid!¡± Jay snapped, tackling T away from danger and groaning as a piece of metal sliced through his thick jacket, cutting him.


    ¡°Who said I am afraid? I am just reminding you that you are a moron!¡± T breathed out hard, biting his tongue.


    Supply¡­ He needed it; he longed for it. The urge was always with him. Not even in his worst days¡ªwhen Miss Williams held his hand as he howled from withdrawal and pleaded for a dose of Blush, a sensory overload drug¡ªwas the urge that bad. Because the mentors, the medicine, and Jay eventually got him through the worst, and his body flushed the filth from his veins. But the desire to replenish his supply was constant, not exactly pushing, but always whispering to drink¡­


    Enough! I will not eat off my friend! He refused to inhale Jay¡¯s pain. Using someone you cared about as a battery was a line he dreaded crossing.


    ¡°You sure you know where we are going?¡± asked T, licking his dry lips and coughing off soot. When was the last time he had something to drink? Yuck. A kingdom for a can of soda.


    ¡°Trust me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem. I trust you. To screw up.¡±


    ¡°Fuck you,¡± Jay giggled, accepting his hand. They ventured on.


    The banter helped to stall the terror. At first, Houstad seemed weird; the troops marshaled on, not a single citizen was in sight, and they crept through the sewage system, halting their breaths as the patrols passed by. They even considered it as an advanced version of the regular trial, constituting an escape from the vigil of the elderly Miss Williams.


    Suddenly, the ground had shaken. At first, there was a single shake, followed by a relentless pounding that reached their ears. The tremors drove them to the surface, inadvertently saving them as the sewers collapsed. Houstad groaned in pain; crimson flares blossomed in the buildings. Avalanches of debris had poured down, and they had heard an exchange of gunfire coming from everywhere, accompanied by the screams. At one point, he thought he heard someone calling out to them, but when they turned around, there was just another landslide blocking the street.


    Thank the Planet, as they headed north, closer to the orphanage, and the sounds of battle seemed to subside. The boys had debated for a few seconds; T had wanted to take the main road leading to the gates, as he had considered it an optimal way to avoid the falling debris. That was, until a missile had landed right in the middle of the damn thing, and they had rushed into the alleyways, preferring a faulty cover over none.


    ¡°Fuck those guys,¡± T pointed to the clouds where a plane had dropped low enough to shoot at the defenders. Rockets met it. ¡°Die already, scumbags! How do you know she is there?¡±


    ¡°I showed them the place.¡± Was that a blush on his cheeks? No, no way; it must¡¯ve been a bruise, that¡¯s all. ¡°She wanted to see the ferry, then I convinced her to take the tour. That¡¯s how we saw the moving bridge.¡±


    ¡°That old crap?¡± T raised an eyebrow. ¡°It¡¯s just a hunk of bronze and old lanterns. Jay, they use oil to light them. Oil.¡±


    ¡°Oh, hush, will you?¡± Jay smiled. ¡°Yeah, not the greatest sight in the day, but at night it¡¯s awesome. It has that really ancient look to it during the fireworks.¡±


    ¡°It was built fifty years ago,¡± T grumbled. ¡°Nothing ancient about it. And how did you get there at night?¡±


    ¡°The same way I bought you those comic books when I forgot your birthday.¡± Jay fell silent. ¡°Sorry about that, by the way.¡±


    ¡°Beat it. I was an asshole back then.¡±


    ¡°You are an asshole today.¡±


    ¡°But a loveable one!¡± They laughed.


    ¡°And reliable,¡± Jay said. ¡°Thanks for tagging along. And sorry for getting you into this mess.¡±


    They exited the alley, coming toward the ferry. Usually bustling with people, smelling of freshly cooked fish and sweet cotton candy, it was now a pile of rubble, and T¡¯s heart sank. He had no idea why several missiles had been dropped on this place, leveling the piers and drowning the tourist boats. There was no military presence in the area. They destroy for the sake of destroying. Like¡­ like those guys. He shook his head, forbidding himself to remember. He wasn¡¯t weak anymore.


    Saying nothing, they walked to the burning wrecks in search of Halina. That dumb bronze bridge still stood to the north, untouched except for a few fallen lamps. T would rather see it fall than the ferry, as several shopkeepers always treated the orphans for free, claiming it was their civic responsibility. His stomach rumbled, begging for a snack or water, and T looked at his hands, scratched and covered in white dust, the same as Jay¡¯s hands. They exchanged glances, sharing the loss of a place that had brought them so many fond memories.


    There, in the shallow waters, they splashed near the wooden support that held an open-air cafe owned by a very regal and serious Ice Fang, whose workers sneaked juice to the children when the mentors weren¡¯t looking. Now the place crumbled, its bright sign of a pitch-black sword floating in the murky water, still smoking from the embers devouring the sign.


    ¡°Where could¡­¡± Jay tugged at his sleeve, stopping T and pointing north.


    Halina sat at the edge of the road, one hand on the railing and the other in the sling. One of her boots slipped in the river, and she didn¡¯t seem to care for it or for the thick layer of soot covering her hair. Not even the fresh cuts on her cheeks disturbed her barely conscious gaze.


    ¡°Halina! Hey...¡±


    A loud ¡®thump¡¯ sent both boys jumping. Anti-aircraft fire linked up with the Horde¡¯s aerial ship, which was taking another run. The shield burst, and the flaming, arrow-shaped machine plunged from the sky, smashing into the side of a skyscraper near the river, carving a path through the floors on its way down, and sending an entire wave of crimson-flashing smoke toward Halina.


    T¡¯s reacted ahead of any thought. He broke into the run, embracing his New Breed heritage, leaving Jay behind in an instant and closing in on the girl faster than the smoke could reach her. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her from the edge as several shards of stone pounded across his back, piercing his thick jacket. But it was okay; he wasn¡¯t fat, no matter what others said, just thick-skinned, and his skin saved them both together.


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    ¡°T? Is that really you?¡± Halina looked up, blinking as the darkness billowed past them.


    ¡°What are you doing here, stupid?¡± T growled, scared shitless.


    ¡°Halina, T!¡± Jay broke through the dark veil and hugged them, panting and coughing. ¡°Thank the Planet you are safe. Hali, why are you here? You should¡¯ve left with the rest.¡±


    ¡°Why? Everything is dying.¡± The light disappeared again from the girl¡¯s eyes. ¡°Wherever I go, people die. The sister, the ambassador, those people. Even my dad wasn¡¯t safe.¡± She rubbed her eyes and shook as the ship fell, blocking the entrance into the street. ¡°The world is dying. At least you are alive. Please, just¡­ let me be. Run, before¡­¡±


    ¡°The world is not dying, and neither are we!¡± Jay roared, surprising T by taking the girl by the shoulders. ¡°Hali, it is scary. And sad. But none of what has happened is your fault or has anything to do with you. You are wonderful and caring and smart.¡±


    ¡°You are just saying stuff to make me feel better,¡± the girl sniffed.


    ¡°No! Fuck no, I¡¯m not giving compliments easily,¡± Jay smiled. ¡°Hali, they told us. You were the one who warned the doggies¡­¡±


    ¡°Werewolves,¡± T corrected him.


    ¡°Wolfkins,¡± Halina whispered.


    ¡°Yeah, the furries!¡± Jay grinned. ¡°You told them about us, and they rescued us! Anyone else would¡¯ve forgotten or been too stressed to mention us, but you never faltered. Me and T were about to croak, but you saved us. And thanks to you, the others who got lost were found, too!¡±


    ¡°Much good it did.¡± Halina scowled. ¡°You are here because of me, in danger¡­¡±


    ¡°Because you are our friend, and we don¡¯t abandon friends. We are here because we want to be. Tell me, Hali, what do you want?¡± She was silent, and Jay shook her until she whispered something. ¡°I can¡¯t hear you. Tell it to me, loud and clear.¡±


    ¡°My dad! I want to talk to him!¡± She hid her face in the palm of her hand. ¡°I want this stupid war to be over, I want us to go to the ferry together, and I don¡¯t want you to die.¡±


    ¡°Then get on your feet!¡± T commanded. ¡°Hali, you are not a source of misfortune, no matter what you imagined to yourself. Shit happens sometimes.¡± His hands shook. The sounds of gunfire from deeper in the city intensified, and he eagerly quaffed the fading pain emanating from the fallen wreckage. ¡°We aren¡¯t that important to cause it. But I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯ll let whatever comes sweep away my friends. I don¡¯t care if I¡¯ll fail; I don¡¯t care if I look stupid; I don¡¯t have time for any of that when you are on the line.¡± That werewolf taught him that. In his last dream, she leapt to face that dog-faced bastard, and he and Jay ran away. There will be a day when I won¡¯t run. Not from anyone. ¡°Hali, you said you wanted us to live. Well, milady, we¡¯ll have to carry you as undignified as a sack of potatoes if you don¡¯t comply with our humble request to accompany us willingly, and I must admit my spine is weary.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m tired too!¡± Jay supported him and stood up, offering Halina a hand. ¡°Come. I promised to show you my room in the orphanage, remember? I bet it¡¯s more of a mess than usual, but that¡¯s where we step in. No matter what these bastards destroy, there will always be people willing to rebuild it. And I much want you and that milord of ours to be there to help fix things.¡±


    ¡°You think we can?¡± Halina asked.


    ¡°These filthy savages won¡¯t take away our home,¡± T said stubbornly. ¡°The army will crush them. Outsider will come, and then everything will be okay.¡±


    ¡°Outsider¡­¡± the girl repeated slowly, putting a hand in her pocket to show them a figurine of the commander. Outsider was never an imposing figure like Devourer, nor did he have the awesome ferocity of Ravager. He was of ordinary size, made bulkier by his armor. But he was the first of the Dynast¡¯s champions, and by far the strongest. A dark cloak framed him; a clawed gauntlet invited anyone to try and resist. Silvery pools of lenses peered out from under the hood, and a tingle of jealousy touched T as he noticed the reverse-jointed legs. He had a full collection of the commanders, including promotional videos, posters, and toys made in their image, and most of them misrepresented that fact, as the cloak often hid Outsider¡¯s legs. ¡°A nice Wolfkin gave it to me, claiming that everything would be fine. I don¡¯t even know if the mister is alive to thank him for the gift¡­¡±


    ¡°You won¡¯t know if you¡¯ll stay here.¡± Jay stood up and offered her a hand. ¡°Hali, you are missing every shot you don¡¯t take by default. We will never know what the future holds unless we go and meet it.¡± He softened his voice. ¡°I am sure your dad would¡¯ve wanted you to be happy. I certainly do.¡±


    ¡°Y-yeah.¡± Halina swallowed and took his hand. ¡°You¡¯re right. I am done stalling.¡±


    ¡°Great, cause we better run¡­¡±


    ¡°Stop right there!¡± a commanding voice interrupted T, making him throw himself in front of his friends.


    A ragtag group of soldiers emerged from the alley the boys had come from. Orais, regular soldiers, and several guys in yellow robes and ill-fitting exoskeletons tackled the group, scaring T to death. But then he saw the insignia of a hand grasping the world. The Reclaimers! The soldiers dragged them from the open space before the river to the dubious cover of a nearby building, and then most of them immediately spread out, dropping to their knees and monitoring the surroundings. A gaunt, pale-skinned officer from the Investigation Bureau approached them. A blood-soaked bandage around his face covered his missing nose, and his eyes collapsed into dots surrounded by an unhealthy yellow.


    ¡°Three children.¡± He tapped his forehead as if trying to wake up. ¡°Mark, you said there were two.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they reproduce via budding,¡± laughed a scarred woman in the orange robe, holding a trembling gun in her hands. ¡°Boss, it¡¯s upon them three.¡±


    ¡°Three? You said two.¡±


    ¡°Because I only saw the two before!¡± The woman licked her lips. ¡°My power is fluctuating; it screams to me to run away or I¡¯ll die.¡± She glanced nervously at the dozen of her comrades. ¡°I am not planning to abandon them! But I have never felt anything like this, and my power is not combat-oriented! It only warns me of danger! No clue what is causing it.¡±


    ¡°James?¡± the officer asked.


    ¡°The radar was cooked in the last barrage, and communications are down.¡±


    ¡°Figures,¡± the officer sighed. ¡°Plan our withdrawal route to the crawler. ETD is two minutes. Now you!¡± He pointed a finger at the kids. ¡°You made us work our asses to chase you. What are you doing here? Didn¡¯t you hear the announcement? How did the search parties miss you? Are there any civilians around?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, mister, me stupid and got¡­¡±


    ¡°It was my fault!¡± Halina interrupted Jay¡¯s lie. ¡°I snuck out of the truck and walked here. My friends came to pick me up. I am sorry, sir.¡±


    ¡°And none of our patrols spotted you.¡± The officer shook his head, his hand raised to rub his nose, and stopped upon realization. ¡°Typical. Typical. Don¡¯t worry, kids, we¡¯ll get you back to safety. Listen to us and do exactly as you are told, and everything will be fine.¡± He extended his hand to the side, and an Orais gave him a flask.


    Without saying anything, the man uncorked it and shoved it into T¡¯s mouth, and the boy eagerly gulped down what he assumed was water. A warm, invigorating heat washed over his body, setting his stomach on fire and blurring his vision a bit. Hearing him hiccup, the officer pulled the flask away and tried to sniff it, cursing and scowling from the pain in his missing nose, then poured a few drops of cognac on his tongue, tasting the drink.


    ¡°What the fuck, James? I asked for water.¡±


    ¡°My bad, sir. I assumed you were asking for yourself¡­¡±


    Suddenly the pavement shook, and T assumed they had come under another bombardment and threw himself over Halina and Jay. But then he heard the loud scratching of metal against the stone and looked up in disbelief, seeing that thing. The dog-faced bastard¡¯s cleaver was sticking out of the side of the burning ship, and the whole thing was moving, pushed out of its stuck position onto the curve and closer to the river.


    No.


    The cleaver went down, sawed through the construction, and the barrel of the gun showed in the gap, widening the breach.


    No. Please. He wet himself, praying to the Planet and two soldiers fired their rocket launchers. The explosions ripped through the tortured ship¡¯s engine, setting off a chain reaction that briefly reddened the hull, and then it detonated. The Investigation Bureau agent took a shard in the chest piece while shielding the children. His helmet slid onto his head from behind, a torn, half-broken thing full of holes, but it still offered some protection.


    The figure in full battle armor, bearing not a trace of the damage inflicted by Soulless One, stormed out of the erupting wreckage. The tusked helmet faced the children, and the cloak of stitched together flayed faces flapped in the air, burning and giving the bastard a demonic appearance.


    ¡°Flesh,¡± T shuddered at the utter boredom carried by the helmet¡¯s dynamics. More hordemen charged through the flames, flanking their leader. ¡°Caught you. No one cheats Slavetaker.¡±


    The devil haunting our dreams. He¡¯ll never let us go; he¡¯ll never stop or relent until we are dead. And this time there is no one to save us. You¡¯d be surprised how many people are willing and able to grind the bastard into a powder. He remembered Anissa¡¯s words, a streak of liquid running down his legs as he forced himself to be ready to fight for his friends. Yeah, right. Where are they? Alone. What can I do? I don¡¯t¡­ I don¡¯t want to lose my family again.


    ¡°Dust the bitch!¡± The officer ordered.

 Chapter 145: Vacate the Premises. Please.

    A shot silenced the officer, tearing through his shoulder and throwing the man backward before his hand could close around his own weapon. Slavetaker took a step, and bullets drummed against the raised blade that shielded his helmet. He grunted, perhaps irritated, as a blast of plasma landed against his weapon, partially melting the cleaver and burning through the cloak, sending the disgusting mass flying free. An acid grenade engulfed the man, but he showed a hand through the cloud, jabbed the hand cannon¡¯s barrel into a soldier¡¯s face with a disgusting, champing sound, and rammed the handle of his cleaver into the Orais¡¯ head.


    He was unharmed. T¡¯s eyes refused to believe it, but the man emanated not a single hint of pain for him to devour. Even the arm that had been damaged by the shaman no longer ached. Already back to being healthy. Insanity.


    Slavetaker moved fluidly, the hydraulics of his armor barely producing a sound, but his generator roared an infernal scream, fueling his might. His minions opened fire, but he had no need for their assistance. In a blur of unhinged violence, the hordeman kicked a soldier in the groin, liquidating his pelvis, dragging his leg through his intestines, and rupturing his stomach. His oversized cannon flashed pure white, and the top of another soldier¡¯s head disappeared. Yellow lightning conjured by one of the orange-robed soldiers trapped him, sending two hordemen thrashing in agony, locked in the yellowish cage.


    But while their suits hissed and spewed smoke, and their eyes popped inside their visors, Slavetaker remained unharmed. He banged his weapons together, flattened the head of the New Breed that was summoning the energy, and engaged in a brief duel against an Ice Fang.


    T had dared to believe in the werewolf¡¯s victory, encouraged by the inspiring stories the teachers had told him of the Order¡¯s incredible exploits. The warrior in the dented plate rose to face Slavetaker, his white cloak, adorned by the regal emblem of the sword piercing the sun, in tatters, but his tower shield remained untouched, and the axe cracked with energy. The cleaver collided against the shield, sending a shockwave of such intensity that Halina nearly fell. But the Ice Fang grunted and rammed the shield into Slavetaker, almost pushing him back, and his axe went down, blocked by the cannon.


    The Ice Fang¡¯s shoulder cannon began spinning, firing directly into the fat bulk of the man. Armor-piercing rounds ricocheted off the featureless gray surface, igniting sparks and bouncing off the Ice Fang¡¯s soot-covered, ornate suit. Slavetaker fired his own hand cannon, and the audible crack of the plate through the chaos of battle froze T in his tracks.


    He, Jay, and Halina were pulled down by the Investigation Bureau officer, who ignored his own bleeding stump and tried to cover them with his body to save them from the flying bullets. Jay pushed him off, and Halina unfastened her belt and tried to make a makeshift tourniquet. I¡­ T stood on his knee, opening and closing his mouth like a fish. What am I¡­ Again. The Ice Fang fought with resilience and skill, parrying the cannon aside, but even his axe couldn¡¯t even dent the immense power armor Slavetaker wore. The sadist raged, utterly silent, slashing at the shield again and again, mercilessly beating the Ice Fang into the ground.


    At last, the arm¡¯s hydraulics and artificial muscle fibers could take no more. They snapped at the elbow, weakening the werewolf¡¯s hold, and the next blow flew over the shield, sinking deep into the shoulder and through the clavicle. Slavetaker could not be denied. He could not be stopped, and they will all die, there was no chance; it was over¡­


    ¡°T!¡± Halina shouldered him. ¡°Don¡¯t give up! Help me drag her¡­¡± Her one working hand, so tiny compared to his, held the wounded Mark by her collar.


    Something clicked inside him, and T smiled. ¡°Thank you, Hali, Jay,¡± he said.


    ¡°What are you thanking me for, dumbass?¡± Jay asked.


    ¡°For the idea and the bravery.¡±


    T snatched a grenade from the chest pocket of the one-armed agent, ignoring his screams to stay low. He opened up, absorbing every source of pain and agony. The Reclaimers, the hordemen and his friends. Everything that bothered them and caused even the slightest discomfort fueled his supply, instantly replenishing it. Hands, his hands, protruded from his back without tearing his jacket. It was as if twos and threes of T¡¯s had overlapped his body and were now uncoiling. They jumped to his side, giving him the sight of six pairs of eyes, but he wasn¡¯t done yet.


    Oh no. He had no intention of holding back anymore, and as his clones charged toward the hordemen, each carrying an acid grenade, he drank again, refilling not just his stock but that of his clones as well. Seven became forty-two, and forty-two changed to two hundred and fifty-two. Bursts of gunfire sliced through his copies. The slightest cut had enough power to banish a clone, but T didn¡¯t care. There was enough of him, and he had a supply of pain in abundance.


    His friends and the Reclaimers were in danger. And he was done holding back.


    ¡°Suffer and die, you dirty savages!¡± He roared.


    The horde of furious copies reached the ranks of the hordemen, climbing over the dead killed by the state¡¯s troops. Hands wrapped around the men and women, bodies glued to Slavetaker, giving the Ice Fang an ample opportunity to dart aside. And then, in unison, they pulled out the safety pins.


    Not every grenade went off. Elbows bruised his copies, dissipating them, and those of the Ts who rushed to join the fray vanished in the splashes of the ensuing acid dome. Still, he roared, laughing with pure glee at the desperate shrieks of these merciless, subhuman scum. Their screams were music to his ears, the hiss of acid melting their plates and visors in a symphony of unparalleled beauty. Barely a person died in the first wave, but the acid lingering in the air, seconds after the copy that unleashed it disappeared, damaged suits and crept into the cracks of armor, dripping onto bare skin and providing more sources for him to drink from.


    ¡°Useless!¡± Slavetaker sliced through the air, obliterating a dozen Ts with air pressure alone. His next shot carved a hole through the horde that was closing in on him. ¡°A futile attempt!¡±


    ¡°Oh, really?¡± Now calmed, he saw the melted spots on the surface of his plates and the occasional cracks left by either the axe or the bullets. His fear played tricks on him. The man wasn¡¯t invincible. ¡°Well, if one doesn¡¯t tickle you, I might as well do it twice!¡± The copies approached Slavetaker and his troops and detonated themselves. ¡°And then thrice for good measure! You know what? I am feeling generous! Have a hundred times!¡±


    The first dome of acid disappeared, but several hordemen were on their knees, howling in terror as his shapes leapt at them, sprouting more and more Ts every second. Frantic gunfire ripped through his body, but the sheer number of Ts and their approach from all directions did the job. He heard the frightened whimpering and the fear in their eyes as they glanced at the thinning visors brought him joy. Ts sneaked closer, and another dome of acid briefly blossomed, leaving bodies rolling on the ground, covered in the horrible burns.


    ¡°Suffer, suffer, writhe in agony, you sick fucks!¡± T laughed bombastically; the chains of restraint slipped off him. At last he was good for something too; he was as useful as Halina and Jay! At last, he could protect those he cared about! He stood at full height, drunk on alcohol and his invincibility, feeling like a god. The concrete sank under Slavetaker¡¯s legs, and he disappeared in it up to his waist, as if it were a muddy quagmire. ¡°Reclamation Army for the win! Thought you¡¯d end us? Ha! Enjoy hearing screams? Sing for me, you psychos, and pay for all those you hurt!¡±


    ¡°Want a song? Listen to a soprano.¡± Slavetaker said.


    A single round slash cleared the area around him, and his tusked helmet roared, buckling T on his knee. This noise... it was unbearable. The windows shattered, his bones felt like they were shaking, and Halina screamed, pressing her hands to her ears. The sound weighed upon them, not exactly a roar, but an eerie note that resembled the beginning of a never-ending tribal chant, amplified to an overwhelming degree. T sensed wet in his ears and gasped, losing the connection. Most of his clones disappeared due to the ruptured eardrums, and the tusked helmet looked directly at him.


    Slavetaker knew. He knew where the real T was. His cannon fired.


    The grenade dropped to the street, rolling away from the four twitching fingers. The projectile flew past his hand, barely grazing him, but it was enough. T screamed in pain, holding his mangled hand, and the weapons disappeared from the hands of his copies, along with the fingers. New versions of him were still slipping into reality, each lacking fingers on one hand.


    ¡°Flesh has become drunk with its power,¡± Slavetaker stopped his roar. He used his weapon to help himself get free from the ruined concrete. ¡°Power doesn¡¯t make a man. It¡¯s how you use it that matters. Ponder on it as I skin you, fatty.¡±


    ¡°I am just a child!¡± T screamed, thinking feverishly. Hurt, hurt, it hurt so much! He couldn¡¯t let himself be distracted; there had to be a way to save Jay and Halina. ¡°And yet I fucked you up twice already! Not bad for a flesh! Catch me if you can, dog-faced freak.¡±


    He ran. There was no time to explain anything to his friends. They could hate or reject him afterward; T didn¡¯t care. Slavetaker shifted. He noticed. The man wanted him, focused on him. He knew it from those days; the sadists like him thought themselves so smart, but all they had was strength and little brains. He knew how to play their kind.


    Two Ts tried to use the machine guns of the dead Reclaimers to cover those still alive as they took shelter in the building. But even though the newer copies that had sprouted from his armed copies carried weapons, it was impossible for him to use them. One was empty, and the trigger on another was meant for an Orais; his weak fingers couldn¡¯t squeeze it. So he threw his many selves at Slavetaker and his crew, trying to slow them down, while another T helped Halina drag the wounded Mark and the officer away¡­


    Wait¡­


    ¡°Idiot!¡± Someone shoved him in the back, and he heard a gunshot. Jay staggered beside him, barely regaining his footing, and two freshly made Ts grabbed him under the armpits. The skin on the back of his head was missing, revealing gleaming bone. Jay blinked.


    ¡°Jay, I am so sorry," T cried, leading him into the alley, hearing the pounding footsteps of Slavetaker behind them. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to abandon you; I should have tossed the grenades. I was so stupid; I¡­¡±


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°Do you even know where you are running?¡± Jay whispered, blinking again.


    ¡°What? No!¡±


    ¡°Retard.¡± Jay smiled through the pain, his eyes flashing. ¡°You planned on a noble sacrifice, leading the bastard away? No dice, T, we are getting out of here alive!¡±


    ¡°But how! He can¡¯t be stopped! No one can beat¡­¡±


    ¡°Trust me!¡± Slavetaker squeezed into the alley, too narrow for him. The edges of his armor splintered stone and metal, denying him the opportunity to run at full speed. Part of his crew surrounded the Reclaimers, but none of them paid any attention to Halina, following their leader¡¯s orders like loyal dogs. He wanted them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry; I¡¯m so sorry for leaving you,¡± the fake T murmured, helping Halina drag the two wounded away. ¡°I thought it was the best way to¡­¡±


    ¡°Beat it, T,¡± the girl said fiercely. Her arm in the sling twitched, incapable of movement, and she sighed. ¡°Your poor hand! Should I¡­¡±


    ¡°Not the real me, don¡¯t feel a thing,¡± he reassured her, half-lying. His condition was transferred to his copies, but copies couldn¡¯t heal. ¡°Actually, I¡¯m not sure if this clone can even disappear from a blood loss¡­¡±


    ¡°You weakened the beast; now we need another Reclaimer¡¯s patrol to finish him off!¡± Jay said.


    ¡°Where are we supposed to find them?!¡± asked the real T.


    ¡°Think, T! Think! The Reclaimers hold the vital areas, right? All we have to do is rush to a place that our guys consider important.¡±


    ¡°You came up with this idea so fast?¡± T whistled. ¡°You are smart. Wonder how this plan will backfire on us.¡±


    ¡°Screw you, T!¡±


    ¡°Already planning on cheating on your girlfriend, stickman?¡±


    ¡°Never¡­ I mean, she is not my girlfriend, fat ass!¡± Jay blinked again, touched the back of his head, and began to run more steadily. ¡°Listen, can you talk through your clones? Know what she is doing?¡±


    ¡°Yes! She. We are still trying to rescue the soldiers!¡±


    ¡°Tell her¡­¡±


    ****


    Taking a short break from her important task to water the flowers, Lyudochka thought that she missed her fleshy body. To be unable to smell a flower or warm your fingers with a slice of freshly warmed bread and to never taste cold chocolate milk in the morning¡­ Even such trivialities as a simple breath occasionally gnawed at her, especially when she was all alone and under stress. She remembered every sensation as her circuits stored her memories, never letting them fade. But it wasn¡¯t possible to experience them again. No more stretching in front of a window and enjoying the sunlight. Thousands upon thousands of little things she knew and did in the past were no longer possible. Dad had saved her, but immortality had come at a cost too high for her taste.


    Oh, enough brooding, Silly-Billy! She scolded herself and whirled back to the papers.


    The embassy wasn¡¯t a small building; it served as proof of status, three stories high, framed by the immaculate marble statues of the famous saints that held up the roof. A stone path from the gates led past two fountains, where the revelations of the Taker of Oath were secured in the waters, kept safe and visible inside limpid casings. The picture of the founder greeted anyone stepping across the rugs covering the wooden floors. A little trick of lighting kept a faint golden halo around the Founder¡¯s head. Simple bronze letters, ¡°Every soul in need of refuge is welcome,¡± were inscribed on the main gates.


    Lyudochka¡¯s workplace was on the first floor and partly in the basement. Her duties consisted of greeting prospective immigrants, preparing paperwork on behalf of the ambassador, conducting background checks, answering general questions about the Oath, and showing new believers how not to worry about the auras after they had sworn their fealty. It wasn¡¯t an overly difficult task, made easier by her boundless stamina. The personnel had been super nice; no one had even mistaken her for a robot.


    She took the job hoping to finally meet her mothers, since writing long letters seemed to be a rather stupid way of communication, but Janine and Martyshkina were such stupid cusacks occasionally! But the job grew on her, and Lyudochka found true fulfillment in it. Not that working behind a counter in the capital was bad, but here she met people she never even knew existed!


    Scattered papers lay all around the envoy¡¯s office, with part of them burning in the fireplace. She stopped, reminding herself about the important detail, and stomped on the ashes. If she still had a heart, it would have threatened to jump out of her chest. No helping it now. She began reading and sorting the documents. Rich donations¡ªessentially bribes¡ªhad been made to a company in exchange for industrial espionage to obtain schematics of an augmented mining limb produced by Ingo Industrial. Definitely into the flames. A list of the faithful, with an added chip. The Reclaimers had very strict rules about spreading the Oath, keeping the embassy under surveillance. But according to the papers, the ambassador, Craven Wickedbreed, and not the impostor like her, had gotten around the rules, planting informants. Yep, to the hearth you go! Her leg crushed the chip.


    Next was a catalog of people applying for asylum and immigration. Nope, this is important. She clutched the ledger and the USB drives to her chest. Part of her job was in there! Nothing incriminating here either! Nothing incriminating here either. Lyudochka placed the heavy brown ledger, edged with silver, on a table, intending to preserve it, and continued reading. Information about someone going by the moniker Academician, who was trying to establish a relationship with the Oathtakers, offering to trade supposedly valuable information for the acquisition of Ice Fangs children.


    Disgusting. Craven Wickedbreed scheduled the deal for refusal but delayed his response, planning to use the Oathtakers¡¯ agents to secure the would-be kidnapper. There was nothing like showing these Reclaimers how it was done. What to do¡­ She tapped her metal teeth, examining the sizeable blue folder containing the knowledge of the underhanded deals the various slavers offered the Oathtakers. They didn¡¯t owe the Reclaimers any help, but in a more literal sense of the word, she really wanted to see the bastards screwed over with a red-hot iron bar.


    No more hesitation! Her oculars scanned the document, and she inserted the USB drives in the sockets of her body, loading the information. Then she connected to the Net, uploading it in full to the Investigation Bureau. Wait! She panicked, realizing she had forgotten to use a burner email and encrypt the connection. Oh crap, crap, I¡¯ll be fired! From a cannon, probably! Stupid, idiotic girl! How many times had Martyshkina told you not to hurry, take a breath, and tackle each task with care and attention? Did you listen? No, of course not¡­


    ¡°What. Are. You. Still. Doing. Here?¡± A voice asked her slowly and deliberately, and Lyudochka turned around, dropping the folder.


    The display standing on the redwood table stood on the four thick wires, waving two more in the air. Its screen showed the face of a handsome man in a black leather jacket. He furrowed his brows angrily, nervously tapping on the table with a wire. His keen black eyes dug into her very soul, searching for answers.


    ¡°Greetings, sir, LS, sir.¡± She bowed to Lord Steward, the Oathtakers¡¯ de facto ruler. ¡°I have committed a treason.¡± Lyudochka decided to come clean.


    ¡°A treason? Girl, you are fast.¡±


    ¡°A very little one, yes! And an unintentional one! I didn¡¯t mean it!¡±


    ¡°Not relevant.¡± Lord Steward ran a hand over his badly shaved chin. ¡°Why the hell haven¡¯t you left by now, Lyudochka? The city is under siege.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted, sir, yes, noticed it am I.¡± She began to chatter her teeth, even though she was using the voice modulator for speech. That was her natural reaction to admitting a fault. ¡°But I had reasons! We purged the mainframe, but I decided to follow protocol to the letter so as not to leave this treasure trove of potentially incriminating evidence¡­¡±


    ¡°Screw the documents! Ignore the protocols.¡± Lord Steward¡¯s voice sent a nervous jerk through her. ¡°The Reclaimers already know or suspect most of this. Hide in the underground bunker, seal it, and sit tight until a rescue team ¡­¡±


    A beep spurred Lyudochka into action, and she raced out of the room with the portable communication device, clumsily chasing after her. Someone had pressed the emergency button on the entrance gates! What if there was news about Moms, or if her siblings needed a place to hide?


    ¡°Lyudochka! You will stop right here, or I will restrain you with¡­ what are even these? Tentacles? Tendrils? Wires? Oh, who cares? Stop right here¡­¡±


    She ran down the stairs to the second floor. The third floor, reserved for self-defense and combat training, stood empty, and Ur-Champion rested in a meeting room to the left, listening to the binary music that eased headaches and helped focus. His head moved, but she ignored him and flung open the doors. Outside, two badly injured children climbed over the fence. Despite the soot, both were pale, with bloodstains covering them. One bled profusely from his hand, and another had his entire back soaked in the blood spilling from his head.


    ¡°It¡¯s a robot!¡± the skinny boy gasped as another boy collapsed, unable to walk any further. Lyudochka stopped herself from correcting him and rushed to them. ¡°Listen, call the guards,¡± he whispered, ¡°and run. Bad people¡­¡±


    ¡°Won¡¯t step in here,¡± she said sternly.


    It was a mess, both inside and outside the compound. Smoke and ash stained the water of the fountains; clouds of smog almost completely obscured the street. Her eyes flickered, focused, and discerned an armored group advancing on them. They stepped on another body; she wasn¡¯t sure who it was, and she heard the crack of a spine. Their leader, a man in a tusked helmet, kicked the gates wide open and pointed a partially melted cleaver at her.


    ¡°Pretty doll,¡± the intruder said, examining her. ¡°Worth ten thousand §Þ?§ß§Ô?, minimum. What a catch. Mad Hatter will adore you.¡±


    ¡°I have no intention of being sold, sir,¡± said Lyudochka.


    ¡°Talking,¡± the man gasped. ¡°A doll that talks. Precious. Step aside from the flesh before I scratch your porcelain.¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Lyudochka brandished her staff, pointing it at the intruders. All were blessed; there wasn¡¯t a single person unloved by God. That¡¯s what many people misunderstood about the Oathtakers¡¯ philosophy. But these individuals carried blessings grander than most; it was their responsibility to aid and lead, yet she was certain they had misused those gifts, led astray by an inability to control their impulses. ¡°I don¡¯t like the way you talk of my guests.¡± She tried to speak steely and sure, and squeaked instead. Her voice modulator produced a gulp, and she wished Moms would be here. ¡°I¡¯ve¡­ I¡¯ve already granted them asylum! Yes, that¡¯s it! I am the ambassador; I have that right! And I deny you entry; please vacate the premises, otherwise you will be forced to leave!¡±


    The leader raised his cannon and aimed the horrible weapon at her head. It was big enough that a single shot would send her head flying. Lyudochka pressed a button on the staff, activating a protective field around herself and the children, convincing herself not to be afraid. The adults were supposed to protect the young, and her personality was stored in the multiple cores in her body; the loss of a head meant little.


    A sofa creaked inside the embassy, and she heard the unsheathing of the legendary sword.


    ¡°It is a dangerous thing to refuse us entry,¡± the hordeman told her, towering over her. ¡°Bad. Bad metal. I will educate you on how to be compliant prior to selling. Be reasonable. Do you truly believe you can compel me to do anything? Will you fight me, shiny toy?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I have no idea how to fight at all,¡± Lyudochka whispered. The stomping steps intensified. The intruders laughed, relishing her weakness. Their leader lifted a leg to enter. ¡°But he can.¡±


    Ur-Champion walked through the embassy wall, crossing the distance to the intruders with thunderous strides, pebbles rolling down his smooth armor. A flicker of flame danced between the dragon-shaped jaws of his helmet, and he looked down at the enemy leader, saying nothing but casting a long shadow over the man. The silent offer of surrender was declined, and the tusked freak charged into battle.


    He was kicked back, and the spewed flame engulfed the entire group, setting men and women alight like candles. Lyudochka heard the crackling detonation of the ammunition and grenades; the intense heat made it impossible even for her lenses to pierce the veil, but where a few lucky survivors darted away, the massive figure broke free, bringing the cleaver up.


    ¡°No one cheats Slavetaker!¡± he roared.


    Another kick sent him away from the entrance.


    ¡°I have decided otherwise.¡± The sword struck upward in an arc, without form, carrying no finesse, but using sheer brute force, severing the man¡¯s arm and ruining a section of the street. Another burst of flame followed. ¡°Shut up and burn,¡± Ur-Champion spoke in a deep, grave tone that carried with it a slight arrogance and assurance given by his station.


    Lyudochka turned off the shield, took the staff under the armpit, and lifted both boys, carrying them inside the embassy. She called the looking-down machine bearing Lord Steward¡¯s image, half-surprised by her own unexpected decisiveness. Without asking permission, she brought the patients into the bunker, turned on the lights in the hospital wing, and prepared to examine the patients, clean their wounds, and then perform surgery. Lord Steward joined her, patting her hip and pointing to the freezer with the blood packs.


    Yes, the poor kids will need transfusions. But first... she had to take care of the immediate issues and determine their blood types.


    Lyudochka¡¯s arms trembled once, and then she followed Janine¡¯s advice and began performing her duty, not forgetting Martyshkina¡¯s lesson about not rushing and staying focused.

 Chapter 146: Purposeless Hatred

    Lying in wait under a pile of rubble, Anissa recited a simple nursery rhyme to calm her nerves, worried sick about Mother. She didn¡¯t ask, but she could bet her soul that Impatient One shared the feeling. Shamans and wolf hags¡¯ place was beside their warlord in the war, but Mom was often unconventional in handling matters.


    Her pack had taken up positions in the ruined government buildings bordering the sprawling terraforming complex. Immediately after the collapse of the shield, the Horde¡¯s missiles streaked into every corner of Houstad, and the magnificent parks across from the complex had caught fire, surrounding the place in a fiery cage and resulting in the destruction of the collective efforts of dozens of scientists and countless laboratory assistants of the old. Oaks, birches, cacti, firs, roses, and every experimental plant of the Old World, a prototype of their scattered copies, were either reduced to ashes or withered from the damage.


    Commercial districts had been reduced to rubble, bridges had fallen, staining the waters, and corpses had sunk to the bottom of rivers. Houstad screamed in agony composed of gunfire, crackling fires, bombardment, and the thunder of falling buildings. But the main terraforming complex had its own defensive field, an ingenious invention loaned by Iterna and supplied by wireless energy transfer. Shells splashed harmlessly against the invisible field, sending shards over the Wolfkins¡¯ hideouts and not threatening the slightest overload. Smooth, solid walls built from the toughest alloys known to the Reclamation Army served as a secondary line of defense. Even now, a small host of technicians and scientists, organized by Till Ingo, worked in the bunkers, calmly adjusting the strained process of healing the continent. Short of deploying nukes in the vicinity, nothing could reach them without defeating the army.


    In theory. If, say, a rat carrying access codes granting security clearance were to sneak in, it would be capable of wreaking potentially untold devastation. While the privileges of this potential troublemaker had been revoked, who knew if he had disappeared someone and obtained a way in? Thus, Anissa, Impatient One, Chak, and the rest waited for this treacherous, worthless rat, both itching to stop him and to settle certain scores¡­


    She turned her head, looking at the distant airport through the narrow gap. Another volley of missiles took flight, and laser beams followed, closing in on a Horde¡¯s aircraft and opening holes the size of barns in its hull. Spinning in the air, it plunged into the apartment building, flattening it during the ensuing cataclysmic explosion.


    At least Igni, Elzi, and Marco are safe. Anissa thought with relief. Come to think of it, so much had happened lately. How come she felt as if ages had passed since their war against Techno-Queen? Bogdan was alive, Marco was unharmed, and most of her friends weren¡¯t torn to pieces¡­ Why didn¡¯t she treasure them more? The teaching of the Spirit of Loss came to mind, giving her the much-needed succor to cope with the idea that she would never hear Bogdan¡¯s voice again.


    Death is a part of life. We enter the cycle, screaming and kicking, competing over food, and rage guides our bodies from the first days. But no matter how hard we rage, our loved ones are whisked away from us, one after another. Death is the immutable part of reality. Remember them. Grieve if you must. Everything ends. Warlords, nations, continents, even worlds die. Eventually, even the Blessed Mother will pass on to the Great Beyond and the Spirits will be forgotten. God, mortal, strong or weak, none is eternal. By accepting this fact, you understand. Death is not the end; it¡¯s the beginning of another journey, and any separation ends. What matters is how you lived and what you fought for. Such is the truth.


    Impatient One shifted, cracking her knuckles and drawing Anissa¡¯s attention. She ordered the bulk of her pack to reinforce the defenses inside the complex, paw-picking six soldiers for their age and expendability to join the ambush: two males, a scout, and three warriors. Technically, Anissa and Impatient One weren¡¯t supposed to risk their hides, but what leader would let her soldiers be put at risk alone?


    ¡°You are worried about them,¡± Anissa accused Yennifer. Impatient One, she corrected herself.


    ¡°I should have been at the warlord¡¯s side,¡± Impatient One answered on the private channel, unhindered by the tons of debris on top of her. ¡°Too many of our kin have left us, unblessed and unremembered. It is my duty to be at the forefront.¡±


    ¡°You are worried about them,¡± Anissa repeated in a softer voice. Once they won the war, she and Yennifer would undergo a ritual, torturing themselves to the point of unconsciousness to exorcise unworthy desires, but for now, she refused to lie to herself. Marco was over there. ¡°Me too. I won¡¯t let him wake up to the desolation. Think he¡¯ll like candies?¡±


    ¡°Act your rank, Wolf Hag,¡± the shaman growled the gentle rebuke, and Yennifer added, ¡°Sure he will. But his stomach is feeble. No chocolate. Give him peanut butter and bread, unless you wish him to dirty himself. You think Elzada will be a suitable soulmate for Ignacy?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask her?¡±


    ¡°I am asking you. The girl is queer.¡±


    ¡°Queer? No, I am pretty sure she is into males¡­¡±


    ¡°I saw her reading your prayer book.¡±


    ¡°She did? Cheeky girl. Guess it was a payback for me stealing her diary.¡±


    ¡°You should take better care of your belongings, unless you want Chak to carry your tent,¡± Yennifer poked playfully.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah.¡±


    ¡°How will you clothe your cubs¡­¡±


    ¡°I get it!¡±


    ¡°If Elzada wants to be a shaman, tell her to step forward and be judged.¡±


    Anissa smiled, watching the street. She missed her sister. Yennifer had an occasional streak of bitchiness born out of a necessity to be the best, but she often read to her sibling before naptime. More than once, she had brought home the tasty carcasses of the insectoid warriors when her brothers failed to get the milk in the pits. She had this stoic exterior, but deep in her soul, she still cared, which hindered her ascension into the shamans¡¯ ranks.


    This was the funniest thing about duties. There were so many of them that a person was bound to break several. Not even the shamans were truly infallible; even Lacerated One had faults. The Spirits watched, judging the intent. Accepting imperfection, striving to be better, was another way of venerating the tribe¡¯s stern deities. It was for this reason that she had decided to postpone her training and become a soulmate to her beloved. Yennifer wouldn¡¯t understand, but Anissa wanted to have cubs to call her own before accepting the responsibility.


    Her mechanical eye whirled, catching shadows down the street, near the ruined sentry post leading into the complex, and next to the tourist facility. Though it was a heretical spawn of technology that had sheared away part of her soul, it, like the implants, had its uses. Her biological eye failed to detect movement, and the smog in the air played tricks on her nose, but the crimson ocular did its task brilliantly, catching and recording an armored hand. The wolf hag¡¯s lips parted in a broad, predatory grin, and she signaled for the pack to prepare.


    Vengeance was nigh.


    ¡°Pack Anissa reporting. We have spotted hostiles. I , we have sighted hostiles. Searching parties head our way for support; maybe we¡¯ll leave you something to gnaw on,¡± she whispered into the comms, informing Command.


    The traitors clung to the shadows, as if they could protect them. Their overcoats had long since burned, but the state-mandated armor kept them alive as they darted from burning ruin to smoking ruin, closing in the distance to the complex, wary of meeting either Reclaimers or the hordemen. So caught in their treachery that they are prepared to backstab both sides¡­ They carried incendiary grenade launchers and shardguns instead of the expected LMGs, and Anissa could bet that the perch above Chak had tensed at the understanding that his crew had failed to track every equipment crate.


    It wasn¡¯t his fault. The Third had been undermanned for a tad too long, and the influx of new people had brought more chaos into the fold. Schalk hadn¡¯t been merely cozying up to favors and gaining trust by assisting with deliveries; the bastard had also stolen from them.


    Chak clicked his mandibles over the comms, confusing Anissa. Impatient One nodded at the ground, and the wolf hag understood, noticing jumping pebbles. A heavy.


    She flexed her muscles, enjoying the reawakening power armor. No more risks. The insurrection dies today. Anissa roared, bulldozing herself to freedom with a single leap. Impatient One joined a moment later, and together they were crossing the distance to their prey with vast bounds. Shards and grenades met them; the oculars picked up fifty marks, and her pack added thirteen to that number, but it hardly mattered. Schalk¡¯s ilk were Normies. The Wolfkins were not.


    The sisters¡¯ paws caught the ground, flinging them off the firing line. Shards flew in both directions, and several traitors lost their limbs. Just a few, the pack had barely begun their attack, but it was enough for the shaman and the wolf hag to appear in their midst, unleashing the carnage. Anissa¡¯s first swipe tore away a woman¡¯s lower jaw, alongside her helmet. The traitor gurgled, giving a drowned scream of pain, but Anissa wasn¡¯t finished with the bitch. She caught her by the shoulders and used her to block an incoming incendiary grenade. The fiery blast washed over the woman, entering through the gaping wound and cooking her alive.


    Impatient One rose from behind the traitors, her claws red. She had sunk them into the joints of their armor, maiming their knees, and then she tore the hands from two people like straws from a broom. She flung the tossed limbs into the retreating fool, abandoning the crippled people to be shot or bleed to death. Anissa¡¯s paws caught a soldier by the helmet. With a single, swift jerk, she broke his neck.


    ¡°No mercy for the betrayers!¡± Anissa yelled, foaming with rage. The flames licked her armor; the steel casing of her prayer book had remained sealed shut, but she began intoning curses from the memory, invoking the Spirit of Pride to guide her righteous paw.


    A soldier aiming a shardgun at her disappeared in a bloody heap, killed by the pack. Her snarl sent a command, and the pack advanced, skulking around the edge of the battlefield to the shaman¡¯s displeased gaze and the irritation of her troops who wanted to partake in the slaughter. Anissa didn¡¯t give a shit; Houstad had stolen enough from her. Chak¡¯s coiled form began to slither down the ruined building, his needle legs tossing his magnifying glasses aside. She had promised to summon him sooner and lied. No one under her command will die today.


    The sisters walked through the enemies, outpacing their aim, wrath fueling their movements. Claws gutted out the traitors, pierced through lenses, and jaws snapped through the helmets. A panicked traitor raised his arms, screaming that he was surrendering, not understanding what he had done.


    ¡°Such is the fate of all cub-slayers,¡± Impatient One closed her paw around the pleading man, cracking his skull like an overripe fruit.


    There could be no mercy or forgiveness for this specific act, not even if the state itself would have demanded it. Ignorance could be excused, but the blatant malice had to be eradicated, as the Blessed Mother taught them. There were hopeless fools who had betrayed the Reclamation Army for Iterna¡¯s lies or the Oathtakers¡¯ inversion, and some of them had even been recaptured later. Aside from verbal outrage, the Wolfkins gave these individuals no further thought, for their actions targeted military personnel.


    But civilians and the land itself? That was personal.


    A palm strike of Impatient One dented in the man¡¯s sternum, killing him instantly. The shaman closed her paws, pummeling the opposition with pure iron-clad fists, not deeming them worthy of sullying her claws in their blood anymore. Everything in Anissa urged her to indulge her grief in the screams of the guilty, but she held back, mindful of her duties. Chak¡¯s warning hadn¡¯t been forgotten; she sensed tremors running underfoot, obviously distinct from the violent shaking caused by bombardment.


    When it came, it wasn¡¯t a surprise. A metal limb, longer than her body, pierced the ruined sentry post. It nearly hit a male of her pack with its spinning cannon, but Anissa blocked the attack with a forearm. She scowled as she saw flashes and heard the roar of gunfire that knocked her and the soldier aside and crumpled her vambrace. Schalk burst through the ruins, sitting inside the massive loader. It was a bipedal walker, about five meters tall, and Schalk sat nestled in the cabin, partially shielded by the welded plates. Crude, weaponized limbs replaced the walkers¡¯ arms.


    ¡°Betrayer!¡± Anissa¡¯s eyes met his, but the man turned his mech, heading for the shield. The walker¡¯s arms swung, firing blindly around, scything two of his men and scaring away the pack.


    Dragena had ordered to take him alive, intending to squeeze every ounce of information about any assistants, willing or otherwise, who had been involved in this deed. But the sight of him brought a red veil to Anissa¡¯s vision, and her fingers snatched the shardgun from her back. Zlata. Bogdan. He¡¯ll pay.


    ¡°Out of my way, honey!¡± Something rammed into her side.


    Anissa had never been hit by a train, but she assumed it would feel similar. Her beloved skittered past her, antennas flying, his sharp legs hooking around the walker¡¯s legs and tripping it. Chak wrapped the entire length of his segmented body around Schalk¡¯s mech, lodging tips of his legs into joints and ammunition belts, jamming and slicing through them. With a single, titanic shove, the quartermaster toppled the limbless machine on its back, sinking his claws in both of Schalk¡¯s knees through the protection. The former lieutenant howled, pulling a plasma gun and pointing it at the round eyes.


    ¡°How rude,¡± Chak chittered.


    A single cut severed the arm holding the weapon.


    ¡°Well hello, fancy meeting you here, fella.¡± The toxicognaths closed on the neck. ¡°You seem to be a helpful sort around here, showing people every nook and cranny of this fine city. Mind giving me a hand? Ah, well, don¡¯t bother. You must be very tired. I¡¯ll help myself.¡± A long neck stabbed into the severed arm, feeding it to the clicking mouth. ¡°There was a boy. His name was Keon; he had a fine lady. The lad had a bright future ahead: kids, family, a new job, friends¡­ Before you took it from him, you little shit!¡± Without uncoiling, the Malformed raised the loader and slammed it into the ground, ripping a scream of pain from Schalk¡¯s lips. ¡°You owe the logistics. We are a spiteful sort, so I, as a civilized representative of our humble society, am going to pump you full of paralyzing venom, relaxing every muscle. Then, I¡¯ll chew you up, starting from your legs and going up. I assure you, it is wholly personal.¡±


    ¡°So what¡¯s stopping you, roach?¡± Schalk spat at the calm mandibles.


    ¡°The enjoyment of observing you squirm and my distaste for human flesh. Well, the very least you can do is wish me bon appeti and have the decency to digest swiftly.¡±


    Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Chak,¡± Anissa said. He tensed. Few would¡¯ve recognized it, but their nights spent together had taught the wolf hag how to understand his emotions based on the slightest contortion of his body, which led to the shifting of his carapace. She grinned. ¡°The correct phrase is Bon App¨¦tit. I heard it from Soulless One. Leave me a bite.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure.¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡± Impatient One barked, abandoning the combat to the pack. ¡°Wolf Hag, obey the given orders.¡±


    Anissa scowled, ready to order the shaman to stand down. There was no need to take the traitor alive. But then her instincts kicked in, and she patted Chak on his head, stopping him from stabbing the man, and picked up the plasma gun, which seemed like a cub¡¯s toy in her paw. She aimed it at the bleeding stump and fired, cauterizing the wound and reveling in Schalk¡¯s agonizing thrashing.


    That¡¯s for Bogdan. She planned to see the man¡¯s execution, record it, and send the video to her precious cousins.


    ¡°Why?¡± the wolf hag asked, shooting at another traitor who was running away. ¡°Why help the invaders?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± The former lieutenant gritted his teeth, fighting the pain.


    ¡°No.¡± Anissa shook her head. ¡°No matter how I look at it, I don¡¯t understand you. Was it tokens?¡± Schalk snorted. ¡°Yes, you would not find any way to spend them. Authority? Brood Lord is the traitorous freak who holds no loyalty to anyone. You can¡¯t be this dumb as not to realize that he would slaughter you the moment you outlived your usefulness. And no one in the Horde will protect you! Why help the invaders?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s malice,¡± Impatient One said, stepping closer. ¡°He wanted to hurt us.¡±


    ¡°Not¡­ you specifically,¡± the man panted, struggling to sit, but Chak¡¯s coils tightened. ¡°Invaders.¡± He looked at them with burning hatred in his eyes, and Anissa imagined that both of his pupils seemed to gravitate toward each other. ¡°Oh, that¡¯s rich. That¡¯s very, very rich hearing you whine about an invasion. The Reclamation Army had conquered my homeland, slaughtered my father, broken my mother¡¯s spine, and dragged us off to re-education camps as if we were the evil in need of persuasion! Who invaded who first, Anissa? I am only returning the favor!¡±


    ¡°And for this, my brother had to be burned alive?¡± She stomped on the operator¡¯s cabin, pressing a claw to his neck and panting heavily. ¡°He never harmed you or your family, you bastard! You swore an oath to protect the citizens, damn it; your own people live in this very city, in these lands. You know damn well how painful it is to lose a family; how dare you inflict the same on the innocents!¡±


    ¡°No one is innocent¡­¡± He yelled in pain as Anissa stomped again, breaking bones in his shoulder.


    ¡°Don¡¯t give me that crap!¡± Anissa hissed, feeling Impatient One¡¯s disapproving gaze on her. The warlord had made her will known about the torture, but right now she didn¡¯t care. That¡­ thing. My brother! Her finger on the trigger twitched; she wiped the drool from her mouth. ¡°Any cub trampled by the Horde is innocent.¡± Impatient One lowered, sniffed the loader, and circled the trapped man. ¡°Every infant suffocated by the smoke, every hardworking soulmates are innocent, you son of a whore.¡±


    ¡°Was I supposed to let it go?¡± Schalk smiled, sweating. His eyelids spasmed, causing him to blink too fast, and his skin paled. The corners of his lips twitched, and ripples ran down his cheeks. ¡°To forgive and forget after the Reclamation Army had carried out that brave massacre of theirs? To ignore the decimation of my nation, the disappearance of my culture and language, to pretend that my nightmares don¡¯t exist? You asked why, but you already know the answer, Anissa! Bogdan was never my target; none of those who died in this war were my targets. I never wished them dead, but I gladly sacrificed them for a chance to get back at that snake! That emptiness you feel... I lived my life with it!¡±


    ¡°If you had hunted the soldiers responsible for the ruin brought to your home, I¡¯d understand.¡± Anissa grabbed Schalk by his pulsing, sweaty neck. ¡°If you were feigning loyalty to get close and stab me in the back, I¡¯d understand from the other side. Would even forgive. I am a soldier; we are expected to bear the responsibility for the deeds carried out by my comrades. But you didn¡¯t do any of that, did you, Schalk? You had caused the exact same massacre, no! You despicable worm, you created¡­ aided in fostering more grievous tragedy aimed at those who looked up to you for protection. You betrayed your oath; you betrayed your people¡­ How many Schalks have seen their families die in this senseless war? You have become worse than those who destroyed your nation!¡±


    ¡°Wolf hag!¡± Impatient One stood up and grabbed her shoulder. ¡°Control yourself and look at the bigger picture. His troops were poorly equipped to handle the defenses inside the facility, much less us. After encountering us¡­¡±


    ¡°He still hurried to the facility, yet there are no explosives on him¡­¡± Anissa whispered, immediately activating communications and ordering her allies to conduct an immediate security sweep.


    ¡°What are you playing at, little snack?¡± Chak snapped mandibles before Schalk¡¯s face. ¡°No answer? Let¡¯s see if we can loosen your tongue by unburdening you of one of your other limbs¡­¡±


    ¡°Worse, Anissa?¡± asked the traitor, his every word accompanied by a snap. Ripples ran through his skin; his jaw dislocated and reset itself. ¡°Wrong. We are greater.¡±


    The bridge of his nose sank deep into his face, and Anissa fired, no longer concerned with taking the man alive. Schalk lifted his head; his neck snapped and stretched, and his eyes flowed together, forming a single cyclopean dish. The plasma splashed around his neck, blackening it instead of melting a canal for itself, and Chak gasped.


    That was the last she heard him say. A gasp. Not a proud cry, not any last words, but a single gasp, resembling the reaction of raiders whose lungs she had skewered with claws. Chak¡¯s carapace exploded in its upper section, spraying fountains of white ichor and crimson blood into the shocked muzzle of the wolf hag. Twisted rags ending in hungry maws struck from the ruined body, and were it not for Impatient One pulling her back, Anissa would¡¯ve lost her life to the fangs snapping near her nose.


    The rags shot upward, gaining the appearance of rubber hoses; their sagging skin changed color from black to dirty brown, tightening in seconds, and the traitorous lieutenant broke free from his seat, standing easily on his already restored knees. In a span of less than a fraction of a second that she had lost sight of him, the man had changed.


    There was a cyclopean eye, glowing malevolently green in the center of his head; his face elongated, mimicking a Wolfkin¡¯s snout to an extent, but rather than having rows of sharp fangs, he had eight teeth on each part of his jaw, eight round, blunt instruments more suited to biting and grinding than tearing and ripping. His body mass increased, tearing through his suit and armor, but overall the man remained slender, lacking any excessive muscles, though he now stood taller than Anissa. Orange and brown devoured his natural brown color, four tendrils weaving in the air, protruding from his shoulder blades. Schalk¡¯s three-fingered foot stepped on a syringe rolling on the ground. He glanced at his missing arm, tensed his shoulder muscle, and a fresh hand emerged from the smooth skin.


    Anissa fired at him, shutting out her grief for Chak. She couldn¡¯t¡­ process it now, but she knew she wished to see the bastard dead. Schalk gleefully looked at her and leaned to the side, easily evading the plasma bolt. Impatient One was already near, and the uppercut caught her in the chin. She dodged the claws, which gained the appearance of mounds of keratinized skin, but the knuckles sent her high. A single tendril slapped, laming Anissa¡¯s leg faster than she could react.


    Schalk emitted a weird mix of gurgle and whistle. He leapt aside, splattering himself against the field, and ignored the shards piercing his back. His flesh swallowed and spat them back, immediately closing the lacerations as if his skin was a calm water pool, inevitably returning to its original state. Anissa crawled after him, shooting the monster in the back alongside her pack.


    It was wrong. Her own knee was destroyed, tendons severed, and she already suffered from the internal bleeding, but it won¡¯t be enough to kill her. Schalk wasn¡¯t a New Breed. Short of undergoing bio-sculpture in Iterna or being exposed to the Glow, no mortal could hope to ascend beyond allocated limits. And certainly not so fast or to such an extent.


    Schalk¡¯s fist rammed into the field, bending it very slightly. It immediately rebounded, shoving his fist back, and the creature gurgled-whistled, raining an avalanche of blows on the sturdy field to no avail. His tendrils stabbed at it as the turrets unfolded themselves from the walls, preparing to turn the man into a paste should the impossible happen. A beam shot from his eye, digging deep in the field, and she heard a groan from the complex¡¯s construction as the resulting sparks bathed the man. The shield, capable of withstanding multiple volcanic eruptions concentrated in the single area, strained nearly to the limit.


    But it endured.


    ¡°Unexpected encounter with a New Breed!¡± Anissa yelled into the coms. ¡°A warlord-level threat has manifested near the complex. Pack Anissa requests immediate assistance!¡±


    Schalk turned as Impatient One landed heavily behind the wolf hag. She expected there to be panic or at least concern in his eyes, but his pupil narrowed, focusing on her. Shit.


    He disappeared, and she stabbed with her left arm, relying on instinct rather than reaction or perception. The claws met resistance, and Schalk screamed in his strange voice, convulsing after impaling his own groin on her claws. The impact recoiled her arm, her fingers snapping, but Anissa shoved the plasma gun into his open wound, firing it immediately. An orange flame briefly traversed inside him, coloring his palate orange, and then she dropped face down, felled by a single chop that shattered her pauldron and the ground underneath.


    One of her lenses remained intact, and the vision of a foot bleeding the traitor¡¯s face greeted her. Impatient One had already recovered and pressed on the creature, slashing at him without a single halt, outpacing his unnatural regeneration, and Schalk retreated, evading a thrust that had almost blinded him.


    A New Breed. Not a Malformed and certainly not a bioweapon. Schalk¡¯s distorted features were even in their symmetry, and the mutation didn¡¯t leave exposed muscles or organs. He was fully functional, but his clear inexperience in handling high-speed combat had proven that he wasn¡¯t born with that sort of might. His tendrils should have closed in on the shaman, ripping her to shreds, but they hung over him, forgotten because of the stress.


    Not that he needed their assistance. The difference in their abilities was like that of a Wolfkin and a Normie wearing power armor. Schalk composed himself, and his hands closed on Impatient One¡¯s wrist and elbow as she stabbed, and he broke the arm, pushing her elbow bone through the suit¡¯s joint. Then his own fist landed in the shaman¡¯s face, sending her flying into the pack, and hands closed around Anissa¡¯s neck, lifting her up.


    She expected to be killed, but the monster turned, carrying her to the complex. Curse you!


    ¡°Wolf Hag Anissa here! Remove my clearances now! The enemy has taken me captive, I report again¡­¡±


    He approached the field, and she noticed the section of it preparing to open. Schalk¡¯s grin widened.


    The ground trembled, and the traitor stepped back cautiously as the figure in the pitch-black cloak rose. Zero tossed her cowl back; the brightest yellow light shone through a crack in her helmet over her eye, her paws on the rifle. A claw pressed against Anissa¡¯s neck in silent threat, and the warlord tossed her weapon aside, spreading her clenched paws wide.


    ¡°Hate us? Take it on me!¡± Her fist pounded over the smooth curves of her armor, and Zero sauntered toward the creature. ¡°C¡¯om, big man. What¡¯s worth more, a wolf hag or a warlord?¡± Schalk mewled and grunted, baring his fangs and raising his hand. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right¡­¡±


    A black beam sliced through the traitor¡¯s wrist, freeing Anissa. Before she could so much as try and attack him, Zero had already tossed the grenades into the open mouth, and the ensuing explosion flung Anissa away. The wolf hag landed with a twinge of pain in her shoulder. Zero pulled two expanding rods from the opened pockets on her legs and ducked, dodging the beam fired by the enraged traitor.


    The banging. Anissa had understood what had happened. Zero¡¯s rifle had protruded two support platforms and ¡®stood¡¯ up, automatically leveling its aim based on the feed coming from the warlord¡¯s helmet while the woman was busy drawing the enemy¡¯s attention to herself.


    Schalk broke through the clouds of smoke, his cyclopean eye still emitting the beam, his lips barely scorched. The tips of the stun rods stabbed into his foaming maw, unleashing enough electricity to stun even a skinwalker, and Zero drew herself high, forcing the man¡¯s gaze upward. She began pushing him away from the complex, her rifle dragging after her on a barely visible string. The tendrils tried to bite her, acting in unison.


    That was a mistake. If the man had been a little more accustomed to his new body, he would¡¯ve tried to attack legs, elbows, and ribs at different intervals. But by snapping their jaws at the same target, the torso, the tendril¡¯s heads butted into each other as Zero stepped back and kicked, throwing them and Schalk off balance. Using the man as a foothold, she delivered a bone-crushing blow to his jaw with her second leg, never letting him recover from the violent vibrations his brain suffered.


    ¡°Stand down!¡± Anissa ordered her pack. ¡°The ultimate warlord hunts alone. Secure the area and eradicate any remaining pests.¡±


    She crawled toward Chak, still hardly believing that he wasn¡¯t any more. Her dearest wasn¡¯t breathing; none of his legs twitched; several sections of his body below the head were shaved clean of any meat and carapace, and just a single, elongated spinal column connected the two. She cradled his head, desperately trying to come up with something, and cursed herself for her arrogance. Civilians had no place on the battlefield! She knew it; why didn¡¯t she break his legs to make him stay in safety? Why didn¡¯t¡­


    ¡°I am so sorry,¡± Impatient One said, coming closer. She raised her paw but didn¡¯t touch Anissa.


    ¡°For what?¡± Anissa looked at her with dead eyes. ¡°It¡­ it is all my fault. My¡­ mistake.¡±


    *****


    ¡°And that is the outcome of using untrained personnel for the experiment,¡± Purple Valkyrie said smugly.


    ¡°Shhh¡­¡± Academician said, raising a finger. ¡°Elasticity, 95 percent of the expected parameters, regeneration failing. Could it be a result of antimatter poisoning? Unlikely. Need further testing. Speech distorted, minor personality degradation. Physical aptitude exceeds predicted limits, but the strain on bones is offset by the natural healing. Precision, perception¡­ impossible to determine. Mass gain is satisfactory.¡±


    He sat on the edge of a laboratory chair, clad in dark armor and bareheaded, rifles strapped to his back. His pupils, framed by green, watched the footage relayed by a satellite. On the screen, their test subject was being driven toward the burning trees. A single sweep of his tendrils had cleared the area and missed Zero, who fired four beams into his abdomen. Purple admired the woman¡¯s efficiency.


    The General Secretary had informed the organization of his displeasure over the current situation, and Purple Valkyrie eagerly volunteered to prevent contamination of the region, dragging Elder Academician by the ear to join their elite agents in anticipation. The man was worse than a child and had been whining about not needing a suit and how he could solve the situation, but she mounted one on him regardless and positioned her team to stand at the ready should the Reclaimers fail to protect the complex.


    Its destruction would hurt more than non-humans, and thus it will be standing.


    The group had gathered in the teleportation chamber, fully geared, armed with viral rifles and energy cannons. The random, sporadic evolution that followed no clear pattern of their virus rounds should be able to hinder even the immune system of that monster concocted by her superior, and the rays of star fire will obliterate it completely. Spaniad had gone rogue and was hiding in the city, refusing to answer communications. She hazarded a guess that the elder planned to handle Mad Hatter when the woman won.


    Too bad my moronic superior doesn¡¯t share my prediction. She thought, uncaring if Academician was reading her mind. Iterna¡¯s toy folded as expected, but that factor was irrelevant in determining the outcome. It was plain to anyone with eyes that a brain-damaged byproduct of an ancient experiment stood no chance against the current pinnacle of natural evolution influenced by the Glow. Mad Hatter and Ravager¡¯s initial clash had proven enough.


    Ravager had employed a tactic to divert the brunt of their combined aggression from Houstad. Laudable though that was, Mad Hatter had incorporated this factor. It didn¡¯t matter what her opponent¡¯s plan was, as either way it played into her hands, while Ravager had been forced to improvise, exposing herself.


    ¡°Wait.¡± Academician stopped her from activating the emergency and summoning the mechanized brigade. ¡°Look at the display, please.¡±


    She obeyed, unsure what he wanted now. The primary targets broke through the continental crust, reached the mantle, and engaged in a slugfest in the outer layers of the outer core, slowly sinking deeper. The angle and the intense heat prevented the accurate footage, and most of what the satellite picked up were mere shadows in the swirling ocean of death; their every action intensified the seismic activity running through that part of the continent, alerting other S-Classes to the conflict.


    Suddenly, a roaring pillar erupted through the crack in the ground, carrying the two monsters to the surface. They broke out of the magma, slashing and cutting, kicking and elbowing, barely visible amidst the constant sonic booms plowing through the mountain range. Purple clicked her tongue.


    Human perception couldn¡¯t process the situation, but they had forces of the Old World standing at the ready. What bothered her was the inevitable fallout of the khatun¡¯s victory. Based on previous observations of the woman¡¯s biology, defeating the Ravager will improve her from forty to sixty percent. Physical matters aside, neurologists have sounded the alarm, pointing out how difficult it is to calculate the change in a psyche that will occur following such a drastic change. What if Mad Hatter decided to scour the planet clean? Even if Zero would choose to unseal, even if Spaniad teamed up with her, the probability of their defeat still existed as they had no hard data on the upper limits of the mutant¡¯s intelligence to run accurate prediction models.


    ¡°Memorize this, Purple. Valkyries. Team.¡± Academician stood up. ¡°For every Eugenia, Spaniad and Dominator, we have Ravager, Mad Hatter, Thunder Emperor, Blood Graf, Outsider, Hive, Hunter, Devourer... Humanity, even with the addition of the Glow to the equation, simply cannot compete. We have seen it in smaller scenarios playing out around the globe, but now you have the practical result before you, a clear need for us to restore the natural order of things, or our kind will head toward extinction of our species, smidge by smidge. That is one of the two immediate reasons why the Organization must prevail and break the shackles of oppression that hinder the potential of our race. You are free to extend mercy and care to the lesser creatures. I won¡¯t begrudge nor understand that. Just don¡¯t forget what is at stake.¡± He put a hand on Purple¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Don¡¯t rouse the reserve. Everything is calculated. My daughter will win. She is mine to break and tame. Besides, there are other precautions¡­¡± He looked sideways at the larger display showing the map of the Reclamation Army.


    Light was traveling toward the borders of the Core Lands. Purple relaxed but still seated Academician back in the chair, excusing the necessity with the need to follow the protocols. Then she mounted a helmet on his head, feeling vindictive for the stress that man-child had caused her.

 Chapter 147: The Die Is Cast

    Decimated. The Taleteller rose, ending another life. Meanwhile, Janine whirled around, clawing and bludgeoning the fools approaching her position. No sooner had four mangled, torn bodies begun to fall than the warlord moved on, trampling the wounded and crushing the bones of the dead. Restrained rage guided her paws on this fateful day.


    Mariam. An image of a good-natured girl who had refused to bend under Terrific¡¯s merciless bullying and who had later risen to the respectable rank of a scout flashed before Janine as she stepped at the hordeman hiding under the corpses. A shell had killed her. Lake. The lucky male had been responsible for introducing the pack to the divine tahini, a spice that had found its way to the Wastes from the west, brought by caravanners. A wall of pure plasma had disappeared him. There was nothing of him left to bury or burn, and Janine indulged her wrath, shoving a pair of enemy troops off the mound of rubble and cleaving through them.


    Forthbom. Alina. Helly. Mandy. Woebasher. Jake. These were just the latest casualties of the never-ending onslaught. Her pack had dwindled to a handful. Five warriors, a male and two scouts, were still unharmed. Nine were... Her HUD received an update. Eight were wounded; Maxence reported that one male had died on the operating table. The treasure collected by Terrific and hoarded by Janine was gone, spent in battle. Of the thousands of volunteers assigned to her command, four hundred and eighty-five still responded, and the rest either had their IDs damaged or died.


    A hordeman in golden armor leapt out of the smoke, tall and slender, unlike the usual fatties. He spun in the air, elegantly dodging aimed bullets; the tip of his spear glowed brightly, and Janine used her ranged weapon to block a yellow beam aimed at the eldest Oakster, who was dragging a wounded ally to safety. The heat touched the weapon, but there was no explosion; it had long since run out of energy cells.


    She took the Taleteller with both paws and lunged to meet the fallen golden boy. Suddenly heaps of smoldering human meat to her left and right trembled, and she ended up caught in a triangle of claws and the descending spear. Only the blade struck her shoulder, widening the already large gash and injuring her in the shoulder, but the half-moon slice of her axe cleared the area of the two Malformed and ruined the golden man¡¯s legs.


    He dropped, crawling away from her on his back, one hand raised, his spear stuck in Janine. Unknown language blurred from the well-crafted lips on his helmet, and his gaze was full of horror behind his ruby lenses. She wondered what made this man travel so far just to be crippled at the entrance of the foreign city and found herself not caring. Her kick sent the helpless man back into the misty smoke, reigning on the battlefield. Let the Spirits judge him.


    The males had spent their lives like coins, throwing themselves so that the females could retreat and regroup for future battles. This cruel practice had preserved the strongest fighters for long, but Janine¡¯s heart ached. They had come so far together, witnessed the return of the Blessed Mother¡­ To die now reeked of mockery.


    ¡°Don¡¯t expose yourself needlessly,¡± Janine advised the farmer. ¡°Will she survive?¡±


    ¡°Had seen bigger miracles today.¡± Shrugged the man, carrying a Wolfkin over his shoulders, and Janine snorted, a simple, casual noise that froze the approaching infantry.


    She waded through their ranks, covered in blood, plates cut, cables hanging like entrails, the backpack struggling. Bullets, blades, spears, and maces stuck in her hissing, sparkling armor gave Janine the appearance of a cactus. And yet, as she descended toward the enemies, arms spread wide, they faltered, no longer possessing the determination to rush her. Denying them an option to retreat and regroup, she barged into their ranks; the Taleteller incorporating their miserable, wasted existence into her own legend.


    The cannons sang no longer, and only the occasional crawler¡¯s bombardment still tore through the veil of darkness, sending arms and legs flying. The wall had been breached along the entire length of its western section, and the sounds of intense combat echoed through the honeycombed catacombs.


    A grenade landed at Janine¡¯s legs, and she grabbed a nearby raider, dragging the screaming woman near. The explosion hid them both, but she sensed the shape dissolving in her paws and roared, breaking through the flame, axe swinging. Till Ingo¡¯s new suit was a marvel, and her body cheered, free of the need to remain in union with uncaring metal. Her foot pierced a visor and went down, shaving a man¡¯s face. So light. So smooth.


    Was that where she¡¯ll die? Janine spread her arms, focusing her lenses on another hordeman who trampled his own retreating comrade. The wretch shook, unexpecting to face her alone, and she brought down the axe¡¯s knob at his head, silencing the pleas for mercy.


    ¡°Want to live?¡± Janine called out to the advancing masses. ¡°Stay away from the bridge!¡±


    ¡°Janine, are you free?¡± Maxence¡¯s voice rang in her helmet.


    ¡°Sure,¡± she laughed, climbing back up the ruined ridge that led to the gates. Bullets rattled her back, but she stood tall, daring the Horde to come and try again.


    Jacomie had reported that their own surprise was ready, and she itched to try it.


    ¡°Need your assistance.¡± The display of her left lens changed to show an operating table with a Wolfkin lying on it. Wolf Hag Zolushka, and by the Spirits did she grow! The reward of today¡¯s battle had blessed the woman richly, and her arms doubled in size. Melina would¡¯ve been so proud! Then Janine noticed the lack of everything below the waist. ¡°Got a stubborn one, won¡¯t give permission for augmentation,¡± Maxence panted, scurrying from one patient to another, stopping bleeding, administering painkillers, and preparing to send them away through the underground tunnels. ¡°She¡¯ll lose consciousness in about an hour and then¡­¡±


    ¡°Warlord.¡± Zolushka exhaled. ¡°The old way. My soul¡­¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine said. ¡°Do you respect me, soldier?¡±


    ¡°Yes, warlord.¡±


    ¡°Then live. Every life denied to the Horde pleases the Spirits,¡± a lie slipped easily from her tongue. ¡°You have seen it. Our unbound progenitor, the Blessed Mother, divine in her eternal glory. Will you besmirch it by dying? Stay strong and kick some asses with your new legs for the sake of our tribe.¡±


    ¡°And for the state, Warlord,¡± the woman said. ¡°I¡­ agree. I think that Melina would be proud after seeing you.¡±


    ¡°You bet your ass she is, and I¡¯ll make her prouder still!¡± Janine laughed, ending the link.


    The bridge was reduced to a smoking, heaping mass of concrete, metal, and bodies fused together. The stern and tall statues of the Dynast no longer welcomed the newcomers. Banners and heraldry of the Reclamation Army had disappeared in the clouds of ash. But they held, denying the entry to overwhelming forces for four hours straight, butchering Normies and New Breed alike.


    An uneven, jagged slope, rather than a well-fortified position, now led to the gaping entrance into Houstad. The gates disappeared, obliterated by the acid spewed by Brood Lord¡¯s Malformed. Supply lines barely carried fresh equipment, and the reinforcements no longer streaked from inside Houstad. The defense was growing increasingly unsustainable by the second. Janine raised her axe, ordering the volunteers and medics to escape back into the city, but a couple of the stubborn people refused and tried to evacuate the wounded to the last.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The ground shook, and another line of enemies marched in. At their head were Malformed, clad in plates inlaid with ivory. Brood Lord¡¯s sigil. Infantry flanked them, at least eight hundred strong, with the Horde champions using the bondsmen as living shields. Wherever she looked, there was no sign of today¡¯s prey, but the ground trembled, and even from here she could hear the stomping march. Close, but not yet.


    ¡°Ambush,¡± Janine ordered, greeting the Malformed.


    She had learned how strong their kind was, and acid burns covered her body beneath the cracks in her armor. Eight of them were a tough bunch to handle, and there was an abundance of infantry, while she no longer possessed a ranged weapon. That was more than enough to make her sweat. Janine smiled and howled, signaling Jacomie.


    Much of the underground network had long since collapsed, partly due to the seismic activity caused by the battling demigods. But plenty of them still stood, right underneath the wall. Though it wasn¡¯t feasible to launch precision strikes in the rear of the invading army because of the lack of ranged support and the overloaded defensive field, an ambush or two could still be perfectly set up.


    This was precisely what Janine had done. Jacomie and the remaining volunteers capable of combat waited below, positioning themselves to the north and south of the stubborn gates. The exits to the surface no longer existed; the extensive bombardment had taken care of that, but that had been accounted for, too. The Gilded Horde weren¡¯t the only ones capable of utilizing the tools of their foes¡­


    Rays of energy pierced the barred entrances, and the thunderous roars shuddered the advancing forces long enough for Janine to crash into them like a meteor. Mechanical abominations stepped out of the darkness, their hooves pounding the ground, their lenses burning red, and gusts of superheated air from their nostrils. The steel servants, exact copies of the bull Janine had destroyed, had been completed by Keon¡¯s friends, eager to avenge his death. A pair of muscular arms cast in photoluminescent paint adorned their sides, and the instruments of the vanquished oppressor eagerly joined the fray, ramming their way through the shocked Malformed. Jacomie ordered the volunteers to move out, and the battle had begun.


    Even assisted by their unexpected allies, they raged for a good fifteen minutes. The bulls trampled bodies, spilled superheated wind in the hordemen¡¯s faces, and fried the Malformed with their beams. Acid bathed them, rockets exploded against their hides, denting and cracking the metal surface, exposing moving gears, but that merely enraged the soulless animals. Aware of their fury, Janine fought at their side, ending the critical threats.


    A hordeman champion gathered a fireball between his palms. The Taleteller reduced his head into rags of gore. Another, an avian priest, hurriedly began raising small pillars of rubble to drop on the bulls. A cut across his knees rendered him screaming, and the stones fell on his allies. A groaning Malformed tried to pour his acid into the open gash on the beast¡¯s belly. Janine buried her claws into his side, and the creature recoiled, lifting his hands in surrender.


    Easy. Easy, old girl. Don¡¯t overdo it. Janine scolded herself and let the bastard go. Mercy was never wasted. But today it was also a means to an end.


    At last, a shift passed through the Horde¡¯s ranks, and they turned tail. Janine barked an order not to shoot in their backs and joined her voice to the cheers of her soldiers.


    Near her, a bull dropped, stopping moving and turning into a broken pile of machinery. Its twin dragged a leg around, one nostril no longer functioning, and the light in its eyes dimmed. This brief engagement further reduced the number of her volunteers, and Janine dragged her legs toward the ridge and returned to her post.


    No good. She summarized, reading the reports dispassionately. Anissa was injured, and Chak died. She couldn¡¯t dwell on it now. On the map detailing the ongoing engagements, the Gilded Horde¡¯s jaws were closing in on the center of Houstad, threatening to cut off their own retreat. While the soldiers stationed inside the wall could hold on, those caught in the open would be cut out.


    ¡°Slayer of thousands!¡± Jacomie shouted, rousing Janine. Hundreds of voices echoed her words in unison. ¡°Slayer of thousands! Protector of Houstad! Gate guardian! True indomitable!¡± The bull bellowed, acting on some innate protocol.


    ¡°That¡¯s right!¡± Janine accepted the veneration of her soldiers, axe raised high. ¡°But more than the slayer of thousands! I see no Normies or New Breeds before me! You are the Horde¡¯s Breakers! The champions of Houstad and the legends of the Reclamation Army! Look at them, my soldiers!¡± She nodded at the last cowards fading from view. ¡°Live or die, that moment will burn in their memory! For hours this undefeatable¡­ uncivilized rabble,¡± the tired crowd burst into laughter, ¡°has tried to pass us, and we have denied them. Stand proud! We won!¡±


    A roar of cheers answered her. No matter how dire the situation was, a spark of hope burned in the soldiers¡¯ chests, sparked by the belief that the invaders weren¡¯t unbeatable, that they too had bled and died. The ferocity of the Wolf Tribe and, she admitted without pleasure, the nobility of the Ice Fangs inspired the people, and she intended to ensure their survival.


    ¡°Jacomie,¡± Janine called to the woman, raising her head; her armor hummed and shut down. Her shoulders slumped. The play was on. ¡°Organize a retreat. Take the bull along; you¡¯ll need a punching force to reach the crawler.¡±


    ¡°We can still fight,¡± Jacomie insisted.


    ¡°Atta spirit. You have already fought. Would you let the remains of my pack die alongside you?¡± Janine asked mercilessly. ¡°You sense the mood of everyone. They won¡¯t retreat until everyone leaves. The civilians have paid enough. Keep them safe, captain. No more arguments. Leg it to safety. Reaper, still with us?¡± she asked in the comms, finding a capable person near the narrow pass on the map leading to the airport.


    ¡°I was promised a battle to perish. I am thoughtfully unimpressed. Perhaps I should take my chances against Mad Hatter,¡± answered the former assassin, his voice full of static. He clumsily climbed out of the sewers, one of his legs twisted and a natural rib protruding through his blackened silver skin.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be in a hurry to leave us; there is work yet to be done.¡±


    ¡°More? I should¡¯ve requested payment.¡±


    ¡°Grumpy. Well, if you are so tired, go to the crawler and sleep it off. And while you are at it, escort a lovely company there¡­¡±


    ¡°I knew there would be a catch,¡± Reaper grumbled. ¡°Sure you don¡¯t want me to join you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Janine assured him, gazing at the battlements above. Somewhere there, Martyshkina was holding the place while Alpha dueled with her opponent. ¡°This place belongs to me.¡±


    ¡°Scent-mark it or something then, you mangy beast.¡±


    Janine snorted, no longer paying attention to the evacuating soldiers. The corpses were abandoned; the survivors gathered what they could from the fallen and streamed after Jacomie, helping each other. Inside the gates, they were joined by a small contingent of Provincial Guards and soldiers from the Third, and the unusual gathering began a march toward the Inevitable, contacting their allies and warning them of the impending encirclement.


    For a while, she was all alone. No enemies to kill, no allies to shield, just the distant rumble of artillery, the occasional flash of missiles overhead, and sharp shrapnel raining down, irritating her amber eyes. She imagined her soulmates and the deceased cubs calling for her, but their voices were distant, impossible to discern. A world of destruction, and in it a monster had briefly found a modicum of peace.


    Her ears twitched, hearing it clearly. Troops were approaching, so many that the ground trembled again. Occasional gunfire. They were probably gunning down those who had escaped, setting an example.


    ¡°You lured him, sister,¡± Dragena said. The sounds of battle on the bridge had stopped, and several maintenance teams were busy removing any trace of Phaser¡¯s body to prevent a possible resurrection. ¡°The Ice Fangs are heading out.¡±


    ¡°Good hunt to them,¡± Janine moved her eyes, keeping her snout up.


    The goal had never been to stop the Horde on their own. They simply lacked the numbers for such a feat. But remove the unifying element, the khans in charge of the Horde, and their lackeys will fall into disarray, vying for supremacy. Mad Hatter was engaged in a battle, Iron Lord was occupied, and the final piece of the puzzle had finally arrived.


    Your superweapon is left all alone. Your crew must be feeling very lonely right now. Not to worry, the hosts are on their way to entertain the Horde rear. And when they destroy it, the Ice Fangs will strike toward Houstad like a sword through ligaments, cutting the fat from the Horde.


    ¡°Come,¡± she whispered.


    An insectoid leg poked out of the smoke, its tip almost tasting the ground. Another joined it, a heavy metal limb, and kicked aside a ruined wreck. The khan appeared in all his glory, his segmented, spherical battleplate, each segment coated with a different layer of precious metal, unblemished by war, a broad grin visible through the visor. On his shoulder rested his curved sword with three skewered deserters on it.


    His elite guard followed, a sea of troops carrying the standards and readying pulse rifles. Heika walked in their rear, more gigantic Malformed approached. Tens of thousands had gathered in a crescent formation, a host as large as they had repelled in the first battle. Force fields rose around them.


    ¡°Hello, Janine,¡± Brood Lord sang. ¡°Lost any children or friends recently?¡±


    For her sons. For every life lost in this war. It was time to put things right. Dragena¡¯s plan worked flawlessly. Janine¡¯s survival hinged on her own gamble and the choices she had made.

 Chapter 148: Sympathy of a Monster

    Clash. She caught the scimitars in her claws before a shockwave began expanding. Her opponent twisted one blade free, cutting at her. Ravager grinned fiercely, appreciating the blanket of pain in her right arm. The edge had sheared the flesh all the way from the other side of her elbow to the shoulder. Fine weapon. She let go of the scimitar and kicked Mad Hatter in the midsection with both legs, sending the khatun flying some two kilometers away. The woman¡¯s body holed the newly formed mountain range, traveling so fast that the edges of this new cavern reddened from friction, turning molten.


    The sounds resumed as the air swallowed the vacuum created by their exchange. How long had it been? How long had it been since her blood had boiled and her mind had cleared instead of collapsing into uncontrollable aggression in response to the pressure? The last person to nearly cause her death had been Dominator when he broke her spine, but Vasco had surely come close to matching that feat. Was the woman as strong as Blood Graf? It was hard to say. The scoundrel possessed a better combat tempo but lacked in awareness, which helped her gore him at the start of their duel.


    Conserving her strength, she climbed to the mountaintop, looking for the prey.


    Mad Hatter was relentless, never faltering in repeating any Ravager¡¯s feats and willing to fight in the bowels of their planet. Her speed and precision deserved the utmost praise! Bone-deep slashes covered the Ravager¡¯s legs; flesh flapped on both her forelegs. The golden scimitars, marked with crimson, cut through her tendons and even exposed her left lung and bladder to the lava. An ear was missing, but that was fine; the eardrum still functioned. More serious was the windpipe, ruptured by a lucky jab, forcing her to struggle for every breath.


    Unsightly, but she was proud of her own handiwork. Mad Hatter rose from the crater, banishing the dust with a single swipe. She no longer had any clothes; one breast hung on a string of flesh. The left side of her face was flayed, and the eye twitched in its socket, finding the monster. The khatun cracked her neck and took a few steps, spurting little geysers of blood, and Ravager¡¯s grin widened.


    She enjoyed and despised their brawl, not in the slightest surprised about the lingering sanity. The beast in her, that ugly, despicable thing born of torture, demanded that she surrender her senses so that she could wake up to a world of destruction and find the bitch broken afterwards. But another figment of her broken psyche, Number One, the ghost of whom Ravager might have been, gripped the snapping fiend¡¯s neck, assessing her authority and intent to bring retribution if peaceful resolution was impossible.


    Peace. Ha. Why cling to the impossible? But I appreciate the clarity. A berserk beast and a failed mother, a worthless mentor and a dedicated protector, a butcher and a savior formed into one, a leader and a dumbass, a monster and a human united, not torn apart for once, and she persevered.


    Both Mad Hatter¡¯s and Ravager¡¯s blood were coagulating, and the lips of their wounds were moving, trying to connect. A freak of nature and a monster created by human genius were locked in battle, almost evenly matched. Two billion to one odds, two impossible probabilities, had met.


    ¡°I have to give it to you,¡± Mad Hatter said, running her fingers over the laceration on her neck. ¡°You are the first person to cause me to experience such excruciating pain. Not even my beloved parents or my khan can compare. Yes. To be brought to the brink of death, what a wondrous sensation! The throbbing in my head, the chill running down my spine, the weariness of my body¡­ I love you, Ravager! I adore our meeting. You make me feel alive, and I can tell that you feel the same.¡±


    ¡°Eh, more on the disgusted side of a token,¡± Ravager whispered.


    ¡°So be it. Be honored. This is the technique I have prepared to slay that pretender god with.¡± Mad Hatter smiled broadly, loosening her limbs. ¡°But the distinction is rather thin, don¡¯t you agree?¡±


    ¡°All human here.¡± Ravager pointed at herself.


    ¡°Tell whatever lie you want; we both know what we are.¡± Mad Hatter lightly jumped up and down.


    Bold. Ravager thought, dropping low. She had suspected that the woman had never met her match. She adapted well enough, but while that was to be expected thanks to the unearthed advantages given to the likes of them by their biology, Eugenia¡¯s defeat was unusual. Mad Hatter should have been surprised, should have lashed out rather than evading. Something or someone had influenced her, and she was taking Ravager seriously.


    The toes tapped, and Mad Hatter disappeared after the third jump. The amber eyes narrowed, trailing the woman¡¯s movements. She wasn¡¯t so much leaping from place to place as she was phasing in and out of reality, defying the laws of nature. No shock waves ruined the landscape, not even ripples on the ground as Mad Hatter¡¯s feet tapped again, carrying her elsewhere. Like a feather caught in a hurricane. She showed up on a hill and disappeared, picking up speed. Concerned, Ravager flexed her muscles and lunged at Mad Hatter, but her claws sliced through the afterimage and her snout burrowed through the hill.


    Ravager whirled, finding Mad Hatter all around her. The woman traversed hundreds of meters with every step, weaving a web of mocking afterimages around Ravager. The commander kept her cool, hearing the warm, excited breath at the back of her nape. She could barely keep track of her foe. But there was no way the khatun was unaware of the flaw in her strategy. She forced Ravager onto the defensive, but what was the point? It wasn¡¯t teleportation; an attack could come from a single direction. So why?


    The answer came faster than even Animalistica¡¯s warning. Neurons had barely flared in her brain before the scimitars sliced. Mad Hatter attacked, flying past Ravager, and the storm created by her movement flattened the uneven ground and banished the clouds overhead beyond the horizon. The wave of destruction traveled in a straight line, drawing a vast line going from the east to the west.


    Momentum. Ravager toppled, clutching the gaping wound in her abdomen, gasping for air as her brain processed the situation and came up with an answer. Mad Hatter didn¡¯t perform this trick with a flex of her muscles. She desperately needed the previous jumps, as they created wavelike shifts in her muscles and entire body, intensifying with each passing tap. With every subsequent movement, a wave traveling up her muscle had been forcibly conjoined into the overall mass of waves traveling down her muscle, gaining cataclysmic potential, ready to be released in a single, unfathomable burst of speed.


    A god-slayer technique indeed. Too bad it was used on a monster.


    As she lay face down, not breathing, the humorousness of the situation slowly brightened her mood. Her black fur was drenched in the crimson pouring from the wide wound opened by the crisscrossing strike. Her organs, her blood vessels, her bones, and even her organs still shook, recoiling from the impact. It was a beautiful masterstroke, and a few more like it and even Ravager would die.


    And she could not afford to let that happen! Every facet of her personality laughed, amused that a person capable of ending her was right here, and yet Ravager had to overcome. She could not let a fellow monster win. She had a duty to her offspring, to the state, to her friends, and to Zero. For their future, she would forge a path to her own future. Only Geni, the angel, could end her in a way that would ensure an adequate outcome for the Wolf Tribe and overall prosperity.


    The injuries weren¡¯t life-threatening; she had suffered worse before. It had taken her two weeks to recover from the broken spine. But prolonged battle wasn¡¯t an option. They had done enough damage to the Core Lands, and Ravager could hear subterranean rivers hissing as they were falling into lava through the cracked bedrock. It would take years to repair the damage they had already done.


    Ambush, then. Ravager stopped her heart and faked death. Lure the conqueror in and close the fangs on that thick neck. Not even Mad Hatter will be able to break free from Ravager¡¯s hold.


    Animalistica screamed in Ravager¡¯s brain, and she rolled, dodging a wide slash of air that tore through the ground and opened a canyon.


    ¡°Such a miserable end for such an impressive fighter,¡± Mad Hatter said dramatically, chuckling and keeping her distance. ¡°Is that what you expected me to say? I can sense the lingering vitality in you, beast.¡±


    ¡°Shallow,¡± Ravager grumbled. She restarted her heart, incorporating the vibrations coursing through her body and sending them up and down her limbs. What she could understand, she could master. ¡°Much too shallow to bring me low.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be disappointing otherwise, my monster. I¡¯ll try harder next time.¡±


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    ¡°It won¡¯t work anymore, madwoman.¡± Ravager stood up on two legs, hearing the wet pops. ¡°You know, for a second there, I thought you were teleporting, but judging by that long cut going down and to the left of the injury you inflicted on me, it was speed. That¡¯s why you were hopping around like a bunny, building up momentum.¡±


    ¡°A bunny?¡±


    ¡°An animal from the Old World. It had long ears.¡± Ravager tried to explain, pressing her index fingers to the sides of her head to imitate the animal. ¡°Its fur was soft and of different colors; there were even blue types. It had long feet and shorter arms. Also, it looked really cute. We wanted to reintroduce a modified species into the wild, but we had no luck finding any remains, and Iterna refuses to sell us any. The stingy bastards¡­¡±


    ¡°I have no need for fancy powers,¡± Mad Hatter chuckled, examining her arm. ¡°Strength. Agility. Speed. Endurance. All I need is to bend the world to my will. Anything more exotic is bound to fail you at the worst possible moment.¡±


    ¡°Never met a mind controller, I take it?¡± Ravager asked, encouraging the fool to continue. Her ruptured windpipe almost finished regenerating.


    ¡°I did and often.¡± Mad Hatter began circling around Ravager. ¡°People who can take control of others with just a thought. Freaks capable of boiling blood or altering it into poison. A single mistake meant death. I bested them all, wicked and noble, devouring them after proving their weakness to the Sky.¡±


    ¡°Weakness? Devour? Who led you to this fucked-up ideology, girlie?¡± Ravager asked, genuinely curious. Mad Hatter sounded as if she was retelling a lie she had chosen to believe in, rather than an innate belief.


    ¡°It is said that a woman suffers more in war.¡± Mad Hatter¡¯s face softened as she looked away. A hint of something flashed in her eyes, too fast for Ravager to pick up hints. But the anger in the khatun¡¯s pupils faded, returning them to normal. ¡°We both know it is false. Men and women, once defeated, are violated, stripped of their freedom, and forced to do the bidding of their masters. Those who refuse die. To survive, the loser must obey, and the strong rule.¡±


    It is as if I am looking at my own warped reflection!


    ¡°You mentioned your parents and a khan, yet there is no one above you. Speaking from experience, then?¡± Ravager inquired further.


    ¡°For a loser to become strong, the loser must rebel, earn freedom through struggle and carnage, and devour the former victor,¡± Mad Hatter answered.


    ¡°And at some point, you lost.¡± Ravager nodded.


    ¡°They are the ones who lost!¡± The woman bared her teeth, clenching the handles of her scimitars so hard that they whined. ¡°I was a tag-along, nothing more. My mere existence sparked wars even before I was born. And they failed to¡­ It¡¯s funny.¡± Mad Hatter smiled gently, despite her ruined face. ¡°He thought he could use me to secure his position eternally. Brood Lord joined me to carve himself a kingdom. Iron Lord follows me out of a desire to elevate his kind. Dalantai worships me because I will unite the world. Everyone expects something from me, but they don¡¯t understand that the world is not stuck in stasis. It is always in flux. No matter what the chains of oppression, a victor one day becomes complacent, even weak. Once I step down, the roles will change.¡±


    She dodged the question. Ravager returned the smile, banishing aggression. That bitch deserved to know what it was to be weak and then die. But... so had Geni once. So many had died because of her actions, but she had changed. Ravager was little more than a killer when the Dynast steered her in the right direction and tempered her illness. She was the last person to call anyone irredeemable.


    ¡°If you understand this much, surely you can see the foolishness of pursuing a doomed crusade.¡± Ravager attempted to reason, unsure why exactly she cared.


    ¡°Win, serve, or die. Such are the rules of nature, and I merely follow suit.¡± Mad Hatter sighed.


    ¡°Such a bland world you build,¡± Ravager said with disgust. ¡°The strong can change everything to their liking. That is our privilege, and damn any rules! Hear me, stupid cub. Wanton gluttony leads to indigestion. The nation I¡¯m helping to create will not be bland. In it, those you consider weak will not have to fear the oppression of the strong, and in turn, there will be no need for constant vigilance. Soldiers will guard, civilians will build, and artists will create. The creatures will be confined to... what¡¯s the word... zoological habitats! Multiple cultures, many races, united and at peace under the banner of the Reclamation Army, free to elect their leaders¡­¡±


    ¡°The Dynast¡¯s presence disagrees with the promise of any elections,¡± Mad Hatter noted.


    ¡°What about him? Every house needs a foundation, and who else but the Dynast is fit to lead us? He is a visionary whose ideas shape our future. He sacrifices his own freedom to ensure the prosperity of millions. A nation needs an incorruptible leader to uphold the strict laws preventing any child from being locked up and experimented upon. Some freedoms need to be sacrificed so that the good guys can come in and save those in trouble! But since we started talking about my boss... The mere fact that I serve him belies your inane claims of ¡®the laws of nature¡¯,¡± Ravager teased. ¡°I can kill him with a finger, but I could never replace him. Cristobo is a better officer than I and deserves to be at the helm of the Third¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s dead.¡±


    ¡°He got better.¡± Ravager waved her paw, smelling her friend. ¡°In our future, there¡¯ll be no deserts. Well, there will be, my cubs enjoy them, but they won¡¯t be dangerous! The wastelands will disappear; there will be parks and trees and rabbits¡­¡± Why didn¡¯t she steal a rabbit from Iterna? Oh, that¡¯s right. The international treaties banning poaching. You are rambling. A ghost of Number One whispered. You are losing her interest. Appeal to what she cares about. You can do it. ¡°Your god has given you strength. But the way you lead, the way you have structured that Horde of yours, tells me that you care about none of this. It¡¯s not too late to repent. You don¡¯t have to be miserable or trapped by your position. The Reclamation Army began as a military dictatorship, reigning over toxic mud. Look where we are now, what we have achieved, and dare to imagine what you can change the Gilded Horde into! Sit your ass down, bare your throat, and I¡¯ll help you to mature and learn how to bring about the change and build yourself a place to be happy!¡±


    ¡°Who says I am unhappy, sister? I am what I am. No more, no less.¡± The khatun struck the side of her head with the flat of her scimitar. ¡°Even now, the parasite clinging to me whispers poison, offering me strength for servitude. Idiot. The Sky has given me enough. I will not cheat, I will not cover, and I will never betray myself, be what may! Today we shall settle the fate of another kingdom. The Avatar of the Sky against the Incarnate of the Spirits. Let the strongest god win!¡± Her muscles bulged, and she pointed the scimitar at Ravager. ¡°We had our talk. My blades thirst for blood!¡±


    ¡°Haaagh...¡± Ravager stretched in irritation. Geni would have found the right words to get through that thick skull. No luck here. ¡°Fine, we¡¯ll do it your way. Drown in it.¡± Number One in her brain groaned, pounding the broken barrier, and the beast whined in anticipation, pleading to be set loose.


    I can¡¯t save anyone.


    Mad Hatter jumped; her foot slowly touched the ground, saving the woman from Ravager¡¯s swing. The simple tap carried the khatun away, but the commander followed her, shattering the ground with a tap of her own, determined to give her opponent a taste of her medicine.


    Unlike her offspring, Ravager was a different creature. On the rare occasions when her brain functioned properly, she learned any new skill at a glance. But that wasn¡¯t the end of it. She didn¡¯t thrive on victory alone. After suffering a defeat, her body adapted, hardening the bones, enlarging the muscles, or simply giving her a wider range of motion. By accident or design, her mom had created a perpetually self-improving biological war machine. Mad Hatter¡¯s insane speed had triggered another evolution, and her senses began to adapt.


    Iterna. Hope you can make Eugenia keep up.


    She closed on the khatun from behind, bringing the paw down. The golden streaks met the blow, then scissored at the nearing torso. Their speed pushed both fighters past each other, erupting the area with a shockwave. Silently, the air pushed away, Mad Hatter¡¯s right side was opened in a fountain of gore and splintered bones. Ravager shivered under the impact of another cut that opened her from the shoulder to the ribs.


    Jabs faced her, and Ravager veered off course, shielding her neck and feeling holes dotting her hide. Her claws thrust at Mad Hatter¡¯s eyes, narrowly missing them and chopping off the top of her nose. She blocked a slash and slid her paw down to the khatun¡¯s fist, bleeding the woman¡¯s fingers. A slash to the neck went through Ravager¡¯s afterimage.


    They continued, building momentum and attacking, hacking and stabbing, feinting and blocking. There was no sound; once again, a vacuum formed around them. Ravager, still unaccustomed to the unusual style and destroying the ground with every tap, noticed that Mad Hatter was on the defensive, limiting herself to counterattacks. She lunged, wanting to enter the brawl, and earned herself a blindingly swift kick to the jaw. The khatun briefly released a portion of her stored speed to move at near-lightning speed.


    The blow rolled her toward the sky; the sounds resumed. Ravager tensed, bringing her forearms together to shield herself from the crisscrossed strike. Great distance still separated the two, but in the absence of anything to bounce off, Ravager was an easy target for the air slash, and long gashes opened across her skin.


    It couldn¡¯t be helped. She had to block it or risk having her eyes popped. But as she tensed, Ravager lost the precious vibrations that ran along her muscles. Clever. Mad Hatter found a flaw in her own technique. She glanced at Houstad, seeing it clearly through the clouds of smoke and an avalanche of explosions covering the ruined walls. Her boys and girls were dying there. The khatun jumped.


    ¡°No more.¡± Ravager straightened her arms and returned the attack, performing it with her own claws.


    Where the clouds behind her were cut by air, her own arcs of the propelled air rammed the khatun into the ground, breaking one of her fingers and at last cracking the unknown alloy of her blades a little. Below, a new crater of destruction spread out for kilometers. Mountains collapsed. Lava and water mixed in the crater, spewing steam.


    Ravager used it. Her own technique, an imperfect technique she had been developing ever since that shameful defeat at Outsider¡¯s slap. A product of sleepless nights and countless self-flagellations, coupled with extensive research done into the limits of her body. While Till Ingo and the state¡¯s researchers conducted their tests, she learned in secret.


    She named it ¡°Damnation¡±, for in using it, Ravager risked spelling her own doom. It didn¡¯t unlock any hidden potential but rather pushed her beyond her limits at the cost of her health. When Mad Hatter leapt from beneath the black and orange waters, she was greeted by the monster at her very utmost prime, oozing red from the pores of her body. They locked in battle, no longer planning to separate, and descended in a cocoon woven of claws and golden scimitars.


    The weak will be devoured.

 Chapter 149: Her Way of War

    ¡°Nothing to say? No last brave words, no clever quip, not even a simple hello?¡± Brood Lord asked sweetly, hurling the corpses from his swords at Janine. The bodies broke upon her plate. ¡°Your indifference hurts me, Janine. I thought we shared a bond. You took my boys; I killed your whelps, and only one of us cared¡­¡± He sighed. ¡°But every game comes to an end. And in ours, the loser dies.¡±


    Janine didn¡¯t answer, holding her head up and barely breathing. She heard an engine, and a hoverbike rode near Brood Lord. Its rider held a spear rather than a pulse rifle and licked his lips, glaring madly at the warlord. The bastard reeked of a sickeningly sweet narcotic. Probably a drug to enhance aggression or ignore pain.


    ¡°She¡¯s done for, Khan.¡± The hordeman nodded at the state of Janine¡¯s armor and the weapons lodged in it. ¡°Can¡¯t even move anymore. No need to fear.¡±


    ¡°You want her?¡± Brood Lord asked in the same honey tone, not betraying a hint of irritation, but the orange irises rose from behind his regular ones. The rider snickered. ¡°Go ahead. Take her.¡±


    The hoverbike screamed through the air, racing up the slope. The rider pointed his crackling spear at the unmoving target when the warlord suddenly sprang into action. She sliced through the air, hard enough to roll several corpses down, and simply crushed the rider, reducing him to a bloody smear that stained the stones and his engine to mere wreckage. Janine leaned forward, breathing hard.


    ¡°Choices, everyone!¡± Brood Lord clapped with his pincers. ¡°Our friend here has made a grave lapse in judgment. From interrupting me to forgetting that a beast is at its most dangerous when it is cornered. He thought he knew better. Is anyone willing to follow his example?¡± He glanced to the right and left and smiled. ¡°Excellent. I understand the temptation and the lust for glory. I truly do! But the price of a wrong choice is death. Do remember who has kept you alive until today. Ready your weapons, everyone. Let¡¯s cripple this recalcitrant girl. Don¡¯t worry about hitting her in the head; I am sure she can survive it. On my mark, happy hunting¡­¡±


    Brood Lord reacted the second he heard a snap, surprising even Janine. His cocky, casual posture immediately changed, and he turned, raising the curved sword to shield his visor. A hail of projectiles slammed into his leaping bulk, damaging his mechanical legs and shredding parts of his armor. His human hand closed around the handle of his personal cannon as the ranks of his warriors shifted in violence.


    It was as if a hurricane had descended upon a calm sand sea. Ripples ran through the ranks as several groups broke formation, clinging to their comrades as if to better view the execution, then suddenly opened fire. Some of the shield carriers moved, narrowing the field of protection around the rebels and using it to shove away the loyalists. Transports rolled over the surprised hordemen.


    Several Malformed rammed their fists into their comrades, spewing acid at the hordemen to the surprise of their mewling kin. The rest of the giants staggered, unsure of what to do. Soldiers stabbed and murdered those near them; banners were torn down and set ablaze as grenade launchers fired. None of it was without purpose. A circle of fire split the center of the enemy battle group, sending the defectors streaming toward a rising wooden pole from which a new banner was unfurled. It bore the symbol of the Reclamation Army: an iron gauntlet grasping the world, and below it was painted a fiery Wolfkin skull, the personal emblem of Ashbringer, sharing space with a pair of muscled arms.


    True to their nature, the confusion lasted briefly, and the officers snapped orders, preparing to end the rebellion. Here and there, the sneak attacks had failed; either the shots had failed to penetrate the suits, or the loyalists had sensed an impending betrayal and launched themselves into violence.


    The khan landed up closer to the ridge, away from his host. Nimbly, he took cover behind the wreckage of a tank.


    ¡°For the true khatun!¡± Caikhatu screamed, holding the pole and firing his pulse rifle at Brood Lord. ¡°Down with the loser! Those who wish to thrive join the great Ashbringer! The rest shall burn!¡±


    ¡°A mole? Huh, you little, ungrateful¡­¡± Brood Lord¡¯s cannon fired, but the projectile stopped short of the rebellious khan. Four priests stood up, palms outstretched, sweat rolling down their brows. Their telekinetic shield repelled the projectile. ¡°Ah, the treachery widens. What would Dalantai say about your actions?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t care about the heathen lies,¡± a male priest snarled, raising up a finger. ¡°The Sky denies us His face for our sins in listening to the faker¡¯s poisonous promises!¡±


    ¡°Mad Hatter is a false prophet!¡± roared Caikhatu, his troops rallying around him. ¡°She dragged the youth of our homeland into needless wars, but what can she boast of for all the lands we have conquered? Sky burials?! The degenerate cannibals leading us?! I spit on her! Warriors! You owe no loyalty to Brood Lord! Drozna was loyal to him, but where is he now? Phaser was by his side, but do you see him now? Even Mungke didn¡¯t last long! This creature is loyal to no one; even his family betrayed him! He¡¯ll trade your corpses for his personal wealth!¡±


    Caikhatu wasn¡¯t addressing Brood Lord, noted Janine. Not wholly. The loudspeakers carried his every word, and a sizable portion of the hosts recoiled from the ongoing tussle and stood, calculating their chances.


    ¡°Bold words from a traitor who abandoned Iron Lord for my protection!¡± Brood Lord laughed. ¡°Now he wants to sickle a Reclaimer¡¯s tits. My soldiers, I have fought by your side; I have spared no riches and promoted you generously! Caikhatu here spins a pretty lie, but I don¡¯t remember him complaining when we were winning effortlessly! Will you let a cowardly weakling lead? Who¡¯s to say he won¡¯t betray you next?!¡± He bellowed gleefully, watching how his bodyguards regroup and prepare to strike at Caikhatu.


    Heika crept up to the Caikhatu, daggers in her hands. She cast a single, hateful glance at Janine and suddenly leaped over the khan and his allies, facing the approaching Horde forces head-on. The assassin weaved around the gunfire, diving through the fire, her mask almost touching the ground, and stabbed the first hordeman in the knees, instantly poisoning the woman. Heika sprang, plunging her blades into the jaws of two others and kicking the third aside.


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    ¡°I am surrounded by traitors and incompetents,¡± Brood Lord sighed and took aim.


    ¡°Should have fostered loyalty.¡± Janine kicked the debris hard enough to knock the weapon from his arm. Her reactor reactivated, lifting a weight from her limbs and body as the armor came back to life and the helmet closed around her head. The lenses flashed, lighting up Brood Lord.


    She still carried the unforgivable shame of her actions. A cub-slayer. It did not matter that the Brood matured quickly; psychologically, they were never close to an adult, and in her arrogance, Janine had thought she knew best, reluctantly breaking her vow never to follow in Terrific¡¯s footsteps.


    But she had another reason for her restraint and mercy today. She was educating the Horde, illustrating to them firstpaw the differences between their leaders and the Reclamation Army. The murder of the wounded, the punishment of retreating troops, the callousness toward casualties¡­ It all added to the weight of the metaphorical tunnel ceiling, with discipline, tradition, ambition, and religious fervor for Mad Hatter and loyalty serving as the supporting beams in said tunnel. Increase the weight, and ambition would ponder, indirectly adding to the pressure.


    Janine had seen Terrific break nations. Today, she had broken her first army in her own way, gaining unlikely allies and proving her worth as a warlord. The fear of being an unworthy pack leader disappeared.


    Looking down at Brood Lord, she felt little more than hatred, blind and unreasonable. She wanted nothing more than to pounce on him and bite that body, tearing off his chunks¡­ Then she remembered Bogdan and Marco. Would they be proud of a leader or a monster?


    And so she burst into a barely controlled laugh, bellowing her joy and mockery to the world, loud enough to be heard over the battling masses. Brood Lord stopped and turned away from Caikhatu, his orange irises consuming the whites of his eyes. He clenched the hilt of his sword and joined her, laughing gleefully and throwing his head up.


    They cheered, the New Breeds on the opposite sides, oblivious to the situation, unburdened by the leadership.


    ¡°What the hell are you laughing at, you beast?!¡± roared Brood Lord, stopping abruptly. ¡°Have you grown hysterical at the prospect of losing the rest of your family to the bull? Fret not, I have plenty of ideas¡­¡±


    ¡°Choices,¡± Janine cut him off. She stretched out her paw and moved her fingers. ¡°You love to preach about them. Mad Hatter assigned you to guard the rear, yet you abandoned your post and took your entire army after a single woman. Guess why I bring it up?¡± She grinned, hearing a distant cannonade and relishing in his shock. ¡°You chose poorly, boy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t get cocky, Janine.¡± Brood Lord growled. ¡°The rear is well protected. Whatever you¡¯ve cooked, we¡¯ll swallow.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll choke on it,¡± Janine assured him. ¡°There is more. Caikhatu had found allies, but their numbers weren¡¯t great. Had you never left the rear, he would¡¯ve never dared to rebel.¡± A bullet ricocheted off Brood Lord¡¯s round suit, but he didn¡¯t move, watching her. ¡°Yes. Dawns at you? Had Drozna been here, Caikhatu might have reconsidered, too. Had Phaser been at your side, you could have called for reinforcements. How many capable leaders have you killed who could¡¯ve turned the situation around or exposed the treachery? But you never trusted any of them, or maybe you decided to get rid of them because they failed you? Who cares? The result remains the same. How does it feel to lose, you paranoid, sadistic, and undercooked crustacean Malformed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve lost nothing¡­¡±


    ¡°The Brood.¡± Janine raised a finger.


    ¡°They are not lost.¡± Brood Lord snapped. ¡°I sense them heading west!¡±


    ¡°Good, then you get to die knowing that they are out of your reach forever,¡± Janine praised. ¡°For what you did to my family and my people, I have taken your family from you. They are my family now, and they will grow up happily, never thinking of you. You once called me an incubator. Well, how about it? I have birthed an army in the midst of your troops. Your legs are crippled, your plans are thwarted, and even your ugly mustache is ruined. I ask again! How does it feel, Brood Lord? To be beaten in a woman¡¯s way? Ready to wail in despair yet?¡±


    She expected him to roar in frustration, but Brood Lord merely chuckled and straightened up, blocking occasional shots with his back. The orange irises disappeared behind his human ones, his pincers tapped over his pockets, and he returned the smile.


    ¡°I never thought,¡± he admitted, ¡°that a woman could push my buttons like that. But you are missing a crucial detail.¡± He waved a finger. ¡°See, you females pay too much attention to the concept of a ¡®house.¡¯ For you, it is unthinkable to lose it or your offspring, while men are natural builders. When I was about the age of the young pup I blinded, my home had been raided, my family killed. Alone and estranged, I wandered the steppes until I stumbled upon a small village. Silly me tried to beg for food, but the local children laughed and pelted me with stones. They did it once, twice... I ate them the third time, and no one dared to laugh at me again.¡±


    ¡°You replaced your missing legs, but clearly you need to replace your ears as well, since I did exactly that.¡± A twitch crossed Brood Lord¡¯s face. His lips parted, showing needle teeth and bubbling venom. ¡°Is that sob story supposed to convince me to spare you?¡±


    ¡°Sky forbid. No, just to illustrate,¡± Brood Lord yawned. ¡°I¡¯ve lost everything before, but I rose to prominence and took it all back, and more. This time it won¡¯t be any different.¡±


    ¡°It will,¡± Janine promised. ¡°Because there is no bouncing back from today. The sum of your actions has brought you to the judge. Your life. Offer it to Bogdan as recompense.¡±


    ¡°Fine, Janine.¡± Brood Lord said calmly. ¡°You have fully earned your well-deserved reward. Today I will remove you from my life. Die with my highest praise!¡±


    They stormed towards each other, legs kicking up large boulders, weapons wielded in a double grip. The curved sword struck first. Janine swatted away its tip, surprised at the unexpected limpness. A feint. Brood Lord immediately tightened his grip, returning the blade for the second, true stab, and it rang on the Taleteller¡¯s haft.


    Janine ducked, holding the axe above herself, and headbutted the khan, driving him back. She retreated, dodging two of his legs as they came down on her. His pincers splintered her right pauldron. The warlord responded with a swing, grabbing the handle of the axe for maximum reach, and it carved a deep, long line into the pincer arm.


    They fought, full of hatred for their opponent, and the echoes of their duel were barely heard among the forces clashing thunderously outside the gates. But before the duel drew her attention away, Janine had noticed several hesitant groups casting down their leader¡¯s banners and joining the flanks of the rebels.


    Every person reaped what he or she sowed. Janine had no illusions that she would survive to see the completion of reunification. Even if she did, she often wondered what role she could play outside the military. But she was sure of one thing. It was better to be the second, the third, or the last among loyal friends than to be the ruler of a treacherous crowd that would drag you down as quickly as it would raise you up. Mercy, dignity, and honor often stood in the way of quick advancement, but it was more valuable to be surrounded by friends and comrades who could help her get back up after a fall. For their sakes, and for the fallen, she intended to end Brood Lord.

 Chapter 150: Hell and Heaven

    Martyshkina¡¯s paw closed over the screaming hordeman, and she rammed the man down, hard enough to shake the disabled artillery next to her. His skull crumbled, and she stood up, wiping her jaw. Her trusty revolvers rested in their holsters to conserve the last of their ammunition. The battlement was a mess, and she had ordered the troops to take cover in the lower levels after the ships closed in for another bombing run.


    There was no point in trying to hold this place any longer; their defenses had crumbled. The tremors of Alpha¡¯s duel still rippled through the stone, but most of the Wolfkins and the troops headed for the city. Martyshkina stayed here, unwilling to abandon Janine alone. Her own presence drew occasional champions, eager to promote their legends, away from her friend.


    A sea of smoke, gray mixed with black, spread before her. On the horizon, she could barely discern the spreading yellow domes that marked the advance route of their treacherous cousins. She wished them better luck than her pack had suffered. Below and to her left, orange flashes and lines of blue and red pierced the suffocating fog as the enemy troops engaged in their own civil war. Somewhere, Janine was fighting Brood Lord.


    And Martyshkina could not help her. There was someone not meant to be alive here.


    ¡°Are you going to keep hiding or will you make a move already?¡± she asked casually, her fingers on the revolvers.


    Six meters away from her, fingers appeared over the edge of the wall. They weren¡¯t touching the surface, but muscles spreading from the avian talons twitched, and pressure reduced pebbles to dust. A spatial manipulation; their agent had warned of this power. It allowed its user to ¡®compress¡¯ the distance between objects, while visually the situation remained unchanged.


    The fingers pushed a fully naked body, safe for a cover provided by occasional feathers and bone amulets inlaid with precious metals, onto the battlement. Strands of gray hair that had been once destroyed by her bullet billowed freely in the wind; bone fetishes dangled, their ruby eyes darkened by the lack of light. He stood tall, slurping air nervously through his beak; his twitching, wary eyes immediately found her. Half-a-meter-long talons on his legs scraped lines in the ground.


    ¡°Raven¡­¡± Dalantai said, stretching the word, clicking his beak and trembling.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Martyshkina raised a brow, looking at him with her natural eye. The lens over it was torn away. ¡°I see no birds here.¡±


    ¡°I have seen you in my visions. Tormenting me, obstructing my vision,¡± he spoke softly, barely audible. ¡°Today it ends.¡±


    Instincts flared in Martyshkina¡¯s brain, and she dove to the side, hearing a ¡®pong¡¯ noise. Nothing was shot; no lightning left the curved talon that he rapidly pointed at her, but the side of the broken artillery piece changed. Cracks disappeared, the image of the white, black-headed bird painted on it brightened, regaining color, and particles of soot flew away. She heard the broken mechanism reassemble itself inside the hull.


    Martyshkina paid it no further mind. Exotic powers were complex and troublesome. She could ponder about a rare case of a New Breed having double abilities later. Before her shoulder even touched the ground, she had drawn her revolvers and fired thrice. The first bullet was stopped by the outstretched hand, and the second shot shoved the first in the back. But rather than breaking it or splintering the bullet, both projectiles froze in the air, their momentum gone.


    A smile began to form on Dalantai¡¯s lips, and then he yelled in pain. The third shot wasn¡¯t aimed at him, not directly. It flew past him and ricocheted off an empty bunker. The priest was struck from behind; his hand disappeared in a puff of red smoke, and Martyshkina rolled, satisfied to have found a weakness in his defenses. No one was invincible¡­


    ¡°Lights out,¡± Dalantai exhaled.


    Her bullets, frozen by his power, disappeared, and Martyshkina gasped, bending over from the intense pain in her abdomen. The shots she had fired had been returned to her as Dalantai had created a channel of distorted space. The entry point was in front of him, and the exit point was around her body. Her armor was dented by the first shot, and the second had penetrated all the way through, miraculously not damaging her lung or kidney. She tried to step aside, and the third bullet came back at her, hitting her in the neck, then a leg kicked empty air, and she felt the thrust. It threw her back onto the artillery cannon.


    Her instincts screamed another warning, and Martyshkina rolled off the cannon just in time to evade his swipe that bisected it. Another ¡°pong¡± followed, and the barrel didn¡¯t fall, staying in place as the cuts left by his talons smoothed and disappeared. Martyshkina cursed and pressed a remote control, hating to waste such a perfectly orchestrated ambush on a single opponent.


    A wall of flame erupted from the upper part of the wall as the series of detonations shattered this section. It was a last-ditch effort to inflict maximum casualties on the enemy should they overcome the defenders. Fire briefly hid surprised Dalantai as he and Martyshkina fell down into the fiery hell¡­


    Then she stopped. Slowly, an unknown force levitated her body, and she frowned as she experienced the unpleasant sensations of heat licking her exposed organs. Events went in reverse; the broken battlement reformed itself, and the flames were sucked in the cracks. To their left and right, the explosions still happened, and a small avalanche tumbled down, but in this narrow space, near the artillery piece, the destruction had failed to cause any effect.


    Dalantai stepped through the dying fiery veil, his burns replaced by healthy skin, his missing hand growing back. Martyshkina broke free of the strange stasis as the time-reversal effect returned her to the same spot she had been before. No one was invincible or immortal. She raised her revolver and heard a pong. The priest¡¯s smile changed to a gleeful leer, and a quivering cocoon covered her, halting every movement.


    ¡°Yes!¡± He roared, throwing up his hands. ¡°I won! The raven is dead; it didn¡¯t beat me! I faced my destiny and prevailed! I, Dalantai, was chosen to¡­¡±


    His voice dimmed, and Martyshkina frowned, cuts opening in her arms. She knew that feeling, the irritating one born of claws that ran their dull side over the muscles, threatening to lift them up and rip away the entire strand, crippling her for weeks, if not months. Her mighty arms shivered into pitiful twigs, the steel gone, and she was a little girl from her past, scared shitless and at the mercy of the cruel warlord.


    ¡°I warned you not to help her,¡± Terrific said, drawing circles around the girl¡¯s eyes with her claws.


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    ¡°Screw you, I do what I want.¡± Martyshkina repeated the same thing she had spoken back then and received a punch that broke her nose.


    She screamed, her waist enlarging as lives slipped out of it, and she was no longer a small girl but an adult woman, her paw held by her first soulmate. No. No, you bastard! The plea was in vain, and Martyshkina was filled with memories of a single, faint cry from what she had prayed would be a healthy litter.


    The surroundings changed; Houstad remained outside the cocoon, but inside it she was in the desert, kicked in the chest hard enough to send her flying, and the furless creature leapt beside her, mercilessly lacerating her body and denying her a chance to free her girl from an eternity of disgrace.


    ¡°Hear¡­¡±


    ¡°Did you enjoy it?¡± the skinwalker¡­ Lena¡­ asked. ¡°The curse you bestowed upon us? The crunch of my sisters¡¯ bones when you killed them?¡±


    Martyshkina relived the lowest points of her life. She burned in acid, grasping Janine¡¯s paw to escape. Sand poured down her throat as she jumped to save a member of her pack from suffocating. She cried through the night, mourning the loss of his son, and tried to put up a steel front when one of her girls came to check on her. The thoughts of ending it all came back and weighed her down. She spent sleepless nights hunting the one she had failed; the claws shredding her body while the creature mocked her.


    ¡°¡­me?¡±


    ¡°You brought them into this world, knowing about that taint¡­¡± They were in a desert in the deep night, and a heavy foot pinned Martyshkina down, crushing her thoracic. The naked beast, the mockery of her daughter, had lowered itself and licked an open wound on the warlord¡¯s arm. ¡°¡­is in your veins. And now you want to kill me! How selfish; is there anything you won¡¯t do to hide your shame?¡± It asked in a wounded tone, and she almost believed the beast.


    Her body twisted and stretched, the bones thinned and then widened, the muscles torn and reknitted, and the process restarted. She was a girl, hungry and eager to prove herself, and then she grew, the ribs pushed against her sides with all their might, and Martyshkina nearly choked as the lungs expanded a little late to support her larger frame. All her dishonors and follies returned to haunt her. Her first mistake on the battlefield, leading to the death of her troops and the grief that gripped her heart as she brought the news to their families. Her bones shattered as Blood Graf manifested briefly in the cocoon of time, ramming his axe into her, and she could¡¯ve sworn there was a flash of recognition in his merciless eyes.


    It wasn¡¯t an illusion. Dalantai truly controlled time, and Blood Graf did something unexpected and tried to push himself out to freedom before his form vanished. That didn¡¯t happen in the past. But the pain remained. Every stab, every broken bone, and every ruptured organ agonized anew, merging into a single, never-ending cacophony of pain that intensified as the past overlaid itself, trapping her in the most hellish episodes of her life as Martyshkina grew younger and then older to experience these sensations in full.


    ¡°Hear me, you dumbass!?¡±


    A single tone plucked her from the agony. There was a shadow flickering in and out of her memories, growling disgusting and insulting obscenities using the lips of her fallen cub. The skinwalker also participated in the mutilation, but only now did she notice a keen focus and occasional concentration in his usually crazed eyes. The skinwalker growled a year ago and tossed another part of the sentence a decade earlier. These noises were pointless, meaningless noises back then that formed coherent words today.


    ¡°Impossible!¡± Martyshkina gasped, forgetting about everything. ¡°How?!¡±


    ¡°Visualization, mother.¡± Lena, undeniably Lena, smiled. ¡°Not precognition.¡± She stopped a question Martyshkina had never thought to ask. ¡°Precognition is a more accurate method of predicting the future. I merely imagine what would happen in the future based on my perception of reality and the sheer intelligence of my mind. Even a baby may know how its parents would react to mischief. But the more trained the mind, the more accurately it can predict exactly what will happen, down to the last word. For example, if you are half as smart as I think you are, you will ask the difference.¡±


    Great. So am I dumb. Martyshkina laughed through the pain of splintering ribs. ¡°Lena. Are you here?¡±


    ¡°No, Mom. I¡­ don¡¯t exist anymore in more ways than one,¡± Lena said sadly. ¡°What you see before you is the collection of memories, guided by the skinwalker¡¯s talent to imitate the one known as Lena. I am not physically here or anywhere. Lena died, vanished in the whirlwind of madness brought on by the genetic flaw in our bodies.¡±


    In the past, the skinwalker had sat on her chest, preventing her from breathing, but in this vision, Martyshkina saw the situation from a different angle. Lena hugged her legs and looked at her mother with love and care, resembling her old self before the transformation had so violently ended her existence.


    ¡°I am sorry for failing and hurting you, Lena,¡± Martyshkina said, trying to understand what she had been told. This entire conversation was prerecorded? But the skinwalkers never made long-term plans! They were incapable of it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Lena said. ¡°For stopping my sisters. For caring about my cubs, although you spoiled them too much¡­¡±


    ¡°What do you know about motherhood?¡± Martyshkina said and immediately regretted it.


    ¡°Precious little,¡± Lena whispered. ¡°I hate it. Hate hurting innocents. Hate destroying and being a pawn in this thing¡¯s plays. I¡¯d much rather not exist altogether. But I am not Lena. I am the idea of her, mimicked by¡­¡±


    ¡°I recognize my daughter anywhere,¡± Martyshkina said sternly. She cringed and clenched her fangs as a cleaver pierced her solar plexus.


    ¡°You don¡¯t even know this version of me.¡±


    ¡°Girl. You came from my womb. That makes you my daughter. You are Lena, and I am sure the original would gladly name you a sister.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve always been a stubborn cusack.¡± Lena sighed, hiding a smile as her paw plunged into Martyshkina¡¯s chest and tapped at the heart. ¡°By the way, you have to stop chasing me... It. Our brawls played a role in the past, but your role in their plan was complete, and this is their way of rewarding the unwilling accomplice. Don¡¯t consider them to be noble, though. It decided it wanted to screw that shaman more than it wanted to giggle at the unraveling of your personality. Something about double irony. I am not sure I understand. If you try hunting it now, it may butcher you or do worse to you, depending on its mood.¡±


    ¡°Plan? Lena, what are they plotting?¡± Martyshkina asked, horrified to the very bone.


    ¡°Surprisingly, nothing bad.¡± Lena shrugged. ¡°It doesn¡¯t involve the destruction, domination, or slaughter of the world, and salvation is the side effect of them solving a puzzle that interests them.¡±


    ¡°Salvation? A puzzle? Lena, give me specifics.¡±


    ¡°I am giving you as much information as I¡¯m allowed to, dumbass.¡±


    ¡°Hey! Go to your tent!¡±


    They laughed, sharing a moment of fun.


    ¡°There are forces dangerous to everyone. The skinwalkers don¡¯t care about them, but those bastards are in the way.¡± Lena chuckled, the corners of her lips pulled back to her ears, giving her a maniacal look. ¡°I don¡¯t mind them flipping the bird, if you get my drift.¡±


    ¡°Not that strong on the modern jargon,¡± Martyshkina admitted.


    ¡°Ugh. Go visit the Net or something, you old fossil,¡± Lena said. ¡°Anyway, it isn¡¯t relevant. My attempt to save you is their way of rewarding you.¡±


    ¡°Wait!¡± Martyshkina cried. ¡°Will I¡­ will I see you again, Lena?¡±


    ¡°Already said, I am not her.¡±


    ¡°As if I care!¡±


    ¡°Stubborn fool. No idea,¡± Lena admitted. ¡°It didn¡¯t give me this much information. For the love of the Spirits, don¡¯t you even think about approaching it later and trying to reason with it. I don¡¯t exist unless it wants me to. Enough distractions.¡± A heavy paw in the past gripped her neck, and the skinwalker dragged the barely conscious Martyshkina to her snout. ¡°Listen to me. We don¡¯t hate you. And you are so much stronger than you know, Mom. Hold on. The dawn is coming; don¡¯t you dare give up.¡±


    ¡°Never,¡± Martyshkina spat blood through her clenched fangs. ¡°Sure, I had a few foibles, but I intend to live until death can catch up with me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s my mom.¡± Lena patted her. ¡°I love you.¡±


    Despite the pain and agony of growing older and younger at irregular intervals, Martyshkina felt grateful to the Horde shaman. He had unwittingly given her an incredible gift. She remembered the faces of her cubs once more and burned their features into her memory, eagerly inhaling every scent she could while talking to Lena.

 Chapter 151: Steel Fall

    The glaive pierced Onyxia in the chest. There was no blood; the intense vibrations created by the disruption field around the edge had seen to that, and black, white, and red mist drifted away from the warlord. She never gasped; she never cried any last order. Anji froze, shocked to the core at the impossibility of what had happened, but her master never wavered, not even in the face of death. Her arms, spasming and convulsing, closed around a small recess in the glaive¡¯s haft and stabbed, one final time. The generator creating the field hissed and exploded, and Onyxia remained skewered on Iron Lord¡¯s weapon.


    Dead. Her icon went dark.


    Anji rushed at Iron Lord. The khan had paid dearly for this feat. He lost his right arm to the shoulder, and the jagged edges of steel covered its feeble stump. She had emptied her shardgun and eighteen spare magazines into his bulk, covering him in gashes and disabling his ranged weapons as Onyxia eradicated the tendrils. He bled from gashes, and his steed lay on its side, dead or dying. Deep gouges covered his neck and helmet.


    It didn¡¯t matter to her. She ducked under his kick that sent debris flying across the width of the square. Her claws scratched his leg, and she hooked onto his knee, trying to climb up to his mangled arm and burrow into the wound. Warlord. Onyxia. Leader. Iron Lord thrust his own ruined shoulder into her, and the torn edges of his suit scraped her armor, tossing the wolf hag back.


    You are Anji? The shadow had asked back then, walking past the rank of the fresh cubs assigned to the pack. The merciful girl?


    Yes, mistress! Anji had replied, heart beating, and a paw patted her on the chin.


    The title is warlord, little one. The shadow¡¯s lazy glance had silenced the giggling. No worries. You¡¯ll learn. Do you regret it? Going easy on that girl?


    Uhm¡­ No, m¡­ warlord! I¡¯d do the same even today.


    Good. Never regret a proper deed. The lot! The scary shadow had addressed the group. Welcome to your second den; you¡¯re going to love it here. We do things differently in the Onyxia Pack. Anji got the gist of it, so I will explain it to the rest of you pipsqueaks. No mutilations. We ain¡¯t following Terrific, Ygrite, or Alpha¡¯s examples here. You want a domination duel; you drag your ass to your wolf hag and ask her to supervise it, understood? Anyone who dares to claw out an eye, bite off a pinky, or even pull a tooth out of a rival¡¯s jaw will answer to me. See how the scouts cringe? Ask them if there are scarier things than pain. Next, male, female, I don¡¯t give a damn. Everyone eats their fill. I didn¡¯t bust my ass helping build the Reclamation Army for you dolts to go hungry. If any shaman assigns you the famine trial, you report to me, and I solve it. The word diet does not exist in my pack. Don¡¯t like my methods? Challenge me.


    A diagonal slash of the glaive caught the top of Anji¡¯s head hard enough to knock her off her feet and send her spinning. Her neck nearly snapped despite the kinetic dissipator; her white helmet shattered. She still stabbed at the massive fingers, striking between the segments, to no avail. She landed and rolled aside, feeling the tremors of the missed blade rolling underfoot. If that field were still on¡­


    ¡°First, the queen,¡± Iron Lord said in a distorted voice filled with white noise. Onyxia lay on the ground, her spine severed, but her limbs closed over her like spider legs. ¡°Then her spawn¡­¡±


    Another swing sent Anji into retreat. She wasn¡¯t close to the warlord. No one could boast of such a relationship. Even after she had grown to be the strongest wolf hag, Onyxia had remained a distant figure, barging in and out of the pack¡¯s activities. The warlord had been solving the most pressing matters and insisted on her wolf hags teaching on their own. This may have contributed to their pack being the first to form a brotherhood alongside its sisterhood. They had to work together not to be outshined by others, and if that meant relying on the males or even listening to their expertise, then the wolf hags and scouts couldn''t care less. She had taught them the value of limiting violence and precise strikes and the benefits of mercy and cooperation, surprising Anji, who had expected to be ridiculed for her timid personality.


    Onyxia had been a pillar, a figure on whom they could fall back on during a crisis. She willingly listened to any complaints, settled serious disputes, straightened out the rowdiest girls, and most importantly, she was there when it mattered. No Wolfkin had to fear an ambush, for the shadow warlord would step from outside the field of their vision, assume command, and slay the rising threat with an iron fist. Even her fame as one of the First Generation wasn¡¯t valued as highly as this quality. They had become a family, and she had been a cementing factor.


    That no longer existed.


    What can I do? She was faster than Iron Lord, even with four broken ribs and a plethora of bruises. The khan thrust his glaive, and she tried to claw at his fingers as he swung his weapon, sending her tumbling. Her speed mattered little; Iron Lord had an eternity of battle experience over her, and even one-handed, the reach of his glaive negated any advantage.


    Hiding behind a slab of stone, she calmed her breath and darted to the left as his leg broke through her cover. Okay, he is slower than me. Two, he is noisy. She lured the big guy into a small forest of slabs that had bulged during their fight. Iron Lord crashed through the front row, and she circled around him, planning to jump at his back, tracking his location by sound alone. She stepped back; the tip of his blade scraped across her breastplate as he turned. It doesn¡¯t help one bit. Not that big of a difference between us. He is bleeding. Can I keep him here long enough? Think, think, what can I do to kill him?


    Iron Lord and she disregarded the most obvious of choices. Retreat and find an armor-piercing firearm or heal your injuries. He wanted to finish her; she could taste that much in his swings, which carefully funneled her into a single line, not letting her escape his sight. Anji wasn¡¯t sure why she persisted. It was stupid, reckless, ineffective, and ignored what Onyxia had taught them... but she could not let the warlord go unavenged.


    ¡°This¡­¡± Iron Lord burst into a run, surprising her with how quickly he had closed the distance, the shadow of his blade upon her. ¡°¡­the end!¡±


    Suddenly, a cannonball of fury crashed into his helmet from the right, tilting the man to the left. The drills had taken their toll, and Anji charged, slashing at the man¡¯s groin and shoving a paw into the hissing sparks opening in his belly. He kicked with his knee, and she dodged the blow, slipping between his legs to find herself nose to nose with Kalaisa.


    ¡°S¡¯up, Anj!¡± Kalaisa laughed. ¡°You seemed to be in a pinch, and I decided to prove that you were not alone. Where is¡­¡± She fell silent, noticing Onyxia¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Together.¡± Anji said, bending her knees.


    ¡°Ahead,¡± Kalaisa confirmed.


    ¡°How many of you vultures are there?¡± They darted to the opposite sides from his swing. ¡°Step forth and be done for!¡±


    ¡°You claimed to be a leader!¡± Anji taunted, recalling the tricks Kalaisa had taught her from Ygrite¡¯s teachings. An enraged enemy was dangerous because of the adrenaline release, but such an individual was also predictable. ¡°Yet here you are standing alone; everyone has abandoned you! Some boss you are, loser!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve had enough of your insolence and interruptions, flea.¡± Iron Lord spun his weapon, preparing to stab her as she disappeared behind a slab. ¡°I alone am enough for any number of you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure! Keep coping! You are alone! All alone! No one by your side!¡±


    His blade pierced the empty space as Anji stopped, watching through Kalaisa¡¯s lenses. Her friend, uncharacteristically silent, tensed her body and launched herself with a precision worthy of the best wolf hags of Onyxia¡¯s pack. Her claws tattered the plate of Iron Lord¡¯s helmet, and she leapt over him as he sliced back. Anji broke through the cover and made the distance to the Khan in a single leap, sinking her claws into his neck and bouncing off him to save herself as his hand moved.


    They hunted him, leaping and retreating, slashing once and hiding among the rubble, calling and jeering. Onyxia and Ygrite¡¯s styles blended in Anji and her friend. Looking through each other¡¯s lenses, they calculated a trajectory, slowly driving that mound of metal back into the open. Neither rushed, aiming their attacks at his gorget and helmet, weakening him to reach the human inside, their legs sending them flying faster than bullets.


    Iron Lord was a step away from reaching the relatively smooth surface when Anji landed on his shoulder and grabbed the side of his helmet, jerking it up with a single titanic effort. Already weakened by her warlord and their assaults, the gorget snapped, ripping muscle fibers and cords, and the helmet was flung aside.


    A slash drove her off the shoulder, giving her the ample opportunity to see Iron Lord for the first time. His wrinkled, parchment-like skin had a brown color, paled by the decades of lightless existence. Gray hair framed a head that was ridiculously tiny compared to his suit. Yellow almost swallowed the whiteness of his eyes, and she noticed the gleam of steel teeth through his lips, pursed with age. Wires ran the length of his face, penetrating the skin around his jaw, temples, and the top of his skull. Iron Lord was intubated at both corners of his mouth and in his nostrils.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    The glaive slashed across the ground, drawing an entirely new trench, and a wall of dust and stones neared Anji. She was about to run when Kalaisa faced the coming blow, stepped on the blade, and wrapped her arms around the haft.


    ¡°Now, Anj! Finish it!¡± She yelled.


    ¡°Impudent¡­¡± Iron Lord said in a wheezing, weak voice, but fury raged in his brown eyes. The rage changed to concern as Anji jumped, aiming her claws at his head. ¡°Don¡¯t underestimate me!¡±


    He let go of his trapped weapon and punched. Anji raised her forearms, hearing the crunch of metal and the crack of her own bones. Simultaneously, she swung her legs, reaching for Iron Lord¡¯s head with the tips of her toes. Claws flashed, and he roared as she was fired back like an artillery shell. She plowed a line into the stone, groaning in pain; her little and middle fingers refused to listen, but she also giggled through it all.


    The eyes. Two bloody lines ran down from the two holes on the khan¡¯s face as he stumbled back, the glaive summoned back into his hand by a magnetic mechanism in his gauntlet. The man swung around blindly, forming a small whirlwind as the wolf hags crept after him with renewed vigor, drooling with anticipation as the ancient urges took over. They crippled their prey, weakening and softening it. Now they had to cut it down, and then they could feast.


    Anji snapped out of this state first. Pay attention to your surroundings. The dunes stretch evenly to the horizon, so why is there an even patch? Onyxia had said when Anji had failed her first field test, failing to spot a minefield planted by raiders. The black dots on Iron Lord¡¯s body shifted. She couldn¡¯t find a better word for that. They remained visibly the same, the black spots, but she could¡¯ve sworn that they had changed position, barely.


    ¡°Kalaisa, back!¡± Anji grabbed the wolf hag by the shoulder.


    The glaive¡¯s blade shot upward, connected to the haft just by a long chain. Iron Lord struck Kalaisa, reaching her with the tip of his blade and cleaving through her side. Anji¡¯s yank saved her friend¡¯s ribs, but the khan closed the distance as the coils of his chain began to close around the wolf hag¡¯s leg. The two barely made it to safety before the chain links the size of their arms closed, crushing a nearby boulder to dust.


    ¡°Your victory has been taken from you!¡± Iron Lord laughed, spinning his weapon and bombarding the area with his blade. The chain, the edge, his every move was capable of shattering bones, and the Wolfkins fled back to the ruined part of the square.


    It was no longer a suitable cover. He followed them, leveling everything.


    ¡°How is he seeing us?¡± Kalaisa gasped, trying to get in touch with Command. She looked around.


    ¡°Cameras. Those black thingies on him are cameras,¡± Anji cursed, feverishly trying to come up with something and failing. There was no longer any gap in Iron Lord¡¯s movements. A wall of death surrounded him. They lacked Onyxia¡¯s precision, and every missed attack would result in a limb being trapped inside a link chain. ¡°We can¡¯t bleed him out. I took the bastard¡¯s eyes out; Warlord Onyxia had severed his arm¡­ A Normie would¡¯ve already keeled over! You have a gun or a grenade? Anything?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I used up all my ammo on the way here. What, you thought I was so reckless that I would go into the melee if I still had a shardgun on me?¡± Kalaisa snapped from her pain and turned to Anji.


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    ¡°Realized it, mutants?¡± The khan¡¯s cackling laughter reached them. ¡°You take your gifts for granted, fools! But we invent; we think of ways to overcome the limitations of our flesh, and no parlor trick is beneath us! The day will come when your kind will no longer look down upon us humans! We will match and surpass you! Stand and perish!¡±


    ¡°Warlord¡­¡± Kalaisa drew a word. ¡°Ygrite. Please. I need you. We can¡¯t win, not on our own¡­¡± Her plea added to the towering invader¡¯s confidence.


    ¡°Kalaisa.¡± Anji gulped. ¡°I will hold him back. You run.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Idiot! I thought you wanted to have cubs!¡±


    ¡°You want the same!¡±


    ¡°But we can¡¯t¡­¡± The helmet closed around Kalaisa¡¯s head, and she broke free.


    ¡°Trust me, Anj. We aren¡¯t done yet. Let me lead!¡± Kalaisa said on the secure channel and ran. Anji followed, unsure what wild idea went through her mind.


    They abandoned the square for the partially destroyed skyscraper and broke into the main hall through the windows. Elevators no longer worked; half the place had been demolished by the shelling, but the tower still stood like a sore thumb, bravely defying the Gilded Horde¡¯s attempts to topple it. Glass crunched under their feet; the wolf hags spread around the hall, and Kalaisa tore an ATM off the wall, looking around and clicking her tongue in weird satisfaction. Accompanied by the shattered glass, Iron Lord charged in.


    He swatted aside the tossed ATM, hurling the glaive blade at Kalaisa, and she bent backward, letting it fly over herself. The glaive¡¯s end pierced through the series of walls.


    ¡°From the rear!¡± Kalaisa demanded loudly.


    Anji obeyed, not quite understanding what was going on. Kalaisa acted smugly all of a sudden, watching through her lenses but focusing more on the building than on their enemy. She closed in on the khan¡¯s back and heard the grinding of his servomotors as the suit rotated.


    Dragging the blade on the chain in a circle.


    ¡°Duck!¡± Kalaisa commanded, and Anji obeyed, chuckling to herself as the chain passed overhead. ¡°Love tricks, idiot? This one¡¯s a killer!¡±


    It bisected the walls, the supporting beams, and utterly ruined the first floor. Not waiting for the order, the wolf hag scrambled, hurrying to the exit as the skyscraper gave up at last and came tumbling down, its weight on the khan standing in the middle of the first floor. Iron Lord screamed in both denial and fury, throwing up a hand as the tons of stone poured down on his very normal head.


    The forty-story building folded in on itself with the thunderous crash, sending every piece of rubble, every corpse, and every destroyed vehicle nearby jumping. It leaned, collapsing as it fell, sending waves of debris in all directions, carrying Anji to a platform overlooking the plaza. She sealed the armor, not in the least threatened by the shards of glass and jagged concrete. Her main concern was not to get buried under excessive weight, and the wolf hag swam to the surface, trying to locate that crazy lass.


    They both ended up ¡®spilled¡¯ right back onto the square; the platform collapsed onto the garage level, and the two women looked at each other, their hearts beating madly. The ground was still shaking, and a cloud of dust covered them, but the two burst into laughter.


    ¡°This time I didn¡¯t lose track of my surroundings and used my head! Take that, Ygrite, Onyxia¡­ sorry,¡± Kalaisa added quieter, and Anji lifted her arms above her head through her grief. Their paws slapped together with metallic noise.


    ¡°She would be proud of you, Kali,¡± Anji said.


    ¡°And of you, and of you!¡± Kalaisa nodded.


    ¡°So that cry of yours to Ygrite was¡­¡±


    ¡°Totally fake,¡± Kalaisa snickered. ¡°She never comes when we call. We owned the bastard! He is¡­ Wait.¡± She stood up.


    ¡°What are you worrying about¡­¡± A jolt of understanding widened her eyes, and Anji sprang to her feet.


    Iron Lord is stronger than us. By far. He killed a warlord. So where the heck is our reward? The shamans said we hadn¡¯t reached our potential yet, and they were never wrong.


    The pile of the collapsed skyscraper moved, shoving aside the buried cars, and a hand broke to the surface, clearing the rubble so that Iron Lord could stand. His face was scarred and wounded, the skin cut from his forehead flapping, a shard of glass in his cheek, but the man was very much alive. He straightened, finding them, and the chain began going back into his glaive.


    ¡°By the Spirits¡¯ left butt cheek, what does it take to send that bastard into the Abyss?¡± Kalaisa cursed, and they ran at him, desperate to finish him off before he could get out of the rubble and regain his mobility.


    He swung at Anji¡¯s shoulder. Kalaisa stopped the blow, catching it and cursing as the edge nicked her foreleg. She gritted her fangs, holding the weapon, and Anji jumped, stabbing at Iron Lord¡¯s face. He let go of his glaive, closing the fist for a punch, and Kalaisa rammed the weapon¡¯s butt up, using it to halt the arm. There was no cry of fear or surprise; the khan fought to the last to break free and survive.


    But the stab went through, and his head exploded in a splash of gore. Iron Lord, the right hand of Mad Hatter, had died alone and trapped in the emptied Houstad.


    Anji bounced off him and landed next to Kalaisa as the changes gripped their bodies. It wasn¡¯t the usual surge; waves rippled through their flesh, violently pushing away the plates of armor to make room for the enlarged mass of muscle. They both fell to their knees, panting, their stomachs sinking, and the reward was still ongoing, prying the boots away, forcing their fingers through the gauntlets, and devouring the calories to sustain the ascension.


    This change wasn¡¯t anywhere close to what they had experienced before. Kalaisa growled, her lips cracked and stretched to the ears, baring fangs. Anji nearly bit off her own tongue as new vertebrae formed. Her fangs clanked intensely, and she clutched her head, rolling from the pain in her chest. Her heart was reshaping itself, gaining additional chambers, nerves burning, eyes seeing with unusual clarity. Next to her, Kalaisa headbutted the ground, suffering from her own transformations.


    In the end, both could barely stand, weakly rising to their knees. They didn¡¯t ask anything, but Anji¡¯s ears picked up the boots.


    ¡°Damn it all. Is there no end to them?¡± She groaned as the hordemen moved onto the square. Their leader said something into his helmet and drew two curved swords.


    ¡°The upstart is dead!¡± The hordeman cheered. ¡°Hail Brood Lord Khan!¡±


    ¡°Hail Brood Lord Khan!¡± His crowd bellowed.


    ¡°Anji, I will take a hundred on the left; you deal with fifty on the right,¡± Kalaisa said, wiping away drool.


    ¡°What am I, a cub? You take the fifty on the left and I take the hundred!¡±


    ¡°I order you¡­¡±


    ¡°I am the same rank as you!¡±


    ¡°Want to do it right now?¡±


    Their heads bumped, and Anji found herself snarling, almost surrendering to instinct. Something primal, unknown, and ancient in her told her to reassert her authority or lose trying. Against her will, the claws flashed, and Kalaisa responded in kind. Then they stopped, chuckled, and turned to face the impossible odds.


    A shake tossed up pebbles on the ruined square as a figure as large as they landed, stirring the hordemen. Warlord Ygrite knelt near Onyxia, clearing the woman off the dust, and scooped her into his arms. The streaks of darkness still seeped from the joints, but the systems reported no life signs in Onyxia¡¯s body, and her limbs were in rigor mortis, confusing Anji. She was about to say something when a message popped up on her HUD.


    Do nothing. And I intervene when it matters, Kalaisa. Not my fault you do not call more often.


    ¡°My sister,¡± Ygrite said. Gashes opened around her armor, and fangs, still colored red, pushed their way ahead. They grew on her arms, her back, and even her legs, piercing their way to freedom in an ugly manner, their tips covered in torn skin and fur. ¡°You took her from me. I challenge you to a duel.¡±


    ¡°A duel, huh?¡± The hordeman tossed his sword up and caught it. ¡°Not feeling that. Crawl and beg me for mercy. Then maybe we¡¯ll give you a quick end.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you do this small favor for me?¡± Ygrite whimpered, pressing Onyxia tighter to her chest and cradling her as the hordemen laughed, enjoying and mocking her weakness. Anji tapped Kalaisa¡¯s finger, silently reassuring her, and offered to look through her lenses. Shadows moved outside the square, and Kalaisa smiled wearily and fell onto her back. ¡°You don¡¯t know what you did. She was the first, my sister, my blood, our protector. To send her off without a proper send-off is¡­ Butcher them already!¡±


    Shots erupted from the ruins around the hordemen, driving them back. Their leader managed to block the shards with his sword, but the warlord was already upon him, bringing the fanged fist to his chest. Her lower jaw split in two, opening the hungry maw that closed around his head.

 Chapter 152: Time, Fire and Life

    Dalantai laughed triumphantly; his voice carried far along the wall. He ignored Brood Lord¡¯s summon. He was no lowly servant to run and cling to his leg like a calf. If the khan was unable to put down a single obstacle, that was his problem. He paid no attention to the soldiers firing at him from the ruined buildings or to a nearby duel, reveling in the twitching of the one destined to end him.


    He had won! He faced his fate and overcame it! Terror had filled his veins when he had noticed the brightening image of the black-headed white bird on the artillery, for in his visions, following a blinding light, that creature had torn him to pieces. Night after night he had groaned, tormented by the same outcome, no matter how hard he tried to untangle the threads of fate. It all led to the same conclusion: this damned city would be his end.


    But it was over! That explosion that had ravaged the battlement must have been the light, but he refused to cower and reverted the tide of time, proving his worth to the Sky. His doom was sealed, trapped in the inescapable time loop and subjected to experiencing the punishment everlasting. Victory!


    No obstacle remained. Dalantai eagerly awaited the return of his future sight to chart the proper course for the Gilded Horde¡¯s utter supremacy. The figure inside the cocoon disintegrated and reassembled, growing younger and then older, never knowing rest as the wounds on her body kept reopening. As amusing as it was, he had never enjoyed senseless cruelty, but today was a bloody day, a memorable day demanding a touch of horror to prove the Sky¡¯s superiority.


    ¡°Heathens! Mislead! Unbelievers!¡± Dalantai roared proudly, using spatial control to send the sound of his voice into the ears of the defenders. Bullets and energy beams formed a rainbow wall before him, frozen forever in the solidified space. ¡°Fall to your knees!¡±


    He pointed a talon, and a dozen defenders shouted their last cry as the time loops closed around them. Unlike with the raven, he had shown mercy. They¡¯ll be stuck in this earthly hell until dusk, but not beyond. A single step carried him through a hundred meters, and he reappeared on the road behind the furred beasts and oblivious, unblessed.


    ¡°Abandon your superstitions and embrace the Sky¡¯s guidance!¡± They didn¡¯t heed his sermon and fired at him, but a panic grenade explosion merely hurt their own. ¡°See how the one true god protects his faithful! Your champion has fallen!¡± He swiped his hand, compressing the distance between his talons and the rabble. Gurgles and screams followed as he tore at throats, lungs, arms, and everything else. The crowd surged away. ¡°Do not run! There is no salvation in flight; there is no future in resistance! Get down on your knees and repent! The Sky is a strict father, but His methods are just! Join me as brothers and sisters, and I shall enlighten and guide you to a better future!¡±


    He no longer harbored even the slightest irritation at noticing a shaman wearing a symbol of the Planet. A day ago, it would have sent him into a foaming rage, but after facing and changing his future, he understood the childishness and unworthiness of his old ways. Nothing would please the Sky more than to see a former heathen learn the truth and join the flock.


    ¡°Yessss¡­.¡± Dalantai purred in revelation. Cruelty served to make a point, but to bring peace, he had to eradicate the delusions properly. How foolish he had been to torture and invert the shamanic false preachers when integrating them into the priesthood would have brought the desired change sooner and less painfully.


    Laser rays fizzled out, failing to reach him; with a single wave of his arm, a charging tank appeared half a kilometer above the city and fell on the snipers perched on a rooftop. He stepped, tensing to overcome a resistance, and the head of a crawling doggie ten paces from him burst. A rocket exploded at his legs, but the blast scattered the defenders without harming him in the slightest.


    ¡°Misguided! Pitiful and lost souls!¡± Tears ran down his cheeks. ¡°It pains me to end your existence! Like you, I wasn¡¯t perfect, but I swear, if you will only accept the breeze of truth, the loving touch of our Father, I will introduce you to his kinder side. Every person is assigned their role. Yours¡­¡± He pointed at the shaman, and the mist of the future dissipated, granting him a vision of the bloodied man dying. ¡°¡­is to die here. But it need not be so. Embrace me as a brother, and I will change it! Together, we will bring peace!¡±


    ¡°Peace?¡± The shaman reloaded his gun. ¡°You have brought devastation and slavery to these lands. By your deeds, we know you! I¡¯d sooner die than betray¡­¡± His speech ended in a wheezing as Dalantai¡¯s fist closed around the empty space. He clenched his fingers, breaking the windpipe, and the shaman spat red.


    ¡°Then so be it.¡± Dalantai nodded graciously, walking to the retreating soldiers.


    They hurried into a tunnel leading underground, the silly fools. Was it truly so hard for them to understand that he wished no harm to them? If they would just obey, then nothing would happen to them. As any good gardener, he had to be stern to root out superstitions. It didn¡¯t bring him any joy besides the righteous indignation, and even that he had discarded. But war had many faces, and as the chosen savior, he had to be stern in his hand and strong in his convictions. Otherwise, what were the sacrifices for?


    He will scour the opposition from beneath Houstad and bring them back to the surface to face the light.


    Time touched the closed bunker door, and it rusted enough for him to kick it in. He stepped inside, and wires stretching the length of the corridor turned to tatters as safety pins reappeared in grenades. Planted explosives didn¡¯t go off; their expiration date had long passed. A single cut brought down four turrets. Dalantai passed through the long corridor, raising an eyebrow in surprise that the heathens had escaped so far already. No brave trooper tried to bar his path, and no champion tried to end him. Their footsteps echoed through the corridor, fading as he descended.


    In the pitch darkness, he walked, growing more curious and less worried about traps. Nothing could kill him anymore. He entered a spacious room and found the escaped group lying unconscious on the floor next to a man and a woman in blue and green medical robes. Dalantai walked cautiously around them, sniffing the air for poison, but then he noticed dark darts in the back of their necks. His curiosity piqued, he looked around.


    This was a place allocated for healing; Dalantai was sure of it. Pungent smells of drugs, blood, used bandages, extracted bullets and shrapnel, instruments in sinks, mechanical devices hanging from the ceiling, and even removed limbs in rather crude bowls proved it beyond doubt. Yet there was a single patient here, a badly wounded woman whose breathing grew weaker by the second. The tracks leading to another corridor proved that the rest of the patients had been wheeled to safety.


    He stepped beside the patient, examining her open belly. A bondsman, not carrying a single trace of divinity in her regular veins. Most likely injured in the first hour of battle, a shell or piece of one had impaled her, destroying her stomach, damaging her lungs, and shattering her spine. Even the tubes in her mouth did little to provide the woman with oxygen, and if it weren¡¯t for a variety of medical devices attached to her body, she would have been dead long ago.


    What a waste. He considered, wondering why the locals would try so hard to save an ordinary person. He drew a hand over her injuries, reversing time, and the bloody lips trembled, stretching toward each other as the missing organs reformed. The soldier gasped and opened her eyes to his calm beak.


    ¡°You were saved by the Sky¡¯s grace.¡± He took her by the throat and held her lightly on the bed. He gave her a moment to concentrate, feeling her pulse quicken under his grip. ¡°Your city has fallen, your comrades have lost, and I have come to judge you. Tell me, do you wish to repent and denounce your false rulers after your salvation?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d rather die,¡± the soldier spat at him.


    ¡°A pity.¡± He let go of her, and the time loop popped into reality around her. She twisted and contorted, trying to escape the reality where the wound in her stomach opened and closed. ¡°I was hoping you¡¯d be more reasonable. Perhaps your friends will see the truth upon witnessing my miracle and the punishment you have brought upon yourself.¡±


    ¡°Step away from the patient.¡± Dalantai heard a deep, pleasant voice.


    Orange light danced in the dark corridor, sending Dalantai¡¯s shadow hiding behind him. The priest obliged the request and returned to the entrance, not out of fear, but emboldened by amusement. A figure wreathed in flames was approaching the surgery chamber, and through the going-up-and-down crackling leaves, he had noticed a blue robe trimmed with gold and the emblem of a coiled golden serpent eating its own tail. Dalantai saw his face when the fire parted briefly as the man removed the robe, reducing it to ashes.


    His hair and short mustache were black as coal, accentuating the tanned skin and perfect, chiseled patrician features. Rings covered his fingers; under the robe, the man wore a silken white shirt and a short red cape, flamboyantly thrown over one shoulder. The man¡¯s approach raised the temperature, drying Dalantai¡¯s skin, but had no effect on the sleeping humans. As he stepped inside, the fiery tongues spread across the room, closing protectively over the group and pointing their tips at the priest.


    It didn¡¯t bother him. Another deluded imbecile who had caught a whiff of the divine and now dreamed about challenging the Sky¡¯s chosen conduit in this realm. A simple exertion of will surrounded Dalantai in the pleasant breeze of his home.


    ¡°And who are you, little candle?¡± Dalantai asked.


    The newcomer didn¡¯t answer, stopping near the patient. He let him see what fate awaited those resisting the providence. As he was about to ask the blessed if he would submit, the man thrust his arm into the murky cocoon of the time loop, and Dalantai sighed. Too bad. He will be trapped as well¡­


    But it didn¡¯t happen. The arm glowed the same bright orange as the disks of the man¡¯s eyes. Energy coursed through his body, dissipating the cocoon that tried to consume him and integrate him into the loop. The quivering, barely visible walls of time shook and burst, dissolving into nothing as the soldier screamed, arching her back from the intense pain. Unharmed. Brought back to the present.


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    The man produced a black dart from a pocket and jabbed it into the soldier¡¯s neck, while his flames harmlessly touched her, without so much as a reddish stain. She slumped, closing her eyes.


    ¡°Remove their memories of the last ten minutes,¡± the flaming man said to no one. ¡°No, no elimination. No patient dies on my table. I don¡¯t care; we don¡¯t do that. Not my methods. Would you really do that? Yes, there are mutants among them. Don¡¯t dodge the question. Would you do that? Then what is there to argue about? We are of the same mind! Thanks, honey, you¡¯re the best. I¡¯ll make it up to you. Only four? Come on. Don¡¯t leave me dry like¡­ Yes, let¡¯s use the concussions for the legend.¡±


    ¡°How did you do it?¡± Dalantai demanded, narrowing his eyes. Only the khatun had ever broken free of his time manipulation. Nothing, neither nukes nor plasma, had ever harmed the prisoners of his power, let alone freed them.


    There was no fear. He had transcended death.


    ¡°Sweetie, let¡¯s postpone discussing the details. I have to incinerate an undesirable. Kiss you. Me too.¡± The man, enveloped in flames, clicked his fingers and turned to Dalantai. ¡°Has no one ever told you that all women are goddesses and must be treated with befitting respect?¡±


    ¡°I give respect for the deeds performed, not based on gender or lineage.¡± Dalantai said.


    ¡°No wonder you have the savage appearance of a freak.¡± Smiled the burning man. ¡°Slavery aside, your kind is riddled with treachery and barbarism to the core. What part of your marauding through my city deserves respect? Should I be impressed by your torture of a helpless woman? Bah. The fairer sex is the reason for the continued existence of our species. That¡¯s far more impressive than any act of cruelty perpetrated by your rabble. The least we can do to honor their gracious gifts is to give them the reverence they so richly merit.¡±


    ¡°How courteous of you. Your name, my opinionated outlander,¡± Dalantai demanded.


    ¡°I bear many titles and monikers, but to you I offer none. For what good is knowledge to a corpse?¡± He began lifting his hand.


    Dalantai was faster. The flaming tongues tried to spear him and got tangled in the expanded space, as the distance between them had grown to a hundred kilometers, while visually it remained the same. The talon pointed at the narrow channel of unchanged space, causing both the flames and the man to freeze, trapped at that moment. His flaming tongues no longer danced or radiated heat. They became solid. He didn¡¯t breathe, and even the light no longer left his form, and darkness returned. This wasn¡¯t the reversal of time; Dalantai had stopped all activity in the arrogant heretic¡¯s body, rendering him immune to aging. He will stand here for thousands of years, imprisoned in eternal stasis. Another tangible proof of the Sky¡¯s superiority.


    Suddenly, Dalantai heard a crackle of flame, and the solidity shattered as reality itself unraveled. The newcomer resumed his movements, pointing his palm at the priest, and a bright blue dot shone in the middle of it.


    ¡°Taste the glimmer of a star pulse, you ugly, distasteful, subhuman pest.¡±


    A flash erupted from the palm, startling Dalantai as it approached him, crossing the kilometers he had constructed in the blink of an eye. He hastily increased the distance, pushing his spatial control to the limit, putting thousands of kilometers between himself and the attacker. The blue light advanced, consuming all in its path, and the priest froze the air itself, using his control of time to create an impregnable obstacle, performing the same miracle he had done with the khatun¡¯s scimitars. His manipulation of time had many applications, and if he wished, he could construct a shield strong enough to withstand anything. Once stopped, he planned to blanket the unusual energy, reverting it back to the point of origin.


    It didn¡¯t work. His protection and his will on reality faltered, and the blue wave hit his body, carrying him through the walls and plowing him to the solid ground. Only his last-ditch effort to put his core into stasis, essentially immobilizing himself, had saved Dalantai from being vaporized by the intense heat that steamed the surroundings and pushed him back to the surface. He spun in the air, undoing the seal as the heat disappeared. He shortened the distance to the street to remain high above the black hole leading into the underground.


    The flame was there, an orange, dancing fire. It slowly diminished, heading into the corridor and not pursuing the priest. Dalantai prepared to leap and face it, fully intent on overcoming this challenge. However, abruptly, a white light pierced the smoke-filled heavens, tingling him with an unexplained fear.


    ****


    Halina panted as she struggled to drag the three bodies through the broken gates of the orphanage. T, the clone T, had fainted and collapsed midway through the journey, and she cursed under her breath, sweating profusely as she had to switch between the wounded, moving first one and then another with her single working hand. It took her nearly two hours to reach the destination.


    ¡°You better run, kiddo. You did all you could.¡± Mark coughed, using an arm to help move herself as much as she could. ¡°We¡¯ll¡­ catch up.¡±


    ¡°Uh-huh.¡± Halina snorted.


    Mark¡¯s knee had been pierced by a piece of stone, and the woman was dangerously pale. Halina had used both Mark¡¯s and the officer¡¯s belts to fashion tourniquets, but that had been a while ago, and the blood was still seeping. Even with her limited medical training, she knew that a tourniquet couldn¡¯t be left on for that long without risking amputation.


    Not that it matters, dummy! She chastised herself. Dirt, dust, smog, soot, whatever chemicals lingered in the air¡­ Yeah, none of her group were getting out of it without losing more of their parts. But they¡¯ll survive! They had to. What are you looking at?! She flipped a bird at the horrid, lacerated statue of a nameless girl, the supposed victim whom the state had failed to save. The crafted bloodshot eyes sent goosebumps all over her as she imagined them trailing the group. Halina instantly believed in T¡¯s stories about how this mess stepped down during the nights and haunted the corridors in search of careless children to rip apart and replace its missing flesh.


    ¡°Jay told me that there is a medical room in the orphanage,¡± Halina said kindly, almost dropping from exhaustion. Her broken arm hurt. Badly, but it helped the girl stay conscious. Just twenty meters until the entrance. She will do it. ¡°Dad taught me the basics; I should be able to keep you alive. We are getting out of here together!¡±


    ¡°Not a person worth wasting your efforts on.¡± Mark licked her lips, blinking. ¡°Take the officer, he seems like a decent fellow, and escape.¡±


    ¡°No one is going to be left behind!¡± Halina said strictly. She sat, giving her legs a moment to rest. ¡°Your orange robe¡­ Are you a criminal?¡±


    ¡°Yep. All the more reason for you to drop me.¡±


    ¡°What did you do?¡± Halina asked.


    ¡°Shivved a girl. Around your age,¡± Mark answered, looking up.


    ¡°What? Why would you do that?! Did she attack you¡­¡±


    ¡°Planet, no.¡± Mark spat. ¡°We were robbing a gas station; everything went smoothly, the cashier hadn¡¯t noticed anything, and we were skittering back to the car when that girl¡­ Mina¡­ came round a corner. My power screamed a warning that Mina would tell the green hides that she saw us, and the next thing I knew, I was stabbing her in the chest. It was a spontaneous decision; I didn¡¯t think I¡­ didn¡¯t think of her. Just about me. But that doesn¡¯t excuse what I did, does it? I fucking killed her over nothing.¡±


    ¡°Her parents must be so sad,¡± Halina said quietly. Then she bit her lower lip and grabbed Mark by her collar, pulling the woman closer to T and the officer. ¡°So you better apologize and tell them how sorry you are.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t work that way, girlie.¡± Mark breathed heavily. ¡°You can¡¯t just say you¡¯re sorry for taking a life.¡±


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s infinitely better than deciding that you can¡¯t change and giving up. Dying is a cheap way out,¡± Halina said vehemently, confused where the anger came from. ¡°There are myriads ways you can help others or simply do good: a soup kitchen work, a charity, an honest job. I don¡¯t know, a cashier or something.¡±


    Her ears perked at the intense shrieking. Mark tried to push Halina away, but the girl froze. The noise increased, shaking the remaining windows of the orphanage. The building trembled; vibrations passed through the fence, and then the top corner of the upper floor disappeared into dust. A human figure flew through it, covered by a tattered brown robe and flanked by the two similar individuals. Their mouths were stretched open, emitting the screeches that speared through the row of buildings on the other side of the street.


    Senselessly and pursuing no goal. They were destroying for fun, and Halina¡¯s heart sank when one of them noticed them, giggled, and pointed a curved finger at them. Monsters. Monsters reigned in Houstad, and there wasn¡¯t anyone to rein them in.


    ¡°Halina, right?¡± Mark hissed. ¡°Run. Now!¡±


    ¡°Want us?!¡± Halina yelled at the flying invaders. Her legs trembled, but she was done abandoning others. As long as there was a hint of life in her, she intended to follow Dad¡¯s example. ¡°Catch me if you can!¡±


    Their mouths widened, half smirking, half inhaling. It was a disgusting sight; the folds of their flesh closed their eyes, and Halina ran to lead them away from the wounded. Three screams combined into one, popping one of her eardrums and making Clone T disappear. The stream of sound crashed into the ground, knocking her off her feet like a rag.


    She flew four steps as the ripples passed through the surface, ruining the tiles. She landed hard, hitting her head and hearing her own skin rip along with her hair. Her broken arm pulsed with agony during the roll and swelled. The girl cried, cursing her helplessness. The sound missed Mark and the officer, but their ears were bleeding, and she herself survived thanks to the statue, which had half of its own torso sheared off, but partially blocked the noise beam.


    ¡°Thank you, friend,¡± Halina laughed through her tears. The statue¡¯s head rolled towards her, its one remaining eye staring at her. ¡°You aren¡¯t useless or scary. Sorry I flipped you off.¡±


    The trio descended, snickering and jeering in the foreign language. She didn¡¯t understand why they wanted to kill her or why such strong people would deliberately hunt down the weak. It seemed so stupid and ridiculous. Why wage war, destroy, and be killed when they all could live in peace together? Why struggle and fight, be afraid for one¡¯s back? Halina wanted to ask them that, but their crazed appearance scared the soul out of her. Her toy slipped out of her pocket and broke into pieces.


    At least I tried. Sorry, Dad. There is no one left to rescue me. The mister was wrong. Halina smiled, wiped tears, and took the broken head, hugging it in search of any comfort. It didn¡¯t seem fair. Just when she had decided to go on, they took everything away. Heroes fought all across the city, and she was just a stupid girl who thought she could save anyone. Worse, she put T and Jay in danger. She deserved it.


    Motes of white fell from above, surprising Halina. It wasn¡¯t winter yet. She let go of the head and reached out, caught a single mote, and it disappeared just out of reach, filling her with wonder. Were these the angelic feathers heralding that she¡¯ll meet Dad soon? The hordemen¡¯s faces stretched, and she didn¡¯t try to dodge, too caught up in the strange phenomena.


    They screamed. And the wave of destruction stopped, blocked by a black-clad figure landing heavily. The sound washed over the cloak of pure void, not disturbing the fabric, let alone tearing it. A ball of light formed around Halina, shielding her from the blast that shattered the statue¡¯s head and sent a puff of dust into the sky. Two silver disks, resembling stars in the night sky, looked at the girl from inside the depths of the dark cowl.


    A black gauntlet appeared from beneath the cloak, moving the side of it and briefly revealing the inverted knee. The sharp fingers barely twitched, but a pillar of pure white rose from below the hordemen, fully covering them. They lingered, briefly, black shapes in the pale stream, and then vanished without a trace.


    ¡°A child on the battlefield?¡± Halina heard a click, as if a bone or a plank of wood struck something. ¡°What are you doing here? Have you been abandoned?¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± The words stuck in her throat. She wanted to bang her fist on his plate, screaming her frustration for not saving Dad, for letting the sister die, for failing her friends. But that wasn¡¯t important right now. ¡°Sir! These people are injured and need immediate medical attention. My friends are missing. They are the same age as me and¡­¡±


    Outsider, the grand commander of the Reclamation Army, the deadliest blade among the Dynast¡¯s servants and the leader of the First, took her in his arms. His cloak was surprisingly soft and warm, and the constant hum of his suit calmed her a little. A light ran over her broken arm, straightening it with a painful crunch. It coalesced around the limb, forming a new sling, and similar shimmering motes covered the soldiers.


    ¡°Take a breath,¡± he said. ¡°You are safe. No harm will come to you or them.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t about me! I can wait!¡± Halina screamed.


    ¡°No, you can¡¯t. The young are ever our priority, for you are to inherit the fruits of our labor.¡±


    ¡°My friends! Everyone! The city! Please save it¡­¡±


    ¡°We will,¡± Outsider assured.


    ¡°We?¡±

 Chapter 153: Making Peace with the Past

    They raged outside the western gates. Clouds of dust and smoke surrounded them, obscuring them as surely as a sandstorm hides the horizon in the Ravaged Lands. Inside, two giant shadows exchanged blows, their strikes flashing like lightnings as they streaked and parted the veil. Pincers and fangs snapped, legs kicked up boulders the size of a Normie, fists struck, and the blade met the axe.


    A glancing slash ripped the helmet from Janine, and the ensuing glare momentarily blinded her. Staying calm, she used one forearm to knock down a pincer before cleaving upward. The Taleteller¡¯s edge dragged over Brood Lord¡¯s bulk, scraping chunks out of his armor and cracking the visor. She blinked and tilted her head to the left, evading the venomous spit. Immediately, a fist slammed into her muzzle, fast enough to prevent her from opening her jaws. It propelled her back, but she grabbed the khan by the wrist, pulling him closer.


    That threw him off balance, and his blade plunged over her shoulder instead of into her neck. Janine closed the distance, kneeing him once, hard enough to dent in the plate and toss him back, right into a horizontal slash. His mechanical leg struck the flat of the axe, stopping the blow, and the second landed at her knee, nearly buckling it. She feigned weakness and elbowed a pincer that tried to throttle her, cracking the top of the chelae.


    Janine resumed her defense, parrying his heavy blows without moving a millimeter, planning to irritate Brood Lord into making a mistake. Today wasn¡¯t a simple fight. She had faced stronger opponents before and had gotten used to the idea of not returning to the pack one day. The marauders and cannibals had to be stopped; there was no question here. But that was also a part of her duty, just as she had to end the Iternians and the Oathtakers during the past wars and border conflicts. There was no real animosity between them; the former were too degenerate to understand their mistakes, and the latter had the same obligations to their nations, and their views of the future clashed.


    This was personal. She wanted to end Brood Lord for what he had done to her family and her pack. His methods disgusted her, and so he had to die. By her paw or another. She lacked reinforcements, and in her weary condition, it wasn¡¯t wise to be overly eager in attacking. The sisters will come. He will never set foot in Houstad.


    Brood Lord advanced, bulldozing Janine with his mass; his front legs trying to close around her neck. She evaded them, sinking the axe deep into his left leg, and he groaned, slamming his sword at the Taleteller hard enough to create a crater around the two of them. The axe reverberated in the warlord¡¯s paws; his weight heaved at her, and the fist landed on her broken nose anew.


    Sniffing her own blood, Janine uppercut the khan with the free paw and kicked him twice, pulling the weapon free from his leg. Brood Lord didn¡¯t retreat. He charged at her, pincers narrowly missing her eyes. Venom bubbled between his teeth as he leaned in, and a sharp pain stung Janine after his arm had scissored through her cheek. She abandoned defense and headbutted Brood Lord, sending his own venom rolling down his throat. A slash of his blade sliced into her thigh, piercing the plate, and she responded with a crisscrossing strike that damaged his chest plate.


    ¡°Hm¡­¡± he chuckled and took the sword in both hands. A single slash locked their weapons together. Janine dragged the edge along the length of his blade, but his tsuba kept his fingers safe. ¡°You¡¯re more resilient than I thought. So selfish for attention. Don¡¯t you know I have a rebellion to quell? Never fear. I have just the means to bring you down¡­¡± A beep sounded in his helmet, and Brood Lord whistled, listening to the hasty foreign language. ¡°Ha! At last! The bastard is no more!¡±


    He looked back, beyond the battling ranks of the hordemen and to the rear, where bright hills briefly flashed into reality as the Ice Fangs bombarded themselves a path to the Horde¡¯s superweapon. Janine lunged at him, opening her maw. An elbow strike tossed her head back.


    ¡°Tch, tch, patience, Janine. I haven¡¯t forgotten about you. I was hoping you¡¯d show more fervor, but I have just the trick to snap you out of your stalling.¡± He smiled, pushing heavily on her axe. ¡°Brood Lord to the Sky Wrath. Open fire. Demolish Houstad. I want every stray doggie eradicated.¡±


    What? Her eyes opened wide as she tried to deduce whether the request was a bluff or a serious order. This split-second hesitation had cost her another wound as Brood Lord shoved his cracked pincer through the gash in her armor, pinching the hide. Then she sensed something else. A jab.


    A wave of coldness washed over her. Her hearing faded and her vision blurred, but the noise of the vast gears thudding over the field reached her even in that state. The Sky¡¯s Wrath was on the move, its bastions vomiting death, erupting and shaking the surface, and the huge pillars of energy rose in the Order¡¯s path, hindering their offense as the behemoth¡¯s main cannon began to take aim.


    He wasn¡¯t bluffing.


    Brood Lord broke the bind, toppling Janine onto her back, his blade near her eye.


    ¡°I¡¯ve had my share of unpleasant memories of this city, Janine. Mad Hatter expects me to win, and this is precisely what I shall deliver to her. Can you feel it?¡± He kicked her in the belly. ¡°Your organs slowing down, your blood no longer clotting? Fatigue and drowsiness gripping you?¡± A droplet of venom splattered on her nose. ¡°You hoped for your allies and trusted the traitors. I prefer a more direct approach, one that guarantees a result. It took a bit of experimenting and testing on the limbless freak we captured, and then later on other white-furred dogs to cement the discovery, but I had found the perfect concoction ¡­¡±


    Truthfully, Janine felt none of it. Her strength returned as her body flushed out the filth. Her hearing and sight restored, she feigned vulnerability, anxiously searching for a way to end it. He pinned her limbs with his legs, but the one on her right arm had been wounded by the axe, oozing white ichor and red blood from the cut. She could free it, but then what? Where to strike to end it? His gorget is too thick, perhaps the crack in the chest plate.


    Sister. Everything¡ªthe swirling smoke, the dust, the tattered debris in the air, the bragging¡ªstopped. Half-rotten fingers draped themselves over Brood Lord¡¯s face as the familiar revenant manifested. It perched atop the man, examining Janine and speaking in slurred whispers. Restraint. Terrific gurgled, grabbing her hair to hold her head steady. Drop it.


    Janine obliged, surrendering to the frustration and anguish over the lost cubs, her parting with Colt, the losses in the pack, her failure to keep Marco safe, the betrayal of her supposed kin, and letting hatred replace control. Every grudge resurfaced, and her arm broke free from the weakened limb, haymaking Brood Lord¡¯s helmet so hard that it cracked. He swayed, and her legs slipped free, kicking at his jaw as the animal in her soul broke free of its prison and joined the human. Janine rose, bellowing her roar to the sky, a cornered beast standing guard over her den full of cubs. There were no more doubts, no hesitations, no consideration of humanity. Just pure desperation.


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    An animal doesn¡¯t think. It lashes out, raging against fate.


    Yes! Yes! There is nothing wrong with anger or grief if you can decide how to use them! And you can do it! Turn the tide! On the offensive, Warlord Janine! The apparition yelled, disappearing.


    ¡°How are your lungs still working?¡± Brood Lord demanded. ¡°Weren¡¯t you supposed to be kin¡­¡±


    An axe. What was an axe? A tool. She hurled her trusted friend in the most disrespectful manner. It broke the sound barrier and hit the sword, raised for a block, hard enough to send a shockwave. Brood Lord groaned, straining under the effort. He overcame the impact and sent the axe back into the gate at the cost of his leg. While he was busy blocking, Janine crossed the distance on all fours, sinking her fangs into the joint of his mechanical limb, biting through cords and metal, and darted aside, carrying her prize as the khan slashed at the empty space.


    She turned around and tossed the bitten-off limb like a dart. It struck Brood Lord in his shoulder, and the snarling warlord leapt under him, chewing on the wounded organic limb and grinning at the taste of quivering muscle beneath the chitin casing. Food. Prey. Move. Attack. Without halting, she rammed the limb, adding her own weight to the bite, and snapped the leg in two.


    ¡°You meddling dog!¡± Brood Lord cleaved through the ground, missing Janine.


    She rushed to the Taleteller, hearing its call on an instinctual level. The human in her advised caution, and the beast tugged her in the opposite direction. Balance was the key, Janine understood. It was never right to completely shut off a part of her soul, to shy away from the aggression of her kind. It deserved to be mastered, and acceptance helped her shake off the fatigue and embrace the berserker¡¯s fury, guided by the human touch, honed over the decades.


    Spinning in the air, Janine plucked the axe, returned to the bipedal stance, and ran at Brood Lord, raising the axe overhead. An urge demanded her to launch a classical slash, but instead she sidestepped the stab and jabbed at the khan¡¯s knuckles with the butt of the axe, denting his gauntlet. A finger twitched, growing lame. Up close, they both swung, scattering rocks with the resulting wind. Their weapons moved back from the collision, and Janine indulged in a barbarian impulse and let go of the Taleteller.


    Janine punched Brood Lord in the face, hard enough to break a tooth. Then she slashed, nearly gouging out his eyes, and the khan hissed, dropping his sword. His fists clenched together and slammed her into the temple, throwing her onto the bridge¡¯s edge. Blood trickled from her nostril; her brain shook, but the warlord didn¡¯t care. She sprang right into his embrace, biting into his shoulder and ignoring the pincers scraping across her limbs.


    Brood Lord gnawed at her own neck, and their gorgets groaned, shredded by teeth and fangs. They reached each other¡¯s necks almost simultaneously, gripping one another with the deadly hold. His pincers kept stabbing her chest, but Janine refused to relent. Crisscrossed slash. Working paw. The human in her formulated a plan, and the beast howled eagerly, demanding flesh.


    They struggled in carnivorous competition, and the fangs neared the jugular. The Brood Lord sensed this and tore Janine away from him, slamming her into the bridge. She pulled him closer as if he were a lover, pretending to still try to bite his neck. He struck her twice, and the force of his blows bled the back of her head as it hit the ground, breaking her front fangs. Cracks that turned into fissures widened in the tortured structure, and the bridge leading into Houstad collapsed, carrying them both down in the avalanche of stone and metal.


    It didn¡¯t matter. They forgot about their lost weapons. Brood Lord briefly became the focus of Janine¡¯s entire existence; she had to end him no matter what, and she saw the same determination in his eyes. They shared an understanding at long last, but it brought her nothing but loathing. He was the prime example of what she could have been without the guidance of the Blessed Mother and the shamans¡¯ teaching. The greater the power, the larger the responsibility and the more alluring the temptation to abuse it.


    The human and the animal in her shared the sentiment, overlapping and becoming one. Her flaws and her strengths were her own.


    ¡°Enough of it.¡± Brood Lord snarled, grabbing Janine by the jaws. ¡°I¡¯ll pull your head apart with my bare hands!¡±


    Red lines ran along both of her cheeks; she heard the crack of bone and the snap of torn muscle. Janine tried to close her mouth; his fingers jammed her fangs into her gums as his pincers dug blindly into her. He jerked several times, failing to tear away her upper jaw because of the knuckle she had broken earlier. Then Brood Lord¡¯s eyes widened, and he let out a hiccup.


    Janine had shoved an arm through the crack in his armor left by the Taleteller. His sternum splintered, and her paw rummaged inside of his body.


    ¡°Huh. So you do have a heart,¡± she told him, closing the fist.


    For Bogdan. For Marco. May the souls of those he killed find peace.


    Brood Lord said, ¡°Kehk.¡± The light faded from his eyes; he went limp and slipped off her, falling on his face.


    She stepped on his head, answering the call of the inner beast, and stomped until he was but a smear. Dead. He had taken so much from her, and his simple and quick demise didn¡¯t seem right. Janine thought she would find some satisfaction or revelation, perhaps one last encounter with Bogdan, but only a corpse lay at her feet. He had simply disappeared from her world. And her belly rumbled.


    Not the worst outcome.


    ¡°I stopped you,¡± Janine said, gnawing at his arm.


    That you did, sister. Terrific crawled from under a broken support beam.


    ¡°You never wanted to kill me.¡± Janine stopped feasting and faced her.


    Of course not! The apparition shook her head incredulously, and the broken vertebrae failed to support it. Terrific¡¯s head fell off her shoulders, forcing her to catch it in her paws. We are sisters. You, me, and every female in the tribe are related. Even those disgusting, useless, weak males are my family.


    ¡°But¡­ I killed you.¡±


    As I have killed others. The shoulders swayed, trying to imitate a nod, though the paws held the head at chest level. Come now, Janine! Everyone dies. Even you will probably die in some forgotten desert, helpless and alone¡­ What is the point of worrying or being bitter about it? It¡¯s how you¡¯re remembered that matters. And I, now and forever, am never your enemy, my stupid sister. Be a honey and pave the way toward a better tomorrow in my name. Too. I meant to say too.


    ¡°You¡­ you can¡¯t be here, Terrific. Stress, blood loss, and guilt must be playing tricks on me. You are a figment of my imagination created by guilt.¡± Janine retreated to a patch of land illuminated by light, steering clear of the abomination.


    Her leg buckled, and Janine had to use her paws to remain standing. Only now did the extent of her injuries catch up with her. Six deep gashes covered her torso, exposing broken ribs. Her armor had taken on a red and white hue from the spilled blood, and her nose was clogged. A heady rush of reward caressed her as the fire of regeneration eagerly consumed calories, causing an unrelenting itch. Swollen bruises and welts hid one eye and weakened her voice. Three fingers refused to bend.


    Brain damage. Yes, that¡¯s it. There are no ghosts.


    Maybe I am. So what of it? We all carry our own mountains of regret on our shoulders. And you¡¯re going to make more mistakes, Janine. So many, many more. But guess what? You¡¯ll also grow and make more right choices. The point is not to dwell on something you can¡¯t change, but to stay in the present and persistently strive to be better than yesterday. Or alternatively, you can curl into a ball and cry for eternity, wallowing in self-pity¡­ But we both know that the person who defeated me is better than that. And trust me, when all is said and done, you¡¯ll find peace. Just as I have now.


    Terrific mounted her head back; her neck locked into place, and healed skin swallowed the broken bone, dented hide flattened, smooth curves restored. The sweet smell of decay vanished, and the wounds closed; the fur regained its shiny, lush, smooth appearance. Her eyes blinked and opened, shining bright yellow.


    ¡°So long, Jani,¡± Terrific said in her old voice, but there was no sarcasm, combativeness, or challenge in it. ¡°It was a blast, truly. Say hi to the other bitch for me. I did what I wanted. My long atonement awaits. Get your ass ready for a rematch on the other side! When I am done paying for my crimes, I am ripping you a new asshole!¡±


    ¡°If you see my cubs and soulmates, tell them that I love them,¡± Janine asked, uncaring whether this was a hallucination or not.


    Terrific shrugged and retreated into the smoke.