《Into The Dark Legion》


 1 - The Awakening of Kerrigan

    Kerrigan was groggy when she awoke. As her vision sharpened, she knew something wasn''t just wrong ¡ª it was impossible. Her vision was sharper, her surroundings painted in colours she couldn¡¯t name but somehow understood. She also felt...much, much taller. Her center of gravity was off too. There was a new weight to her back. Something heavy and alive dragged against the ground behind her.


    She twisted, and her breath caught. She had a tail! It was long, black, scaly, and tapered to a menacing foot long, bone spike. It moved erratically, whipping through the air as though it had a mind of its own. It clipped the top of her head in an odd way, not quite hitting her head but something sticking out if it. She reached up and felt two little horns sticking out of the top of her head.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± she asked aloud, ducking as the tail lashed over her head once again. She reached to grab it but froze. Her hands¡ªwhat was with her hands. Where her neatly trimmed, salon-perfect nails had been were now inch-long thick talons, black and gleaming like obsidian. She shook her hands vigorously, as she could fling them off. Of course, they stayed firmly attached. It was then she noticed she wore not a stitch of clothing.


    ¡°WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK!¡± she screamed, inspecting the rest of her. Same feat, though she had somehow regrown her left pinkie toe. The though which reminded her, yet again, never to mix Bundy Rum and chopping firewood.


    She still had same waist length, strawberry blond hair. The same, boarding on translucent, pale skin only a ¡®ranger¡¯ like her could rock. The same lanky, athletic body, fit enough that she always passed her yearly fitness assessment without too much effort, but not much past that. Her stomach twisted. This wasn¡¯t her body, but in a way, it was. It was something more now; something monstrous.


    Kerrigan forced herself to look around, hoping for some clue to make sense of this insanity. The landscape was alien. Twisted, jagged trees scattered around stretched toward a shimmering sky, their branches gnarled like skeletal fingers. The trees seemed to sway subtly, though there was no wind. Above her, two moons hung in stark contrast: one bright and silvery, the other smaller, casting an eerie green glow.


    It was horrifying. It was beautiful.


    "Think, Kerrigan," she whispered, her voice echoing faintly in the unnatural quiet. She crouched, careful of her tail, and ran her taloned fingers through the dirt. It was warm, loamy, and tinged with a faint, smoky aroma. The sensation of the talons leaving furrows in the dirt was unsettlingly.


    She straightened, suddenly aware of how exposed she felt. She crossed her arms over her chest, scanning her surroundings for anything that might pass for cover¡ªor clothing. Her gaze settled on a shadowy outcrop of rocks in the distance. With no better options, she started toward it, her steps unsteady.


    Walking was an adjustment. Her legs felt powerful, her strides longer than what she was used to, and her tail dragged behind her like an unwieldy anchor. She cursed under her breath as it snagged on a jagged root, sending her sprawling face-first into the dirt.


    "Ugh, for fuck''s sake!" she growled, pushing herself up and glaring at the offending appendage. The tail twitched, almost as if it was mocking her.


    By the time she reached the outcrop, her muscles burned with exertion. Kerrigan crouched in the shadow of the rocks, taking a moment to catch her breath. Her vision scanned a denser tree line not far from the outcrop, that looked to be a forest of sorts. She wasn¡¯t not going into any creepy woods. For all she knows there could be wolves in there¡­or a good old murder cabin made of gingerbread: or built from bones of victims of ritual sacrifice. She wasn¡¯t stupid. She watched horror movies. It was giving off that kind of vibe.


    "I have to figure out what happened," she muttered, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. The motion brought her hand into view again, her talons gleaming ominously in the light of the twin moons.


    A low growl rumbled nearby, snapping her attention to the dense shadows of the forest beyond the outcrop. Her senses sharpened instantly. The growl came again, deeper this time, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of something heavy shifting through the forest underbrush.


    Kerrigan froze, her heart pounding.


    ¡°This has to be a dream,¡± she muttered, her voice trembling. The thought brought a flicker of hope. People in movies always pinched themselves to wake up, right? She pinched her arm - forgetting the talons.


    Pain seared through her as she gasped, yanking her hand back. A deep gash marred her arm, oozing...black. Not red. Black as pitch.


    ¡°Motherfucker,¡± she hissed, clutching her arm. The sight of the inky fluid made her stomach churn. She stumbled back, her tail scraping against the ground with a hiss like dry leaves.


    ¡°SCREEEEEEEE!¡±


    The sound ripped through the air, sharp and grating like nails on glass. Kerrigan spun toward the noise, her heart hammering in her chest.


    A figure was barrelling toward her¡ªa thing. No, a demon.


    It was humanoid, but grotesquely so. Its skin was an ashen grey, stretched tight over sharp bones that jutted out unnaturally, emaciated. Its eyes blazed like twin embers, and its mouth was a jagged, gaping maw, lined with teeth that didn¡¯t fit¡ªtoo many, too sharp. Spindly arms ended in claws that scraped against the ground as it charged.


    ¡°What the¡ª¡± Kerrigan barely got the words out before the creature slammed into her.


    The impact knocked her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, her tail digging painfully into her back as the weight of the creature pinned her down. She gasped, struggling to process what was happening.


    Then its fist came down.


    CRACK!


    Pain burst across her jaw as her head snapped to the side. Her cheek scraped against the gritty, alien dirt. Something warm dripped from her mouth, and she coughed¡ªdark, viscous blood spattered the ground beneath her.


    Its blood is also black! The sight should have sent her into a spiral of terror, but she had no time to think. The creature let out a guttural snarl, its rancid breath washing over her face as it reared back for another punch.


    ¡°Oh, the fuck you don¡¯t!¡± Kerrigan snarled, her voice raw and guttural.


    The creature lunged at her, claws outstretched, its jagged teeth gnashing inches from her face. Without thinking, she caught it by the throat with one hand, muscles she didn¡¯t even know she had straining against its thrashing body.


    Its claws raked against her arm, tearing through her skin, but she didn¡¯t let go. The pain barely registered ¡ª adrenaline had taken over. With a roar, she brought her free hand up, talons gleaming like obsidian.


    She drove them into its neck.


    The creature¡¯s eyes widened, its scream turning into a gurgling choke as black ichor spilled from the wound. Kerrigan didn¡¯t stop there. She twisted her claws deeper, feeling the sickening crunch of cartilage and bone giving way under her grip.


    The demon thrashed violently, its claws flailing against her arms and shoulders, but its strength was fading. Kerrigan held firm; her teeth bared in a snarl she barely recognized as her own.


    Finally, with one last wet gasp, the creature went limp.


    She shoved its body off her, panting heavily, her chest heaving as she stared at the lifeless form. Black blood dripped from her talons and splattered the ground beneath her. The metallic tang of it filled the air, mixing with the acrid stench of the creature¡¯s body.


    Her hands were trembling ¡ª not from fear, but from something else. Something primal. Something powerful.


    "Not a dream," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. "Definitely not a dream."


    She flexed her fingers, watching the black blood slide off her claws. A shiver ran through her as she realized how natural it had felt ¡ª how good it had felt, to fight back. To win.


    But there was no time to process the rush. She could hear it now, faint but growing louder: more screams, more things in the distance.


    ¡°Shit,¡± Kerrigan muttered, wiping her hands on her tattered clothes and rising to her feet. Her tail swished behind her, steady now, as though it too was ready for whatever came next. She didn¡¯t know where she was or what had happened to her, but one thing was certain: she wasn¡¯t done fighting.


    The sound came first ¡ª a cacophony of shrill, raucous screams that tore through the air like nails on steel. Kerrigan¡¯s head snapped up, and her breath hitched as figures emerged from the shadows of the murder woods. Ten demons, each more grotesque than the one she¡¯d just killed, their glowing eyes fixed on her like predators locking onto prey.


    They surged from the twisted forest like a wave of nightmares, their bodies contorted and monstrous. Eyes burned with fiery malice, and their claws gleamed wickedly in the moonlight. Their unholy cries melded into a horrifying symphony of bloodlust, a choir of bloody murder that sent a primal jolt of fear through Kerrigan¡¯s core.


    Her instincts screamed at her to run, but to where? The alien landscape offered no refuge, no haven. Just endless, twisted trees and jagged rock formations. Her legs tensed, ready to bolt. Every instinct screamed for her to get out of there, to put as much distance as possible between her and the oncoming horde. But something stopped her.


    It wasn¡¯t just fear ¡ª it was the rush. The echo of her claws sinking into flesh, the exhilaration of victory. She had defeated one of them, felt their power crumble beneath her hands. And now, a fire ignited in her chest.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    The demons sprinted closer, their shrieks intensifying, but Kerrigan didn¡¯t run, her breathing quickened, but not in panic. Her claws flexed, her tail lashed the air like a whip, and the fire in her chest built until she couldn¡¯t help but throw head back and let it escape. She screamed. It wasn¡¯t human. It wasn¡¯t even close.


    The sound that tore from her throat was primal, otherworldly ¡ª a deafening roar that shook the air like thunder. It was the cry of a predator, a demonic lion¡¯s roar that echoed across the landscape and silenced the forest.


    Some demons hesitated, their charge faltering for just a heartbeat as a ripple of uncertainty passed through the horde.


    Kerrigan felt it ¡ª that moment of doubt ¡ª and her grin was savage. ¡°Yeah,¡± she snarled, her voice low and dangerous. ¡°I¡¯m not going down without a fight. You want some?" she growled, her voice low and feral. "Come get it."


    With a feral burst of energy, she lunged forward, meeting the demons head-on. The first demon reached her, its claws swiping toward her face. She ducked, her movements faster than she expected, and retaliated with an upward slash of her own. Her talons connected with its chest, tearing through the leathery flesh with ease.


    Black ichor sprayed as the demon staggered back, but there was no time to celebrate. Another leaped at her from the side, jaws snapping. Kerrigan twisted, her tail whipping around instinctively. The bone spike slammed into the creature¡¯s midsection, impaling it with a sickening crunch. The creature screeched, writhing on her tail, but she didn¡¯t stop. She spun, using its weight to knock another demon off its feet before wrenching her tail free.


    One after another, they came at her. Kerrigan¡¯s movements were a blur¡ªducking, slashing, spinning, kicking. For every demon she took down, two more seemed to take its place. Her muscles burned, her lungs heaved, and her body was slick with a mix of black blood and sweat. Her tail whipped out, striking another in the face and shattering its jaw with a sickening crunch. They swarmed her, claws and teeth slashing, but she was faster, stronger. She ducked, spun, and struck with utter savagery. Another went down, having punched two of her talons though its eyes. It fell to the ground, so she stomped on its head, which split apart like a crushed melon.


    A swipe caught her across the back, claws raking through her pale skin. She cried out, stumbling forward as pain lanced through her. Another demon lunged, its claws grazing her shoulder. She twisted away, slamming her fist into its face, but her strength was flagging. I will not ¨C Give ¨C Up! She vowed to herself and pushed herself onwards.


    Kerrigan fought like a whirlwind, her movements wild and unrelenting. Blood ¡ª hers and theirs¡ªsplattered the ground in dark pools, but she didn¡¯t stop. With each kill, she felt the intoxicating rush of power seeping into her being, as though the life force of her enemies fed her very soul. Her wounds ached less, her strikes grew sharper, faster, more precise. A deep, primal instinct whispered to her, guiding her movements in a rhythm that felt both foreign and familiar, as though she had always been a predator¡ªshe had just forgotten until now.


    What felt like an eternity of battle was over in moments. Kerrigan stood amidst the carnage, her chest heaving, ichor dripping from her claws and tail. The acrid stench of blood and death choked the air, mingling with the faint metallic tang of her own sweat. Her heart still pounded, each beat echoing in her ears like a war drum. She looked down at the ruined bodies around her ¡ª twisted forms torn apart, black lifeblood pooling in the dirt.


    A tremor ran through her hands. Not from exhaustion, but from something deeper. She felt it still ¡ª that primal, electric rush. Her lips curled back, exposing teeth she hadn¡¯t noticed had grown sharper, more animalistic.


    "What... what am I doing?" she whispered, voice cracking. The exultation of victory soured in her gut, replaced by nausea. She stumbled back, her tail dragging behind her, its heavy weight suddenly unbearable.


    She turned her gaze skyward, searching the alien sky for answers. The two moons stared back, the one casting its silver light, the other staining the ground with its eerie green glow. They felt like silent witnesses to her monstrous transformation.


    Her knees buckled, and she dropped into a crouch, clutching her head as if she could block out the images of her own ferocity. "This isn¡¯t me," she muttered, shaking her head. "This isn¡¯t me...¡±


    A slow, deliberate clap cut through the silence.


    CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.


    Kerrigan spun, claws raised and tail unconsciously poised to strike. A new figure stood a few meters away¡ªa man, or something that looked like one. His grin stretched unnaturally wide, eyes shimmering like shards of broken glass reflecting the twin moons fae glow. He was dressed absurdly, a putrid green tweed suit complete with golden cufflinks, his hands lazily coming together in applause.


    ¡°Wonderful,¡± he said, his voice thick with an accent Kerrigan couldn¡¯t place. ¡°Magnificent. Oh, ye¡¯ll do nicely indeed.¡±


    He tilted his head, ogling her in a way that made her skin crawl. His gaze lingered on her tail, her claws, her still-bloodied, naked form.


    Kerrigan tensed, the hackles on her neck rising. "Who the hell are you?" she snarled, the feral edge in her voice surprising even herself. She wasn¡¯t sure if it was her anger or whatever she had become, but she felt a growl vibrating deep in her chest.


    The man¡¯s grin widened unnaturally, as though his face couldn¡¯t quite contain his glee. ¡°Oh, my dear,¡± he purred, his voice dripping with amusement, ¡°names are for mortals clinging to their fragile sense of identity. You, my sweet, are far beyond such trivialities now. But I will ask you this: What will you do with the power coursing through your veins? Will you ascend, or will you perish as so many have before you?¡± His words dripped with mockery, but his eyes burned with dangerous curiosity, as though he truly didn¡¯t know the answer¡ªand couldn¡¯t wait to find out.


    ¡°Where am I¡± she demanded of the stranger. ¡°What is going on! Did you do this to me? Turn me into this¡­this thing?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re in the realm of *Illegible growling sound*, lass,¡± the man said, his words lilting with a musical rhythm that clashed with the sinister gleam in his eyes. ¡°Though your language would call it the realm of The Dark Legion, if you must have a name for it. The realm of demons. And you...you¡¯re one of us now."


    Kerrigan¡¯s jaw clenched. "You¡¯re lying. This is just a hallucination. It has to be." She pleaded without much conviction.


    He tilted his head, a mock expression of pity on his face. "Dreams don¡¯t spill blood, Kerrigan. And you¡ª" He gestured to the carnage around them. "¡ªyou¡¯ve spilled quite a lot for one so newly reborn. Oh, the potential I see in you. It¡¯s thrilling, really."


    Her stomach churned as she followed his gaze to the corpses littering the ground. She had done that. Torn them apart, felt the life leave their bodies as her claws sank into flesh. And worse¡ªshe¡¯d enjoyed it. The power, the rush, the sheer dominance.


    "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "This isn¡¯t me."


    The man grinned wider, his teeth unnervingly sharp. "Oh, but it is. This is the real you, my dear. Stripped of your mortal shell, free of moralities dull constraints. Tell me now, do they still teach Darwinism where you¡¯re from?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡± Kerrigan snapped, though her voice wavered. She shifted uneasily, her tail brushing the ground behind her in nervous arcs.


    ¡°Evolution!¡± the man stated with a flourish, the corners of his too-wide grin curling up like a cat¡¯s. ¡°The way life changes, adapts, claws its way forward. It¡¯s not about the toughest, mind ¡ª no, no. It¡¯s about who learns to bend, to shift, to become.¡±


    Kerrigan let out a short, sharp laugh. ¡°Huh? You¡¯re saying I¡¯ve evolved into this? This thing?¡± She gestured wildly at herself, black ichor still clinging to her claws.


    ¡°More or less,¡± he said with a shrug, brushing an invisible speck off his green tweed jacket. ¡°Though I wouldn¡¯t call it ¡®evolved,¡¯ per se. Your situation, lass, is a wee bit more complicated. See, your soul was sold - Fair and square. Contract legal¡± he seemed a bit defensive on that last bit.


    Her stomach dropped. ¡°Sold? What the hell are you talking about?¡±


    ¡°Ah, well, it wasn¡¯t you who made the bargain,¡± he said, his tone almost apologetic. ¡°Your da did the deal, long before you were even born.¡±


    Kerrigan¡¯s heart stopped. Her breath hitched, and she stared at the man¡ªthing¡ªin disbelief. ¡°My dad?¡± she whispered, her voice barely audible.


    ¡°Aye, lass,¡± the man replied, casually adjusting his golden cufflinks. ¡°A desperate man with a desperate need. You see, the price for his little¡­bargain was steep. Cost him more than he¡¯d expected, I wager. But bargains struck with the Dark Legion always come due. And here you are.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she said, shaking her head violently. ¡°No, that¡¯s impossible. My dad wouldn¡¯t¡­ He wouldn¡¯t do this to me!¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t he?¡± the man said, his grin never wavering. ¡°Desperation makes fools of us all, lass. And your da was no exception. Do you even know what he wanted so badly? What he thought was worth trading away the soul of his unborn child?¡±


    She clenched her fists, her claws digging into her palms hard enough to draw more of that black ichor. ¡°He was just a normal guy! He worked at a hardware store, for fucks sake. He wasn¡¯t¡ª¡±


    ¡°Aye, aye, normal as you like,¡± the man interrupted, rolling his eyes theatrically. ¡°But normal men have dreams too, don¡¯t they? Dreams, fears, debts, sickness, loves lost. It doesn¡¯t matter what he asked for, lass. What matters is that you¡¯re the payment.¡±


    Kerrigan felt like the ground was falling away beneath her. Her dad had always been a quiet, steady presence in her life. Reliable. Unremarkable. The thought of him making some kind of demonic pact was absurd.


    And yet, here she was.


    ¡°What am I supposed to do?¡± she asked, her voice cracking. ¡°How do I¡­how do I fix this?¡±


    The man¡¯s grin stretched impossibly wider, a predatory glint in his glassy eyes. ¡°Fix it? Oh, lass, there¡¯s no fixing this. You¡¯re in the Dark Legion now, and there¡¯s only one rule here: survive.¡±


    Kerrigan felt the weight of his words settle on her like a crushing boulder. Survive. That¡¯s all she could do.


    ¡°But!¡± the man said, his voice suddenly chipper. ¡°You¡¯ve got a leg up, don¡¯t you? That was some fine work back there.¡± He gestured to the pile of demon corpses. ¡°You¡¯ve got a fire in you, lass. A hunger. I¡¯d wager you¡¯ll go far, if you don¡¯t get yourself killed first.¡±


    She glared at him, her tail flicking behind her with agitation. ¡°Why are you telling me all this? What do you want from me?¡±


    ¡°Want? Me?¡± He placed a hand on his chest in mock offense. ¡°I¡¯m just here to watch, my dear. A humble observer. But let me give you a piece of advice, free of charge.¡±


    Kerrigan folded her arms, her claws tapping against her skin. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    The man leaned in, his grin dropping slightly, his voice low and conspiratorial. ¡°The Legion respects strength, lass. And strength isn¡¯t just power¡ªit¡¯s cunning. Strategy. Learn the rules of the game and then break them. Climb the ladder. Take what you want. Because here?¡± He gestured to the alien landscape around them. ¡°The only way out¡­is up.¡±


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t play your game?¡± she growled, her voice low and dangerous.


    He chuckled, a dark, knowing sound that seemed to echo through the air around them. ¡°Ah, Claire Kerrigan, I wouldn¡¯t go testing that. This world¡¯s not kind to freeloaders, and the Legion¡¯s even less so. You¡¯ll end up like the rest of ¡®em¡± pointing to the mangled remains around her. ¡°Rabid. Forgotten. Cast out, a mindless creature fighting for scraps. But I doubt that¡¯s your style, eh?¡± His grin widened, the flicker of malice dancing in his eyes.


    Kerrigan¡¯s claws twitched, her tail still lashing behind her, though she kept her gaze locked on him, unwavering. She didn¡¯t trust him, didn¡¯t trust a word he said, but something deep within her¡ªthe hunger, the need for strength¡ªkeep her intrigued. The darkness inside her stirred, restless and eager for what he promised, even if she knew it came with a price.


    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡± she demanded, her voice laced with suspicion. ¡°There¡¯s always a catch.¡±


    ¡°Of course, lass,¡± he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone, though the amusement never quite left his expression. ¡°In this world, nothing comes for free. You¡¯ll fight, kill, and consume to rise. Souls are the coin here, and trust me, they¡¯re worth more than you can imagine. But even in the Dark Legion, power has its price. The question is¡ªare you ready to pay it?¡±


    She didn¡¯t know if she was ready, but she knew one thing for sure¡ªshe wasn¡¯t about to let herself be cast aside as nothing more than a mindless beast. ¡°I¡¯ll do whatever it takes,¡± she growled. ¡°But if you think for one second that I¡¯m going to follow you blindly, you¡¯re dead wrong.¡±


    He smirked, his eyes narrowing with interest. ¡°Aye, lass. But you¡¯re clever, aren¡¯t you? You¡¯ll find your own way.¡± More screams pierced the night in the distance. ¡°We¡¯ll seeming as you¡¯re about to have more company, I¡¯ll be suggesting you run towards the Stronghold quick smart¡­And I¡¯ll leave you with a parting gift. This you¡¯ll be needing¡­The Gift of the Gab¡± he clicked his fingers. Innumerable words rushed into her mind in a flash, like needles digging into to her brain. It was excruciating. He then he pointed behind her, ¡°Strongholds that way. I wouldn¡¯t waste any time about it¡±.


    She looked at the direction he pointed at briefly and when she turned back, he had disappeared.


    ¡°Motherfucker¡± she cursed and begin legging it in the direction he had pointed.

 2 – It’s sanctuary of a sort

    Kerrigan sprinted through the alien forest, her bare feet pounding against the undergrowth. Her tail swished and dragged behind her, sometimes catching on the uneven ground, but she pushed on. The screams grew louder in the distance, a cacophony of terror and fury. Whatever those things were, they weren¡¯t far behind.


    Her mind reeled, the stranger¡¯s cryptic words still echoing in her head.


    Your da was no exception. Desperation makes fools of us all.


    She clenched her jaw, forcing the thoughts away. Focus. She had to focus. Her body was faster, stronger now; she could feel it in every muscle. Her wounds had already scabbed over. They looked like they were days old instead of just hours. Another oddity to add to the growing list. At least this one is a plus, she thought.


    The landscape rushed past her in a blur as she ran. The forest was made up of the same twisted trees of the plains, but they were larger, older. The plains loamy dirt had given way to purple covered moss, which felt like she was running on carpet, and intermittent ankle high, blood red fungal growths. The silvery and green light from the twin moons bathing everything in an otherworldly glow. She broke the tree line, thankful that she hadn¡¯t come across any horror movie cliches and spotted it ahead ¡ª a massive structure rising from the ground like a jagged black spire. It was the Stronghold.


    It wasn¡¯t just a building; it was a fortress, towering and ominous, with 10-meter-high walls that looked like they had been carved from obsidian. Huge silver runes had been etched to the walls, glowing ominously in contrast with midnight walls. The air around it buzzed with an oppressive energy, and strange figures moved along its walls, silhouetted against the eerie light of the green flames that flickered along its battlements, illuminating the walls.


    The only way out is up.


    Kerrigan sighed with relief; she was almost there. She didn¡¯t know what she was going to encounter in the Stronghold, but it had to be better than out here.


    Her legs burned as she closed the distance, the shrill cries of her pursuers growing louder. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw them¡ªthree creatures, smaller but no less grotesque than the other demons she¡¯d fought. They were faster, their long limbs propelling them forward in a frantic, almost spider-like gait.


    ¡°Shit, shit, shit,¡± she muttered under her breath, pushing herself harder. Her lungs burned, but the Stronghold was close now. She spotted the gates, massive and made of some dark, shimmering metal, flanked by grotesque statues of snarling demons, their faces twisted in eternal rage.


    She was about to yell at the figures on the walls for help, praying they might be friendly when a sudden burst of searing pain shot through her head, halting her in her tracks. She stumbled, clutching her skull.


    Words¡ªalien and incomprehensible¡ª again flooded her mind. They were overwhelming at first, but then, just as quickly, they fell into place like they finally belonged. The pain faded. Her tongue felt heavy, her throat thick, as if it were reshaping itself. She doubled over, coughing violently, and when she spoke, the words that came out were of a language not her own, but understanding it non the less.


    ¡°Let me in!¡± she screamed, her voice carrying the weight of the strange language, grating and commanding. ¡°I seek sanctuary!¡± .


    The figures on the wall hesitated. The gate groaned and began to creak open.


    The Gift of the Gab, she realized, demonic language.


    Behind her, the creatures shrieked, their clawed hands almost within reach. Kerrigan surged forward, moving purely on instinct. As she crossed the threshold, the gate slammed shut with a heavy clang that reverberated through the air, cutting off the sound of pursuit.


    As the gate slammed shut, the oppressive darkness swallowed her. Another sound echoed, reverberating through the thick stone walls. A second gate ahead groaned under the strain of its own weight, its slow, grinding sound growing louder as it began to rise.


    Light from beyond the second gate spilled in, filtering through the darkness, casting long, eerie shadows. As the gate crept higher, Kerrigan heard it¡ªvoices, faint but unmistakable. The sounds of a city. A chaotic, bustling energy that provided mixture of relief and unease. Civilization at last!


    She took a cautious step forward, the black stone floor cool beneath her feet as she moved toward the second gate. Tension tightened her shoulders, every muscle still taut from the earlier battle. She hadn¡¯t expected to find any form of civilization in this twisted, alien world, but the prospect of seeing something¡ªanything¡ªfamiliar gave her a strange sense of comfort.


    The second gate finally rose high enough for her to pass through. As she stepped into the light, her eyes fell on them¡ªtwo figures standing at attention on either side of the threshold. They were armoured beings, tall and imposing. Their matte black scale mail was sleek and form-fitting, yet it conveyed a battle-hardened toughness. Their faces were sharp, angular, their eyes glowing faintly with a piercing intensity. Their ears were long and pointed, adding to their otherworldly appearance. They resembled elves from the movies¡ªyet darker, more dangerous.


    Kerrigan¡¯s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing to process the bizarre nature of her surroundings. These beings, with their sleek armour and composed expressions, bore a striking resemblance to the demons she had just killed¡ªbut they were different. They were refined, controlled, not the hollow, feral creatures she had fought. They were something far more disciplined. Far more deadly.The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    One of the figures tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing as he assessed her. "Who goes there?" his voice was calm, but the authority in it was undeniable. His tone was sharp and unyielding, though he had a kind of confused look about him.


    Kerrigan stood her ground, her mind racing. She wasn¡¯t sure how to react. They were not like her. They held shield and spear. No talons, nor horns, or even tail¡­and they were clothed. Are they going to attack me, she thought. Will I be cast be back out. I¡¯m waltzing into your house in the Emperor¡¯s New Clothes for fucks sake. Standing here in front of these beings, she couldn¡¯t afford to be intimidated. Not now. This bloke had the air of a Digger about him. If it was one thing she had learnt from her years as a Digger was that if you didn¡¯t know someone¡¯s rank, always assume they were an Officer until otherwise corrected.


    "Kerrigan," she said in her best Boss voice. Which is to say full of hot air, expecting those beneath her to solve her problems that someone, anyone else but her has caused. "I need to speak with whoever''s in charge here. Right. Now."


    The other armoured figure, the one who had remained silent, stepped forward slightly, raising his spear and giving her a salute. "Yes, Mam" The word was said with a subtle sneer, but the hint of curiosity behind it kept Kerrigan from reacting too harshly. He walked off to a room embedded into the wall.


    The remaining guard was having a good time gathering an eyeful and it wasn¡¯t too long before the other one came back with another who looked like they may be in charge. He was almost like her. He had horns at least. They were smaller than hers but, he had horns.


    ¡°My Lady. Squire Zalfon, east gate officer of the watch, at your service. How may I be of assistance?¡± the newcomer said with a bemused look on his face. ¡°You seem to be recently ascended yet you are already a Noble¡­that is, remarkable¡±


    She didn¡¯t know what these creatures were, she had no idea what they were thinking but she sure as sit could feel their power. Something about this new bloke gave her the idea that she did not what to mess with him. An NCO? An Officer that knew his business. Strange happenings. She didn¡¯t know how she knew that. She just did, like an instinct.


    ¡°Look. I¡¯ll be honest with you. I don¡¯t know what the fucks going on. I woke up and was set upon by a bunch of things trying to gut me. Now I¡¯m here¡± she explained.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s generally what happens to the newly Ascended. We get half a dozen, every 10th cycle of Esme¡± he nodded. ¡°However,¡± he went on, ¡°We usually we get Plebians, not low Nobles. A squire, no; a Knight, perhaps even. Something in between? This is most unusual¡±


    ¡°Esme?¡±


    ¡°The Green moon? Oh, you haven¡¯t got all your memories back yet and already a Low Noble. Most unusual.¡± He said, now giving her a look she did not like one bit. ¡°You¡¯re very lucky. By The Contract¡¯s mercy, you have a Cycle¡¯s grace as an uncontracted Ascended... though it¡¯s tempting to end that mercy here¡­So much soul energy, and without a clue, just falling into my hands. What a night this has turned out to be¡±.


    Low Noble? Ascended? The words meant little, but if they set her apart from the snarling horrors outside, she¡¯d lean into it for now.


    "Listen, I''m not looking to start a fight," she said, keeping her voice even. "I just need to know where I am and how to survive in this hellhole. I¡¯m not going back out there and getting caught by whatever¡¯s waiting for me." She motioned behind her. ¡°So come and have a go if you think your hard enough¡± she taunted, ¡°Or give a girl a hand, and she may repay it when she has the chance¡±.


    Kerrigan''s claws flexed subtly as she faced the horned figure, his expression looking like she was an expensive cut of prime rib grating against her nerves. She felt out of place¡ªvulnerable in a way she hated to admit. The tension in her shoulders had not eased, and every instinct screamed at her to keep her guard up.


    The horned man studied her carefully, his sharp gaze taking in every detail of her form. His Armor had an air of authority, and the way he carried himself suggested a confidence that came from both power and experience. He folded his arms, tilting his head slightly as if deciding how to handle her. He looked like he had made his decision.


    "You are within the outskirts of the Stronghold of the Koff Barony," he said at last, his voice smooth but laced with caution. "The fact that you made it here alive, in your... current state, is impressive. Few survive to Ascend from the Rabid." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "But this is no sanctuary. Every soul here has its place, and strength alone is no guarantee of survival."


    Kerrigan¡¯s lips pressed into a thin line. " I¡¯m just trying to figure out what the hell is going on. One moment, I was human, and the next¡ª" She gestured at herself, her claws flexing involuntarily. "This happened. So, forgive me if I¡¯m not exactly thrilled about being lectured on survival."


    Squire Zalfon''s expression didn¡¯t falter, though a glimmer of intrigue flickered in his eyes. "A human, you say?" He stepped closer, circling her slowly as if inspecting a prize. "And yet, here you are¡ªdemon kind incarnate. Such a transformation is... rare." He stopped in front of her, leaning in slightly. "Who did this to you? What bargain did you strike? They have violated The Contract; so, they must be a High Noble at least"


    Kerrigan glared at him. "I didn¡¯t bargain with anyone. If I had, I wouldn¡¯t be here talking to you, now, would I?"


    Zalfon chuckled, the sound low and almost mocking. "Fair point. But in this world, nothing happens without purpose. This goes against our most sacred laws. You¡¯ve become what you are, because someone¡ªor something¡ªextremely powerful, or just extremely stupid intended it to be so."


    She held his gaze, her jaw tightening. "I don¡¯t care who intended what. I just need to figure out how to stay alive and maybe... get some answers."


    He smirked, clearly entertained by her defiance. "Survival here requires more than answers. It requires alliances and strength." He straightened, his demeanour shifting to one of command. "You wish to survive? Then you¡¯ll have to prove you¡¯re more than just food, transmogrified on a whim by some bored High Noble. "


    Kerrigan¡¯s claws dug into her palms. "I¡¯m not here to prove myself to anyone. I¡¯ve already fought my way through worse than you." She bluffed.


    "Perhaps," he said, unbothered by her tone. "But you¡¯ll find that arrogance can be as deadly as ignorance in the Stronghold."


    Before she could respond, Zalfon gestured to the guards. "Escort her to the arena for the entry exam... Let this outsider show us what she¡¯s capable of. Per The Contract, every Ascended gets the grace period and has their chance."


    Kerrigan¡¯s eyes narrowed. "An arena? Seriously?"


    Zalfon grinned. "Consider it an initiation. Or... a way to amuse those of us who grow tired of new arrivals jumping ahead of the que and their demands. It certainly keeps the Plebians entertained" He stepped aside cackling, motioning toward the path ahead. "Unless, of course, you¡¯d prefer to take your chances back outside the gates?"


    Kerrigan hesitated, her heart pounding as she weighed her options. She didn¡¯t trust this place or these people¡ªbut she knew going back to the forest wasn¡¯t an option. Not anymore.


    "Fine," she said at last, her voice firm. "But when I win, I get answers. No more games."


    He nodded, his smirk never fading. "Fair enough. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯re truly made of Kerrigan, human of the outer realms.

 3 – The Arena

    The guards escorted Kerrigan down crowded streets teeming with demons. Zalfon had stayed behind as he was still in charge of the gate, having suggested for her to come see him if she survived. Around her, demons shuffled about in drab clothing, their sandals scraping against the grey cobblestone. The crowd parted instinctively as she and her escorts passed, granting them a wide berth. Glances were stolen, wary and fleeting, but none dared meet her gaze or that of her guards.


    The demons were varied. Many had grey, elf-like features, their sharp, angular faces devoid of color or vitality. Some bore horns like her escorts, small and curved, sprouting from the sides of their heads. Others had tails too¡ªsome long and whip-like, others thick and muscular¡ªswishing lazily as they moved. A few shared a different skin tones or hair colors¡ªblack, brown, blue, and golden¡ªthough none seemed quite as pale as her own. Their eyes, luminous and unsettling, ranged from shades of gold to deep crimson, glowing faintly in the dim light of the stronghold.


    Kerrigan¡¯s gaze flitted from face to face, noting the subtle differences. Hornless demons shuffled with stooped shoulders, their movements subdued, almost subservient. Those with horns stood straighter, their strides longer, more purposeful. A hierarchy was emerging in her mind, one defined not just by demeanor but by physical traits.


    She spotted one demon who stood apart from the others, his dark red skin gleaming under the sickly green light emanating from the city¡¯s flickering torches. His chthonian black armor shimmered like liquid obsidian; intricate golden runes etched along its surface. Large, bat-like, leathery wings folded against his back, their edges tipped with spiky bone. He moved with a grace that was almost predatory, exuding authority. Kerrigan¡¯s guards bowed their heads as they passed him. Someone important, she noted.


    The streets and buildings mirrored their occupants. The buildings were all constructed from the same grey bricks. It seemed as if the society didn¡¯t value color, art, or any kind of aesthetic but pure utility. The ground underfoot was smooth, cobbled together with precision-cut stone. The air was alive with murmurs¡ªvoices low and conspiratorial, carrying just enough to set Kerrigan on edge.


    Her attention snapped to a demon with green skin and bright purple hair, standing at the corner of a narrow alley. For a moment, she could¡¯ve sworn he was human, his proportions and dress eerily familiar to an old military greatcoat. The illusion shattered when she noticed his elongated fingers, tipped with razor-sharp claws, and the faint glow of his eyes. The idea struck her: perhaps these demons, like ants or bees, had traits developed for specific roles, as if each caste were designed for a particular purpose.


    The thought sent a chill down her spine. Where do I fit into this? she wondered, glancing at her tail, which swayed idly behind her. A nervous habit she wasn¡¯t even aware she had developed.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s with the big red guy¡±, she asked the guard on her left. Instead of answering the guard just used the butt of his spear to move her along. ¡°Don¡¯t all talk at once¡±, she murmured.


    As they continued, the streets grew narrower, the buildings closer together. The crowd thinned but didn¡¯t disappear entirely. Kerrigan¡¯s ears picked up snippets of conversations in the strange, rough language she now understood instinctively. Deals being struck, arguments over debts, or just mundane gossip. Souls, it seemed, were not just currency but the very fabric of this society. One horned lady, it seemed, was bragging to another horned shopkeeper about her son recently making Patrician. Though Kerrigan could translate what she was saying, she didn¡¯t understand what a Patrician was.


    She couldn¡¯t help but steal another glance at her guards. They moved with military precision, their matte black scale armour reflecting just enough light to outline their muscular forms. They carried their spears rested against their shoulders and their shields slung over their backs. Despite their stoicism, she caught the faintest tension in their posture. Escorting her, it seemed, was no mundane task.


    It wasn¡¯t long before they reached their destination. A large circular complex, like the roman Colosseum. She could here a crowd cheering from here. Her guards led her not though the main entrance, but another that led down underneath the structure via a long tunnel, easy wide enough for her and her escorts to walk side by side.


    She was expecting cages under the area to hold slaves, or gladiators or something. She¡¯d been to Rome and had taken the Colosseum Tour, but she was led to a large chamber that looked like it had a door going up into the area, and it had a few large open rooms attached and a few closed off doors. One looked like a change room with lockers, the other rooms filled with racks of all kinds of weapons. Swords of all kinds, maces, spears axes, staves, some more exotic things she had no idea what they were called but looked familiar. All medieval period looking and all of them made from the same black material.


    Another chthonian armoured demon, with a fist sized ruby gem embedded into his chest piece entered from a door to her right. This demon was huge. A foot taller than her and like the big red guy they had passed, this one also had wings. He had blue skin and horns a foot long. A red rune etched, double edged two-hander sword, adorned his hip.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Greetings Knight Lord Balto¡±, the guard bowed to the newcomer. ¡°This is Kerrigan. She claims to be newly Ascended. Squire Zalfon has sponsored her for the trial. An Out-realmer apparently¡­Human¡±.


    ¡°Zalfon huh, that sneaky upstart¡­Interesting¡±, said Balto eyeing her carefully. ¡°We haven¡¯t had an Out-realmer pass through here for over a hundred cycles, and never a human one before¡±, he mused thoughtfully. You¡¯ve the look of a Knight about you, yet you don¡¯t feel like a Knight. I guess we¡¯ll see¡± ¡­Thanks boys, you can go now¡±, he waved the Guards away dismissing them.


    The guards bowed and left without a word, leaving Kerrigan alone with the towering demon. The silence stretched between them, heavy and charged. Kerrigan¡¯s instincts told her to remain silent, even though questions burned in her mind.


    ¡°Where you from kid?¡±, Balto finally asked his tone a bit more casual now the guards were gone.


    ¡°Um, Australia¡±, she replied.


    ¡°Is that a planet?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s a country. The planet is called Earth¡±


    ¡°Earth¡­ That sounds familiar. Is that the one with the humans, that orbits the binary stars?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. Earth only has one star¡± she corrected. Did he just suggest there is more than one Human world, the thought of multiple human worlds made her head spin.


    ¡°Oh, right now I remember¡±. he clicked is claws together in a very human gesture. ¡°Earth, Terra. That a nice place. Heard of a guy named Leonardo Da Vinci. He was one of mine¡±, he added proudly.


    Kerrigan blinked. ¡°Yeah, everyone knows who Da Vinci is. He died like 500 years ago, though. What do you mean he was one of yours?¡±


    ¡°500 years huh¡­¡± he shrugged again. ¡°Time works a bit differently here than out there in the Many Realms. I contracted him when I was a Knight. His soul for knowledge. He had a powerful soul, ¡®Mids¡¯ quality at least. That helped me a great deal to get to Knight Lord¡±


    Kerrigan didn¡¯t know what to say to that.


    ¡°You a warrior Kerrigan?¡± Balto asked hopefully, glancing the gate leading to the Arena


    ¡°I guess. I was in the Army. A Combat Engineer. I made Sergeant last year¡±


    ¡°A soldier, then. Good,¡± he said, his tone approving. ¡°Pick a weapon. Any you like¡±, pointing at rooms full of weapons.


    Kerrigan hesitated, glancing at the racks. ¡°Ah, we use guns and explosives now. Nobody uses swords anymore.¡±


    ¡°Those the things that shoot lasers?¡±


    ¡°No bullets, made of metal. You know what lasers are, but you still use swords and shields?¡±


    ¡°Of course. There are all kinds of powerful and imaginative weapons out in the Many Realms. The Legion doesn¡¯t use them though. For three very good reasons. One, we don¡¯t have the materials to build that technology hear. Two, we can¡¯t bring too much stuff back from the Many Realms, it costs too much energy and it¡¯s not worth it. And three, most importantly, excluding through contract, we can¡¯t absorb soul energy from a defeated enemy without using our claws, or weapons forged from the horn, claw, or the powdered remains the defeated, such as our bound weapons.¡± He tapped the hilt of his sword. ¡°Else what would be the point?¡±


    ¡°I see. So, there is no EF88 Austeyr sitting on one of those racks waiting for me then¡± she said dejectedly, ¡°Or a claymore or two¡±


    ¡°Not sure what that is, but it sounds like something we definitely wouldn¡¯t have. Are you used to anything else more¡­ stabby?¡± he said, miming stabbing a knife into a foe.


    I¡¯m going to regret this, she thought glancing at her foot. She sighed in resignation, ¡°Got an axe?¡±


    Balto chuckled. ¡°Plenty. And we¡¯ll find you something to wear, too. You probably noticed no one else is walking around bare as you.¡±


    Her face reddened and she nodded, ¡°That would be helpful, yeah¡±


    ***


    Kerrigan walked out of the changeroom dressed in clothes much like the grey demons outside wore. No fancy armour, unfortunately, but at least she wasn¡¯t naked. When she asked about that, Balto had informed her that demons are provided their armour by their Liege. If Knight or Knight Lord accepted her, then, she would be provided amour.


    She was also told that an Ascended fresh out of the sundered plains, of almost always of Plebian Rank¡ªthe lowest caste, besides the Rabid¡ªwould fight once against another Plebian Ascended. The victor would go on to join the Legion as a Legionnaire, the loser soul energy would be devoured, with only their core soul being sucked back to the Pit of Rebirth to start again¡­ or they could pass on the opportunity and join the ranks of the Plebeians outside. She was told that, as she was of at least Squire Rank, a Low-Noble, she would be stuck here fighting until someone offered her a contract, or until she was defeated.


    Balto handed her a long handled, double-headed battle axe, its blade lacking the runes his weapon had. ¡°This should suit you. It¡¯s heavy but balanced¡±.  He noticed her looking at the runes on his sword. ¡°They are the mark of a bonded weapon. You will have to have your own weapon made eventually. It¡¯s not a pleasant experience, mind. Something you may not have to endure, though. This is just a common blank, a Legionnaire¡¯s weapon. Still good enough for you now, though¡­. Give it a few swings,¡± he said, stepping back to give her room.


    Kerrigan hefted the weapon. It was heavier than she expected, but her new body¡ªher demonic strength¡ªmade it manageable. She tested its weight with a few practice swings, feeling the sharpness of the edge as it hummed through the air.


    ¡°Good,¡± Balto said, nodding his approval. ¡°I¡¯ll let them know you¡¯re ready.¡± He made some kind of gesture that burned red words into the air that quickly faded. A gong sounded in the arena, and the crowd cheered loudly in anticipation.


    Balto fixed her with a piercing gaze. ¡°Some advice if you¡¯ll take it. Surviving this contest isn¡¯t enough for you. You need to make a show of it. Once they know you¡¯re an Out-realmer, you will have a harder time signing a contract. Your best chance is now,¡± he said hurriedly. ¡°Oh, and one more thing¡­ Never fight fair, and don¡¯t show mercy, because there will be none for you.¡±


    Kerrigan smirked, gripping the axe tightly. ¡°I¡¯ll keep that in mind.¡± She raced up the ramp, the doors flew open. She had entered the arena.

 4 – Fight Night

    The circular arena was a cauldron of noise, a smooth 10 meter walls amplifying the roar of the crowd. The crowd¡¯s energy was electric, a chaotic blend of jeers and cheers that rattled the walls. Green flames from the torches licked the air, their shadows dancing across the loamy ground like specters. Each footstep sent small clouds of dust rising, carrying the acrid stench of burn toast and sweat.  Feels the same under the feet as the sundered plains, she noted offhandedly.


    The twisted forms of demonic spectators loomed above, their glowing eyes fixed hungrily awaiting their evenings entertainment. Her.


    When her opponent entered from the opposite gate, Kerrigan¡¯s stomach dropped. Squire Zalfon. He sauntered into the ring, a blank menacing looking mace resting on one shoulder. His eyes locked onto hers, filled with smug confidence.


    ¡°Surprise¡± he called out, his voice dripping with amusement. ¡°I have to admit, once you said you were an Out-realmer, so oblivious, so naive, how could I resist. ¡± He twirled his mace lazily, the sharp, metallic points along its head glinting in the light.


    Kerrigan tensed, raising her axe. ¡°Zalfon. Funny running into you here. Let me guess¡ªyou wanted to ¡®welcome¡¯ me personally?¡±


    He laughed, a harsh, grating sound that echoed in the arena. ¡°Of, course. First come, first serve. You''re untouchable out of the arena within your grace period. In here though, you''re all mine"


    "Why are you so egar to fight me", she asked.


    "Your an Out-realmer with power you don¡¯t deserve. You think you¡¯re special?¡± Zalfon sneered, circling her. ¡°I clawed my way up from nothing. My first kill wasn¡¯t even a demon¡ªit was my own damned brother. Because that¡¯s what it takes to survive here. You? You haven¡¯t earned your strength. You¡¯re an insult to every demon who¡¯s fought for power. You don¡¯t know the rules, the customs, or even the meaning of what it is to be Legion. So, I thought I¡¯d do the Legion a favour and take that unearned strength of yours for myself.¡±


    Her jaw tightened. ¡°You murdered your own brother¡­wow, that¡¯s fucked up, dude.¡±


    ¡°Ambition is survival here, Kerrigan,¡± he spat, his smirk fading into something darker. ¡°Trust is a weakness. Betrayal is inevitable. The sooner you learn that the longer you might last.¡±


    He took a step forward, his tail swishing behind him like a serpent preparing to strike. The crowd grew louder, cheering for blood.


    ¡°Trust?¡± Kerrigan sneered, planting her feet. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. I already know better than to trust anyone in this hellhole. Especially someone like you.¡±


    Zalfon grinned, raising his free hand. With a swift, practiced motion, he traced glowing runes into the air. The symbols burned like embers, and in an instant, a fireball erupted from his palm, streaking toward Kerrigan.


    She dove to the side just in time. The fireball slammed into the ground where she¡¯d been standing, sending a shower of black sand and heat across her face.


    "Fuck Me!", she screamed in shock.


    He could shoot fire from his fucking hands! Which was horrifying in her situation...but yet outrageously cool at the same time. Could she learn to do that? she wondered. The thought of being a human...well, a demon flamethrower was exciting as hell...Haha, you''re a bloody wizard Kerri!Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    She rolled to her feet, gritting her teeth as the edge of her sleeve smouldered.


    ¡°That¡¯s a neat trick, asshole,¡± she said, patting out the small flame. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you can do that after I¡¯ve chopped OFF YOUR FUCKING HEAD.¡±


    Kerrigan charged, swinging her axe in a brutal downward arc. Zalfon met it with the shaft of his mace, the weapons colliding with a deafening clang that vibrated up her arms. He was stronger than she¡¯d anticipated, but she pushed, forcing him to take a step back.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got spirit,¡± Zalfon admitted, his grin returning as he pulled away and spun, aiming a strike at her side. ¡°Shame it won¡¯t save you.¡±


    Kerrigan ducked, the mace whistling past her head, and retaliated with a wide swing of her axe. He jumped back just in time, the blade slicing through the air mere inches from his chest.


    The two circled each other, weapons at the ready.


    ¡°Come on, Kerri,¡± she muttered. ¡°Think. He¡¯s a wizard, you¡¯re not. But you¡¯re smarter¡ªuse your head.¡±


    ¡°Think you¡¯re clever, do you?¡± Zalfon taunted, his tail snapping like a whip toward her legs.


    He¡¯s Bloody good hearing though, she thought as she jumped over it, landing awkwardly but managing to stay on her feet. ¡°Not clever,¡± she shot back. ¡°Just not a dick.¡±


    With a snarl, Zalfon drew another rune in the air. This time, the fireball was larger, brighter, and it came at her faster than before. Kerrigan raised her axe instinctively, the flat of the blade catching the brunt of the flames. The impact sent her skidding back, her arms screaming from the force, and the heat seared her skin.


    She staggered, her breathing heavy. The crowd roared louder, sensing blood in the air.


    Zalfon advanced, his mace raised high. ¡°You see, Kerrigan, this is what happens to the weak in the Legion. Everyone¡¯s out for themselves, every single one.¡± His eyes gleamed with malice. ¡°And you? You¡¯re just easy meat...basically a free meal¡±


    ¡°Funny,¡± she panted, wiping sweat and soot from her brow. ¡°I was about to say the same thing.¡±


    She charged again before he could respond, closing the distance between them in a blur. Zalfon swung his mace, but she sidestepped, twisting her body and bringing her axe down in another overhead chop. She wasn¡¯t going to win on skill, she had squat in that department. The only thing she¡¯d used an axe on before was chopping firewood...but she¡¯d done that a metric fuckton on the farm. She should swing an axe as good as any of her three larger older brothers.


    Zalfon again blocked her strike with his mace, but the force of the impact drove him to one knee.


    Kerrigan didn¡¯t give him a chance to recover. She used her head¡­headbutting him in the nose while his mace was locked up. He cried out at the unexpected move. Kicking out, her boot catched him in the chest and sent him sprawling onto his back. He snarled, scrambling to his feet, but she was already on him.


    He swung his mace wildly, and she ducked under it, her tail lashing out to knock his legs out from under him. Zalfon hit the ground hard, his weapon slipping from his grasp, she kicked it away keeping an eye on his hands.


    Kerrigan stood over him, her axe raised high. ¡°Any last words?¡± she growled.


    Zalfon glared up at her, defiance burned bright. ¡°You¡¯ll never last here. The Legion will eat you alive.¡± He sneered up at her, his lips curling into a final, mocking grin.


    Kerrigan raised her axe, the weight of it solid and cold in her hands. She hesitated, just for a heartbeat¡­then Zalfon¡¯s hand twitched as if to cast something, and her hesitation vanished. The axe fell, a brutal arc of dark metal and fury, and the world seemed to pause as it struck. The impact echoed with a wet thwack, silencing the crowd for one endless moment before the roar resumed.


    She smirked. ¡°Maybe. But at least I¡¯m not dying with a smug grin on my face.¡±


    On his death, Kerrigan felt a new rush of power coursing through her veins. She yanked her axe free, it caught on something, bone probably, and she had to see-saw it a little to free it. Just like chopping firewood, she thought.


    ¡°Guess betrayal¡¯s not such a great survival strategy after all,¡± she muttered, turning to face the roaring crowd.


    The cheers quickly began to fade, replaced by a low murmur that rippled through the crowd like an undercurrent. Kerrigan stood over Zalfon¡¯s corpse, her chest heaving, black ichor dripping from her axe. She could feel their eyes on her, hungry and appraising. This wasn¡¯t just entertainment to them¡ªthis was a test, a judgment. And she had passed. For now. She wiped her face with the back of her sleeve, smearing sweat and soot, and glanced toward the stands. Knight Lord Bolten was in the crowd watching her, his expression unreadable. He gave her the barest nod before turning away. Kerrigan¡¯s stomach twisted. She had won¡ªbut had she won well enough?

 5 - My Lord

    Kerrigan stood in the arena, tense and uncertain. No announcements of victory, no applause¡ªjust whispers that died down until a heavy silence settled over the crowd. Every demon stared at her, unblinking.


    It was an eerily awkward silence. She felt like she should be doing something, but she didn¡¯t know what.


    Should I speak? What do I say?


    Thankfully, she didn¡¯t have to break the tension. With an almost reluctant look, Knight Lord Balto stood up and spoke.


    ¡°Well, if no one else is willing to take her, I will,¡± he said to the crowd. ¡°I¡¯ve got a Knight in my Hecatontagon without a Squire, and she¡¯ll do well enough for him. I will proxy her to him, as is my right as Varkus¡¯ Knight Lord.¡±


    ¡°You mean Varkus the Betrayer,¡± an orange-winged demon stood up and yelled out with amusement. A laugh rippled through the arena. ¡°That Contract-breaking scum.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Varkus still be un-squired,¡± Balto replied, glaring at the orange demon. Another round of laughter spread through the crowd. ¡°But it¡¯d be his duty, regardless of what he did.¡±


    ¡°She can have him then. A fine pair they will make,¡± another winged demon stood up and said, laughing and slapping his leg cuisse with a dark gauntlet. ¡°Varkus the Betrayer with an Ascended Knight who has no family name or battle magic as a Squire¡­ That¡¯s just pitiful. She¡¯s obviously¡­¡±


    ¡°All the same,¡± Balto interjected, ¡°I will take her, so shut your damn mouths...unless you want to settle this in the arena.¡± His glare swept over the crowd. Both the demons who had spoken up sat down quickly, sneering at him.


    Kerrigan watched the exchange, feeling like a calf at a cattle auction being sold for veal. Though apparently, she wasn¡¯t a good deal.


    Of course, I don¡¯t know any battle magic. It¡¯s fucking. Bloody. Magic.


    Balto looked at her. ¡°Kerrigan, usually a Knight will contract a Squire. As you have the soul energy of a Knight yourself, if not the skills, I will contract you to my service and assign you to squire for my Knight Varkus...Will you contract to me as your liege lord, to squire under Knight Varkus Varkusson?¡±


    The unsaid option, refusal, has been clearly conveyed to her before the fight. She would be stuck in the arena fighting until she was accepted, or she was killed. Even so, she hesitated, her mind racing. Apparently, she was being assigned to a Knight with a reputation for betrayal and mocked by his peers. Every instinct screamed at her to refuse, to demand a better deal. But in this world, she was alone, and the bitter truth was clear: survival meant accepting this new reality, no matter how much she hated it. What choice did she have?


    ¡°May as well¡± Kerrigan said at last, her voice steady despite the knot of unease in her stomach. She blinked and suddenly Balto was standing in front of her.


    How the¡­


    Balto stepped forward and nodded approvingly. ¡°Then sign the Contract of Fealty. Standard terms as per The Contract...Apart from a stay of the rights and privileges of a Knight, until you complete your squire-ship¡± he lifted his hand up and deftly wrote runes in the air.


    ¡°Standard Terms?¡± she asked before admitting an obvious fact, ¡°I don''t know what that means¡±


    "Standard templated Terms and Conditions¡± he replied and received a blank look from her in return.


    Balto sighed, "Just push your hand through the runes. Honestly, I thought humans were masters of the mystical arts. I remember on Rygal 9, a human boy moved a moon to create an eclipse. Pity he couldn''t move it back¡ªhis whole world froze to death."


    ¡°I¡¯m from Earth remember¡­that¡¯s not a thing¡±


    ¡°Ah yes, right¡­not the best sorcerers there. A low energy realm¡­good wine though¡± he admitted.


    ¡°Whatever¡±. Resigned, she pushed her hand through the glowing runes. They spiraled themselves up her arm and disappeared into it. It was then she knew, but not quite understood, what it was she signing up to. A Contract of Fealty, medieval in nature with a demonic twist.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    She was bound to obey her liege in all things, while he, in turn, was sworn to protect her from those of higher rank.


    She was entitled to keep a third of the soul energy she harvested per cycle, with the remainder taxed by her Knight Lord.


    She would be assigned 9 legionaries under her command.


    She would be provided with armour.


    She would be assisted in the creation of a Knights bounded weapon.


    It went on and on¡­she zoned out from the depth of the of ''legal-ish''¡­. It didn¡¯t mean much because the clauses were all for a Knight, not a Squire. For her acting position as a Squire, it wasn''t a bad deal at all. As a Squire she would get amour but have no subordinates and pay no tax. However, she would be obligated to attend something called the Citadel for training.¡±


    "Do you accept" he asked.


    She knew what he was asking her to do, what the contract was asking her to do. "I accept" she confirmed.


    ¡°By the laws of the Contract, you are now bound to my service and, through my powers of proxy, the service of Knight Varkus¡±


    She shuddered, her tail swishing behind her. It felt as if something had settled into her very being. The crowd¡¯s murmurs resumed, but this time, the tone was different, curiosity mingled now mixed with the disdain. Kerrigan squared her shoulders, determined not to let their judgment affect her. If this was the start of her journey in the Dark Legion, then she¡¯d face it head-on¡­fuck¡¯em.


    Balto gestured for her to follow him out of the arena. As they walked, he spoke in a low voice. ¡°You¡¯ve made quite the impression, Kerrigan. An Acceded Knight. Varkus may not be the most respected Knight in the Legion, but he¡¯s still a Knight. Don¡¯t let the words of the weak rattle you. Serve him well, and you¡¯ll have a chance to climb higher¡­You¡¯ll learn the art of soul crafting soon enough¡±


    Kerrigan glanced at him; her expression neutral, but excited at the fact she was going to learn magic, this soul crafting. ¡°And what about Varkus himself? What am I walking into?¡±


    Balto¡¯s lips twitched in something resembling a smile, albeit with too many pointy teeth. ¡°Let¡¯s just say he¡¯s got his own set of challenges. But he¡¯s not without skill. If you can survive under his tutelage, you¡¯ll be stronger for it.¡±


    ¡°Right, but besides my new boss Varkus, what is this contract¡­Not the one I¡¯ve just signed... what is ''The Contract''? I¡¯ve heard the reference before¡±, thinking of the demon in the tweed suit.


    ¡°It¡¯s The Contract of Contracts. The first contract that ever existed, as written by Finsternis, the Dread Emperor of the Dark Legion. All Contracts stem from his original decree, and every contract written thereafter carries its echoes, defining the laws that govern the Dark Legion. It is said that before Emperor Finsternis introduced The Contract of Contracts, there was nothing in the realm of the Dark Legion. No strongholds, no cities, no families, nor realm travel¡ªjust never-ending, blood-drenched slaughter and unfettered chaos. Advancement was rare, the strong would devour the weak with impunity...¡±, he paused to think about that for a moment, ¡°...Well, that still goes on to an extent...there are always loopholes... but at least now there is a semblance of regulated civility. The main pillar that upholds this order are the The Contract of Fealty.¡±


    ¡°Is the Contract of Contracts long¡± she asked as the arena door closed once again leaving them in the ready room beneath once again.


    ¡°Not really, there are only 6 clauses¡± Balto said before reciting.


    "A Contract is sacred; to break it is to shatter one¡¯s soul.


    Nothing is granted freely; to claim power, one must relinquish something.


    The terms must be proclaimed, understood, and bound in accord.


    Willing submission alone binds the oath; no force shall forge a true pact.


    No oath is lightly severed; a Contract stands unbroken save by fulfillment, in accord or the agony of breach.


    Betray the Contract, and the Contract shall unmake you. Justice shall be paid in suffering, damages to the wronged.¡±


    ¡°Wow, sounds like breaking a contract is a really, really bad idea,¡± Kerrigan muttered, thinking about what she had just signed., Kerrigan remarked aloud thinking about what she had just signed.


    ¡°Not unless you want your soul energy forcibly ripped out of you by the magic imbued in The Contract and handed over to the other party in recompense. I''ve seen it happen. It¡¯s not pretty.¡± Balto whole body shivered in disgust. ¡°Breach a minor contract and you could be sent back a way, breach a larger contract and you could lose a rank, or multiple ranks. Break an important enough contract though, and it¡¯s the end of you¡±


    ¡°It kills you?¡± she asked surprised.


    ¡°As much as any can die in the legion. It¡¯s back to the Pit for you, awaiting rebirth to start your chance again as a Rabid¡±


    ¡°Are there a lot of subcontracts derived from the original?¡± Kerrigan asked


    ¡°There are a great many and new ones are being developed and accepted into the collection by the Council of Kings every tenth cycle. Anyone can submit a new contact template for consideration, provided it is derived from The Contract. Now I¡¯m sure you have a lot more questions, but I¡¯ve another subordinate I¡¯ve got to prepare for a dual. You¡¯re a Squire now, you¡¯re to study at the Citadel while not on assignment with Knight Varkus. I¡¯ll have him meet you tomorrow. You¡¯ll also need to be measured for your amour, but for now¡­¡±, he signed some runes in the air once more and two Legionaries quickly appeared.


    ¡°Take Squire Kerrigan to the Citadel and get her registered for classes¡±, he ordered.


    ¡°Yes, my Lord¡±, they both said in perfect sync.


    Kerrigan still gripped the bloody axe tightly, but lifted it up to him, offering it back. "You want this back?" she asked, though her fingers refused to loosen their grip. The weight of it was reassuring, grounding.


    ¡°Keep it" he said, chucking to himself. He pushed it back towards her. "You¡¯re going to need it¡±.

 6 – Back to School

    Kerrigan and her escort reached the Citadel. The Citadel was a large 4 story, fortified building with a tall hexagonal tower at the center reaching up to about 50 meters.


    Her two stoic legionaries ushered her into the building without any fanfare and dropped her off at an unmanned stone desk near the main entrance.


    ¡°Register here¡±, one of them said and they both left.


    She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her tail swishing nervously behind her. The silence was oppressive, and she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a figure emerged from the shadows to stand behind the desk.


    The demon woman was tall and slender, with sharp, angular features and glowing golden eyes. Her skin was a deep, rich blue, and her long, pointed ears twitched slightly as she approached. She wore a flowing robe made of shimmering, iridescent fabric that shifted colors as she moved. Her horns were small and curved, barely visible beneath the hood of her robe. She carried a staff in one hand, its tip glowing faintly with a soft, white light.


    "Ah, you must be the new Squire," she said, her voice smooth and melodic, with a hint of amusement. "I am Archivist Thalos. Welcome to the Citadel."


    Kerrigan nodded, unsure of how to respond. She wasn¡¯t used to being addressed so formally, especially not by someone who looked like they belonged in a fantasy novel. She felt her cheeks heat a little.  "Uh, thanks. My name is Clare Kerrigan, but everyone just calls me Kerrigan."


    Thalos inclined her head slightly, her golden eyes studying her with a mixture of curiosity and appraisal. "Yes, I¡¯ve heard. Knight Lord Balto sent word that you were coming. An Out-realmer, no less. Quite the rarity."


    "So I¡¯ve been told¡­Alright," she said, clapping her hands together, her voice steady despite the knot of fear in her stomach. "What do I need to do?"


    Thalos smiled, a faint, almost imperceptible curve of her lips. "First, you must be registered. The Citadel keeps meticulous records of all who enter its halls. Your progress, your failures, your victories¡ªall will be documented. You will be given a schedule of classes, which you are expected to attend without fail. You will be assigned quarters while you attend the Citadel. While not studying, you are to be available for service to your Knight, who will provide mentorship, practical one on one training, and lead you on Rabid culling runs. You will be studying at the citadel for three cycles. Second years can submit their name to the Ether to be summoned by supplicants¡±


    ¡°How much is all this going to cost me. I¡¯ve no money¡±, she asked


    Thalos gave her an odd look, ¡°What do you mean, money?¡±


    ¡°How am I going to pay for this¡±


    ¡°Soul energy, of course. And you have more than any other squire in here¡±


    ¡°How can you tell¡±


    ¡°You have a tail. Squires don¡¯t have tails, only horns. Only Knights have enough soul energy for their tail to develop. But if you want details on exactly how much soul energy you have, run your finger down your arm like this." She turned her left forearm over and ran her taloned finger down the underside of her forearm and then back up three times. Runes burned into the air above her arm.


    Kerrigan copied the gesture and sure enough, runes burned into the air above her arm as well. She didn¡¯t know what they meant. She did note that there were a lot more lines and a lot more digits on Thalos'' readout. She asked, ¡°I can¡¯t read this, but I¡¯m guessing you have a lot more soul energy than me, so why don¡¯t you have a tail?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Patrician. I did not walk down the Martial Path like you. I will never grow a tail or wings¡±, she said a little embarrassed. ¡°Let me show you what these numbers mean¡±


    ¡°The first line is for Commons, or otherwise known as Plebs. You need about 100 Rabids to make a common soul¡±


    The second line is Partitions, or Parts. Ten Plebs make a Part.


    The third line is Low-Nobles, or Lows¡­Oh look you already have one. Must have been the squire you defeated¡­50 Parts make a Low¡±, she remarked. That was the last line in Kerrigan¡¯s list. Thalos moved to her own pointing at the next line.


    ¡°Then there is Min-Nobles, or Mids. 20 Lows make a Mid¡±, she said pointing to the last line of her list. ¡°And if you ever get lucky enough there are two more soul values. The High Nobles (Heights) that are worth about 400 Mids., and finally there are the fabled Lights, worth ten Hights. These are the souls from the Legion of Light¡­and unless the truce is broken you¡¯ll likely never see one¡¯.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°There is a Legion of Light¡±, she asked fascinated at the numbers burning on top of her arm. She had 8 Plebs and a single Low, but as she was looking the Plebs ticked down to 7. She had lost money. ¡°Oh, I just lost a Pleb. Why?¡± she asked as well.


    ¡°Yes, there is a Legion of Light. Our eternal enemy. You will learn about them in class. You probably just burned through a Pleb naturally. Your body consumes soul energy to sustain itself. The higher your rank, the faster your burn rate. This spell only shows the balance, not the drain.¡­Ah, I forgot, you¡¯re an out-realmer. You will naturally burn soul energy to exist. The higher your rank the more your natural burn rate.¡±


    This worried Kerrigan immensely. She would need to find a way to gather more soul energy. Thalos mentioned Rabid culling¡­ ¡°How do I close it?¡±, she had to conserve her energy for now.


    ¡°Just do the same gesture¡±, Thalos said demonstrating and shutting down her own spell.


    Kerrigan quickly mimicked Thalos¡¯s gesture, running her taloned finger down her forearm three times. The glowing runes above her arm flickered and then vanished, leaving her with a sense of relief. She didn¡¯t want to waste any more of her precious soul energy, especially now that she understood how vital it was to her survival in this world.


    ¡°So,¡± Kerrigan said, her mind racing as she tried to process everything Thalos had just told her, ¡°if I don¡¯t keep harvesting souls, I¡¯ll eventually¡­ what? Lose my tail? My horns? Turn back into a Rabid?¡±


    Thalos nodded, her golden eyes glinting with a mix of sympathy and amusement. ¡°Exactly. Soul energy is the lifeblood of demonkind. Without it, we regress. For Plebeians, it¡¯s a constant struggle to maintain their status. For Nobles like you, the stakes are even higher. The more power you have, the more energy you burn. It¡¯s a delicate balance, one that every demon must learn to manage.¡±


    Kerrigan frowned, her tail swishing nervously behind her. ¡°Great. So not only do I have to survive this place, but I also have to constantly hunt for souls just to stay alive. Sounds like a real fun time.¡±


    Thalos chuckled softly, the sound like the tinkling of distant bells. ¡°Welcome to the Dark Legion, Squire Kerrigan. It¡¯s not a kind world, but it¡¯s the only one we have. Now, let¡¯s get you registered.¡±


    She gestured to the stone desk, and a large, leather-bound book materialized on its surface. The pages flipped open on their own, revealing lines of glowing, runic script. Thalos produced a quill from within her robes and handed it to Kerrigan.


    ¡°Sign your name here,¡± she said, pointing to a blank space at the bottom of the page. ¡°This is your formal entry into the Citadel. Once you sign, I¡¯ll take you to your quarters.¡±


    With a steady hand, she signed her name in the book. The words flared brightly for a moment, then faded, leaving her name etched into the page in glowing, golden letters.


    ¡°What beautiful letters. What language is that?¡± Thalos asked curiously.


    ¡°English¡±


    ¡°Marvelous. I¡¯ve never been out of realm before. I hear the Many Worlds are beautiful. Alas I¡¯m stuck here. You must tell me more about where you come from, but for now, come along. You probably want to rest. It¡¯s quite late¡±


    Kerrigan was led through the winding corridors of the Citadel, her footsteps echoing against the cold, stone floors. The building was a labyrinth of twisting hallways, towering arches, and hidden alcoves. The walls were lined with tapestries depicting scenes of battle, conquest, and demonic rituals. The air was thick with the scent of incense and the faint hum of magic.


    ¡°Your quarters are on the third floor,¡± Thalos said, her voice echoing softly in the vast hallway. ¡°You¡¯ll be sharing with another Squire. They have not arrived yet. Most of the students here are Legionaries from rich families, trying to get their sons and daughters into a squire ship or low-ranking Nobles, so you¡¯ll likely stand out. Try not to let it bother you.¡±


    Kerrigan nodded, though she wasn¡¯t sure how she was supposed to not let it bother her. She was already an outsider, a human-turned-demon in a world where everyone seemed to know the rules except her. The fact that she had a tail¡ªsomething only Knights were supposed to have¡ªwas just another thing that set her apart. She could feel the weight of the stares from the few demons they passed in the hallways, their glowing eyes following her with a mix of curiosity and disdain.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± Thalos said, stopping in front of a heavy wooden door. She gestured for Kerrigan to enter, and the door swung open on its own, revealing a small, sparsely furnished room. There were two beds, a simple wooden desk, and a small chest at the foot of each bed. The walls were bare, and the only light came from a single green torch mounted on the wall.


    Kerrigan stepped inside, her eyes scanning the room. It wasn¡¯t much, but it was better than sleeping on the ground in the Sundered Plains. She set her axe down by the bed and turned to Thalos. ¡°So, what now?¡±


    ¡°Now, you rest,¡± Thalos said, her tone softening slightly. ¡°Your classes begin tomorrow. You¡¯ll be expected to attend without fail. The Citadel does not tolerate laziness or disobedience. If you miss a class or fail to meet expectations, you¡¯ll find yourself back in the Sundered Plains faster than you can blink.¡±


    Kerrigan nodded, her jaw tightening. She wasn¡¯t about to let that happen.


    ¡°Your schedule will be delivered to you in the morning,¡± Thalos continued. ¡°You¡¯ll be studying a variety of subjects¡ªcombat, magic, demonic history, and the art of soul-binding contracts. Your ability to adapt will determine how far you rise¡ªor how quickly you fall. It¡¯s a rigorous curriculum, but if you survive it, you¡¯ll emerge stronger than you ever thought possible.¡±


    Kerrigan nodded, her mind already racing with questions. She wanted to ask more, but Thalos was already turning to leave.


    ¡°Rest well, Squire Kerrigan,¡± Thalos said as she stepped back into the hallway. ¡°Tomorrow, your real training begins.¡±


    The door closed behind her, leaving Kerrigan alone in the dimly lit room. She sat down on the edge of the bed, her tail curling around her as she tried to process everything. The weight of her new reality was pressing down on her, but she refused to let it crush her. She had survived this far, and she would keep surviving, no matter what it took.


    As she lay down on the cold, hard bed, her mind wandered back to the strange man in the tweed suit. His cryptic words echoed in her head: ¡°The only way out is up.¡± She didn¡¯t know what he meant, but she was determined to find out. She would climb the ranks of the Dark Legion, uncover the truth about her transformation, and find a way to escape this hellish world.


    But for now, she needed to rest.

 7 – Good Old Days

    ¡°Wake up, Kerry! It¡¯s your turn to feed the cows,¡± her brother Jack yelled, pounding on her door.


    She looked at her clock and cursed. ¡°Go away, it¡¯s 5 a.m.,¡± she screamed. ¡°I¡¯ve another hour of sleep, ya bloody wanker.¡±


    Jack chuckled from the other side of the door, completely unfazed. ¡°Get up! They¡¯re not going to feed themselves.¡±


    Eh, of all her fucking brothers, Jack was the worst. The eldest, he thought he was in charge. At least Samuel and Jonathan had the decency to let her sleep in occasionally. Jack, on the other hand, had spent too much time being barked at by sergeants. He thought it was his God-given right to pass that misery onto her.


    With a groan, she threw off the covers and sat up. The cold morning air bit at her skin, making her second-guess her decision to leave the warmth of her bed. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and yawned. Outside, she could hear the distant lowing of the cattle, along with the rhythmic creak of the windmill pumping water.


    Kerrigan pulled on her worn work jeans and an old hoodie, yanking her boots on with a practiced stomp. She grabbed her hat off the dresser and shoved it on her head before stomping toward the door. As she pulled it open, she found Jack leaning against the hallway wall, arms crossed, smirking.


    ¡°Took you long enough,¡± he said.


    Kerrigan rolled her eyes and shoved past him, muttering under her breath, ¡°Prick.¡±


    Jack just laughed and followed her down the hallway and out the back door, stepping onto the dewy grass of the homestead. The sky was still dark, but the faintest hints of orange were creeping along the horizon.


    They walked toward the barn in silence. Jack had never been much of a talker when he wasn¡¯t trying to boss her around. It was one of the few things she actually appreciated about him. That, and despite how annoying he was, she did miss him when he was away.


    ¡°How¡¯s it feel to be back?¡± she finally asked, keeping her tone casual.


    Jack took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. ¡°Strange,¡± he admitted. ¡°Quiet.¡±


    Kerrigan scoffed. ¡°Bet you won¡¯t think that once Mum gets up and starts yelling about the laundry.¡±


    Jack chuckled but didn¡¯t respond.


    They reached the barn, and Kerrigan flicked on the lights, illuminating rows of stacked hay bales and the slow, sleepy movement of the cows in their stalls. She grabbed a bucket of grain and started pouring it into the trough while Jack leaned against a wooden post, watching.


    ¡°You ever think about it?¡± Jack asked suddenly.


    She glanced at him. ¡°Think about what?¡±


    ¡°Joining up.¡±


    Kerrigan snorted. ¡°Hell no.¡±


    Jack raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°Because I like sleeping in, and I hate being yelled at.¡± She shot him a pointed look.


    Jack smirked. ¡°Yeah, well, you get used to it.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°Nah, mate. The army¡¯s your thing, not mine. I¡¯d rather stick to fixing things than getting shot at.¡±


    Jack was quiet for a moment before he nodded. ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    They finished feeding the cows in silence. The sun had started to rise, casting long golden shadows across the fields. Kerrigan took a deep breath, savouring the crisp morning air. She¡¯d grown up here. This was home. The idea of leaving it behind for something like the army? It didn¡¯t seem like her.


    And yet, something in the back of her mind whispered.


    The only way out is up.


    She shook the thought away.


    Right now, all she cared about was getting through another day without Jack nagging her to death.


    By the time they finished with the cows, the sky had fully brightened, casting warm hues over the rolling pastures. Kerrigan wiped her hands on her jeans and stretched, glancing toward the house where she could already hear the faint clatter of dishes from the kitchen.


    ¡°Mum¡¯s up,¡± she muttered.


    Jack grinned. ¡°Better you than me.¡±Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± she shot back. ¡°Your home, which means you¡¯re getting the first earful.¡±


    Jack groaned. ¡°Yeah, yeah. Let¡¯s get this over with.¡±


    They trudged back toward the house, boots kicking up bits of dry dirt as the scent of bacon and eggs drifted through the crisp morning air. As soon as they stepped inside, their mother, Margaret Kerrigan, turned from the stove with her hands on her hips.


    ¡°Look who finally decided to do some farm work,¡± she said, eyeing Jack with a knowing smirk.


    ¡°Morning, Mum,¡± Jack said, kissing her on the cheek before slipping past her and making a beeline for the coffee pot.


    Margaret shook her head, turning her sharp gaze on Kerrigan. ¡°And you. You¡¯re up unusually early?¡±


    Kerrigan rolled her eyes. ¡°Ask your favourite firstborn here. He¡¯s the one who wouldn¡¯t shut up and dragged me out of bed.¡±


    Jack, mid-sip of coffee, made an exaggerated offended face. ¡°Oi, I was doing my duty.¡±


    Margaret snorted. ¡°You¡¯ve been back two weeks, and you¡¯re already harassing your sister like you never left.¡±


    ¡°Some things don¡¯t change,¡± Kerrigan muttered, grabbing a plate and loading it with eggs and toast before dropping into a chair at the kitchen table.


    Samuel and Jonathan walked in a few moments later, both looking far more well-rested than she felt. Samuel, the second oldest, was as sharp-eyed as ever, his Army officer demeanour still present even in casual clothes. Jonathan, the youngest of the boys, yawned as he plopped into the chair across from her, his Navy sweater hanging loosely over his frame. Somehow, they had all managed to align their leave and get home at the same time. Johnathan was still training down at HMAS Cerberus, and Samuel was back from Germany. Not an easy task.


    ¡°Mornin¡¯,¡± Jonathan mumbled, stealing a piece of toast from her plate.


    She smacked his hand. ¡°Get your own, you leech.¡±


    He grinned but grabbed his own plate. Samuel, on the other hand, studied her for a moment before speaking. ¡°You look tired, Kerry.¡±


    ¡°She was up early feeding the cows,¡± Jack said, grinning over his coffee cup.


    ¡°Yeah, thanks to you,¡± Kerrigan shot back.


    Margaret clucked her tongue. ¡°Well, if you lot are done bickering, eat your breakfast before it gets cold.¡±


    For a few moments, the kitchen was filled with the familiar sounds of forks scraping against plates and the occasional clinking of coffee mugs. It was a rare moment of quiet.


    Then Samuel cleared his throat. ¡°So, Kerry, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    Kerrigan frowned. ¡°What plan?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re nearly done with school,¡± he said. ¡°Figured you¡¯d have some idea of what you want to do next.¡±


    She hesitated. Truthfully, she didn¡¯t know. The idea of leaving the farm had always been a distant thought, something she figured she¡¯d worry about when the time came. But now? With Jack back from deployment and Samuel talking like she had some grand future waiting?


    ¡°I dunno,¡± she admitted. ¡°Hadn¡¯t really thought about it. What is this an intervention?¡±


    Samuel hummed, exchanging a glance with Jack. ¡°You¡¯d do well in the Army, you know.¡±


    Kerrigan groaned. ¡°Not this again.¡±


    ¡°Think about it,¡± Jack added. ¡°You¡¯re good with your hands, you¡¯ve got a sharp mind, and you don¡¯t back down from a fight. The Combat Engineers could use someone like you.¡±


    She shook her head. ¡°As earlier, I like fixing things. Not getting shot at or being blown up.¡±


    Johnathan chuckled. ¡°Not all of them explode. Just most. You could always join the Navy like yours truly. Or hotel Air Force and the family will have the trifecta.¡±


    Jack and Sam flicked some eggs at John.


    ¡°Yeah right¡±, Jack said


    ¡°As if¡±, followed Sam.


    Kerrigan rolled her eyes, but the conversation lingered in her mind.


    Jack shrugged. ¡°Just saying, you should consider it. The farm¡¯s always here, but there¡¯s a whole world out there too.¡±


    The only way out is up.


    That whisper again.


    She shoved it aside and focused on finishing her breakfast.


    ¡°Yeah, well, I¡¯ll think about it,¡± she muttered, though she wasn¡¯t sure if she meant it.


    Jack smirked. ¡°That¡¯s all I¡¯m asking.¡±


    The scent of fresh bacon lingered in the air. The warmth of the rising sun kissed her skin, the soft murmur of her brothers¡¯ voices echoing in the background. She could still feel the weight of the coffee mug in her hands, the familiar hum of home settling into her bones¡ª


    Then it was gone.


    Kerrigan¡¯s eyes snapped open.


    The comforting warmth of home was replaced by the cold, oppressive air of the Citadel. The scent of bacon faded into the lingering musk of ancient stone, sweat, and the blood still cursed on the cloths she¡¯d gotten at the arena, that she hadn¡¯t even bothered to take off before she passed out. She really needed a shower.


    She exhaled sharply and rubbed the sleep from her eyes.


    For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the heavy weight of her dream. It had felt too real, like she had truly been back on the farm, arguing with Jack, listening to her mother¡¯s voice, feeling the comfort of her home beneath her feet.


    But that world was gone.


    She sat up, stretching her aching muscles. The mattress beneath her was stiff, the blanket thin and barely enough to keep the cold at bay. She glanced at the small window. It was still dark, however the large mood shone just a tad brighter and the green tinged one was no where in sight. Perhaps it was morning¡ªat least, whatever passed for morning in this place.


    A loud knock at the door jolted her fully awake.


    ¡°Squire Kerrigan,¡± a gruff voice barked from the other side. ¡°You¡¯re expected in the training yard in fifteen minutes. Get moving.¡±


    She groaned. No gentle wake-ups here either, apparently.


    Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she stood and rolled her shoulders. The stiffness hadn¡¯t left since her fight in the arena. She was still sore, still bruised, and she was willing to bet today would bring even more punishment.


    Her tail flicked behind her, a reminder of what she had become.


    She moved to the small wooden chest at the foot of her bed, flipping it open to find a basic a uniform¡ªsturdy black leather reinforced with dark steel plating on the shoulders and forearms. The weight of it was a stark contrast to the loose, comfortable clothes she was currently wearing, at least these once weren¡¯t crusty.


    As she got dressed, she couldn¡¯t help but check her energy levels. A quick gesture reveled that she hadn¡¯t lost any money overnight. Money, souls. She kept thinking of it as money by these were living things she was burning up. How is it any different from eating a chicken though, she thought, Chickens aren¡¯t sentient¡­I think.  She would need more soon regardless.


    ¡°Move it, Out-realmer, or I¡¯ll drag you out myself.¡±, came the voice.


    Kerrigan rolled her eyes. ¡°Yeah, yeah, I¡¯m coming.¡±


    Taking one last deep breath, she squared her shoulders, grabbed her axe, and stepped out into the cold corridors of the Citadel.


    Her training was about to begin.


    And she had a feeling she wasn¡¯t going to like it.