Janine marched her soldiers toward the city, following a si figure of the Blessed Mother. As usual, the Wolfkins fell in line, awed by the divine presence of the one who gave life to the eribe. The progenitor. The first and only to reach the unimaginable heights of might. Even knowing the full truth behind their creation, Janine could not help but feel something stirring in her soul at Ravager’s passing. Her fur was so dark that even daylight struggled to escape its embrace, and at night she looked like a shard plucked from the void that led betweears, carrying double, brightest yellow moons in her eyes.

  She was a nexus, a source of their lives, the Spirits’ will given form. No matter the distance, her offspring were never free of her touch. It might have appeared in a sudden nightmare on a moonless night, or through a violent urge to spit at the odds and snatch victory from the grasp of defeat, but her presence lurked at the back of their minds, inspiring the Wolfkins and always calling the tribe to reach previously impossible heights. She had no need for speeches; her deeds and the sheer charisma, emanating from her movements, told everything.

  A streak of blood ran down her nostrils, indig an intehought process that tensed Jahe Blessed Mother carried no ons or armor, no talismans, or unication devices. She had no need for such toys. Her paws alone had enough strength to rip the life out of a warlord, and if the bloodlust had gotteter of her…

  The twest members of the Wolf Tribe and the Ice Fang Order, Warlord Alpha and Sword Saint First Sunbde, fnked her as she stood on four limbs. They acted as her aides, trusted advisors, interpreters, and safeguards to protect others from her wrathful madness at the cost of their own hides.

  Many iribe struggled to accept their white-furred cousins. They had the same long muzzles, but softer cws. The sword saints’ skills triumphed on most battlefields, yet they admitted both genders into the leadership, much to the tribe’s fusion. The simirity betweewo groups was undeniable, but their differenecessitated stant probing for softness and domination duels iime. At war, the warlords tried to accept their kin as brothers and sisters, demanding the same from their packs and ign the shamans’ warnings.

  The locals called this region of the world the Wastes, and the name t! The capital’s kilometers-long steel pipes spilled toxic sludge into crevices, f kes. During the day, their fumes would rise, f baleful clouds that would spell doom through gale force winds, clogging the surface, potentially creating storms and wiping out everything in their path. Normies, ordinary men and women w in the Recmation Army, had to wear gas masks to avoid chemical burns to their lungs. When a storm came, people hid in armored vehicles to escape the irradiated air that could easily kill them.

  The natives, from what Janine had seen, were a miserable bunch, surviving in spite of all odds rather than thriving. They grew food in underground caverns and farms, fought the ioid invasion from below, and had to give most of their meager harvest to feed the capital of Teo-Queen. Their greatest dream was to be drafted into the army and finally gain a modicum of stability and hope for a better life.

  Ihe capital’s thick metal walls was another world altogether. Teo-Queen’s soldiers patrolled the streets in hazmat suits and parodies of power armor, shielded from most known dangers. When faced with situations her grunts couldn’t haheir mistress unleashed steel minions to eliminate any threat to her rule.

  Life was cheap outside of the capital, as the anxious vilgers expio their scouts after the initial terror of the first meeting had passed, and both sides broke mushroom bread over dirty cups of water and sealed a pact of peace.

  Vilges and hamlets existed to feed the capital, not the other way around. Locals died in droves from radiation or disappeared, being food for the dangers lurking in the unpoisoned underground. They used outdated ons instead of the top-of-the-liuff avaible in the capital. Those lucky enough to live on the edge of their try enjoyed better health at the cost of having to endure raids by the ibalistic tribes of Malformed, while those closer to the capital had retive safety and slowly choked ooxic fumes, rarely living into their forties.

  Elders regurly sacrificed themselves and begged their cruel and unhearing gods for the salvation of their people. If a vilge could not pay its tithe, it suffered decimation. When the vilgers tried to flee, Teo-Queen’s steel minions huhem doaraded several insane escapees to the vilges as a lesson and warning.

  Janine no longer felt any surprise at the scope of Teo-Queen’s area of operation. Some people in the New World were born with enhanced physical abilities; many more had a mutated appearahe state called such people New Breeds. Or a normal person could be born with a special power. On rare occasions, a blessing would occur and a newborn would possess all three of the outstanding traits. The bitch queen ruling these nds had the power to instinctively uand how to create and assemble plicated meical devices. Her genius didn’t stop there. It exteo her knowledge of intricate programming, givieel minions a degree of self-awareness as they chose not to ehe state forces alone, but rather gathered in the capital.

  The sheer potential of such power was hard to undersell. A person capable of solving plicated mathematical equations and capable of creating tools to build automated factories that ed out robotic workers. The Dynast wahis power for the state. Or, failing that, he wao end this power’s reign aurn these nds to humanity. And whatever the big boss wanted, he got. ander Ravager and ander Devourer had been given the order to carry out the recmation. Not surprisingly, Ravager soohe Sed Army behind, f her Third Army to march directly toward the enemy capital.

  “ahe frontal assault will result in catastrophic losses for our forces…” First, the magnifit-looking and muscur Ice Fang in white and purple power armor bowed his head respectfully, his long hair tied at the waist, and his eyes glowing crimson. The surrounding sclera had a golderue to his name, he was the first biological offspring of the Twins, the solidified perfe of mind and body.

  “Be silent, male,” Jaold him, both to keep him safe and to try to spark a dominatioer. Even a loss would bring her glory ich of her axe against the searing kiss of his suhe warlord dropped to her knees, baring her o the silent Ravager.

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

  The Blessed Mother’s st betrayed no anger or demand for submission, and Jaood, moving deliberately slowly. She met her rival’s gaze, noting the sword saint’s slender arms and legs, limbs more worthy of a wolf hag than an officer of her rank. The woman buried herself in a suit of power armor, dyed in the white and yellow of her , a house, as the ice girls called it. It’s how they differentiated. The Sunbde household owned purple color; the Voidrunners colored their property bck; and the Wintersongs boasted sea blue.

  Bertruda’s paw gripped the shaft of a thin spear, her crimsoaring at the warlord with barely suppressed disgust. Bertruda’s power armor had a simir design to that of her fellow sword saints—not oversized, full of smooth curves, aures desigo defle ining blow with a well-executed, elegant dodge. It sealed them pletely in battle, leaving no exposed parts. Gold and yellow paint, signs of her household, adorned both her breastpte and her helmet. A long silken cape flowed from her shoulders, its hem soiled on the ground. Her vambraces cealed deadly psma ons, plementing the sword saint’s primary on of choice.

  Janine’s own armor was the plete opposite. Thiough to swallow a bullet if it broke the outer shell. The vambraces and elbow joints were sharpened for hand-to-hand bat, where each blow would kill or maim the oppo. Her armor increased the warlord’s weight sixfold, turning her into a stomping onball shattering the enemy lines for her soldiers to rush into the opening, and she used her energy rifle to hunt officers at le. Above her chest pte, Marco paihe current symbol of her pack, a pair of muscur paws.

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

  A bout had to be fair.

  Bertruda hated her; there was no denying it. It was an ho feeling, worthy of respect, written across her snout. Her knights carried this feeling, demonstrating to the tribe that the Ice Boys deserved reition by participating in duels and experieng both losses and victories. Bertruda was a younger womao give birth to her sed cub, and Janine had her fun, provoking the woman and enjoying bringing out the simirities to a Wolfkin in the Ice Fang, who desperately tried to live up to the standards of the other sword saints.

  There was a real fighter deep beh the white fur, perfume, and jewelry. Restraint was necessary in both battle and family situations. There was no be to be gained in humiliatirude through a defeat, nor was there honor to be won in fighting against unripe kin. In a year or three, her skills would match or eclipse those of the warlord; the Ice Fang would earn the undying loyalty of her troops, and then they’d csh. You do not cripple a family out of fear of losing.

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

  “The male started it.” Jaook off her helmet, log eyes with Bertruda. “Alpha’s howl was clear. The city is to fall before sunrise. Show respect to your superiors and stay quiet.”

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

  “Takes oo know one,” Janine replied, breaking eye tact.

  “Hey, hey, what’s the matter, starting a rumble without us?!” Warlord Martyshkina shouted, ing from the camp, apanied by Lacerated One and Dragena.

  Janine simply smiled, grasping her best friend’s paw. She and Martyshkina were born in the same month, attehe same pits, and bonded over the blood of all those who tried to steal their food. Assigo the same pack, the duo peted desperately, scarring their hides, enduring Terrific’s tortures, until one day they simply threw a bone and decided who would be reassigned, as her wao keep another as a mere subordinate. Marty lost; they made and upheld a promise to bee warlords, keeping the retionships friendly between their packs.

  Where Janine bulged from might and suffered minor physical deformities that left her legs a little shorter than usual, Martyshkina rightfully earhe lustful gaze of every male iribe Her glossy bck fur, a long fur cape taken from various predators the warlord huwin orbs ht, pure amber for eyes, and finally a pair of heavily modified revolvers at her belt made her look amazing, and she loved to show it off, shying away from a rank match against other warlords to spare herself scars.

  Dragena stood calm and collected, unlike most of the Wolf Tribe, her eyes sing the walls, searg even now for any overlooked weakness, barely paying attention to her sister. Janine had never seen her dominating another member of her pack or raising her voice. Some wicked tongues whispered that the warlord never felt even a sliver of emotion. She was of the first geion, one of the few still-living Wolfkins who were present when the Dynast took the oath of fealty frer. She carried six short knives in scabbards ohighs and a ser rifle slung behind her back. The woman’s ade power armor was dangerously simir to that of an Ice Fang in its sleek form, but the sheer mass of steel secured her from further gossip.

  Lacerated Ohe supreme shaman, was a being of horror unmatched even by Alpha. Dressed in an archaic battlepte, a bulky design from the first days of the Recmation Army, the shaman bled from fresh self-inflicted cuts all over her body. Crimson streaks rah the joints of her power armor; she peeled off her own lips to keep her fangs always exposed, and the cruel ever gave the wounds on her head time to heal, much to the chagrin of the field medics. The acrid air caused the shaman no disfort, despite her bare wounds.

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

  Alpha, a figure nearly matg Ravager’s height, o her sisters. Her white and rough skied the impression that her features had been carved from sbs of stoher than the result of her birth. The lo cws iire tribe protruded from the warlord’s three-fingered paws a, each spanning the length of an elbow. Even if her body had such a fun, Alpha could not physically retract her cws. There was no room in her arms to ceal these murder ons. The sclera of her eyes was a royal purple, and she had short, square ears. Bedecked in the most advanced suit of armor avaible to the tribe, Alpha matched First’s performan any battlefield, surpassed only by the ander herself.

  “Everyone is in pce, Blessed Mother,” Alpha growled, showing two sets of dangerous fangs within her maw. Oo grip and tear, and ao chew on the unfortunate fool who tried to stop her ing.

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

  “Your s are not unheard, Sword Saint First.” She smiled, speaking melodically and clearly, suppressing the urge to dominate. “I bear the noble First no ill will, but a piece of the puzzle has eluded him. Our quarry hopes for a methodical approach. We will not py her games. For too long, the people here had suffered uhe rule of the vainglorious hypocrite. For too long, justice had been deo the weak. The Ice Fangs shall hold the rear. You are to advaer us as we swarm the outer defenses.”

  “Blessed Mother, we meant no disrespeor are we cowards.” Bertruda k, bowing her head in submission. “I despise Barbarian Janine, but my heart aches at the thought of her or her warriors falling in battle, which, judging by their inpetend ck of strategiowledge and on sehey might. If speed is an issue, then please allow my troops to apany the front lio protect our allies. Should I or my knights fall behind, should we burden our allies, my head is yours to take, Blessed Mother.”

  “I am not your mother, Sword Saint. I am no one’s mother.” They ighe bsphemy. Ravager was an ination of the Spirits and some of them tested the faithful by slipping falsehoods into the Blessed Mother’s mouth. Just as the Blessed Mother fought agaiernal and internal madness, her desdants also had to fight both physical and spiritual battles. “The Wolf Tribe will secure this future. The Ice Fangs’ duty is to help the weak live and thrive in it. Should an ally fall, help them back to their feet.”

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

  “This isn’t over,” the sword saint hissed, passing by her. “Don’t you dare die out there, you stinking moron. You owe me a dance.”

  “I am a bad dancer, might actally crush a leg or two.” The warlrabbed the passing woman by the shoulder, feeling the movement of metal beh her cape. “Even our endurance has its limits. I’ll be much obliged if you’d kept our wounded safe.”

  “Of course we will, thug!” Bertruda broke free.

  “Are you two mating or something?” Martyshkina joked, stepping closer and leaning her head toward hers. “Forbidden lovers or...”

  “What? No! How could you even imply that I would ever lower myself…”

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

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

  “Not aiming to steal your pce, don’t worry.” The other warlord bowed, mirr the sword saiure with her oe. “But my heart sings with joy for both of you.”

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

  “She’s far too easy to rile up.” Dragena noticed. “Don’t break her.”

  “Well, I’ll try, but what …”

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

  “The most auspicious future awaits you yet, dearest Janine.” His muzzle rubbed against their necks, marking them with his st. “May no misstep ever ruin it.” He set them down, closed his helmet, and pressed two fingers against the metal forehead. “Ladies. It’s been a pleasure, truly.”

  “Phew, a tough cookie!” Martyshkina chuckled, cheg her ons and ign the burning gaze of Lacerated One.

  “I bet we could take him on together,” Janine said. She checked her rifle as well, just in case. Trickery was rare, but some ambitious fools earernal s by sabotaging equipment and leading their kin to their deaths. While Janine never doubted the Spirits’ ability to restore justice, she also enjoyed living.

  “Sharing a male? Disgusting…”

  A stomp on the ground ate up the rest of Martyshkina’s words. Ravager had stopped fifty meters from the t walls, basking in the lights of projectors that turhe guards on the wall into dark shapes. The Blessed Mother pressed her paw into the ground, bulging it with such force that two sbs of stone rose at her sides. Ravager looked up, ign the ons aimed at her.

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

  “We gave you an offer of peaceful reunification,” Ravager said, loud enough to be heard all the way from the main gates. Her feminine voice bore no malice er, only the deep exhaustion of someone who had dohe same thing over and ain. “Your leader spat in our faces and killed our envoy. She will be judged. But you don’t have to suffer or die. Many of you think that by this senseless and cowardly act, your leader has denied you a choice. This is false. There is always a choice. Surrender now. Cast down your ons, and only the guilty will be puhere is no glory ih. Live long and prosper; find happiness under better leadership. For your friends and families. Make the right choice. You have nothing to fear from us yet.”

  Fshes of gunfire were all the respohat she got. The defenders’ figures lit up in crimson and yellow; several hundred ser beams and scores of bullets were unleashed in unison, their fury bined with the defensive instaltions that lobbed shell after shell inter. Missiles flew up from the massive defeowers behind the main wall and rained down on the Blessed Mother.

  A mushroom cloud of smoke and fire rose from the ground, knog some defenders off their feet. The shockwave spshed the ed body against the city’s wall, leaving not even a bloody stain. Every st bit of the envoy’s remains vaporized in the dang, fming fury. Jached calmly as the shockwave died against the energy field surrounding their camp. She ighe hellish sounds of booming explosions and pced Martyshkina’s helmet on her friend’s head, allowing her fellow warlord to do the same to her.

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

  As the fmes and explosions subsided, the defenders whispered in fear as they saw Ravager standing still in a newly created crater, streaks of molteal tangled in her fur. A few drops of blood from her forearms marked the full extent of the damage the defenders had doo the Blessed Mother. As the tiny cuts closed, Ravager licked them, surveying the city.

  “You have everything to fear from us now. Those who wish to live should drop their ons. Those who seek a meaningless death try to bar my passing!” she bellowed.

  A single line of destru passed from her to the gates, unleashed by the force of her roar. It crumpled the metal iing off the mihat encircled the capital. Ravager spttered against the ground, and the Wolf Tribe answered her will, surging ahead in maddening fury, each pack following its own warlord. Behind them, the crawler’s main guns thundered, creating ripples of energy in front of the capital as its own shields tried to withstand the barrage. Two heavy, armor-pierg shells had bypassed the prote and struck the top of the wall, sending the defeumbling.

  Ravager lunged, disappearing from sight and leaving a gaping hole where the mighty gates had oood. The recmation had begun. Woe aru awaited any fool who tried to stop the Recimers.