“Do we know who these bastards are? Just what is this Gilded Horde?” Janine demanded to know.
Her return to the base was less than graceful. The right side of her body still felt numb, despite all her attempts to hide it, and after she stumbled for the third time, Alpha simply picked her up under the armpit, carrying her like a cub. Getting crimson with shame, Janine still gave orders to carry Tancred back on his cloak, his head wrapped in several clothes taken from the deceased sages, with Marty carrying the dead. A few knights wanted to stay behind and search for their deaths, but Janine tolerated none of this. They lost enough kin for a day.
The Ice Fangs argued against her decision, of course. Janine did not know why Alpha kept her silence, glaring at her with calm eyes, but at the end, Janine had asked the Strongest Warlord for help. The Ice Fangs only needed one whip of fear to realize the reason, and all together, they surfaced to meet the doctors and journalists. Eased at the sight of her family, Janine put Kalaisa in charge of retrieving the dead bodies and overseeing the wounded in a hastily prepared hospital nearby.
“Negative, Warlord,” Jacomie responded, frowning in pain. The lieutenant and her closest officers were allowed to enter the command center of the crawler.
The room was filled with the soft humming and beeping of the terminals. Operators were busy receiving the information and relaying it to Warlords and Wolf Hags, still in the city, occasionally coming closer to relay an offer of help from the most unexpected sources.
Jacomie had a nasty gunshot wound on her side but refused to give up her duties or take any painkillers. Dressed in just a t-shirt and pants, she was busy coordinating her own troops and grimacing from pain as a field medic tried his best to keep her awake. Zero kept herself by Alpha’s side, saying nothing. The First Warlord put on a black bodysuit, still always wearing her helmet. With her trusted rifle at her back, she helped Alpha change from the prison robes into a power armor, connecting energy cords with the implants on her back.
Lacerated One sat in the corner, eyes closed, paws pressed together in a prayer. Like always, the Supreme Shaman obeyed the unspoken rule: when war comes, civil servants of the Tribe keep their silence, ready to give their lives for Warlords. Ygrite loomed over one of the operators, giving commands to her pack in a raspy voice.
Sage Frouke Ironwill, one of the three sages who survived today’s culling, stood in his dirtied battle plate, keeping respectful and shameful silence, accepting the Warlords’ commands without a word. It has started to irk Janine. The man had over six hundred soldiers under his command and now acted all guilty because he suffered a setback through no fault of his own! Big deal, she too had trouble enduring Drozna’s rage! They have to all work together rather than dwell on imaginary mistakes. Frouke should have announced himself as a Sword Saint and installed his authority over the Ironwill Household!
But she kept herself from snapping at him. For all she knew, Frouke and Tancred could be just as close as any Wolf Hag and her Warlord.
“Report,” Janine has managed to say, “what is the situation in the city?”
Predaig came closer, throwing one glance at Janine, and pushed her into a seat with one paw. The Warlord snapped her fingers, calling a medic into the room, and together they started bandaging her wounds and clearing acid from her eye.
“The city got hit hard,” Schalk said ahead of his commander. Taking a portable terminal in his hand, he began to read, “We lost Sword Saint Tancred; may the Planet show mercy on his soul. The police chief and his second-in-command were eliminated in the attack, along with forty police officers. The Third Army has lost one hundred and twenty Wolfkins in total, with sixty-eight more being confined to the bed. Despite some vehement protests from your people, the doctors refuse to allow them to leave.”
“Keep it that way.” Ygrite of all people nodded in agreement. “We’ve lost enough. What about civvies?”
“Civilians,” Eled growled, meeting Ygrite’s calm look. “You will address them with respect or not at all, sister.”
The two Warlords stepped toward each other. Ygrite still bore the wound given to her by Alpha’s claws, but it did not look like it hindered her in any way. Her paw slid inside the sleeve of her coat while Eled relaxed her fingers, allowing a low growl to leave her lips. Soldiers and technicians working on the bridge tensed, nervous about a potential explosion of violence ruining the valuable systems.
Finally, Alpha acted her rank. The Warlord stepped between her two sisters, not even looking at them, and both Eled and Ygrite fell on one knee, showing the nape of their necks. Alpha merely gestured them to their seats.
“According to the latest report, we have four thousand, nine hundred, and eight wounded, with over six hundred being children and teens,” Schalk continued in an even tone. “The dead are still being counted, but at least four hundred citizens lost their lives.” He threw the terminal on the table before himself and addressed the lieutenant. “Ma’am, we need to declare martial law. With all due respect to the mayor and police, none of them are suited to deal with the situation. Let our forces step in and restore control; let us integrate police into our forces until the end of this crisis!”
“What is the mayor doing right now?” Alpha spoke for the first time since they arrived.
“Mayor Jaquan is currently giving a speech about condemning the attack, Warlord!” Schalk saluted her. “He had already gotten aid from the private clinics, assigned a new chief of police, and approved increased patrols and the usage of power armor and heavy weaponry for police forces. On his orders, the police started recruiting volunteers, the Third Army provided instructors to help with their training.” The man gave a thankful nod to Alpha. “Also, he called in Iterna’s and Oathtakers’ ambassadors, no idea why.”
Houstad was not just some settlement. In many ways, it was a nation of its own, one filled with various factions. And this nation got hurt. Even now, the former members of the Assassin Guild have contacted the government and the Third Army through secure channels, offering their services for free. Mercenary companies enlisted in the city’s defense for a meager sum. The criminal underworld was in full swing, throttling the life out of anyone they suspected of working with the enemies. Taxi drivers offered free rides. Veterans of past wars came forward, ready to join the police. Religious authorities came forward, speaking of unity and inviting the embarrassed Lacerated One to a procession with them. The Supreme Shaman instead sent Impatient One to represent the shamans. Corporations were offering medical goods almost for free.
The Gilded Horde has made a lot of enemies today. And Janine will see Brood Lord and his ilk skinned for what they’ve done.
“To request their aid, no doubt,” Janine said, cringing from the pain in her shoulder as Predaig started sewing. She’d much preferred the medic do it. “A wise decision. Send distress calls to the Dynast, the Second, and the First Armies! I don’t care how it makes us look; the civilians’ safety is paramount.” Shrugging, Janine looked shyly at Alpha. “Forgive me for speaking out of turn…”
“Approved,” Alpha said calmly. “Lieutenant?”
“No objections either. Seems like the mayor has everything under control. No need to frighten people,” Jacomie said, coughing out blood and wiping it out with a piece of cloth. She tried to wave away the medic, but the man refused to step down.
“Forgive me.” Frouke broke the silence, earning himself a look from everyone. “Knight-captains just reported that some vigilantes and less unsavory elements have offered…”
“We are aware. Accept their aid,” Janine said.
“Is it wise? Some of these people were involved in the most grievous acts before.”
“And they received a full pardon from the state after serving their sentences.” Janine looked him in the eye. “Frouke, Tancred’s duty falls to you.”
“We will give our lives to uphold his legacy!” The sage pressed a paw to his chest.
“And leave citizens unprotected? These men and women will hopefully ensure that you won’t need to go this far. Some of them were our enemies. But this is all in the past. Most of them now have families in the city, and chances are they got hurt too. Do not spurn them away; accept their experience and together help preserve lives.” Janine stopped, wondering if she had a right. She frowned at the pain in her shoulder and went all in. “Take a Sword Saint’s mantle and lead your people.”
“This… Lady Janine, this isn’t how it works in the order…” Frouke tried to explain when Alpha stepped up to him.
Only wearing the sleeves of her armor, Alpha still easily towered above her cousin. Her marble skin perfectly matched the white armor of the ice fangs, and hungry, keen eyes looked the man over. Alpha raised her clawed paw, the mighty talons longer than Frouke’s head.
“First had offered to share leadership with me,” Alpha said, her voice like grinding gears. “I take him up on the offer for a single moment. On my authority as the Warlord and kin to you, I announce you to be an acting Sword Saint of the Ironwill Household. Should you feel unworthy, you can step down later, but for now, hold!” Her talon made a blurring arc, and a torrent of blood came from Alpha’s own neck. Unbothered, she gathered some blood in her paw and bathed the man’s snout in crimson.
Alpha’s blood carried no divine gift like that of Ravager, Zero, or Lacerated One. Just like all of them, Alpha simply bled when she was cut. But such was her might that barely anyone saw her bleeding. Any foe trying to stop her soon found itself bathed in plasma or bisected by her gigantic claws. To see her, of all people, willingly wound herself, brought a sense of awe into Frouke, and the man lowered himself on one knee, a nobleman being knighted by a monster.
“Stand tall, brother in rank and blood. Take the weapons and armor of your fallen liege, scour the sewers, retrieve the remains of our brethren, work with your new allies, and keep the population safe. Houstad is in the Ironwills’ care.”
Alpha stepped aside, already losing interest in the man. Only soft hissing accompanied her thundering steps as the horrible wound on her neck started closing, producing a thin crimson steam.
“And we shall not fail.” The newly promoted Sword Saint promised and stormed out.
“Where is Captain Cristobo?” Jacomie asked.
“Dead,” Dragena declared, stepping inside the control center, clad in full power armor, a rifle behind her back, and the knives in their sheaths on her thighs. Her dispassionate eyes glared at the lieutenant. “The poison on the assassin’s blade ended his life shortly after he was delivered to the private clinic.”
Predaig had to physically restrain Janine from standing up. She ignored the cruel hook to her head that sent the whole world into spin and the medic’s protests. Cristobo is dead? But… It is impossible! Cristobo was the sixth normie personally accepted by the Blessed Mother. She trusted him to step into her den! Cristobo loyally stood by Ravager’s side all these years and… And there was something more about the situation that Janine could not put her finger on.
The doors behind Dragena opened, and a frightened woman stepped into the command center, her whole body covered with badly healed bruises and bandages. Warlord Onyxia stepped after her. Her hair moved on its own, blinking in and out of the field of vision. Streaks of shadow seeped through the gorget of her armor, giving the uncanny look of the armor being the sole anchor keeping Onyxia in this realm. Her gauntlets were taken off, and the normally cold and distant Warlord kept her all-too-solid paws on the woman’s shoulders. Onyxia greeted others with a nod, frowning at the sight of Jacomie.
“We have news,” Dragena said, pointing at the woman. “Our sister and First have been busy destroying over thirty slaver camps.”
“Sounds like you had a war,” Ygrite laughed.
“No one told me to stop.” Onyxia shrugged her shoulders. “First ain’t so bad, I must say. He kept pestering me about ‘human rights that, human rights this, no, you can’t just eat slavers alive’. Bah, it was such a bother hauling their asses back to our borders! But, Ygri, you have to see him during a mission sometimes, covered in blood and gore, sneaking like a ghost, ending lives left and right… Ah, what a male! I’d jump into his pants right away if this was allowed!” Alpha made a tap, and Onyxia dropped all pretense. “Anyway, back to business. First Sunblade has left to meet his fellow Sword Saints and inform them of Tancred’s demise. This right here is a princess…”
“I am no princess,” the woman whispered. Tears appeared in her eyes. “A princess would’ve stayed with her people. A princess would’ve protected her family…”
“Yeah, yeah, heard that one already. Cheer up; the horrors are in the past; retribution cometh.” Onyxia gently patted the woman on the back. “So, the princess over here belonged to a country recently conquered by the Gilded Horde…”
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“They killed all who resisted,” the woman whimpered. “Brood Lord grabbed my brother, a boy less than a year old, dragging him out to make my father duel him. He used him to distract my father and… and...”
“How did you survive?” Janine asked softly, trying not to scare the woman.
“I am not sure myself. One of Brood Lord’s whelps had let us run. At first, I thought they had planned on hunting us down later, but… we survived. And later, we ran into the slavers; the bastards came to hunt our weakened home. Onyxia and his excellency First were the ones who saved us. I have no idea how to repay this…”
“Think nothing of it,” Onyxia told the woman. “You just live your life, get happy, watch over your family, and the debt is cleared, okay? Okay. Now tell us about the Gilded Horde.”
With a breath, the trembling woman started her tale. She told how their nation first heard rumors about the horde, an all-encompassing force bringing a hammer of wrath upon all standing in their way, leaving just a broken and compliant population behind. The woman told of the horde’s champions, warriors with few equals, able to slaughter a dozen men in the blink of an eye. She had told how the purple fields around their castle turned yellow and steel when the horde arrived in full force, countless thousands of hardened killers.
“Their emissaries asked us about some God.” The woman wiped her eyes. “We told them about the water goddess, the wind deity, and even about the great stone master. But they only laughed, insisting that they were looking for one true and false God, whatever that means.”
“Idiocy,” Ashbringer broke her silence, folding her arms on the armored chest. A streak of flame left her flamethrower, heating her snout. “There is no true singular deity. Otherwise, only a single religion would rise from the ruins, rather than a host.”
Janine kept her silence, noticing the similarities in the Horde attack. The princess spoke about mysterious killings shortly before the invasion. They just experienced one such attack. Their new enemies used chemical warfare, unbound by international rules.
“The population will need chemical protection,” Janine said finally.
“I’d much prefer not to get the enemy anywhere close to our civilians, but you are right, of course, sister,” Dragena agreed icily. Janine ignored the tone; Dragena was simply incapable of feeling any and all emotions; there was no disrespect in her words. “Ygrite. You will guard the young ones.”
“Figured that out, didn’t ya?” Ygrite grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep the pipsqueaks safe and sound until we can evacuate them. If Brood Lord shows up, I’ll leave you a couple of his fingers, dear sister.” She glanced at Janine, opening her jaws wide. “Although, had someone taken an enemy alive, I could’ve prepared much better.”
“She killed civilians, Ygrite,” Janine said coldly.
“And yet she was pleading for mercy, Janine,” the other woman responded. “I saw the recorded video of your engagement. Are you a soldier or an executioner?”
“One often does not exclude the other.” Janine rose to respond to the challenge. Martyshkina joined her side at once.
“Enough.” Dragena stepped between them, paws behind her back, and Alpha loomed behind her like a shadow. “None of us is without sin, Ygrite. Janine, mercy is never misguided. If not for the Dynast’s mercy, none of us would’ve stood here. Show some restraint in the future. Let the courts do their job. Regardless, we know enough now.”
“Elaborate,” Alpha demanded.
“All members of the Insectoid Tribe had the same pitch-black compound eyes,” Dragena started her explanation. “Ice Fangs and our people had red and amber eyes, respectfully. Even Orais and trolls look similar to their kin. Only malformed allowed such a variety of changes upon their bodies. Judging by how different Brood Lord’s whelps are from him and each other, we can safely assume that he is a malformed himself. Next come new breeds of the Gilded Horde.” Dragena snapped her fingers, and a screen lowered from the ceiling, showing the results of the autopsy. “Observe. Similar hearts, similar bone structure, slightly different from normies. They do not have subdermal armor like we do; however, their muscles and fat serve as excellent kinetic dispersers.
“These people are clearly a tribe, like we are. And not only this, there are normies aplenty among their ranks, along with battle beasts.” Dragena looked at the Warlord before her. “Our foe is not some warband but an expanding empire, hungry for conquest, with leaders capable of matching us. Doubtless, all of them have their own styles and preferences for leading a war, too. Janine showed good foresight in calling for aid.”
Janine scratched the back of her head, struggling not to refute the praise. I am not that smart. I only wanted to preserve our people.
“Warlord Dragena!” an operator shouted, and Dragena appeared next to the man, leaving footprints on the metal floor.
The Warlord pushed the man aside, leaning closer. At the snap of her fingers, her sisters turned their attention to a terminal next to them, receiving a video feed.
Once impassable bastions at the border on the south were broken, Janine saw missiles flying through the air, slamming into the sides of bunkers and unleashing chemical or fiery hell within. With almost pin-point accuracy, artillery pieces were raining hell upon the trenches in front of the bastions and flattening barracks behind the wall. Sniper positions were exposed to searing napalm, with leaning, burning bodies falling down.
Wall breakers and missiles with enough explosive power to level entire districts were fired at the wall; the sharp drills at their tips were buried a bit through the reinforced concrete, allowing the deadly load inside to wreck even bigger devastation. The enemy had few of these; only three breaches were in the great wall, but not a single one was wasted in vain. The first eliminated a command center; the two others exploded near hangars, burying mech suits and tanks under the rabble.
And on and on, the never-ending sea of enemies came. Janine saw a hulking figure of steel sitting on a gigantic beast covered in thick armor plates. Twin automatic turrets were installed at the beast’s head, and almost in response to some inner aggression, they spat out a hail of bullets, washing away the defenders off their path.
Not all defenders were normie soldiers; the Provincial Army had new breeds aplenty in its ranks. Now these brave men and women stepped in; some encased themselves in wind or electricity, others increased in size, some cast energy bolts from their hands, and others teleported wounded off the battlefield. Their aid, however valuable, could not last. Casks fell on the battlefield, unleashing mist that made the soldiers on the upper levels throw up, coughing their insides. A mighty swing made by the steel warrior cleaved an enlarged soldier in two.
More and more soldiers appeared on the walls, now clad in power armor. They formed ranks, firing without aiming at the upcoming horde, with heavy weapons teams behind them bringing missile and grenade launchers to bear. A few thunderous beasts charged forward, enduring explosions, and slammed through the newly formed ranks. Behind them flew hover bikes; the sharp blades around their frames sliced through limbs, and pulse rifles’ shots found their victims.
The officer in charge of this section turned into a figure made of blue energy; sparks hissed from all sides as he appeared above the sea of charging enemies. Crackling lightning left a hovering cloud of energy, striking down. Each lightning strike created a small explosion upon contacting the ground, throwing hulking bodies in gilded armor aside and creating craters in the ground. Some foes remained lying down, smoke coming from their charred remains. Others had their rebreathers damaged and were exposed to the same gas used against the defenders.
But more and more poured in, driving the officer to spend more and more of his power, doing his best to give some of his soldiers time to barricade within the ruins, reach the armory, or grab a vehicle and try to retreat. There was no shame in leaving this slaughterhouse; a dead soldier had no chance to defend the civilians. But few, very few, were able to leave the wall, and those who did chose to risk their lives by covering the retreat of civilian drivers.
Caught between desperation and bloodlust, the officer failed to see a figure wreathed in flames rising behind him. Like some sort of phoenix, flaming wings closed around the floating energy, turning both fighters into balls made of flame and energy. The ball of cracking lightning and flames shrank before expanding rapidly and finally turning into a violent rose-shaped explosion in the skies, causing several cameras to come offline. But a few remain, and Janine saw two figures in the sky. One, a bored-looking bestial creature, had arms just as long as his legs and not a single piece of cloth on his reddish body. In his mighty talons, he held the struggling officer.
Standing upright, the red new breed landed amidst his own troops, his immense weight bulging the ground below him. Before stones could hide him from view, Janine saw how gigantic jaws closed on the officer’s head.
“Why haven’t we been informed? How could they get so close?” Jacomie asked.
“Give them an order to retreat. Warn the nearby settlements.” Dragena ordered the operator.
“Impossible, ma’am!” The operator replied, typing furiously. “Something is jamming our communications! We can see them, but are unable to send or receive any word.”
“Contact Till Ingo. Request his aid immediately.” Dragena stepped aside from the operator, allowing her own helmet to close around her head. “First. Camelia. Voidrunner.” She stopped, tapping at the side of her helmet. “They don’t respond.”
“Maybe their communications are jammed, too?” Janine made a guess.
“Impossible,” Dragena icily replied. “Our encryption systems are superior to those of the Provincial Army, and our kin are spread far too wide for all of them to be affected. Besides, Frouke just responded to me, so we are not the ones being jammed either. No, these proud fools ignore us on purpose.”
Dragena walked to the center of the room, looking at the Warlords, reading their eyes. Janine knew what she will find in them. Logically, the most reasonable thing to do right now is to stay here and dig in, preparing traps and awaiting the Second and First armies. The state was vast, and it might take some time, but the moment they arrive, the enemy’s fate will be sealed.
But this wasn’t who they were. Not with their kin still in the field. Not with the people caught in the settlements in the Gilded Horde’s path. The Wolf Tribe swore an oath to be both the shield and the sword for the people who took them in and cared for them. It was time to act upon it.
“I understand but disagree, sisters,” Dragena said calmly. “Lacerated One! The enemy might attempt to use mental attacks once more. You are to stay behind to aid Ygrite and Frouke. If Drozna reappears, end him. You will use your power armor.”
“If this is your wish, Warlord,” The Supreme Shaman bowed, clearly unhappy with the last part of the order. “His rage is but a joke against our dedication.”
“Don’t push it. Even sages had troubles.” Dragena’s cold eyes found Zero. “Get the Blessed Mother.”
“I don’t know where she is.” Zero gulped, looking around nervously.
“You know what I mean, sister,” Dragena pressed. “Lives are on the line. Our sisters and brothers. Do it.”
Zero’s trembling paws reached for her helmet. She pressed several points of her helmet in a sequence, and with a soft hiss, the helmet started opening up, the lower part folding into the upper. A light that was equally as bright as the one the Blessed Mother’s eyes released entered and illuminated the entire command deck like a new sun. Zero took off her helmet, ran a paw against perfect hair, smiled with nice and elegant fangs, and shrugged at Jacomie’s and Schalk’s gasps.
Looking at her face here and now, even despite knowing that Ravager wore no clothes and seeing the Blessed Mother up close, the sight still made Janine want to lower her knees. At first glance, when Zero is dressed in her regular clothes, keeping a regular posture, and chatting with others with her helmet on, few could link her to Ravager. Now, without her helmet, the similarity was undeniable. Same-looking cheeks, same-looking jowls, the same nose, and identical-looking eyes. It looked as if someone grabbed the Blessed Mother, shrank her quite a bit, and made her wear clothes and walk like a proper human.
Ravager and Zero were one and the same, two lives given birth from the same material, but where the Blessed Mother ascended to divinity, Zero chose not to, purposely hindering her growth and refusing the gifts of her power.
All who came from Ravager bore the same gift. The stronger the foe they defeat, the stronger they grow. While each has their own individual ceiling, this rule was true for all of them. It was their own power, something that shaped their bodies in a unique way as they grew up. But they can also stop this growth by refusing to let in the reward provided by their power. And Zero did just this, contending to be equal with mortals rather than standing equal among gods.
Janine noticed that only the provincial officers gasped. All Warlords were introduced to Zero’s secret upon being elevated to their rank, but the command crew? Curious.
Zero leaned back, looking at the hatch on the ceiling. Her nostrils moved, picking up the scent of her sister. And then she was gone, a ghost disappearing on her own hunt.
“Rouse the packs,” Dragena commanded, taking a seat on the dais meant for Ravager. “The mission is to bring back our kin, save as many civilians as possible, and gather all available forces of the Provincial Army. Do not attack strongly, sisters. Four of us are in the Outer Lands, keeping watch on our village, and every sister bearing life will be immediately ordered to leave, even those already in maternity hospitals. I better risk some stillborn cubs than to lose all.” Dragena took a moment of silence, awaiting any objections. No one said anything. “Alpha, is she…”
“In the Outer Lands,” Alpha growled.
“Good. So this means at least five Warlords will survive if the worst comes to pass.”
“Four Warlords. She is not our sister and never will be,” Alpha insisted, and Dragena paid her no mind.
“No matter the losses, our blood will live on. The Wolf Tribe and Third Army begin the operation at once,” Dragena said.
“I will go with them…” Jacomie started.
“You will rest and work with me, lieutenant. No, captain. Jacomie, you will take the place of the deceased Cristobo. Schalk, you are promoted to Jacomie’s rank; congratulations.”
Janine accepted adrenaline and anti-venom shots from the medic and stormed outside. There was much to do.
****
She met her pack standing atop the crawler; Bogdan and Ignacy had just returned from the city and were now hurrying to her with the power armor. Marco was among them, proudly carrying a massive helmet in his paws despite the pain in his knees. Janine spared no warmth or a smile for them today, only spreading her eyes wide to greet hundreds of her soldiers.
“Sisters! Brothers! The Oath calls us!” she thundered, and Ignacy, along with Bogdan, started encasing her legs in iron, filling her body with tingles of electricity. “An enemy breached through the walls, bringing death and destruction to the lands we swore to protect! To the lands rebuilt by our fellow people! You saw this city and its people; what answer will you give to those threatening to harm them?!”
“Death!” roared hundreds of throats, their voices joined by the Alpha’s, Predaig’s, Eled’s, and all other packs.
Sheer aggression. Sheer rage. This was the way of the Wolf Tribe. They did not care about numbers or odds. Only to execute their duty to the letter or die trying.
And many will die; of this Janine had little doubt. The packs will leave fully geared and with the best weapons possible. Yet in their advance, they will have little chance to resupply and almost next to no chance to repair their gear. Every crack in armor, every missed shot, every cut and bruise—all will slowly wither them down. Yet there was no fear. A single maddening counterattack into the enemy charge with the intent of slowing them down and bleeding the bastards.
Our pure condition. Hunters released from the leash.
“Then death is what we will bring to the invaders! Many they are, but this only means more bodies to serve as fertilizer!” A booming laughter came back, and Janine returned the grin, the metal closing around her paws. She leaned forward to allow Marco to mount the helmet. When she spoke again, her voice was dulled by the now fully closed helmet. “The people who live in the Core Lands. They are soft. And gentle. Beautiful and so full of potential. Cubs in need of protection.” Her armor started humming, a beast coming to life, and the helmet opened, showing her fangs. “The future belongs to them, but the coming slaughter is ours! Revel in the coming righteous retribution and rejoice at an opportunity to live our own way! Protecting the weak and throttling the tyrants!” Anissa gave Janine the axe, and the Warlord lifted her weapon high, taking her laser rifle from Bogdan. “Let the hunt begin!”
The packs howled, unable to contain themselves any longer, and Janine descended, joined by Wolf Hags and her fellow sisters, joining her voice with the others. Alpha. Ashbringer. Martyshkina. Predaig. Eled. Onyxia. Janine. This time they march without the Blessed Mother, exposed to the enemy’s wrath. But so be it! Their lives for the state! Their blood is for the weak!