Janine awoke to an ocean of pain, finding herself strapped in the metal harness and suspended in the air like a piece of meat on a rope. Metal cuffs closed around her wrists; molten metal bound her fingers together; sharp hooks pierced the skin between her ribs, holding her body in the air. A sturdy metal beam was pressed against her spine, not allowing the Warlord to shift her posture. Her legs were tied together by metal strings and cuffs, leaving no option for escape.

She blinked, looking at the vast, dark hall around her. Her eyes still wept, both with blood and tears, indicating that she had lost her conscience recently. Twisting her neck and looking down, Janine examined her own body.

The armor was gone, torn away from the looks of it. Cuts, dark purple bruises, and several broken bones pushing against the skin now marred her body. Nothing deadly here. The neck pulsated with pain, but she could move it. Her blood has clotted, closing the edges of the most dangerous wounds. Several implants connecting her body to the power armor were torn away cruelly, revealing bloody holes with insects rummaging in them. Janine recognized a few maggots from her time in the Outer Lands, but most were recent. A smile touched her lips when the wounds’ edges started closing, popping the trash. My body is not your home.

Janine raised her head after hearing a scratching sound and focused her eyes on the shadowy figures in front of her. It took a few moments for the vision to clear and reveal Mad Hatter sitting in the remains of a wooden chair, a golden cup in her palm. Two figures hunched at her feet, holding up a plate filled with food. With disgust, Janine recognized Predaig’s head on the plate. All dignity was gone from her spirit sister. The eyes were removed along with the fur; someone had dared to roast the noble fighter and put an apple in her mouth.

Mad Hatter tore an ear from Predaig’s head, throwing it into her mouth.

“Do you know God?” she demanded to know, her tiny pupils focused on Janine’s eyes.

“Which one?” Janine whispered, struggling to gather enough air to speak. Evidently, a few of her ribs were shattered.

“The one who whispers to you,” Mad Hatter stood up, pacing back and forth before Janine. With a trembling hand, she tore the cap away, showing her face. The upper half of her head was pale, with nice-looking features. Short, badly shaven brown hair covered her scalp, and blood was seeping out of her eyelids. “He lays gifts for you, whispering and whispering, offering power unrivaled if you would only accept him. His words never stop, never cease, robbing you of your sleep.” She looked around angrily.

“Never heard of your God,” Janine told her plainly.

“Not mine!” The woman screeched painfully, crossing the distance between herself and Janine faster than her eyes could track. A finger came down on Janine’s back, leaving a long, bloody line. “I am the child of the Sky! It’s avatar incarnate! Look at me! See the gifts of the one true deity manifesting in me! And yet this God dares to offer me power in exchange for servitude? I will never serve or bow to anyone but the Sky. I will scour this world, burning down everything and anyone, until I find this coward and drag him into the light. And then I will sleep.” Her lips twisted into a dreamy, mad smile.

Twisting from pain and hallucinating from all the damage, Janine thought she had seen two more figures behind Mad Hatter. One is very familiar. Terrific kept her mouth shut for once, looking down at Janine with her dim amber eyes. But the other figure was something else.

A white shape floated in the air, roughly having the same features as a human. Its crimson eyes were twin portals to the Abyss itself, betraying unrestricted cruelty and gleeful cheering within. Janine had seen quite a number of psychos and crazies in her life. This one surpassed them all. The crimson eyes found Janine, looking judgingly at her, before a perfect white mouth changed into a twist.

You are afraid. It spoke, and time itself stopped. Mad Hatter has stopped in her tracks; the fabric of her furs got suspended in the air. Her slaves, steam rising from the plate with food, Mad Hatter’s blood—all was stopped. Every trace of color was gone from the world, sucked into the white shape, leaving just him and Terrific as the only colored beings in a sea of gray. And the white shape came closer, sitting on his knees before Janine. Loss. This is all this world has in store for you.

A hand lifted her head, and Janine felt a sudden surge of strength. Her muscles were about to burst, and her heart turned into a drum, pushing blood at a speed she had never felt before.

But it doesn’t have to be this way. The white shape said, creating an image behind him. Janine saw her family—all of her cubs and husbands. One after another, they started disappearing, becoming black shapes on the horizon. Others have taken them from you. Others will keep taking them from you. And here you are, filled with nothing but fear, alone and forgotten. Is this any way to live? Come, take my blessing, and gain control over your life. The figure let her go, and light appeared in his palm. Imagine what retribution you can wrought upon the parasites inhabiting this husk!

And Janine saw. She saw herself breaking from the harness, her wounds closing in seconds. The fur disappeared from her body, and her skin turned gray, becoming tougher than any alloy. She and Mad Hatter came to blows, and Janine’s mighty paws crumbled the bitch’s knuckles; her jaws tore at the woman’s head.

She didn’t stop there. A mere punch leveled the whole building, and her rage turned on the Horde. Janine saw herself, unrestrained in cruelty, drawing the life out of Brood Lord and ending all his offspring. Roaring to the skies, she moved on, ending life everywhere she went—ending the traitorous Ice Fangs, ending the bitch pretending to be the Blessed Mother yet who refused to aid her daughters in their time of need. Then she would come for the Dynast, punishing him and the entire nation for turning her life into a miserable hell. Guiding by God’s wisdom, she would still every breath, end life, and find a small measure of peace in the world of silence …

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

“Sister,” Terrific croaked, and Janine shook her head, refusing to trust either of the aberrations.

She is she! Janine of the Wolf Tribe. A warrior who pledged her life to the state! And she will be damned before she ever turns back on her oaths. Under the Dynast’s vision, the world will recover. And a day will come when peace comes to the Wolf Tribe. To all of them.

A pity. The white shape replied, quenching the life in his hand. You are infected by a most unworthy gift. Hope. No matter. Your tribe is not unknown to me. Either way, humanity’s doom will be sealed by one champion. He looked at Mad Hatter. Or by another.

The white shape stood, clinging to Mad Hatter like a parasite, whispering sweet words into her ear. Janine blinked, and the world came back to life. She could taste the smell and see the color once more. Air came into her lungs, and Janine shook off the annoying hallucinations. Only Spirits were real. What she had seen just now was a delusion, nothing more.

“Why are you doing this?” Janine asked Mad Hatter, and the woman looked at her. “I mean, I get your delusion of hunting this god of yours. Although, if I were you, I would’ve tried sleeping pills.”

“I tried them, mutant.” A finger traced another bloody line. “They don’t work anymore.”

“Why wage war then?” Janine ignored the pain, genuinely trying to understand. “If you are so hellbent on finding this God of yours, why not ask around? Why fight, purposely slowing yourself down in your quest?”

“Ask?” The woman laughed, grabbing Janine by the throat. She twisted her head, making the Wolfkin look her in the eyes. “Look at them.” She turned Janine’s head toward the slaves.

The Warlord finally recognized the clothes they were wearing. Both were dressed in the tattered remains of the Provincial Army’s uniforms. Their eyes were devoid of all hope or resistance; both the man and woman looked down on the ground, covered in bloody cuts, and held up the plate. On their belts, Janine saw daggers and pistols.

“Does a man ask a thunder bull for its opinion?” Mad Hatter cracked her neck, waving something away. “I had captured them a few weeks ago to see what kind of people live in your country. And they had already become docile, taught merely by my nails to behave. I let them keep their weapons, and the idiots no longer dare to shoot me. They won’t even kill themselves to be free of servitude.” Mad Hatter snorted angrily. “If one values his freedom so little, what’s the point of having it? I can order them to kill each other, and they will gladly oblige. Shall I show it to you?”

Janine heard a chuckle in the dark. The voice was vaguely familiar.

“No,” she whispered, looking at the state’s citizens, whom she had failed. She had seen such broken souls liberated from the slavers’ camps. Usually, it takes weeks to years to get a person to such a stage. But she knew something else, too. It was possible to bounce off it. “Don’t. Please.”

“The strong rule. The weak obey,” the khan said, releasing Janine’s head. “Strength comes in many flavors, willpower being not the least among them. I am an incarnate of a deity itself, and you expect me to kowtow to a common man who is too afraid to take his own life to be free? I don’t ask, I take. Had the people not sinned so much, the Sky would not have unleashed such a great monster as I against them.”

Janine laughed, earning herself a slap. Mad Hatter barely touched her, and still Janine spat out several fangs, feeling a bone in her chin being broken.

“If you are so strong, what need do you have for slaves?” Janine kept on laughing, ignoring the pain. “A strong person uses her strength to better the world. Your Horde? They are not strong, just numerous. And the state is both strong and countless, Mad Hatter. Unlike you lot, the Dynast doesn’t have the petty desires of being surrounded by slaves. He builds great marvels of stone, returns forests to the world, and eliminates hunger. This is the true strength, the one that surpasses us both.”

“You, perhaps,” Mad Hatter murmured, amused. “I am bound by no such limits. Janine, is that your name?”

“Yes,” Janine replied, looking into Mad Hatter’s eyes. “What happened with my pack?”

“Most were killed, others captured. Their fate will ultimately depend on you.” The khan walked to the food, crushing Predaig’s head between her palms. “You are strong. Join me, and I will free you at once. Your wounds will be treated and healed; you will be given the finest food and armor; and riches of all kinds will wait for you. I will make you the queen of your people, Janine. All I ask is for a token of good will.”

“A token?” Janine asked, decided to play along, sensing tension in the air. Someone was unhappy.

If Mad Hatter asks her to bow, sure, she’ll do it. And the moment the woman’s eyes are off her, she will take her soldiers and leg for the hills, reuniting with the tribe. Ice Fangs might’ve frowned at such deception, but the Wolf Tribe knew that nothing good can come from holding your word to someone like the Gilded Horde. They were mad and cruel, and Janine will see them meet their doom.

“We have one of your… Sword Saints,” Mad Hatter laughed, “in our possession. He is hardly the man he was; after spitting at my offer, Iron Lord has made him shorter on his legs and arms. And we also have an abundance of civilians. Among my people, it is common to seal deals with blood. Oh, not with your blood, don’t worry,” the khan added hurriedly, patting Janine on the head. “The strong do not bleed; they make their lessers do it for them. And this is exactly what I want from you. Bleed civilians, create a pool made of their blood, and drown the Sword Saint in it. Do so, and our pact will be sealed.”

“Fuck you,” Janine spat into her face, and the slaves became stiff; a genuine horror came upon their faces. The khan could have easily dodged the spit, but she had stood her ground. “I know who you are, Mad Hatter. You are neither a god nor an avatar of one. You are a human who fashions herself as a monster, a subjugator. Tell me, have you ever met anyone equal to yourself?”

“There is no one equal to me under the Sky, mutant,” Mad Hatter answered in a stone tone.

“Fool!” Janine laughed, thrashing in her harness. “The world is so much bigger than you can imagine! You defeated me with a single throw; big deal. Am I supposed to be impressed? There are over nine people who can easily do the same. Heed me well, Mad Hatter. Whatever monster you may think yourself to be, the Blessed Mother is the Slayer of Monsters and Dominator of Dominators. Bow your head, accept the punishment for your crimes, and you may yet live. Resist, and you will meet her.”

“I will do more than just meet her, mutant,” the woman said calmly. “I will end her. Brood Lord.”

“My khan?” Brood Lord came from the shadows, flanked by two lesser copies of himself, one male and one female, both on four legs. The khan himself looked at Janine with a smile; his wounds had already healed.

“My offer was spat on. Janine is all yours.”