Janine charged to the command bridge with all the alacrity she could muster, smashing any white-furred traitor too slowly to get out of her way into the wall. Marty followed right after, the helmet closed to hide the recent wound from bothering their untrustworthy allies. A few sages tried to bar their passage, pleading with Janine to put on some clothes, but she ignored them, carrying the Taleteller on her shoulder. The fur will serve her well enough. The time for civility was over.

The mobile fortress was hardly a subtle thing. Its advance left a new road, pulverizing chunks of nature with great tracks as the great machine of destruction made its way to Houstad. In its wake followed lesser vehicles, giving the column the image of scared cubs trailing after a dominant mother. Twice had the Horde tried to attack the convoy, only for the Wolfkins to descend upon them in a gory orgy of violence, dragging the riders off their hoverbikes and disemboweling the foot soldiers. In the forest's tightness, Wolfkins saw no reason to use ranged weapons and fully gave in to the natural urges worthy of any shaman. No quarter was asked for, and none was given. By attacking a convoy transporting civilians, the fools had signed their death warrants.

But these were just scout parties. A prey, but one signaling the presence of a far greater threat. And as Janine entered the bridge, she became worried that the Horde’s main forces might have found them at last.

Something akin to chaos was happening within the command center. Officers from the ranks of normies loudly demanded an explanation about some failure. Their higher-ups looked at the main map, showing the war’s development, and the red tide represented the Horde’s advance, slowly encroaching on Houstad and swallowing the surrounding areas like a crimson sea.

The situation was critical. The wall has been broken in several places, and a few mercenary teams working as recon units in the area have sent reports about new breeds from the ranks of the Horde. These new breeds had power over time itself, creating bubbles of accelerated time in which parts of the wall cracked and collapsed into dust. By widening the gaps, the Horde has allowed a steady flow of caravans carrying supplies to enter the broken sanctity of the Core Lands. Whole settlements were turned into makeshift giant factories, pumping out ammunition and repairing the damaged equipment. Prisons were cracked open, bolstering the dwindling ranks of bondmen with fresh scum.

Following the successful invasion, more and more human garbage from the outside lands swore fealty to Mad Hatter and her Gilded Horde. Madmen, tyrants, dictators, religious zealots who were made to behave lest the Reclaimers’ gaze would turn on them early, now abandoned all civility, butchered the ambassadors, and were flooding to the raiders’ banner in their thousands, effectively negating all losses suffered by the Horde. Some reports indicated the raiders had to cull some of them, preserving the lives of freshly captured slaves. What sort of depravity was too much for the Horde Janine did not know, but news about some infighting in the enemy ranks brought some relief.

But not all was doom and gloom. The Reclaimers were hardly without allies. Wyrms left their homeland, led by a general spared by Ravager in the last war. Technically, all but one of them were civilians, but when two hundred flying giants, with scales tough enough to withstand missiles and with great paws capable of flattering a tank just by landing on top of it, descended upon the enemy’s rear, it mattered little. The wyrms’ assault crew wrecked several camps behind the wall, ever keeping their distance from the larger forces.

Malformed surged from the mountains, drawn in partially by the smell of blood or, perhaps, partially to repay a debt of mercy they owed to Commander Devourer in the years past. Regardless of their intention, they smashed into one of the vassal armies seeking to join the Horde’s army. The resulting slaughter ended up being… excessive. Wild malformed had no concept of mercy or restraint, and the scouts in the region survived only by hiding. Over two thousand people ended up being butchered, and their intestines were left drying up in the sun for a night’s feast. Some invaders were still alive, mortally wounded. Their pleas for quick death fell on empty ears, as the mutants knew nothing of their language or cared. Janine had no heart to blame the malformed for their cruelty this time..

And the Second and First armies were still too far away. Janine’s eyes have found Bertruda, her arms spread, and three squires busy encasing the Sword Saint into the power armor.

“Traitor. What is happening?” Janine demanded to know.

“One of the Knight Academies failed to evacuate in time and is now under attack.” Bertruda elegantly craned her neck, letting a squire connect her helmet to the chest plate. “It is near our convoy, and Mad Hatter was last spotted way in the north, putting us in a perfect position to send a rescue team. I and a few of my warriors are heading out. Warlord, please take over…”

“Armor!” Janine snapped at the nearby sage. The woman hesitated, looking at Bertruda for permission, and found the blade’s edge at her neck. “I gave you my command, traitor. A suit of armor, now!” The sage submitted and scurried away, giving out a scent of irritation.

“I am going too. My weapons thirst for some raider blood,” Martyshkina said in a calm tone, not allowing any objections.

“Thank you,” Bertruda said quietly. “I was not expecting cooperation after…”

“Cubs’ lives are paramount!” Janine snapped, looking around. “Wolf Hag Anissa, Wolf Hag Kalaisa, Shaman Impatient One, and Wolf Hag Elzada are to appear on the bridge, fully geared. And bring in that white-furred Voidrunner girl who came with us, whatever her name is!”

A frown came on the warlord’s face when she saw what kind of armor was brought in. A gleaming white suit belonging to an Ice Fang. It made some sense. Her own armor was gone, and there were no Wolfkin of her size, Marty aside, for Janine to safely challenge and win an armor. But wearing a traitor’s plate and carrying their heraldry angered her.

She shut up and allowed the squires and the sage to attend to her. The sage asked Janine to lift her arms, and with a growl, the warlord obeyed, allowing the underarmor to be put on her body. It felt tight, and with a carefree thrust, Janine had allowed her muscles to tear through the fabric, busting some zippers and exposing the sockets of the implants on her body. A squire staggered, seeing white, necrotic skin around an implant.

“Lady Janine.” The boy licked his lips nervously. “You must show up to a hospitaller…”

“Insert it,” Janine commanded.

“But the pain!” the boy screamed out. He looked at the sage and the other squires. “You all see it! Some implants are half broken, others are torn out, and the last ones are literally killing you, lady! If we…”

Janine looked at him, casting the light of her eyes onto his crimson eyes. A scent coming from her became reminiscent of both aggression and calm assurance. If any male or female in the tribe had dared to voice their concerns in such a way, Janine would’ve gutted them or broken some bones by now. But the traitors were of a softer breed, outsiders despite all their similarities. She had no right to lash out at their young.

“Connect the cords,” Janine said. “It is my pain or the lives of your kin. The choice is clear.”

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

They inserted the chords and wires into sockets, filling Janine’s head with a spinning pain. Her body turned into a burning flame as data streams from an unknown piece of gear started flooding her brain, making a trickle of blood appear from a nostril. The plate’s electrical brain recoiled at the sight of this damage, trying to slow down their unification, only for its user to manually override this decision, toughing out the discomfort. Never before has Janine worn a power armor belonging to the order. It was more advanced; she gave it that. The blue lenses could see for kilometers ahead but were made in such a way to complement the traitors’ crimson eyes, which were capable of slowing down their perception of time.

Wolfkins had no such ability. Their talents lay in their natural toughness, stronger claws, and being able to heal faster than their c… traitors. The armor detected it, making quick adjustments to a central processor and optical lenses, sparing the amber eyes from further strain. And with these changes, Janine’s body also changed. And with these changes, Janine’s body also changed.

Synapses coursed across the nerves, reigniting even numbed ones. Just like the armor has started its adjustment, so too has Janine experienced adaptation, feeling nerves, brain cells, and veins endure the rapid assault and grow stronger through it.

Meter-long fiber muscles slithered across the body, securing themselves and adding their strength to hers. Servomotors activated without any sound, easing the burden of heavy metal on her shoulders. The backpack has activated, fueled not by a nuclear reaction but by more advanced and safer energy. The blue lenses flashed, allowing the amber eyes to finally see through them, and A HUD came online, flooding Janine with new information and recommending a visit to a doctor.

She ignored the machine, inserted her own IDs, and looked herself over. Even in the weakest places, the armor was centimeters thick. But this was nothing compared to a warlord’s armor, which boasted tens of centimeters of thickness in similar places. Power armor for Sword Saints was first and foremost a tool to enhance their grace and speed, rather than bulky protection turning a person into a walking tank. It was better than nothing, of course, but Janine can’t really rely on it to do its job properly. Fitting, in a sense. Nothing that comes from the order is of any true worth.

By lifting her paw, she saw no open space to release her claws. By default, the entire armor was sealed shut, producing its own oxygen by recycling the air. With a snarl, the warlord made the plate break the hermetic protocols. A spark flew from her fingers and toes as her claws came out, damaging the steel slightly.

The HUD buzzed, annoyed at the rejection of its suggestions. It quickly brought about the medical status, showing mini cracks in ribs, a rapidly beating heart of strange shape, a degradation of cells, along with supposed mutation, and a host of other problems. Janine overrode its concerns, becoming certain that the stupid machine had mistaken her for an Ice Fang.

Janine opened her eyes, sensing familiar smells. Marco, Anissa, Impatient One, and the rest were here, already geared up. The warlord narrowed her eyes at Marco’s wearing an exoskeleton but said nothing, addressing the wolf hags instead.

“Anissa, Kalaisa, your packs are with me,” Janine commanded.

Kalaisa’s pack was hardly a shining example of performance before the war, but it had changed during the invasion. Rather than putting up with losing soldiers as before, Kalaisa of today swallowed her pride and learned from the wolf hags of every pack, limiting her losses with a rare and precious skill. A perfect candidate for the job, her personal pseudo-warlord’s might made the decision even clearer.

And Anissa had proven herself during the retreat, expertly coordinating the packs belonging to her mother, forming firing corridors, and luring in the Horde’s troops, before butchering them with well-placed ambushes. Out of all her Wolf Hags, Anissa was the best when it came to adapting to rapid changes in a mission and working with the others.

“This will leave too little space for my own troops…” Bertruda started, and Janine rammed the butt of her axe into the floor, silencing all arguments.

“Better for us. I’ll be damned if I allow a traitor to watch my back.” Janine felt it. The rage boiling in the traitors was kept at bay only by the Sword Saint’s calm and cooperation. So be it. She is done playing nice. They are the ones who had shattered all blood ties. “Wolf Hag Elzada. You and this traitor… Thyia, I think her name is, are to take over the mobile fortress as joint commanders while we are away. Should we not return, you are to continue to Houstad with all haste.”

“You would trust an Ice Fang?” Thyia asked with a voice full of venom, looking at the Voidrunner Household emblem on Janine’s shoulder.

“Never.” Janine took off the helmet and looked the knight in the eyes, basking the woman in the calm fury and hatred pouring out along with the light. Thyia quickly made a nod, admitting to stepping out of line. “But I think I know what to expect of you. Our goals are aligned for now. Can’t be sure of the same about any of your accursed kind.”

“Warlord. Your words are not helping establish cooperation between our forces,” Bertruda tried to reason with her.

“Because we worked oh so well before, right, Sword Saint?” Janine ignored the pleading look in the traitor’s eyes. No more. No more cordiality or playing along. Fuck the order. “Enough of this. I need two APCs for the mission!”

“Already prepared, Warlord,” Anissa lowered herself on one knee, and Janine spotted something new about her daughter. A prayer book was tied to her waist with an iron chain. At last.

“I am going too!” Marco stepped forward.

“No.” Janine pinned him to the ground with a glance.

“I can fight!” Marco released his claws, showing his precious and gentle paws to her. “Please! I can help, Warlord! This time I can protect you…”

“You will stay behind, along with the cubs.” Janine found a sage with her eyes. “You there! Guard the cubs with your life.”

“Warlord, please, let me…”

Janine ignored the pleadings of her son, marching past him. She will explain everything once they are back. Marco’s back has earned itself some scars for the insubordination. Tradition demanded it. By all rights, he ought to feel fangs at his neck right now and have a few bones smashed. Terrific has raised Janine in a similar way, mercilessly punishing her or the others in her pack to instill some discipline.

And look how I turned out! A woman who sent her son to his death. Janine gripped the Taleteller’s shaft, testing the armor’s strength. Perhaps it was time for some changes. Rather than punishing Marco, she will speak with him and explain patiently to him why it is not safe for a cub to be in a combat zone. Yes. Yes, it seemed logical. Normies are raising their cubs in such a way, and there are tons of good people among them! Spirits know Ravager was and still is wrong about many things; maybe the Spirits are now sending Janine a new path for the Tribe?

Banishing the pointless thoughts, Janine stepped inside the spacious hangar, moving straight toward two APCs. These sturdy beasts of the order surpassed their counterparts from the regular army. Where the knights’ armor projected nobility and elegance, APCs projected sturdiness and might. Made in sleek form to allow bullets and pieces of shrapnel to slide away from rather than bounce off, each armored personal carrier had eight mighty tires, four on each side, providing superb traction and near complete puncture resistance thanks to the special alloy added to them.

Twin high-caliber machineguns were mounted on top of each APC, allowing for fire support in combat situations. It took several precious minutes, but eventually, the technicians finished check-ups of everyone’s armor, providing the pack with enough ammunition for the mission. Janine’s nostrils caught Marco’s smell, but she refused to turn, summoning the map of the operational area on her HUD and setting initial advance vectors for her soldiers.

The ramp at the APCs rear opened, inviting a group of eighty Wolfkins and twenty Ice Fangs inside. Janine, Bertruda, Martyshkina, and the wolf hags stayed outside, fully capable of keeping pace with the transports. Once everyone was secured in harnesses, Janine quickly checked to make sure that the second APC had enough space to house the saved cubs and gave the command to head out.

Rather than opening the ramp, a tunnel opened in the wall, allowing the APCs to speed up to full speed and come outside, flying above a continuous track, before landing on the ground and racing toward their destination. Janine and the others followed suit, landing with enough mass to create craters. They left the convoy without taking even a single look at the trucks with civilians, tanks, or soldiers marching.

Curious looks followed them in the forest as mixed groups made up of Wolfkins and normies on patrol watched how APCs were mowing down trees in their path. On Martyshkina’s orders, no Ice Fang was allowed to venture far from the mobile fortresses, leaving hunters grumbling.

Despite the horrific chances of arriving on the battlefield only to find corpses, Janine allowed herself a fierce grin. She will offer the raiders’ lives to the memory of everyone who has fallen so far. A paltry gift, but the warlord was only getting started.

There will be deaths aplenty before the war is over.