The Reclaimers’ military camp has slowly begun preparing to leave this mausoleum to human misery before them. The order took guard of the rear; their knights were busy escorting hundreds of trucks and caravans of people heading south to a better life in lands bordering the Core Lands. While the borders of the Reclamation Army were teeming with insectoids, slavers, cannibals, and raiders, all looking for a moment of weakness to strike and collect a rich harvest from the population, it was undeniably a far safer place than this region. Alpha’s pack took charge over the west; their mostly untouched forces spread into the desolated regions, gathering the civilians from the remote villages and announcing the demise of the local tyrant. Dragena’s and Ygrite’s packs ventured to the east, both to collect the locals and to persuade a few settlements that had rebelled against the Techno-Queen in the past to follow to the south. Should their leaders refuse, they will be culled, and the settlements will join the exodus, nonetheless. Ravager was done playing nice with the region; the Blessed Mother has made her will clear. Kids, teens, infants—the entire young population is to be saved, even against their will.
The capital will be left empty and desolated; its furnaces were stopped, and its factories and generator stations were safely shut down. Although the pollution won’t disappear this easily, at least the region won’t suffer any more. Like busy insectoid drones, the wolfkins were carrying cargo crate after cargo crate from the city, not stopping at just unrefined resources but also dragging the half-finished robots and drones along with satellite dishes, portable generators, and highly advanced terminals. The medics almost threw up a party upon news of a discovered bunker with medical supplies capable of sustaining a small population of a few cities. The guard captain who had shown this stash explained that at one point the Techno-Queen had plans to sell medicine to neighbors to buy their favors, but soon abandoned this idea.
Prosthetics, antibiotics, antidotes, immune-restoring medicaments, artificial organs, and even injections to help with radiation sickness—this stash had everything to rejuvenate the shortened stocks of the Third Army. The sole reason why the medics didn’t throw a party to celebrate this finding was the fact that each and every one of these brave souls worked for around sixteen to nineteen hours per day, saving lives wherever they could.
Janine stepped into a small tent encampment meant to serve as an operation area for the “lightly wounded’. The warlord saw the scout from her pack in one of the tents; the doctors operating on her had already installed a new artificial liver and were now busy patching up her face. Marco stepped out of another tent, his terminal in paw, frowning in worry upon seeing his mother.
“It’s ok.” Janine shrugged. “How is your nose?”
“Eh, stopped bleeding a while ago.” Marco sniffed the air to show that he was fine. “Sorry, got to run. Wolf Hag Anissa expects a full report in an hour about the kin ready to get back in the field.”
“Sure thing…” She barely made a single step forward before a man in a brown hazmat suit of a doctor stepped before her, putting one hand on her belly. Like all doctors here, the male wore a safety suit with green crosses painted over it. Through the transparent visor, Janine saw a sallow face with deeply sunken, tired eyes. “What do you want, sir?”
Janine learned, once and for all, never to insult or show disrespect to someone who takes care of your body. Last time she tried it, the woman first patched up her pierced heart and then gave Janine something to help with the mood as she put it up. Martyshkina had laughed her ass off, rolling across the ground, holding her sides like a cub while she was listening to the less than dignified sounds of Janine’s bowels being forcibly emptied and the scout’s embarrassed groans. And that torture had lasted for hours!
The Wolf Tribe had a straining relationship with the medics. The Dynast’s orders were clear: obey and listen to them in everything, and never dare harm a medic or a civilian. A Wolfkin would rather die than disobey the order of the supreme ruler. This was drilled into them by the Blessed Mother, who despised any medical personnel with pure, undulatory hatred. The last medic who had stepped up to treat Ravager’s wounds had nearly lost her life and went gray from terror. This schizophrenic relationship had brought both confusion and deaths into the ranks when mortally wounded Wolfkins would refuse an offer of treatment.
“You are injured.” The man’s voice was barely a whisper; he blinked three times before bracing against fatigue and nodding at her bleeding arm. “After me.”
“This? This paper cut has already been closed by…”
“After. Me.”
Janine clenched her fangs but obeyed, allowing the doctor to lead her into one of the tents. Like all warlords, after a battle, she preferred to prowl at the edges of the medical tents, never coming face-to-face with any of their personnel. They did it for several reasons, but the primary one was to preserve the strength of the medical personnel and their supplies. The Reclamation Army was far from an enlightened country like the ones of the past, but their medical corps, formed and drilled by Grand Command Outsider and Commander Devourer, were second to none when it came to pointless morals. The freshly formed medical institutions not only taught the new generation about the medics but also instilled in their students love and care for all people in need. Janine almost found it admirable and certainly respected them for their dedication… But these people were a pain in the ass to get around.
Inside the tent, the medic sat Janine on a large stretcher that almost cracked beneath her weight. Beside her, there were six Wolfkins here, five wounded, four of them sleeping because of the sedatives. Janine smirked, seeing how a nurse started washing away blood from the wounded Wolfkin’s thigh, only to discover a freshly formed scar beneath.
The tired-looking doctor cursed upon seeing the crack on the back of her head. He snapped, calling two nurses to help him before Janine’s brain could leak out. Frankly, she wasn’t sure why they cared. In her youth as a Wolf Hag, Terrific once cracked her temple for the crime of arguing against torturing prisoners. Janine leaked pinkish fluid for days, leading to the left side of her body going numb for a few hours during the night. But she bounced off it just fine. After becoming a full-fledged Warlord, her vitality only increased.
The last wounded Wolfkin was from her own pack, a scout by the name of Elzada. A good and loyal soldier, her fur had the coloration of the darkest void, indicating a great future. Sadly for her, in the fight, the bull’s energy beam had sliced off her leg all the way to the knee, and a metal insect had cut open her right side all the way to the lung, destroying it in the process. Anissa sat near the wounded woman, holding her by the paw.
“My…” Elzada gasped, struggling to get enough air to speak. “My decision is final. I refuse…”
She screamed, thrashing on her stretcher when Anissa turned Elzada’s index finger into a pancake with not a hint of mercy. The medics rushed to them, one of nurses even called security guards, only for Anissa to wave them away.
Janine kept her silence. Anissa’s job was to sort out the lower ranks and ensure their survival and future thriving. By any means necessary.
“You want her to live or what?” Anissa smiled into the face of a hesitated nurse. “Thought so. Let me work my magic. So, Elzada, about that new limb and lung. I really think you should take them.”
“I will not be despoil…” Elzada’s words turned into a squeal of pain as Anissa first cracked her wrist and then the elbow, twisting the arm at an unnatural angle. “Pain is nothing! Nothing!”
“How right you are.” Anissa’s snout closed to the Wolfkin’s ear, whispering softly. “See, you have a beautiful son, Elzi-girl. It would be a shame if someone squashed him now that you are not around any more, right?”
“You…” The wounded woman licked her lips, looking madly at the Wolf Hag. “You wouldn’t dare…”
“Oh, I am not speaking about myself.” Anissa moved aside, releasing her claws to lovingly admire them. “But you know how our people are. On the other paw, your stubborn refusal has… angered me, to tell the truth. I might just take it out on that friend of yours. Bite her snout off or something; not really decided yet.”
“Bitch!” The scout tried to stand up, only to fall helplessly back on the stretcher. “Fine! Graft metal on me and prolong my misery! Sever my connection to the Spirits forever more; just don’t hurt them!”
“Found a will to live, aint’cha? You make the pack proud.” The smile has disappeared from the Wolf Hag, and Anissa has lowered herself on one knee, grasping her paws together. “Worry not about the Spirits wrath. Many people err on their lifepath, but the Spirits love for us is eternal. They give us life, and they give us the duty to save the lives of those who can’t protect themselves. Everything else is irrelevant. Should you find yourself devoid of flesh, should microchips replace the synapses of your brain, should your heart be replaced with a blood pumper… Your duty will sustain you. Save people, stay true to your comrades, dominate, and strive to be better. Do all this, and you will never walk alone, for we all will meet once more on the other side, remade back to our perfect form. Sleep now, Elzada, and know that the Spirits grace is with you.”
“And one day I’ll kick your ass, Anis.” Elzada smirked and cursed upon receiving a playful smack on the head.
“I fucking hate all of you stubborn freaks. We got permission!” The nurse shouted, dragging the stretcher with the wounded out of the tent. “Prepare the operation room in the crawler before she bleeds out and get the doctor…”
“Nicely done,” Janine said, clenching her arm to see if the bandages around her wound were restrictive or not. The medical personnel all around them hurried to leave with the wounded, leaving just a few MP soldiers to watch over the wounded. Janine snapped her fingers, commanding them to get out of the tent, leaving herself along with her daughter and the sleeping patients.
“All in a day’s work, ma’am.” Anissa bowed.
Janine stood up in a burst of movement, appearing before Anissa faster than the woman could see her. The mighty paw grabbed the woman by the throat, lifting the choking Wolf Hag to the tent’s ceiling. With pride in her heart, Janine saw how her daughter had released her claws, leaving bloody gashes on her arm. It took all the Wolfkin’s restraint not to kick at the recently bandaged wound.
“Speaking of duty.” Janine’s claw moved to the eyepatch, moving it up and showing an empty eye socket. “Anissa, I put up with your antics for a long time. Spirit of Loss be my witness, I coddled you for far too long, and today our family has suffered a blow because of my incompetence.” She saw her daughter’s remaining eye widen. “Yes, mine. I am in charge, everything that happens with my pack is my fault, Anissa. Ignacy’s injury is my fault, not yours; it was my mistake, which I will now rectify. You have the skills, knowledge, and speed; only your field of vision has caused the incident. Anissa, I know not if you keep this wound as a memory of your loss to that girl…”
“Not a girl,” Anissa whispered, looking down in shame. “It was an insectoid.”
Janine has let go of her daughter’s neck and sat back on the stretcher, trying to compute what she just heard. Not a girl? But… why lie? She patted the stretcher near herself, inviting Anissa to sit. For a while, Janine had no idea what to say. She always assumed that her family would always tell her the truth about everything and nothing short of it. How else could she protect them if someone was dominating them in the pits or packs?
“What?” she asked simply, trying to sound gentle. The girl had a reason to lie; there could be no doubt of it.
“I lost my eye during field training.” Anissa sat nearby, biting her lower lip. “It was a stupid mistake, honest. I’ve killed dozens of drones before, but that day I was riled up about… to be honest, I don’t even remember what it was. And that blasted drone had sprung from a crack between the stones, and next thing I knew, its claw was in my eye. I refused an augment because… Well, you know. I believed myself pathetic for losing an eye to this. And when I thought about the disappointment on your face, I… lied,” she finished weakly.
Stolen story; please report.
“Are you telling me that I broke the legs of the girls in your pack for nothing?” Janine exploded.
Family mattered to the Wolfkins. The strong must rule, but the strong must also be smart; otherwise, they are not strong, only brutish. Thus, when some girls dominated others, their family members could show up to protect their blood kin. This sometimes led to a whole feud between extensive families. Although such cases were rare, mothers almost always spent time in faraway wars, and fathers were too weak to stop a rampaging teen. Still, this caused motherless cubs to grow up, carefully weighting their opinions and forming entire alliances before dominating others safely. Janine knew much of this; her own mother abandoned her for the crime of being misshapen.
So upon learning what happened to her daughter, she took her forcibly to the hospital. Then she visited the pits, noting the most ferocious, cleverest, and cruelest of the future leaders. And introduced them to humility, horrifying the rest with the sound of the snapping bones. No one dared challenge her for this.
“Wait, it was you? You are the reason our pack got calm enough for everyone to live long enough to mature?” Anissa burst into laughter, seeing her mother’s face, and for a second, Janine had a desire to throttle the stupid girl.
“Anissa, this isn’t a joking matter,” Janine tried to explain. “Abyss take it, I intervened in a natural selection for naught! Warlords are meant to be better than this. I must find these girls and apologize.”
“Elzada is one of them. So if you want, feel free to come to her after the operation. She’ll probably be seething in bile for a while, though.”
“Praise be the Spirits, I can undo some of the harm to their honor,” Janine sighed in relief. She wasn’t angry because of the lie. Why should she be? As a Warlord, it is one of her duties to lead the tribe during a war. If her own daughter can misdirect her, it means Janine has a long way to go. “I just… I just couldn’t behave after what had happened to…” They both fell silent, remembering the fate of the lost family member. Finally, Janine sighed, standing up. “It… was good to talk like a family. But your eye is your weakness, Anissa. And weakness must be removed or turned into strength. Get a new eye, it’s an order.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Anissa straightened up for a moment and then took herself by the chin. “Chak ought to have access to some advanced models.”
“Chief-quartermaster Chak,” Janine corrected her daughter with a growl.
Officers of the regular army were very picky about mentioning their ranks and discipline, going so far as to give flogging to any Wolfkin who dared to break a carefully built-up system of subordination. Although and to be fair, the last Wolfkin sentenced to being flogged mistook this punishment for a mystical massage available in special salons in the Core Lands, Janine and a few other warlords had a chuckle, witnessing how confused guards had stopped in their tracks after the woman asked them to hit lower.
Ever since then, Captain Cristobo Bulwashnikov, de-facto leader of the Third Army and the one responsible for reigning in Ravager’s most bloodthirsty urges with the use of artillery when needed, has made the official declaration that any further punishments to the Wolfkins will be dealt with by the soldiers in power armor. Janine almost wanted to take him up on this bet. Power armor or not, a normie is just a normie in the end.
“Yes, he and I are going to have dinner today and…” Janine has leaped from the stretcher, grabbing her daughter by the shoulders and making her look her in the eyes.
“Anissa. He is… Chief-quartermaster is… Chak is a centipede! He is strong, yes, and in other circumstances I would’ve approved of your choice. But… I am not sure it is even possible for you two to mate, much less to have cubs…”
“Mom, we are just having fun, that’s all.” Her daughter raised her palms before herself, struggling to fight back a smile. “He is not my soulmate, if you are worried about it. It’s just… When his coils close around you and his mandibles play a chittering song behind your ear and his legs run down your spine… Ah, it’s truly a one-of-a-kind feeling. Any of us can die at any moment, might as well live in a moment, right?”
“Sure thing. Just don’t do anything overly weird, okay? And keep on with your studies. No matter what, your future must not be denied to you. You will become a shaman like your sister, and this is final.” Janine made a step to the exit before stopping. “Gather the pack. I have a speech to give after a talk with Ignacy. Abyss, how am I going to convince him to take a new arm…”
“I don’t think you need to worry about it.” Anissa smiled, following her and calling the MP back.
****
She found her sons in another tent, the one meant for the lower ranks. They shared the place with a few members of the worker team, who looked with surprise at the angrily arguing Wolfkins. Bogdan was out of his armor, standing in a green, sleeveless shirt and simple pants. Ignacy lay on the bed, covered with a blanket all the way to his waist. The stump of his arm was tightly bandaged, and the area around it was shaved of all fur, showing his tanned skin beneath.
“Warlord!” Bogdan stood at attention, and even Ignacy tried to jump out of his bed.
“At ease, both of you. It just Janine for now.” She waved her paw, feeling thankful that none asked why she looked like a mummy, all wrapped up in bandages with blood smeared all over her coat. Putting her axe on the floor, Janine gave Bogdan a hug and squatted before Ignacy’s bed, still towering above him. “Ignacy, I know that it might go against your beliefs.” She clenched her paws, trying to find the right words to calm him down. Janine will not hurt her sons; she refused to! All of them were good boys, it was not their fault for being born weak. “In spite of the stigma against metal, becoming a Crippled is not the way to live.” Upon noticing a strange look in his eyes, she carefully took him by the good shoulder. “We will support you no matter what. Crippled or not, your family will never abandon you, but please try and…”
“I already agreed to the augment,” Ignacy said casually, and Janine’s world cracked with relief.
She stood up, trying to look presentable and regain some of her distant dignity. If Impatient One had been here, she would’ve rightfully reprimanded the Warlord, potentially ordering some flesh punishment. Family, no matter how much you love them, always takes a backseat when it comes to matters of the Tribe. To avoid favoritism and weed out any possible seed of corruption, Warlords were expected to cut off their families and treat them like anyone else. After all, no one forced a female to become a Warlord, if she was not willing to obey some rules, she should have never taken this rank in the first place. In practice, however, most Warlords kept close connections with their families, often setting higher standards for their offspring. Shamans knew about it but let this injustice slide, believing it to be one of many changes that the future has brought to the tribe. Adapt and keep living, or struggle in vain and perish.
Janine’s heart raced with happiness. Her son won’t be a Crippled! He won’t become someone whose sole purpose in life is to survive on the dregs and is meant to be sacrificed in times of need. The relief had washed over her, banishing her hatred for herself and anger at Ravager for robbing her of a well-deserved victory. Her son is going to be fine!
“Check this out.” Ignacy struggled a bit with a portable terminal before finally allowing his brother to help him. An image of a steel limb came on display, causing Janine’s eyes to narrow. Spirits are her witnesses, she wasn’t the brightest lass when it came to machinery, but even she has noticed a strange tube within the limb’s schematics and a large container for a flammable material. “It took some pleading, but the technicians agreed to test my own design. Well, not really my own; I blatantly copied and adapted it from one of the books we got from that bunker a while ago, but that’s beside the point! The idea was to install a generator powerful enough to emit plasma out of my palm, but the logistic officer had shut down this idea…”
“Because it would be too expensive.” Bogdan rolled his eyes, pressing a button on the terminal and showing Janine the initial design. Janine only whistled, noticing the cost and output of the damn thing. Once fully charged, it could eat its way through an entire mountain if needed. “My thoughts exactly. Ain’t no way the state gives this experimental tech to grunts like us. And thank the Spirits for it; Ignacy would’ve blown himself or others while trying to wield it.”
“Lies!” her son snapped, returning the image. “I calculated everything! From recoil to an emergency shutdown in case of… Know what? It doesn’t really matter anymore. Anyway, the downgraded model is fully capable of melting a tank’s armor upon prolonged exposure. Just imagine me jumping on a tank and melting its hatch…”
“Fool,” Bogdan stretched the word. “You take care of tanks by jumping on them and tearing away the hatch. Then you drop grenades down as a welcome gift to the crew and jump onto the next one to repeat the process.”
“Listen to the voice of reason, Ignacy.” Janine took the terminal in her paws and started reading about gripping strength, reaction, and the alloy from which the arm would be made. Upon seeing that it was comparable with the power armor, the Warlord relaxed. “I am proud of you. No, really, to come up with the idea of how to adapt an existing design to our bodies is impressive, son.” She ruffled his hair, asking worriedly. “Is there any way to add claws to this arm? Girls might start to ignore a clawless male. If it will cost too much, just tell me; maybe I can find some tokens…”
“It is fine,” Ignacy said, looking triumphantly at the image. “Fyra caster is perfect as it is!”
“Flame caster,” Bogdan corrected him. “What sort of name is fyra anyway?”
“I heard it from a game! Mom… I mean, Warlord Janine, this is my first major project!” Ignacy beamed, despite the pain in his shoulder. “Can you imagine? I actually made something of worth! I am not useless!”
Just make sure not to end up like your brother. Janine bit her tongue. No need to spoil the moment for the boy. What happened to her firstborn was Eugenia’s and Skulltaker’s fault, not a flaw in his knowledge of technology. But still, to this day, she remembered the strained squeals of her precious boy, the way his veins bulged beneath his skin shortly before rupturing, and the sheer pain and despair in his beautiful amber eyes caused by his implants going awry and cooking her boy from within.
She hated the fake saint for it, along with her precious little country of lies, Iterna. The Reclamation Army had a long history of rivalry with this mythical country.
Iterna, the bastards who survived the Extinction undamaged, proclaiming unity and friendships to the desolated wastes around them. In an attempt to gain some goodwill, Iterna invited the brightest youths from all around the world to attend their universities. Zero was one of such people, acting in spite of Ravager’s advice. And lo-and-behold, Iterna’s government had changed while her sister was there, and they backstabbed her and the other youths, kicking all who looked different from normies into the deadly wastes, all without alerting their countries. No guides, no supplies, and the attack of a sand reaper, a most dangerous predator around the lands, have left hundreds of students dead and far more injured. And once the students turned back, pleading to the guards for help, the Iternians left them to rot. If not for Ravager, all of them would’ve been dead.
Following this, Iterna suffered a minor revolution and tried to make amends, willing to pay enormous sums of money and offering free healthcare to all victims of their cruelty. Some agreed, but Zero always warned the tribe about ever again trusting Iterna. Then, a few years later, the entire world got exposed to the horror that was the apocalypse class, and the two sides came to blow once more.
Amidst the painful birth of the new world, some people gained powers—unnatural abilities capable of a host of various things. Ranging from being able to predict a disaster to being able to turn into steel or summon fire from hands, these powers were as numerous as they varied in strength. Iterna, the Oathtakers, and the Reclaimers, the three strongest nations in the world, had agreed on making a ranking of these powers to track the whereabouts of the most potentially dangerous individuals.
And among them all, the strongest is the apocalypse class. These individuals are fully capable of destroying the entire world, sometimes by pure accident. The Reclaimers first experienced this horror when a wave of nightmares spread across the world, torturing people and animals alike and causing numerous tribes to bring cruel sacrifices to their gods. And not only that, but these nightmares had also caused sand reapers to go on a rampage, wiping out thousands. All of this was caused by an unlucky mutant, who was locked alone on a mountain’s peak and had no idea of the full extent of his power.
Janine and her son were part of the pack sent to capture him. Led by the young Ravager, they came into blows with Eugenia and her own team and a few mercenary groups that aimed to capture the new breed as well. And amidst it all, Skulltaker and Eugenia had ended Janine’s son, later leaving along with the mutant with Ravager’s permission. Janine swore to exact a blood price from Eugenia for this, but in their next encounter, the false saint easily disarmed her, refusing to kill any member of the Wolf Tribe, trying to make excuses, and offering amends when the captured Janine roared her grievances into that angelic face. Ravager was the only member of the Wolf Tribe who could match this bitch in battle. An enemy of the entire tribe. A most cursed and unreachable prey for Janine.
“You are great, Ignacy.” She hesitated before leaving a kiss on his forehead. A cold look came back on her snout once Janine straightened herself. A quick snap of her fingers left a bruise on Ignacy’s forehead, right next to her kiss. When she spoke, her voice resembled a snake’s hiss. “And never dare call yourself useless ever again, fool. You risked your life to save lives today. Stayed true to the traditions and our values. Stood loyally with your comrades. Have a family that cares for you. Is this not enough to satiate your sense of worth?”
“It is, Warlord.” Her son bowed his head. “I am sorry for my words.”
“You are a good boy, Ignacy. So what if you have different tastes in life? I can live with it and so can you. Fuck anyone who thinks otherwise.” Janine wanted to say more, to admit that she loves her children, but the looks of the other patients made her swallow her feelings. For morale’s sake, she must become a larger-than-life figure, like Alpha, Dragena, and the late Terrific. “Bogdan, a Trial of Failure is about to start. Will you attend?”
“With your permission, I would rather stay with my brother, Mother.” Bogdan bowed gracefully. “The operation to install his new arm is about to begin, and I would like to cheer him up upon his awakening.”
“And to tease me up, no doubt,” Ignacy mumbled with a smile.
“That too, oh brave soldier,” Bogdan finished seriously, causing his brother to groan from embarrassment.
“Of course. Ignacy, you have ten days leave to recuperate. Bogdan, one day leave to help your brother adjust,” Janine told them, storming out to meet the judgment of her pack.