Aranea left the warlords and traveled south of the city. Although she was ordered to rest, there was one more person she had to speak with.

The ritual of declawing.

She looked at her paws, releasing her claws. This procedure was usually reserved for criminals or as a show of the utmost shame. The Wolf Tribe treasured their claws. Way in the past, Wolfkins used them to attract males for copulation, flashing their natural blades to impress and prove their health. Even today, it was tough to discard their sharpness and effectiveness in close-quarters combat. These instruments were a source of pride. Declawing meant removing them permanently, as, short of paying for a costly operation, the victim could never regrow them.

Aranea closed and opened her paws, trying to memorize that part of herself. The ritual was excruciating on purpose.

Guess I better write a letter requesting cybernetic replacements and start saving for the more advanced version. She relaxed. With the advancements in industry and thanks to the thriving trade routes, soldiers of the Reclamation Army had access to a wide array of free prosthetics for every conceivable body part. Better parts cost tokens, and she expected shamans to complain about her intention to order advanced claws from Iterna itself, but who cared what weapons were used so long as they killed? The claws were not important; only lives mattered. That left Sonya and her respectable age.

"Would it be cheating to pay for cloned claws and then get declawed again? I wonder if that's acceptable…" Aranea intended to consult the tribal laws to learn the answer. She intended to take part in modernizing them one day, but for now she'll have to make do with the hand fate had dealt her.

Martyshkina tasked Siri and her pack with finding the scattered orphans. Reinforcements from Fort Uglo were scheduled to arrive tomorrow, bringing up forces and personnel capable of restoring law and order around here. Under the state's laws, the orphans will receive medical care and an education that will help them accept the imperial vision and abandon any potential prejudices. The Dynast left nothing to chance.

Holes in the ruins and flattened rubble hinted to Aranea that Siri had taken her assignment quite literally. The Wolfkins barged into every underground hideout, basement, or hiding spot, no doubt scaring the poor cubs. If Aranea had seen her family get hurt and then seen a three-meter-tall, black, animal-shaped person burst through her bedroom wall, she would have wet herself.

What other choice is there? An efficient approach can be merciful in our situation. She pondered, sniffing the air. Martyshkina had told her that Siri had reported the successful completion of her task and requested permission to stay in the area to resolve an issued challenge. Aranea hoped it wasn't what she suspected.

Wolfkins' chanting, booming sounds of fists impacting limbs, and shaking of the structure greeted the wolf hag on her approach to the former granary used to store mushrooms. The crowd's cheering and fighting noises halted. Then, the ground shook, sending a manhole cover flying up, accompanied by the thunderous and triumphant roar. Aranea pushed the bullet-riddled gates open and stepped inside.

The unconscious Siri splattered onto the cratered floor. Countless cuts and scratches covered her body, her right ear connected with the head by a thin layer of bleeding flesh. Olesya towered over Siri, pinning her with a leg on the chest and a shaking claw poised to stab the exposed solar plexus. Lacerations covered half of Olesya's torso, exposing her ribcage. Two fingers dangled, shattered. Yet she smiled with pure happiness and joy, laughing with mirth, not frustration or anger. Sheared fur and splashes of blood covered the place, as if it was a slaughterhouse that received a fresh party of cusacks. The troops occupied the second floor, repeating the winner's name and clapping their paws. Most of them held one or more Normie cubs under their armpits and often nodded at the arena, inquiring if the kids had ever seen anything as cool as that.

"I can't hear you, bitches! Louder! Put your soul into it, will you!" Olesya threw her arms into the light coming through the damaged holes and flipped off the increasing cheers. "Who's the best?! Who's the strongest?!" Her pack shouted her name at the top of their lungs. "That's right, me! And don't you dare forget it!" Olesya, choking on her mirth, grabbed herself as the reward struck, bulking the new wolf hag, and she roared in ecstasy, opening her mouth wide to reveal the growing fangs.

"Language, you ridiculous fool," Aranea chuckled, leaning on the gate. "Stop fooling around. You are scaring the little ones."

"Bullshit! They enjoyed the show from the best seats!" Olesya whirled toward the entrance and hesitated, confused. Then, she leapt from the fallen Siri and ran over to Aranea, grabbing her in a hug. "Still alive! Still alive!" Her breath was hot with exhaustion. "Made it! I knew you would! And you're all grown up and muscled up! Spill the beans, did ya eat Sonya for dinner?"

"Nah, she's alive, and we are well." Aranea pulled Olesya into a hug. The two struggled and bumped heads. "You aren't all silk and soft either. I need to watch out in the future, or else you might beat me one day!"

"I can drop you anytime! Wanna go?!" The old scars on Olesya's snout thinned.

"You're just a half-dead buffoon! Know your limits!"

"Never! I'll ever try to climb to the top! Cause I was born to be a warlord!" Olesya coughed, letting go of Aranea. "To be the strongest among the strongest. To dominate, win, and run freely! And to make Dad and Mom proud!"

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"They already are," Aranea assured her.

"Could be prouder! What are you standing like a bunch of peons for?" Olesya roared to her pack. "Velka, take Scout Siri to the hospital this instant, and deliver the cubs to the base! Hop, hop, lazy bums! The break is over!"

"Listen, Oles," Aranea whispered into her ear. "I need you to come over. I have an urgent thing I need to talk about. Please, if you feel like you can, put the rest aside for a while."

"Why so serious?" Olesya's ears twitched. "You met someone? Did a boy catch your eye? Lost to another rival?" When the wolf hag noticed Aranea's pleading expression, she shrugged and called for her pack to bandage her wounds to the best of their abilities. Then, she joined her friend.

Aranea exhaled in relief, hurrying to leave the warehouse. Janine had pointed out on a map the building for her pack to be stationed in while in the city. It was an ancient, three-story building that had been spared in the raid by sheer miracle. The scouts and warriors took over the second floor, the males occupied the first, and Yuki and Sly dropped their belongings in the basement, next to the empty generator shells. A half-collapsed third floor had a single intact room marked as a wolf hag den. The quartermaster had dropped her stuff in the corner so no one would touch it and had cleaned a single bed free of dirt, added a modest blanket, and placed the loaded shardgun over it. Secured within a capsule, her armor stood, held by a harness. A cracked mirror was the room's only luxury.

"So, what'cha so scary happened, eh, girl?" Olesya looked at the bed, noticed her soaked bandages, and collapsed onto the floor. "You weren't that startled even when we snuck into my den for a sleepover."

"I still taste that incense in my mouth."

"Hey, Mom didn't mean anything bad. It's just… prejudice. Our cakes were nice, right?"

"Superb. I wish my current problem was as simple." Aranea told Olesya everything about her outburst and how she had mauled Kate. "I seriously have no idea what came over me! You know me; I've never lost control before, so why now?!"

"Eh, who gives a cusack anus about a few scars?" Olesya rolled her eyes when Aranea clenched her fists. "Tell me who? What, our hides are pristine? Eh. No, that's not what tossed your birdie off balance. Hm."

"It doesn't matter! What matters are my actions!" Aranea grabbed her shoulders with the trembling paws. "What if it happens again? I don't want to harm my allies."

"Don't beat yourself up over nothing." Olesya waved her paw. "It's because of power. You feel that pleasant jolt of adrenaline when you win, correct?" She smirked at Aranea's raised brow and waited for a nod. "Yeah. You bottle it down, forcing it to retreat, as if a part of yourself were a dangerous beast to be caged or kept at bay. And then, when that cage is too tight…" She put one paw over the other, squeezing them until they trembled, then opened them fast enough to imitate a blast. "It explodes from the inner pressure. Going out all at once. Bet you thought you could fly. Tsk, tsk, here's where you lag behind us, sis. By accepting these temptations in smaller doses, we learn to control them. And the rapid surge fumbled that smooth brain of yours…"

"Smooth brain? You once munched on candles!"

"It's unhealthy to reject yourself."

Aranea stopped. Could the explanation really be this simple? She doubted it. There was quite a distance from the dueling ground to the base. She should've come back to her senses during that trip.

"There is… one more thing," Aranea confessed, hesitating. "I killed someone during the battle. A living, breathing human." She expected to hear laughter or congratulations, but the wolf hag sat, waiting.

"You can drop by my place for a while, if you want," suggested Olesya. "I remember my first kill well. We were taking over that stinking, heaping pile of a cannibal fort, and Siri sent me to free the prisoners. Here I was, knocking down doors, and there was that blond, barely older than a teen, a dagger in his hand. So I gunned him. Then I came to the cells and found that the second pack had already busted them open." Olesya looked up. "I killed that dude, and to this day, I am unsure if he was a prisoner or an enemy. Even if he was an enemy, what harm is there from a dagger to the meters-thick plates?" She paused and continued. "Shittiest feeling, won't lie. It was difficult to overcome it."

Aranea was aware. Olesya had estranged herself from her family, sleeping in her tent for a couple of nights and waking up to screams. They never discussed those moments. Aranea offered whatever support she could, respecting her friend's desire not to appear weak.

"It's not like that with me," Aranea said, speaking the bitter truth. "I felt nothing over the killings. Even worse, when we arrived to rescue the locals, I saw dead bodies and experienced nothing. Humans are supposed to be sad over tragedies—it's normal! Yet I... Oles, do you think it's wrong? Am I becoming a monster?"

"No idea," Olesya said. "All I know is that you saved people. I saw that much. Abyss, you saved Sonya. And spared her during the challenge. Think whatever you want, but I don't consider you a monster."

They spoke at length for over an hour before Olesya's wounds started to get to her. Aranea convinced her to visit the field medics. The wolf hag agreed but refused assistance to get there, claiming that she wasn't a cub. She stumbled downstairs, hissing over the itch of her wounds.

"Just another bad omen," Aranea chuckled as she touched the broken mirror. Her finger spasmed and broke off a tiny piece.

An alien face reflected in its dirty surface. It had a snout that was too big, and both eyes glowed, projecting actual light into the eye sockets. Most of her scars disappeared, swallowed by the renewed skin. Only the thin scar on the left side of her head remained visible. She lost her slender, well-trained form, and in its place, bulging muscles appeared. Out of curiosity, she opened her mouth and counted pristine white fangs. Besides the ones she had lost, four more fangs grew in her lower jaw and three in her upper.

"I'm no longer myself. Going to take a while getting used to it." She dropped onto the bed with a sigh, deciding that decorating the room could wait. Her body ached with exhaustion, as if all the accumulated damage had ambushed her at once. Her eyelids grew heavy, but no matter how hard she tried, the long-awaited dreams of Dad and Mom refused to grace her.

Irritated, she stood up, faced the mirror again, and froze in horror. A massive body stood in the room, with a single scar over the left eye. The white-furred snout smiled as Tilden's reflection looked at Aranea from the mirror.

A knock on the door jolted her awake from the nightmare. She jumped and hit her head on the ceiling, then bit her arm to keep from screaming. Ignoring the repeated knocks, she stepped toward the mirror on unsteady legs, easing up upon facing her new self. Still black fur, one eye is red, another yellow, everything normal.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"Maintenance crew, ma'am," came the answer from behind the door. "We need to take fresh measurements to adjust your power armor."

Aranea halted and burst into laughter, opening the door. That was true. She had become huge.

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