"Sorry." The half-wyrm pointed at her long, sharp ear with a claw. "Keen hearing. Listened to everything. Wyrm woman," Leila burst into laughter and jumped to her feet. "Seems I had left a bad first impression! Oh well, I'll have to explain myself to her later. I should probably send a report to Ivar about this potential power hidden in our Kate…" Aranea stared at her directly, without blinking. Murzaliev treated troops little better than pawns. What if he were to take Kate away? "… But the old demon assigned me to be in charge of your pack, so your well-being is my priority. I say screw him." Leila took Aranea under the arm, leading her to the exit.

"Thank you," Aranea said, fully meaning it, and received more ringing laughter.

They stepped out of the hospital straight into the inner keep of Fort Uglo. Aranea blinked at the bright light outside, taking in the details. The fortress served as the main operational base of the Reclamation Army in the Ravaged Lands and the current seat of authority responsible for governing the Wastes to the south. Its massive central spire, wide enough to house a small city, stood over eighty meters tall. Walls ringed the area surrounding its foundation, keeping the primary hospital, a shield station, and barracks housing the elite forces guarding the inner keep safe.

Beyond the initial walls, the fortress's territory sloped gently downward, intersected by several roads, and extended onto the flattened plains. Countless factories churning out equipment day and night, barracks, training grounds, radar stations, and smaller medical installations dotted everything in this section, covering almost the entire surface, aside from the gaping space leading to the northern gates of the second defensive perimeter.

There, two massive gates made of an unknown alloy covered the entrance to the demolition cannon, one of the most potent weapons in the entire nation. Aranea had read voraciously about it in the past, charmed by the intact relic of a finer, bygone era.

Assembled prior to the Extinction, it was designed to utilize a complex network of satellites to fire at everything within the system with perfect precision. Information unearthed later revealed that the defensive committee governing the world had planned to place such cannons around the globe to ensure the compliance of corporations operating in space. In ordinary circumstances, it had been used to deflect meteors from colliding with orbitals.

However, the Extinction put an end to their goal. After the state took over the superweapon, scientists theorized it had the destructive potential to wipe out entire mountain ranges and cities in its path. The Dynast had little interest in genocide and, upholding the treaty with Iterna and the Oathtakers, applied a shared containment program limiting its use. To this day, the cannon has never been seen outside of its hangar again.

Numerous trenches lined the surface outside of the fortress, mingled with sturdy bunkers, with the air shaking at the horizon. This phenomenon indicated the end of the force shield's projection range.

"What are these?" Aranea asked, stretching her neck at the unusual bulky shapes leaping over the trenches.

"The latest mechanical suits of the mobile corps from the Core Lands." Leila offered to zoom in with her terminal, but Aranea's crimson eye had a clear enough view despite the distance.

Black, oval-shaped suits, each roughly three meters tall, carried twin large weapons on their shoulders, which hid their heads. They charged from the west end of the trenches to the east, falling and clumsily stumbling after each landing. They helped themselves stand up with their three-fingered hand manipulators. Wooden cutouts rose to the left and right in their path, often spitting paintballs from cheap automatic guns installed on them. The trainees responded by swinging their torsos, planting flat legs into the rocky ground, and then their cannons unleashed unseen streams that blurred the air in their path. Upon touching the obstacles, the streams obliterated the 'opposition,' along with swaths of trenches, reducing them to thin mist.

"Woah," Aranea stretched out the word, eyes beaming. "I wanna one cannon for myself."

"Cool your jets; your arms won't hold it. Trust me, I tried. Ivar told me not to, but I insisted and broke my finger," Leila chuckled.

"How do they work?" Should've used power armor. Aranea wanted to add and bit her tongue.

"These are sonic emitters. They unleash a set of strong vibrations, propelling them in a concentrated ray in a single direction. They break molecular bonds in structures and reduce most known substances to a neat whiff of dust. Iron Lord, the asshole in charge of invading Houstad, had been using a similar model of a mechanical suit and the original weapon during the battle against…"

"Warlords Kalaisa and Anji," Aranea said, swelling with pride. "So these are the replicas? I thought the khan was much bigger."

"These are the mass-produced, cheaper versions. Oh, don't you roll your eyes at me, wolf hag. One might miss a warlord. A hundred will bring down even Janine."

"Sure they will."

"You'll see… Well, you won't; we are on the same side," Leila corrected herself. "You'll come to respect them."

"Already love them," Aranea admitted, wishing that some of these suits had supported them in recent days.

"What I don't get is why bipeds?" Leila admitted. "Shouldn't these cannons be placed atop tanks? Joints are much easier to disable than treads."

"My layman guess is because of the rough terrain," Aranea said, itching to learn all she could about these beauties. "You know, canyons, cliffs, and so on. What would be a pain in the ass to cross for land would be easier for these guys… Ah," she added, calculating the length of a singular line of destruction. "Check it out, Leila! The effective range is way shorter than even our shardguns. No wonder they need mobile platforms to be used effectively."

Thousands trained in the fields, overseen by instructors and long armored columns, ventured on, abandoning the safety to fight distant battles in the faraway lands. As the state flexed its muscles, the entire Third responded to the call for action. Should the war drag on, the legendary warlords of the Wolf Tribe would arrive. Aranea wasn't a zealous person, but the sheer opportunity of witnessing or maybe even exchanging a talk as an equal with Zero, Dragena, Ygrite, and Alpha, the four warlords who saw the birth of their tribe, filled her with awe. Two of them were rumored to be the strongest non-commanders in the land, surpassing even wyrms. Zero had no troops under her command, and she had somewhat estranged herself from the tribe, appearing in the darkest of hours and otherwise focusing on hunting the sacred skinwalkers. That earned her Aranea's eternal respect. The warlord's insistence on irritating the shamans by trying to change the tribe alongside Dragena simply added to the flavor.

Leila showed Aranea the way to the command center serving the warlords. Aside from patrols, not many people were present in its halls, as Valerye Foulsnout and Janine Ironjaw had taken to the field, accompanied by their wolf hags. Inside a spherical dome, littered with half-eaten food and unfinished drinks, they found Sonya standing before the long screen. The smell of food caused Aranea's stomach to rumble again, but she held back, noticing another person in the seat.

Taller than the half-wyrm and dwarfing Aranea, the shaman sat casually reading news pamphlets. Dangling bone totems hung from her shoulder pads, and prayers covered her ornate armor. She was bareheaded, exposing a face marred with thick scar tissue that prevented even fur from growing. One scar stood out above the rest: a long, ugly recess running over an eye socket. The shaman turned her head, looking at Aranea with one natural eye and one red ocular, surprising the wolf hag. Shamans always opposed adding soulless parts to their bodies, viewing it as a spiritual violation. To see one willingly using an augment was peculiar.

"Wolf Hag Aranea." The shaman stood up and extended her arm in greeting. Despite ranking the highest in the Wolf Tribe, shamans rarely led troops into a fray. They served as spiritual leaders and individual fighters, content with being second to actual officers. "I've been temporarily assigned to your pack by Warlord Janine. Once your force is replenished, I'll take my leave."

"Welcome. Is this really okay?" Aranea asked, shaking the paw. "I'm the bearer of the cursed blood, you know. The cub of traitors and all that. I might taint you if you stay near me."

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"If there is no possibility of redemption, then what is the point of the Spirits?" the shaman answered with a question. "No, Wolf Hag. The Spirits often harsh but fair; otherwise, we would've rejected them long ago. Cursed children commit no crime by being born. The Spirits assign them different trials, testing them to see if they are strong enough to perceive and adhere to the truth. You strive to fulfill your duties, and that is all anyone can ask of you. Mixed blood or not, you are one of us. Continue your journey on the chosen path, and the Blessed Mother will welcome you into her den when your earthly form perishes." Having stated this, the woman sat back, ignoring Leila.

"I know you dislike me, but you can at least pretend to be nice," complained Leila.

"I have no animosity toward you, Lady," the shaman said, without looking at her. "Yet it is unnatural for us to follow anyone but a warlord. Your position in the pack is unclear. You are not kin to us, yet Wyrm Lord has granted you ownership of Wolf Hag Aranea and her pack. Ask me about the Spirits and I shall tell you all I know, for blessings are not a treasure to be hoarded. I shall tell you tales to the best of my ability, but I won't feign hospitality to the blue wyrm's follower."

"Honesty is good enough." Leila landed on the seats near the woman and turned on the recorder. "We stopped at the time when Zero left the Tribe to attend a university in Iterna. Tell me your version of what happened next…"

With the heavy footsteps, Sonya stopped before the screen. Her old armor was gone, replaced by a newer scout model. The shield still rested on her shoulder. She steadied herself and appeared to recover from their duel. The scout bowed to Aranea.

"Please accept my apologies, Wolf Hag Aranea." Sonya stood at attention, readily exposing her neck in submission. "I took control of the troops in your absence and approved reinforcements to replenish our dwindling numbers. Punish my initiative as you will."

"Speak freely, Sonya," Aranea commanded with a smile. "Damn, it's wonderful to be back home! You have my full support in carrying out the leader's duties for the next few days as the doctors insist I stay put. I'll need some time to readjust. How's the pack? One warrior lost her leg. Is she okay?"

"She…"

"The fool tried to refuse an augmented limb. I had challenged her, and now she has a brand-new leg and a metal ear," the shaman interjected.

Aranea locked stares with the shaman. She knew full well how much weaker she was compared to that mound of muscles, but she twitched her fingers, preparing to let the claws fly. "Never dare to maim my pack ever again."

"Would you rather see her cast aside as a Crippled?" The shaman raised a torn eyebrow over her lens.

The Crippled were the Wolfkins who refused to accept a replacement for the lost limb or an organ. In the not-so-distant years, they had dwelt on the outskirts of villages, ready to act as a shield for the population in case of a sudden attack. Their cubs bore the denigrating title of 'Branded' and were shunned from joining the military.

A scheme led by the former supreme shaman and a group of warlords had changed it when, as an experiment, the cubs had joined packs as normal. At the last Gathering, after the shamans had been presented with the result, there had been a tremendous scandal, and the segregation had been removed altogether. Aranea knew little of it. Supposedly, a Branded kicked the shit out of the arrogant and unworthy wolf hag with ease. Or so the rumors said. Those present had kept the fighters' identities hidden.

"No," Aranea admitted. Even nowadays, becoming a Crippled was considered an unworthy fate. Though, if anyone dared to insult one in a shaman's presence… Well, some skin was bound to be lost. She let go of the tension. "But never lay a claw on my soldier ever again."

"I never laid a claw on her to begin with. It's your rule, ma'am," the shaman spoke with both respect and humor. "We bit each other. Judge my actions however you will, but it was either to stay with us or be sent back to the village, and the girl has a future ahead of her."

Aranea nodded, accepting the result.

"We live." Sonya glared at the pleasantly smiling Leila. "There were certain problems among our recruits, but our patron saint assisted in solving them without excessive violence. Warriors wanted to usurp Kate's position, burning with a desire to avenge her, and I had to smack down a couple, proving a point." Sonya shook her head. "We don't have enough people to replace Yuki's pack, so I temporarily demoted her to stop the competition for her rank. We have no confirmation about her fate. For all we know, she could still be alive, as the shaman insists." But her expression told Aranea that she didn't believe it. "Sly is assisting in the engineering wing, and he has prepared a weapon worthy of you. I consider this meddling sacrilegious, but the shaman approved it."

"Zero is a warlord despite having a gifted chosen weapon." The shaman distracted herself from telling the history to Leila. "Ravager told us to be flexible in every facet of life. All is fine, as long as it kills or at least protects. Don't denigrate the male's ingenuity."

"How's the war going?" Aranea asked. Sonya snapped her fingers, and servants came forward, forcibly giving a chair to the wolf hag. They placed steaming roasted cusack meat, still on the ribs, on a table in front of her and gave her cans of mushroom beer. She mumbled her gratitude and lunged at the food, realizing how hungry she was. Bones crunched under her fangs as she swallowed meat and bone together.

"Barely begun." Sonya pressed a button, and a large map appeared on the display. "By attacking so soon, the Resistance has overplayed their hand." A large red dot appeared in the north. "This right here is the Gates of Destiny, as the rebels call it. Flanked by two mountain ranges and with a single road leading to branches extending into the Resistance's occupied lands, it served as a perfect defensive position upon which invaders had been broken in the past.

"It had been renamed Chokepoint A. Since the road is stable and wide enough for our army to pass through, when the enemy had declared hostilities, the blue and the black cooperated, and the vanguard of our forces, including Janine and Martyshkina, took it over with minimal casualties. We don't grasp why the opposition was so slow to fortify this valuable position, but with this base under our control we can now assemble battle groups to the south without risk of counterattacks." Red dots, with blue scales over them, appeared to the south of the location, standing at the entrances of the series of canyons stretching to the northwest. They spilled onto the plains in the north.

"By moving through these narrow passages, our forces will bypass the mountain defenses and arrive in Iadan, the primary trading hub of the Regulators and the home base of Yasen Wolansky's forces. Reconnaissance units stationed in the canyons were eliminated by Warlord Valerye, who is currently taking over a tank factory south of the mountain range. We expected the complex to have serious protection, but the blue wyrm assured us that the opposition wouldn't fight for it. So far, his assessments have been correct. Our kin have detected no heavy vehicles in the area. Everything of value has been evacuated. The blue wyrm plans to lead our battle group through the canyons to reclaim Iadan. Meanwhile, the black wyrm assembled his forces to the east." A new series of red dots appeared, marked with a black scale. "Sadly, we are not privy to his moments or plans. But a fortified enemy position of the Regulators near his location changed allegiances and joined us after the black wyrm persuaded them that Blaguna was responsible for the city's destruction."

Black question marks appeared in the north. "Both captains stated that an enemy attack is expected soon. Our recon teams reported about massive forces of the Soultakers and the Bento Tribe on the move. Unlike the Regulators' rabble, these are serious bad news, as they both have the numbers, equipment, and training to pose danger. Nonetheless, most of our scout parties were wiped out before they could pinpoint their target. Murzaliev assured Wyrm Lord that an attack on Chokepoint A would be suicide; thus, possible vectors are either a counterattack through the canyons or an all-out advance through the ash plains in the east. The majority of our army is amassed there. Had the enemy still controlled Chokepoint A, they could have dealt us a devastating blow in our rear, but the swift actions of our army eliminated this risk." Sonya turned off the screen.

"Seems like Chokepoint A plays a crucial role in our strategy," Aranea said, swallowing meat. "I don't trust Murzaliev's judgement one bit, no offense, Leila. Is it garrisoned?"

"Plentifully and being reinforced."

Sonya walked down the stairs, taking a deep breath. Aranea supposed she was unused to outlining the strategy. Wolf hags led their forces, striking like lightning. The warlords held discussions and coordinated advances with the Normies. The scout asked for permission, then snatched a beer can and gulped it down. After that, Sonya sat nearby.

"I'm glad you woke up, Aranea," she said. "It was difficult sticking up to your rules. Usually I slash whoever dared to go out of line or not put in their all. Talking, finding other ways to maintain order are unnatural to me, but I adapt. Anyway, your new armor is ready. See Sly, just be sure to put it on before you test out his gift. It is very important." Sonya's paw spasmed and reached out for her shoulder.

Aranea tried to inquire about the details, but the scout became evasive. Sonya claimed that duty called to her and quickly left, accompanied by the shamans. As she was walking out, she cracked her fingers, and Leila burst into laughter, also refusing to elaborate about the situation. She waited for Aranea to finish eating, and then they took the elevator down from the outer keep and found a path leading to an armory in the south. Many passing soldiers, Wolfkins, New Breeds, Mutants, and Normies alike greeted Leila, exchanging casual gossip. Several officers asked if the half-wyrm would join them at the bar tonight.

"I enjoy making friends," explained the energetic woman, noticing Aranea's look. "People here have so many tales to tell. Different traditions, customs, ways of life… It's all so interesting!"

"And the bar?" Aranea asked.

"Ah, what better way is there to loosen tongues than to drink together?" Leila giggled. "There's even a semi-official challenge to try to out-drink me."

"What's the prize?" Aranea asked. "If tokens are involved, I'm game… Wait, why you specifically?"

"Because none can win, silly. Wyrms are just built differently." Leila smiled. "Warlords, Malformed or even cyborgs all have their limits, while we are at the top. Still, people try their luck occasionally, and I relish the challenge."

"Do you get drunk?"

"Sure. But no headaches later."

"Lucky cheater. I think I'll quit while I'm ahead."

"How are you ahead? We haven't even had a competition yet!"

"I still have my tokens intact." Aranea returned the smile.

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