“Sword Saint Bertruda insists on meeting with you,” Marco announced, stepping into Janine’s tent.

Janine put the terminal aside and let out a slow breath. Her wounds had long since healed, but Maxence had twisted the command’s arm to give her a full five-day leave to recover. Her! As if she were a cub! And now she had MP soldiers stationed outside her tent, escorting her everywhere, including to feast or take a leak. Captain Cristobo personally grilled her over the duel against the damned Sword Saint, warning that he would tolerate no retaliation.

It infuriated her, and she plunged into duties to relieve this anger. She checked up on Marty to cheer her up and ended up giving her a little talk that ended up being way more awkward because of these MP bastards present. She wanted to find Ashbringer and try her luck against the woman, but with her ‘nannies’ around, it was impossible.

She confined herself to the tent, reading reports, approving requests, scheduling regular trainings, and writing letters to the families of her dead soldiers. Martyshkina feigned a recovery, but Janine saw through this disguise and took the load off her, informing the families of her deceased pack’s members so nothing would remind her friend about the loss of her daughter.

After completing this duty, she visited the wounded comrades and ended up a bit disappointed Soulless One had to be placed in a medical coma. Maxence scheduled no less than three more surgeries for her old comrade to repair the damage caused by the faulty implants.

“She can waste her time standing until a new dawn for all I care,” Janine said calmly, making a note of where she stopped reading the reports about the faulty equipment.

Chak wasn’t lying; the pack was on its last legs in terms of gear. Even the most revered and greatest Alpha’s, Predaig’s, and Dragena’s packs struggled to maintain combat readiness despite receiving resupplies first. Welded armor plates no longer had the usual durability, as inferior alloys replaced diamodite. She poked a hole in a seam using her fingers and deemed it unfit for prolonged combat. Shortage of grenades, shardgun ammo… What a mess. At least energy cells were in abundance.

Swallowing her pride, Janine messaged everyone she knew, informing the Dynast, Till Ingo, Devourer, the Ice Fang Order, and Outsider of her pack’s sorry condition. The liege promised to beat some sense into Ravager; Devourer and Outsider kept their silence; Ingo didn’t respond; and the Order answered at once, sharing their weapons caches. Wolf hags complained about the silliness of using the peashooters and recoilless rifles provided by the army, but the warlord couldn’t care less and wrote an official gratitude letter to the Order and forced her pack to exercise in wielding the new weapons. Other packs followed, growling at the humiliation.

Alas, there wasn’t much more she could’ve done. In a way, Chak’s wish came true. The army had stopped camping outside the fallen capital for three days, completing the evacuation and scouring the region free of raiders. Ravager and Cristobo recruited volunteers from the refugees, conscripting the youngest criminals to bolster the Third ranks. A few Iternians showed up, people from some news agency. They crawled around the city like obnoxious spine mites, interviewing soldiers and recording the Techno-Queen’s crimes. The Wolf Tribe ignored them, for everyone’s sake.

“Thanks, Marco.” Janine took the reports off his paws and read them briefly. Food supplies were dwindling, but Chak and the former rebel leaders had solved the problem. “Wait.” She stopped her son before he could sneak out. “Sit with me.”

Janine reached into her bag of things, found a chocolate bar and threw it to Marco to lighten the mood. Chocolate was something of a recent rediscovery from the Old World. It never really disappeared from Iterna, but both the Reclaimers and the Oathtakers had their share of problems before restoring the old treats, and it cost a lot in the Outer Lands. But by the Spirits, the joyful look on Marco’s snout as he closed his fangs on the chocolate bar was well worth the price. Ravager is right. The Old World may have destroyed itself, but its wonders must be rediscovered, and the remnants of its culture and history will serve as the foundation for a better tomorrow.

No longer did the Reclaimers have to ration food, keeping half of their population living off of nutrient paste or mushrooms. The news reported the creation of vast farmlands, where thousands upon thousands of cusacks—more than she had ever imagined existed in the world—grazed peacefully on grass, providing milk and meat for the state. Chernozem was created, spawning entire industries that grew bread and vegetables in abundance. And if the propaganda spoke true, this was only the beginning. More jobs opened by the day; the state bought genetically enhanced cows from Iterna, reintroducing white milk to the nation; and nature experts worked overtime, replanting forests in the wake of spreading terraformation.

What will I do in a time of peace? Perhaps I can become a trainer of young cubs? She banished these pointless dreams. There was no chance for her to see that day, not when better and stronger people had fallen. But someone else can.

“How are things between you and your sisters? Everything is okay? No one is hurting you?” Janine inquired, unsure of how to ask him properly.

“Better than okay!” Marco replied, taking his time to enjoy the sweetness of the milk chocolate melting in his mouth. “Impatient One taught me how to make a noose to haul crates. Bogdan and I polished the plates crystal clean using sand. Nissi gave me pointers on how to assemble a shardgun. I wanted to try grenades, but she laughed and said it was too early for that kind of fun. And no girl has kicked me in months! The army is great, Mom! Much better than the pits; everyone here is helpful and so respectful!”

“If only.” Janine smiled sadly, remembering friends and comrades lost to wars. “No, Marco, an army usually means a war at some point. And wars are nothing but mindless pain, hate, rage, and death.”

“Why are we fighting, then? Can’t we live in our villages?” His ears flicked.

“We can, but then war will come to us. We fight to end the need for war. To liberate those who can’t save themselves,” Janine said, leaning back in her chair. “I remember my first mission well. It was a simple mop-up operation; a group of slavers had taken over a settlement near our border. We sneaked to its edge and spotted a group of people demanding the freedom of their little ones, children, as Normies call them. A shot in the knee was their answer, and then the leader of the slavers gave the order to string the wounded man for everyone to see what happens to those who incur her wrath. We struck at this very moment.” Janine closed her eyes, slipping back into the day when she had lost herself in rage. “We lost a brother and a sister on this night, and by the end of it, I tore the pleading slaver in half and feasted on her remains. The liberated settlement was well outside our borders. Had we not attacked, our kin would still be alive, Marco.”

“But the settlers would suffer.” He nodded, understanding what she meant.

“It’s more than this.” She released a claw and made a circle. “One of these saved settlers also later founded the largest medical clinic in the entire Reclamation Army. Some medics who are responsible for saving our lives studied in that very clinic. And had we left the slavers alone, they would’ve come to our lands, eventually. So you see. What goes around comes around. Our sacrifices are not in vain.”

“Got it.” The cub nodded eagerly. “Kill the bad people. Save the good ones.”

“Wrong again!” Janine laughed, reached across the table, took Marco under her arms, and sat him on her lap. “Marco, the world is not black and white. Imagine a settlement, a nation, even. Not ruled by a tyrant, but by a council, a group of people, and they refused to join us. Are they good or bad?”

“Dunno,” Marco stated. “By refusing the Dynast’s offer, they deny their people prosperity. But… Do they do anything bad?”

“Nope.” She patted him on the head. “Sure, some of their laws might be cruel, but who’s to say we’re perfect, eh? The state tries to persuade them or buy their leadership off, yet often we conquer such stubborn neighbors, enforcing the Common language and our culture upon them.”

“But why?” her son asked. “If they don’t oppress their people…”

“A host of reasons. The world is cruel. The few nations that the Dynast has tried to leave alone have experienced carnage at the hands of more violent groups. Cubs in their hundreds, butchered to the last.” She closed her eyes, and the image of broken, bleached bones impaled on stakes flashed before her eyes. The retribution Terrific had wrought for it was spectacular. “Or they find a dangerous technology in the ruins and unleash another cataclysm, similar to the one that forced the Reclamation Army to abandon the Desolation. We conquer them for their own good, and as such, we must do everything to preserve their lives. For we are powerful and they are not. Next question. Children raised under Malformed’s rule… who are they?”

“Spawns of evil.” Marco nodded seriously. “They eat prisoners alive, torture innocents. Can’t get any eviler.”

“And yet, Chak...” Who your sister is probably fucking right now. Janine wanted to say and only smiled, understanding how much this bothered her. She had always considered herself as quite open-minded, but here she was, grumbling to herself like a shaman. “...came to us from their ranks, and the chocolate you ate came from his shop. If the soldiers who conquered his tribe had killed him, we would be robbed of the masterful handling of logistics that saved the lives of our kin. Marco, you need to understand why we, despite our wild nature, obey the military laws and take prisoners. Children who grew up in darkness, never seeing light... Are we really so much better than them to condemn them to extinction just because they had the unfortunate fate of being born under the rule of insane scum? Do we hold a moral superiority to decide if they should perish to the last just because the Spirits graced us with the Blessed Mother? No. I’ll kill anyone stepping up to me in battle, true, but I believe that mercy is never wasted. If we give in to bloodlust, what kind of world will we build? Certainly not the one worth living in.”

“So keep the good people safe, strike down evildoers wherever you can, and show mercy when possible,” Marco said.

“Not when possible. When the laws require it, when it does not go against the mission, and when it is reasonable,” Janine corrected him, allowing an amber flame to burst anew in her eyes. “Sparing a soldier is proper. Sparing a civilian is a must. And I’ll butcher any soul who dares to harm a Normie cub. But what is the point of showing mercy to a slaver, a serial killer, or a traitor? Trial, execution… Such a waste of everyone’s time. Never be stingy about compassion, but don’t be a fool either. Use common sense.”

“Correct, Warlord. We are monsters and nothing more. Mercy is not ours to give, but we may as well try. A monster conquers everything in its path, including its own nature.” A pleasant voice spoke behind her, and Janine froze for a second, stunned by the fact that someone had sneaked up on her in her own tent.

Long, elongated fingers appeared from the corner of her vision, encircling her like spider legs. For a moment, Janine thought that Terrific had crawled from the afterlife and arrived to wreak vengeance on her for being an unworthy heir. Why else would her ghost have appeared so often in recent times? However, when an unnatural light illuminated the ten, Janine exhaled. She turned around, covering Marco, and met Ravager’s stare.

“Blessed Mother,” she and Marco said in unison, admitting her superiority. Janine had put a paw over Marco’s mouth to keep him safe. “Why are you here?”

“The Dynast woke me.” Ravager removed her paws. The warlord’s tent was spacious enough for her to place a rack of her power armor in, yet the Blessed Mother’s bulk devoured most of the free space. “I heard you asked for help from the Order.”

“As was my duty before the pack,” she said sternly. Spirits take all; mortifying or not, she’ll grovel as much as needed to maintain the packs in peak condition.

“Such a good girl. First told me something interesting, Janine.” Ravager leaned over and sniffed, her eyes almost bigger than Marco’s entire body. And she still grew! Everyone saw it; after killing the Techno-Queen, the Blessed Mother had grown a tiny bit. Janine struggled to imagine what her peak even was. “You held back against the sword saint. Willingly. My anger toward you… was misplaced. And for this, I wish to offer recompense.”

“Do you think I’m weak?” Janine growled, jumping off the chair and hiding Marco behind herself. “Blessed Mother or not, I refuse! I am Janine! My flaws are my own, and I need no curse to ascend! I will never, ever become a skinwalker!”

She expected a claw to split her from head to waist for such impertinence, leaving two halves of her body struggling to stand up, the ruptured brain trying to retain thought, healing processes overwhelmed, and then Ravager’s jaws would close on the remains, devouring…

The Blessed Mother laughed, shattering the illusion. It was not a mad laugh, and neither was this a mockery. Ravager sounded like a high-society lady who had just heard a fantastic joke from her cavalier.

“No, this path is not for you, Warlord. Ah, I remember you at last, Warlord Janine,” Ravager said. “Four times you have made the right decisions in my presence. You resisted the urge to strike the angel. Forgave your mother. Stopped my madness and saved lives. And showed enough wisdom to go easy on our future.” Ravager exhaled a cloud of steam and left a smelly mark on Janine’s cheek. “Welcome to the inner circle, warlord. Devourer will come in the morning, and we are to meet him. Are you free now?”

“I still need to teach my son,” Janine replied stubbornly, cursing that the commander had ruined a moment to speak with Marco heart-to-heart.

“Do so then; we have time aplenty.” Ravager pushed herself to the side of the tent and lay on the ground, closing her eyes.

Janine had quite several things in her tent, including a leather jacket left by Terrific, now serving as a relic to remind her of Mom. A chest of glasses manufactured in the Old World, gifted to her by the National Museum as a souvenir for saving valuable artifacts from raiders. Janine had no actual use for them and was afraid of breaking the beautiful things. So she never drank from them, only occasionally taking them out to polish them, training her fingers to be careful with things.

Other than that, she had an empty harness, a weapons rack, her other trophies, and a family stone listing her direct relatives and their descendants. Theoretically, Ravager should have smashed them all with her bulk. In theory, Ravager should’ve smashed them all with her bulk. But somehow, almost supernaturally, the woman fit inside the tent, taking up just enough space without destroying anything or sending Janine and Marco flying.

Janine took a book from her backpack and started asking Marco questions about the tribe’s history, inquiring about the date their name was officially added to the nation and about the founders. Shamans performed this duty in the pits, teaching cubs how to count, about the laws of physics, and explaining the nation’s laws. Since she had ended her son’s education under the shaman’s tutelage, it was now her duty to ensure Marco’s development.

Ravager kept quiet. Her heartbeat sounded like a drum, beating slowly but steadily, and Janine wondered how the Blessed Mother could sneak up on anyone with this bombastic sound in her chest. The breath coming out of her mouth resembled the heat from a furnace, reminding Janine of the pleasant desert around their village.

“Very good, Marco.” Janine turned a page. “Here is a hard one….”

“You have a question!” Ravager snapped, catching Marco’s glance. “Ask away already. Youth should not hold back curiosity; remember it once and for all.”

“Sorry.” Marco tried to bow, but a tap of a gigantic finger rocketed the tent, prompting the MPs to step inside and inquire if everything was fine. Ravager ignored them. “Your fur,” Marco has finally found the courage to ask. “Is it true that it can bisect an arm?”

Ravager blinked, and the aggression vanished from her face. What came into her eyes instead looked like cheeky fun. Ravager held out her arm toward Marco.

“Touch it, cub,” she commanded, and Marco obeyed, first pressing one finger and then his full palm.

“Soft. Smooth. Like silk,” he whispered in surprise, and Ravager laughed.

“Sharp fur! Divine heir! Blessed Mother!” Ravager shook her head and placed it back on her paws. “Seriously, who is spreading these rumors about me? No, cub. I am neither divine nor a mother, and certainly not a hedgehog. I am Ravager, a monster, and nothing more.”

“Then let me talk with my son in peace,” Janine barked, waving the MPs away. They couldn’t hope to stop Ravager if the commander had lost it, but she still appreciated their dedication and willingness to help. Perhaps she was being unfair to them.

The look on Marty’s face when she had to kill her daughter. Her own beautiful cubs, either stillborn or murdered in the pits, haunted her. Death in battle, death from malfunction, death from rivalry, death during a domination, death from old age, death from culling… death, death, death. She got fed up with death.

“Marco. Do your knees still hurt?” Janine softly asked her son.

“Huh? No! Well, they bother me a little, but I am on my feet all day!” Marco jumped off the chair and did a few squats to show that he was okay. But she saw. A minor tremble occurred when his knees bent. Just a minor flaw, but it was there. All because she couldn’t bear him in peace like a proper mother.

“Marco,” Janine forced herself to sound kind and warm, unwilling to scare her son. “How would you like to become an exile?”

“Mom? Warlord?” Marco stumbled, fiddling with his beret in his paws. “Have I done something bad? If so, I will fix it! Please don’t throw me out; I’ll…”

“I will never throw you out, Marco. You are forever my son.” I love you. She wanted to say it but stopped herself. No sign of weakness in front of the family. “I wasn’t a perfect mother. I hadn’t given you enough vitality; I could not give you sisters to keep you safe in the pits…”

“But you took me out there! You saved me, mom!” She raised a paw, stopping his outburst.

“But I can give you a life worth living,” Janine continued, as if nothing had happened. “Marco, Dad, and I have saved up some tokens. I’m not exactly poor, you know. I can ask for help and buy you a house in the Core Lands. You can go into an actual school and live a normal, peaceful life, a life that was promised to us by the Dynast.” She quickly pressed on at a hesitation in his eyes. “You won’t be alone! The Net has greatly expanded in our day and age. My rank allows for certain liberties, so we can speak daily! And there are plenty of chocolate treats in the Core Lands. Think about it: no girl would dare to hit you; you’ll see the wonders of the world firsthand…”

“And leave you to fight for my safety alone?” Marco asked bluntly.

“Marco. You’ll die here. Your brothers will die. Your sisters will die. A day will come, and I myself will perish in some ditch, forgotten and alone.” Janine told him the truth to frighten him. “There is no noble demise in battle. The songs and legends told by the shamans? They are about the dead kin who never knew peace in their lives. Demise on a battlefield is either painful and ugly or instantaneous, if you are lucky. The Wolf Tribe fights so that future generations of all people can live in peace. You’re part of that generation! In the Core Lands, you can start a family and become happy. Not fake happy to reassure me, don’t argue with me, Marco, I’m not blind! Actually happy. Imagine holding your cubs and having no fear of seeing them dead!”

“This will mean leaving you and kin here alone,” Marco said sadly. There was determination in his amber eyes. “No, mother. I am a Wolfkin! It is our duty to serve as shields for the meek. I may be weak and frail, but I will never leave you and my kin to shoulder the duty alone.”

“Right choice, Cubbie,” Ravager chuckled. “Monsters belong with monsters.”

Would it kill you to shut up? She suppressed the urge to grab the axe and bury it in Ravager’s forehead. It was not Ravager’s fault. It was Janine who had failed to convince her little boy to choose a happier path in life. She picked up the textbook and found a page.

“Should you ever change your mind, Marco, the offer is always here for as long as I live.” She flipped a page, gesturing for her son to sit. “Let us continue, without interruptions this time. Here is a hard one. The Heatlands, the Ravaged Lands, the Wastes, and the Desolation have exceedingly high temperatures, making them often dangerous to non-New Breeds. How come?”

“Uhm…” Marco scratched his head, and she gave him time to collect his thoughts. Normies studied this subject in the eighth grade, so she wouldn’t hold it against him if he forgot. The topic was of no use in their lives, and rather boring to boot. “I know!” He beamed. “It’s the sun! Our planet is protected by a protective layer of atmosphere, but the Extinction thinned it out. Well, the weapons were unleashed during it. The terraforming process is slowly healing it, forming heavy clouds over our skies, but despite the work of the Great Nations, it hasn’t recovered everywhere yet.”

“Not wholly true,” Ravager whispered to Marco, holding a paw over her mouth. “Know about nanomachines, cubbie?” Marco nodded, and the commander continued. “The madmen unleashed it during the Extinction and parts of them still linger in the atmosphere. Imagine a constant magnifying glass looming over the lands…”

“Commander!” Janine raised her voice. “No prompting!”

“What?” The Blessed Mother perked up and tilted her head. “I’m nothing. You have no proof that I did anything, Janine.”

“I saw you whispering to my son!”

“No idea what you are talking about.”

It’s like dealing with two unruly cubs whom I can’t smack!

“Please refrain from adding anything, Commander,” Janine asked, grinding her fangs. “I planned to educate my son about the topic tonight…”

“So he doesn’t know? Great!” The black bulk flung Janine off her feet, and Ravager took her place. “Class, listen up. Nanotech, of which nanomachine weaponry is a part, played a vital role in the Old World. Imagine a laser scalpel forming in the doctor’s hand, automatically cleaning itself, or a steel wave flowing over a person, forming armor. Nanotech gave us great wonders, creating many engines capable of self-repair, but it is also a source of great peril when its programming goes awry. To understand the scope of the potential danger, you first need to understand where it was used… Would you stop acting like a female in heat? We are leading a lesson here!” Ravager snapped at Janine, who tried to push her away. “Where were I… Application of nanotech. Aside from serving as instruments, it was sold as a subscription to patients suffering from various ailments. Picture a situation. Your stomach no longer produces juices to digest food. Nanotech can fix it, five credits per month, please! Pay up, and your faulty organs will work as good as new for the duration of the subscription.”

“Couldn’t this magic heal the sick?” Marco dared to ask.

“It’s not magic; it’s technology, little one. And yes, it could, but it would’ve made less money for the suits, since heal a person once and…”

“Who are these suits?”

Janine clenched her fists, but then noticed Ravager’s grin and genuine interest in Marco’s expression. The commander was also hungry for a life without violence, and who was she to deny her a brief touch of that? She sat by her son’s side and listened to a three-hour lecture in which Ravager explained in detail the uses and applications of nanotech, what is the difference between nanomachines and self-replicating swarms, how MAD weapons of nanotech class had changed the climate of the regions for centuries, and why the Great Nations had banned certain uses of nanotech in wars, marking the creation of situations where nanomachines imitated the wounded to lure soldiers as a war crime.

We are more than monsters, Blessed Mother. The warlord hugged her son. And so are you.