By the time Aranea woke up, it was a whole new day. She stretched her limbs, lifting herself from the small bed near the window, still half confused about where she was and was right now. The halfbreed moved her limbs carefully, checking for pain, and upon finding that there was none, she yawned. Aranea looked at the terminal near her bed. It took her a good moment to understand that this was something new. When she was falling asleep, there was no machinery here. It seemed to be installed while she was sleeping. The metal box with her belongings was gone, instead a series of lockers were installed in the room, the key to her locker was on the table near the terminal. She used the key to open the locker and let out a disappointed sigh. All her belongings were gone. Not that there was much worth to begin with; a few tokens were easily replaceable and there was little worth. The wooden carving that she bought at the market once was ruined by parasites. It was pretty, but she can live without it. Loss of clothes was a bigger issue. She could get replacements here, but they were of military stock. Aranea had doubts that she would ever be near a large market soon. Then again, what needs does she have for the civilian clothes anymore.

The wolf hag checked the terminal and understood that she had slept for well over ten hours. It was unusual for the command to allow someone such extensive leave. What in the world happened? There were barely any messages for her on the terminal, although Till Ingo demanded to see her. This request was approved by Foulsnout, forcing the Aranea’s paw. Like it or not, she had to meet with the man.

She walked out of the room and nearly crashed into Janine, who was quietly arguing with Alek about something. Seeing such a huge creature, almost twice the size of the sergeant, showing restraint was weird. Usually, warlords just slash anything in their path and then add some more for the arrogance of daring to question or stop them. The times were indeed changing. Either that, or people were changing.

"I can’t let you take it without the permission of…" Alek stopped as they both noticed Aranea.

"Aranea. You were out cold, and I took it on myself to inform the families of the dead…" Janine, who always spoke with confidence, sounded almost apologetic right now. Flamecaster was removed from her hand, showing a stump of flesh, filled with machinery inside. Her formerly huge iron jaw was gone, replaced by an elegant looking metallic jaw. Instead of covering her entire snout, the new jaw mimicked the size of the long-lost natural jaw. The lower jaw had lips made of rubber, which returned the warlord's ability to smile or make expressions back once more. For good or bad, someone restored Janine's ability to bite her subordinates once again by adding the metal fangs on the lower jaw. Aranea was thankful for this, actually. It has been a long time since Janine enjoyed a good chunk of meat.

In the hands of the warlord was a box with items of the deceased members of the pack. It was the custom of the Wolf Tribe that the direct superior of the deceased informed relatives of the deceased, if they were still alive. Shamans could only inform the deceased if their superior was dead. It was unheard of for a warlord to take it on herself, warlords were far too busy for this kind of stuff.

"Warlord. I am sorry for bothering you so much…" Aranea started to speak. She felt ashamed. Just how weak was she that the warlord herself was doing her job? The belly of the warlord was still tightly covered by countless stitches, some of them even bleeding slightly, covering her green pants into red. Janine was breathing heavily, probably because it was hard for her to stand due to still damaged lung. Her unzipped jacket hid the rest of the body, but judging by wet spots here and there on the pants of the warlord, her wounds were far from healed. 

""It’s fine. This is only because I'm feeling generous," Janine felt embarrassed because she was always punishing others for the smallest mistakes, "I have nothing to do anyway, they keep me locked in the medical room and you know…" She stopped, trying to think of some way to get away.

"Of course, warlord," Aranea nodded, asking with curiosity, "How is your new jaw? Is it hurt?"

"Aranea, this is a simple prosthesis," Janine snarled at the wolf hag, trying to get a better hold on the box, "Why in the world should it hurt?" I find it satisfactory, once more I can breathe normally and ea..."

The warlord jerked when a photo fell from the box. Before Janine could move, Aranea caught the photo, briefly looking at it. A one-eyed wolfkin girl was in the photo, her eyepatch was over her missing eye. Janine, far younger than right now, still had her natural jaw and both hands were standing on one knee smiling, her left paw on the shoulder of the girl, while an unknown person was taking the photo. Alek looked at the photo briefly before the warlord snatched it away from Aranea’s paws, burrowing the photo inside the box.

"You are the one, who was her…" Alek wanted to say something but stopped as the jaws of Janine closed on his neck. She held him in place for a bit, not biting his skin but merely warning him, before releasing him.

"I have no idea… no idea what you are talking about," Janine was close to losing her composure, her teeth were clacking, her eyes looking around for a way out, "It’s nothing. You saw nothing, it was just a fluke. She was… Shaman was a perfect, perfect spiritual leader, you heard me?! She had no mother, she was just… I won’t let anyone taint her by connecting her to…" With heavy breathing, the warlord forced herself to calm down, looking at the wolf hag with ice eyes, "Aranea, if you want this duty, you will have to challenge me for this right." The moment Aranea bared her neck the warlord stormed away, satisfied that her subordinate had no intention of challenging her leader.

"Aw, man, that's what she meant… Damn, I feel like a fool for not connecting the dots earlier," Alek scratched his remaining hair behind the back of his head.

"Scarred One, she was Janine’s daughter, right?" Aranea asked quietly.

"There is a bit more to this," The sergeant tried to explain, while keeping a guilty smile on his face, "Shaman told me that she felt inadequate, unfit for her rank. If I understand right, parents in your tribe rarely help their kids. Janine, on the other hand, was always there for Scarry, if I understood her right. Shaman was supposed to sentence some girl to her death, but after pleas from her mother, she helped to hide the child. Scarry always felt that she failed her duties as shaman because of this, this was her first and only trial of worth among youth. She could not bring herself to end any kids' lives and ended up approving all kids as worthy to live, even "defective" ones, whatever that meant. Because of this, she always wanted to distance herself from her mom. Janine helped her and always believed in her. And Scarry felt that she had failed her mother and her role as shaman but was too ashamed of stepping down to ever tell the truth to her mom. This is why Scarry never answered or returned calls from her mother."

"How do you know all of this?" The Trial of Worth was one of the cruel practices of the Wolf Tribe. Shamans carefully examined all newborn cubs, "removing" those they believed were too weak to live.This horrifying practice might have been of use when the tribe was on the verge of death, back when the world almost died, and food was scarce. In modern times, Aranea viewed it as insanity and a crime. But weak as she was, right now she had to endure its presence. A day will come when she will find a way to stop it. By force if needed to be. This she vowed to herself.

"Scarry and I hooked up after the drinking contest. We shared some stories during one especially passionate night. She told me her story. I was surprised, but Scarry told me that no one will believe me anyway, even if I run my mouth. In exchange, I told her my story. Then we had our fun… I even still have some scars on my back from that night."

Aranea looked at the man in disbelief. She half considered him lying, but something in his face convinced her otherwise.

"Wolfkin and normie? That’s… I mean, she was like twice your height! She could rend you asunder with a twitch of her claw! Scarred One could react to bullets! How in the abyss could you two even copulate together!?" Aranea stopped herself, putting her hand on her snout. Who cares about who dated whom? She grabbed her head, trying to figure out what she should do with this information. Part of her wanted to run after Janine. But the warlord was always a traditionalist. What if she would hate her daughter for this?

"I am a resourceful individual, and Scarry could actually hold back a lot. You know the saying, "Life will always find a way" and all that, right? First, we found a secluded spot on the mountainside, then we brought a lot of booze, prepared our tent and…"

"No! I don’t want to hear any more of… It is disgusting to even think about it! Shame on you, shame on you both!" It took a moment for her to calm down again as Alek flashed a wide smile, showing that he was missing some teeth. The man tried to look cheerful, and yet there was something odd about him right now, "Keep this information to yourself for now, please. Janine has her own version of events. She… has a lot on her mind right now," Janine's cubs were all supposed to be dead. Her distant descendants still lived among the Tribe, but Aranea always thought that direct descendants of the warlord were no longer in this world. Janine clearly assumed that Scarred One wanted to distance herself from her mother because, according to traditions, shamans were supposed to abandon their name and rank to eliminate the chance of nepotism. But this was the one rule that barely held. Shamans spoke to their parents all the time. Revealing the truth to Ironjaw right now would be far too cruel, Janine will blame herself for not trying to reach out to her daughter harder, "I don’t think she can handle the truth, not right now. But… Tell her what you know in a few months. Just for the Spirits sake, keep your mouth shut about "Scarry" nickname or I can’t guarantee your safety. And omit the fact that you two, were… You know."

"Sure thing," Alek said, briefly serious for a moment. Something akin to sadness ran across his features, before he faked a smile, "We never know what we had until we lose it, eh? Anyway, Leila plans to have a party tonight, something about celebrating our survival. You're in?"

"She should still be in hospital…" Aranea shook her head, throwing frustration away. No one was planning to stay and heal their wounds, it seems, "Sure, I will come. Someone needs to keep an eye on you lot and make sure that nothing will happen."

The wolf hag smiled to Alek and left to find the quartermaster. The old man admitted that, by orders of Scorpio, some renovations had happened in these barracks. While the belongings of Aranea were thrown out, some clothes still remained. The Wolf Tribe had their own stock, provided by the state. The Reclamation Army tried to keep the new breeds happy, thus showing them some leniency. Aranea gave her current clothes to be washed away and took a white shirt, brown leather pants, and a black leather jacket with a hoodie. The jacket was a little too small for her, but Aranea decided to make the best of a bad situation and pulled it on anyway, tearing it at the shoulders. Out of sheer spite, Aranea left an official complaint, mentioning the loss of her belongings, before asking the quartermaster if this would cause him any trouble or not. He was one of the normies who always worked with Janine's pack, and Aranea did not want to cause him any harm. The old man just waved his hand, saying that during the battle he was in the bunker. Redecoration happened while he was away, thus no one would pin this on him. In the end, he even helped her file this complaint.

It was the dawn of a new day. The wolf hag saw Janine, surrounded by soldiers led by Martyshkina. The warlord pointed his revolver at Janine's leg and gave her a choice: either she returns before she permanently injures herself, or Martyshkina will force Janine to take some time to recover. Ironjaw snarled in response, but eventually allowed herself to be led back to the hospital, clutching the box containing the deceased's belongings to her chest. Aranea tried to erase this scene from her mind. Never before had she seen her warlord so frail and vulnerable.

While she was sleeping, insectoids descended upon the battlefield, followed by the various predators of the Ravaged Lands. Here and there, on the plains filled with the dead, could be seen flashes of fire, as teams of soldiers were eliminating pests, still searching for survivors and recovering dead bodies.

The sun was lazily rising, and the scorching heat was returning, forcing every soldier and civilian in Chokepoint A to wear at least anti-heat suits. The golden form of Wyrm Lord was still visible near the hospital, a mountain of ravaged golden scales. His wounds closed overnight, and his leather wings started to regrow at an incredible speed. If things continue as they are, the golden wyrm will be able to fly again in a matter of hours. Two crawlers were standing to his left and right side, long cables ran from them to his back, needles, bigger than houses, were injected into his back, sending some medicine running by cables into the commander’s body. There was a pile of meat in front of the commander, big enough to feed the entire town for a week. For a Wyrm Lord, it was just a snack, and he hungrily devoured it, uncaring about his dignity. This was the first time that Aranea saw him standing on all four limbs, like other wyrms. Light was still shining from his scales, emanating the same calmness as before. After yesterday's display of force, no one would dare call Wyrm Lord a weakling. For a brief moment, the legends came back. Legendary times when Ravager, Outsider, and Devourer trampled and crushed the enemies of the state were brought back to life through the might of Wyrm Lord. Now, more than ever, Aranea understood why Devourer chose to remove himself from the front line and argued for restraint among the new breeds. Some of them were truly too powerful.

The black form of Scorpio was visible in the eastern mountain range. The captain squeezed himself into a crack on a mountain, far too small for him. Only the tip of his head was visible. He was apparently having a nap. The wolf hag wondered how he could feel at ease in such a claustrophobic place. Sleeping in such a confined space made him an easy target for insectoids and other threats of the Ravaged Lands.

She walked toward a large warehouse, hundred or so meters away from the tent city around the hospital. Two guards in shining power armor allowed her through the gate. The first floor was filled with rows upon rows of new power armors. New gear finally arrived for the army. Power armors that resembled Aranea's power armor, but some were clearly intended for normies and others for wolfkins... and one power armor looked really weird. It was built for wolfkin, yet it had openings for claws only on one hand, on another hand, it had in-built claw-like stumps on the wrist. The suit itself was bulkier than regular power armor, and the helmet had no openings for the mouth, nor were there any claws on the legs. A folded energy gun was behind the left shoulder of the suit. Instead of lenses, this suit of silver color only had a green visor.

"Sure could have found a use for these beauties yesterday," mumbled Aranea as a tired-looking engineer led her downstairs. She smiled with an apology to the man as he turned back with an annoyed look, "Sorry for acting like an asshole. You had your fill of work as well, I can see that."

"My brother lost his hand yesterday," The engineer shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow and calming himself, "I, too, wish "beauties" had been deployed sooner. But safety comes first. Now we are sure that none of them will explode."

The man led Aranea downstairs, to two large metal doors. Carelessly gesturing at doors, the man walked back upstairs. Aranea walked inside. The new room was round in shape, and the walls were made of solid metal. This warehouse was constructed from scratch, after reinforcement came. Yet, looking at it right now, Aranea could have sworn that this place had existed for months already. Cables were hanging from the ceiling, an array of mechanical hands, having an uncanny resemblance to insectoids in ambush, were patiently waiting on the ceiling. Monitors, currently turned off, run across the walls. Only one monitor was still on, with a weird message, "PROJECT WARLORD. Test subject's physical status: full recovery from the operation. Test subject's mental status: Sane, extensive therapy courses are advised in order to prevent degradation of the personality." Could be seen on the monitor. Aside from the message, the monitor showed metal parts, shaped after a wolfkin form.

Several tables were placed in the room, surrounded by strange devices. Marco, looking like he was about to die from exhaustion, was sitting on the steel chair, looking at how Till Ingo was working on the body of a young woman. Leila, her wings still locked to a mobile support frame, was sitting on another metal chair. The jacket, crimson in color, was over her shoulders, the back of the jacket was torn to allow wings to come out. The eyes of Marco were filled with red veins, the left corner of his right eye was filled with utter red, his arms, however, were utterly calm. He smiled and gestured to Aranea.

"No offence, Marco, but go and have a sleep. We have other doctors, you won’t help anyone if you do yourself in during the work." Aranea shook her head in disapproval.

"That’s what I keep telling him," Till Ingo said, without breaking contact from his work. A set of mechanical arms from the ceiling moved to the ground level and connected to the back of the doctor. "Instead, he is hogging drugs to stay awake. Idiot." Six long limbs run across metal parts of the patient, taking something out and causing sparks to fly as they work.

"I will not let you operate on prisoners without supervision. Not after what you have done with Olesya." Marco folded his arms om his chest stubbornly. His voice betrayed a hint of anger.

"What have I done to her exactly?" Ingo spoke with deadly calm, unbothered by the tone of his fellow doctor, "Wolf hag Olesya is alive and well. Her body is whole now. In time, she will thank both me and Svetlana. There is a bright future that awaits her."

"Olesya was hurt, right? You treated her? Can I see her?" Aranea asked in a worried voice. She had no idea what happened to her friend, doctors refused to disclose the information, the only thing she knew for sure was that Olesya was no longer in the hospital. For a while, Aranea was afraid that Olesya could be dead.

"Alas, no. She specifically requested that no one see her other than us, the warlord, and Svetlana," Marco said with shame and anger, "We should not accommodate this request. But it is, how it is, with her mental state as fragile as it is, I do not wish to stress her any further. Olesya has asked me to tell you that she will find you in a few months and explain everything over a drink."

At least she can speak. And drink. Aranea nodded, relieved that her friend was alive and seemingly well enough. No matter how grievous her scars are, or how badly wounded she is, they will get through it. Aranea walked to stand behind Leila, looking at her critically. The half-wyrm turned and smiled:

"What?"

"Why are you not in hospital?" Aranea still saw red on the back of Leila, in the place where Chort had run her through with a bone blade.

"Told ya before, wyrms are built different. For us, these wounds are child's toys. Others needed space in hospital…"

"You are not a wyrm."

"See these beautiful scales on me? It's good enough..."

"You should be lying down and recovering!" Aranea put her paw on Leila’s shoulder, half of the mind to drag her out by force.

"Eh, I am not allowed to train my team by the warlord’s order until my full recovery, not allowed to train… I will go mad if I am once again locked in four walls. I had something that I needed to discuss with good Till here. Oh, and I also found a source of new stories, so everything is good." She nodded at the prisoner.

"I hate everything about this," The woman on a table said. The left side of her body was covered in bloody bandages. Her body was almost pale, a sight unusual for people born in the Ravaged Lands. Well-developed muscles could be seen underneath her skin. Her right arm and leg were missing, replaced with metal prosthetics, huge lumps of steel shaped like an arm and leg. The right side of her body was also covered by steel, part of her ribcage was replaced with an implant. Her eyes were still natural, however, looking at people around her with barely held back fear, despite the poison in her words, "And I hate you too, you winged monstrosity. And you look like an ugly walking mutt who disguises herself to look like a human."

"Ignore the insults, our prisoner is naturally a bit annoyed by her situation," Leila advised to Aranea, "She answered most of my questions about the history of her tribe."

"Is she a Bento tribe member?" Aranea raised her brows in surprise. Janine drilled into her the rule to utterly ignore outsiders from the tribe who insult you in the open. The wolfkins often worked with the natives of the Ravaged Lands and quite a few of them disliked the Wolf Tribe, calling them names. Minor racism aside, locals were to become future members of the state, thus some moderation was in order. Usually, after the wolfkin help a village deal with dangerous local beasts or with insectoids, all insults were quickly forgotten. Olesya, however, liked to start a banter with locals, but to Aranea's knowledge, never allowed herself to hurt normie.

Yes. Damn idiot that she is," Till said, as a metal hand removed part of the metal from the side of the woman. The prisoner threw a panicked glance at the missing part, "Look at this shit. It blocks blood circulation, causing flesh to slowly degrade around the area of the implant, which would have resulted in her having to undergo new operations in the future. Bento's implants are meant to give reasons to install even bigger implants in the future, all because of how crude they are. Barbaric."

"Mister Ingo..."

"Just call me Till."

"Mister Ingo," Aranea said stubbornly, remembering the bots that he sent at her and the beating that she had received, "Why are you here? If this is not confidential, of cou..."

"Originally, I came to Chokepoint A because of the power armors of the Regulators," Ingo once again cut off Aranea, continuing to work on the prisoner, "Why are their armors able to withstand the amount of heat that could boil our troops? Where could they get such advanced technology? Could such an alloy of enemy armors help us overcome the climate of the Living Lands? But since I am here, I can help in other ways as well."

"Wait, but we just found out that their armors could do it," Aranea frowned, "How are you arrived here so fa..."

"Be silent, filthy invader," The woman tried to speak calmly, yet hints of panic were in her voice. Terrified, she continued to look at the removed piece of metal, "I have no need of your accursed help. The union of flesh and metal is the greatest honor that a human can achieve and the greatest gift that a human can receive. Kill me if you want but stop violating my sacred metal flesh." She swallowed in fear, trying to sound brave and defiant.

"The union of flesh and machine is the greatest thing," The scientist nodded eagerly, removing another metallic part from the shoulder of the prisoner, "But only when they work in perfect unison. Organic beings made technology to help them, not to hinder them. When merged together, one is not allowed to hurt another."

"Bento tribe believe that it is futile to try and revive the land. They aim to create the perfect human. In their opinion, a perfect human means uploading a personality of a human being into a chip, thus eliminating all need for flesh parts in a machine," Leila enthusiastically started to explain, showing notes that lay on a table near her, "Almost all Bento tribe members receive knowledge and training on how to assemble prosthetics, sometimes even from scratch. They make faulty parts on purpose, to ruin their own bodies even further and receive new implants as life goes on. If someone fails to adapt to implants, well, too bad in their opinion. The prisoner right here, who sadly still refuses to tell me her name, was a tribal medic. This means that she is one of the selected few who speak with outsiders, who treats the wounds of other people, since Bento usually does not treat their wounds, they just slap new implants on and go on about their lives. I also learned that Bento is ruled not by a single individual, but by a council of elders…"

"The prisoner here was captured in the eastern mountain range, earlier this morning. She was assigned the task of starting to treat our wounded in preparation for a future prisoner exchange. She saved a few of our troops, but the resistance lost, and this idiot here tried to hide in caverns, only to be found by insectoids. You can probably still feel their scent on her body if you sniff her hard enough. Soldiers managed to find her in time before she could be devoured. After I treated her wounds, I saw that implants in her body were killing her slowly, and thus I had no choice but to ask for help." Marco added, cutting off Leila’s speech. The doctor nodded at the angry-looking Till.

"Why is your body being so ruined! You are what, sixteen, seventeen years old at best, and your body is already nearly done!" The old scientist angrily snapped, lights shining from underneath his forehead while he looked at something in the metal arm of the prisoner, "Generator is leaking! Why are you using oil, instead of…? No wonder you had to replace your lung! Enough of this, drastic measures are required," The mechanical arms took out steel leg and arm from the sockets on the body of the prisoner, and her eyes became filled with horror. Mechanical arms raised prosthetics in the air, allowing the scientist to look at them, "Botched job, but for a novice without proper education, not half bad, I will admit this much. You pass." Mechanical arms moved, taking apart steel leg and arm piece by piece before the very eyes of the Bento's medic.

"No! I can’t end up as a cripple! " The prisoner howled in pure horror. There were no restraints on her, yet she could only move her neck and head, her body was immobilized by some medicine, "Not the cripple! Please, I beg of you! Kill me! I can’t assemble new limbs with just one arm! I can’t live as a cri…"

"Oh, shut up already, you broken chatterbox," Ingo responded in an annoyed voice as two prosthetics were lifted down from the ceiling. These were elegant looking arm and leg, made from plastic and metal. Six metal arms of scientists began working, connecting new limbs to the prisoner’s body. The process took a few minutes, Till still had to replace some parts from the body of the prisoner, but soon the limbs were connected, "You will not be crippled or killed, you idiot. The world needs all the bright kids it can get, so we will ship you out of this land to one of the colleges in the Core Lands."

"Is this plastic?" The woman tried to look at her new limbs, her face looking in disgust at her new limbs, "I am not a child. Where is proper steel?"

"Now you acting or picky, huh." Leila chuckled.

"Children are the ones meant to be toying with plastic. I will not be..."

"Behave, or I will replace your lost parts with vat-grown flesh and limbs."

"You would not dare…" The woman looked at the scientist before taking a deep breath and saying, "You can do anything you want with me, invader, but I will never help you. I will never betray my people." The prisoner tried to sound arrogant, despite her fear at the last words of the scientist.

"I am in no need of help, thank you very much. Help humanity instead by living a proper life," TheA needle was unleased from one of the mechanical arms. Till pierced the prisoner's skin with it, injecting something, and her eyes quickly closed, "Well, all done here, she'll sleep for the next six hours. We have two hundred prisoners from Bento tribe, right? Once I am done with this wolf hag here, I expect all of them on my table, pronto."

Mechanical arms unhooked themselves from his back as the scientist allowed Marco to check the patient.

"First thing first, I want to congratulate you on your survival, I heard it was hell out here," Ingo critically looked at Aranea from head to toes, "According to data from your armor, you suffered minor damage to your muscles from using the rail gun. This can only mean that I did a botched job. Follow me, I have to adjust your armor."

****

The bots crumbled at her feet. Two machines, resembling humans in shape, were turned to piles of rubble with a twitch of her arms. She felt strange, the gleaming metal of her new body was coming right beneath her skin. The edges of her skin in such places were still swollen and red, thin streaks of blood were running from the ruined flesh. Of course, she'd seen the augmented people before, and they didn't look anything like this. There were no sockets around her body, the metal ran all around her body underneath her flesh, enveloping her few remaining bones, protecting her barely moving insides, ensuring her survival and… producing the annoying sound over and over again.

Click, clack, click, clack.

The last trio of machines left in the training area turned to her, armed with rifles. Her steel leg nimbly carried her away from the incoming balls filled with paint, her new eye discerned the distance. The terminal, which was now burrowed into her brain, like a spine tick, told her the exact route she needed to take to evade the incoming attack. Her arms, one of steel and one of flesh, sliced like a pair of blades, cutting the two machines in half. She didn’t even have to use her claws, the mere momentum behind her limbs was enough to bisect the machines, crumbling their metal torsos and separating their vulnerable insides.

Click, clack, click, clack.

She was surprised at this show of might, of course. But Till explained it to her. Her bones were hollowed out by the nanomachines, the web of cables now encased her unbeating heart. The muscles of her natural body were strengthening through the injections of the stimulants, forcing them to grow even now, becoming bigger and tougher, just like her new synthetic muscles were. When she sliced through the bots, the skin on her natural arm suffered a cut from one of the broken pieces of metal from the destroyed bot. This cut was already healing, nanomachines within her sped up her healing, rebuilding her arm to become ever stronger, roughening her already tough skin. Ingo said that in the days ahead she will lose this miraculous healing ability. Her body will grow to be sufficiently strong enough to heal on its own like one of them should. And while the cut was closing, she felt nothing, not even an itch, nor a desire to scratch the damaged place at least.

Click, clack, click, clack.

The last bot before her backed down. The humanoid machine first became murky, and she could see the wonders of the machines' countless mechanisms through the suddenly transparent corpus: the pseudo muscles elastically moved limbs, the energy cells supplied energy to the steel body, and the complex terminal was calculating, attempting to predict her. The camouflage systems of the training bot were turning the machine invisible. The bot was using some sort of combat camo device, through incredible consumption of energy, the bot could turn itself invisible to the naked eye for several precious seconds. She could stop it, but he would be annoyed. No, today she needed to play by the book… To get everything back!

Click, clack, click, clack.

The machine turned invisible before her eyes, and she allowed the inner workings of her unnatural eye to scan the surroundings. In the meantime, the bot fired on her once more. The moment balls filled with paint left the field of invisibility, they became visible to her. Shifting her shoulders, she dodged them one after another. No matter how much she despised this motion, at the end she had to move her large head to the side, evading the last ball. The movement of her new, part steel, part organic spine shifting in her body. She could sense the movement of each and every bone in her body, feeling nothing at the same time. The best way to describe it was when if someone put a blank piece of wood into a sack and moved it from side to side before the eyes of the other person. This is what she sensed right now. Her body was dead, unliving, producing no feelings.

Click, clack, click, clack.

She located the target easily enough just by the traces the balls left in the air. It had to be slightly to the right of her. But he would be unhappy if she used instincts again instead of his technology. She ducked, pressing her paws toward the steel floor, leaving dents in it while her eye finally broke through the invisibility shroud of her opponent, allowing her to see it fully. At this very moment, she charged forward, propelling herself with all the might that her limbs could now produce. The machine in front of her was broken apart, she charged through it so fast that she left a round hole in its torso.

Click, clack, click, clack.

She stood up, hearing the fall of the bot on the ground behind herself. Her artificial lungs inhaled air automatically, through the entrances in her waist. He would be unhappy, he hated it when she forgot to breathe like normal. But she fulfilled her part of the deal, her foes were… She jumped away, sensing the vibrations from the underground. Not feeling, sensing. Her legs now were two marvelously made columns of steel, filled with countless sensors just like the rest of her body. Instead of feeling through her skin, changes in the air, sudden noises, tremors, all this information was recorded through the sensors and sent directly to her brain, faster than any natural signals could move. It made sense, after all, he wanted her to become one of them.

Click, clack, click, clack.

She froze upon seeing how the last foe came from underground. It was a loader bot, a machine which he used to bring a capsule with her inside from the hospital. During that time, she was submerged in a strange fluid, a fluid that relieved her pain while keeping her internal organs functioning. She was barely awake, but could remember the massive form of this machine. This was the machine that put her close to the operation table where she was reborn. It was a simple machine, one that she should have been able to deal with, and yet…

Click, clack, click, clack.

"No!" She shouted, falling on her steel ass, crawling away from the machine helplessly, flailing her limbs around like a cub. She hated this feeling, she hated herself, yet this thing… The front of this thing reminded her of jaws. Huntsman's jaws, just as they were about to close on...

Click, clack, click, clack.

The upper part of the loader bot disappeared. The projectile hit it from the left side, tearing a round hole in its side. The air pressure that followed the bullet tore the remaining body apart, bulging the parts to the right. With the integrity of the metal body compromised, the rest of the construction soon followed, crashing to the floor.

Click, clack, click, clack.

The strong and warm arms grabbed her by the shoulders, lifting her up. She blinked and felt something warm had been dropped over her shoulders. Wait. I can feel? She thought in surprise. She touched her cheek with her natural finger, almost fearfully, and felt the pressure. The warmth of her skin. The warmth of her finger. Tear on her cheek. She could feel! He gave her the feelings back!

"How are you?" Martyshkina dropped on one knee before her, the cloak of the warlord over her shoulders. The warlord always found time to watch over her during her training, after she was maimed.

"I am fine. Sorry for… this." She actually felt angry upon responding. She sized up her warlord! She had never dared to do it before, yet now she was hungrily sizing up the woman before herself, thinking about her chances…

Click, clack, click, clack.

"Be aware, Olesya just regained her feelings. Her hormones and emotions run wild, she might try and bite you." The voice of Till said from somewhere.

"Really now? Girl, you wanna go?" Martyshkina smiled into her face.

She threw her head up, baring her neck to the warlord. Never, she will never lay even a claw on Martyshkina. Not on her, never on her. The warlord saved her, saved them all! "I am sorry, warlord. It was unworthy of me, I…"

"Show some pride!" The warlord slapped her across the back, dragging her after herself toward the elevators leading above. The warlord walked soundlessly, while each of her steps was accompanied by the metal clanking sound produced by her new legs. Ingo said that she would soon get used to it, but for now she walked like an idiot. Once they got into the elevator, Martyshkina whispered to her, "I want you to take me down." She raised her brow, and the warlord nodded, "No, really. You and Aranea seem like a capable duo. Sure treat your soldiers better than we ever had. Train hard and drop me and Janine one day. Then our duties will be done, I can steal Jani away, we can leave the Tribe for good and go open a bar somewhere. Maybe we will even find ourselves some men once again. And you will work your asses in our stead."

Click, clack, click, clack.

"That… kinda an unusual dream, Marty." She smiled, getting the hint that she was permitted to speak freely and enjoying the feeling of the drool running down her throat. Such a simple feeling and such a marvelous one. She was worried about Ari, but that man said that she was fine. The stupid fool got herself into some trouble with wyrms, but another warlord saved her butt.

"Screw you, I am tired of the army’s life!" Martyshkina laughed, seeing how the elevator doors opened. She nodded to the corridor on the right, turning toward the door on the left herself, "Sorry, but I can’t spend any more time with you, Olesya. Pack needs me, Jani needs a bonk on the head to keep her in bed, and she needs someone to chat with. Tons of work to be done, so get well soon," The warlord’s voice dropped to a whisper, "And if he tries anything funny, just tell me. I will get you out of here this instant, I swear."

"Thank you, warlord," She said, hugging her and giving the cloak back, "But there is still something I need to do. Besides, he promised to let me go in a day anyway."

She pressed her back against the steel wall as she watched the warlord walk away, relishing the sense cold. Like an animal, she rubbed her back against the wall, enjoying the sweet-sweet feeling of her skin touching the other thing, the feeling of connecting. Even the pain in her body, numbed with painkillers, was like a blessing to her. She felt it again! She half expected pain in her bones from the metal, or pain in her insides because of the countless wires in her, but everything was in order. Safe for that blasted sound…

Click, clack, click, clack.

Guess, I will have to live with it. She sourly decided. It was just a day and she already wanted to hang herself to stop this blasted feeling. But no, she can’t. It’s a coward's way out. Twenty years. Just twenty years and everything will be fine again, Marco confirmed that it is possible, and Till has never lied to her before. She pressed a palm to her chest and almost cried. There was no heartbeat. A chunk of meat in her chest was unmoving. He denied her even the simple joys of life. How can one live if one's heart is not beating?

Click, clack, click, clack.

Snapping out of her despair, she walked down the corridor. She was familiar with the routine, the man made her do it every hour, never allowing her to rest or dwell on her mistakes or even have a minute to herself. She hated him, but at the same time admitted that he knew his business. She was always surrounded by people whom she trusted, Marco, Martyshkina, Svetlana… She gritted her teeth and opened the door. 

Click, clack, click, clack.

The room inside was a pale orange color, the man somehow managed to order it to be repainted while she was in the sparring hall. In the middle of the room stood a large wooden table, shaped in a circle shape, surrounded by the three comfortable armchairs. Originally, there was a sofa here and the color of the room was different, but after the doctors questioned her, the situation and the color of the room changed to suit her mood better. Today’s doctor was a new woman, she was seeing her for the first time. The newcomer was an elderly woman, her grey hair reached her shoulders, a golden monocle was over her left eye. She was dressed in a long white coat.

She almost growled upon noticing Svetlana sitting in another armchair. The traitor, the bastard. She bit her tongue until it bled, allowing the blood to distract her from her anger. Svetlana was still dressed in her dusty field uniform, her eyes tired from overwork, her paws trembled slightly, and she was half asleep. Upon seeing her, Svetlana smiled, and she forced herself to return the smile, walking toward the empty armchair, sitting down and grabbing a plushie toy from the floor. He made it clear that she was here to heal and relax. Each time she tried to resist, the man had a way to "punch" her toward the right direction. The previous doctor recommended her to take her anger out on a toy, and now she was strangling it.

"Marco told me that he gave your message to Aranea," Svetlana yawned, looking surprised when she extended her paw toward her, "What?"

"Please," She begged, and Svetlana extended her paw in return. Her natural fingers touched the fingers of the other woman, and she felt herself trembling, "Warm. You are warm. I can feel the blood running, feel the smoothness of your skin…" She smiled, "You are alive."

Click, clack, click, clack.

"You are alive as well," Svetlana replied, turning away and letting go of the paw. She trembled, pressing the plushie toy closer to her body, no longer choking it, "Have I said something?" Svetlana asked, seeing this reaction.

She was silent. She needed to pretend in order to get away from this place. Her lies would easily be noticed, but she decided that it was harder for them to read her if she refused to talk.

"Olesya, you are among friends," The doctor said, taking a notepad into her hands, "You can tell us anything, we are here for you."

"If you will not cooperate, I will remove today’s reward," The voice of Till added from the ceiling, accompanied by the weak curses of someone and the sounds of industrial instruments, "Calm down, you fool! You will feel better, once your liver can work again."

"Till Ingo, you will not threaten the patient, or Outsider will be informed." The doctor said strictly, but she was already blurting out words, half mad with fear that she might lose the feelings again. The deal with this man was that she use the new abilities of her body and Till restore her ability to feel and hear naturally. He said that this was as easy as pressing a button. If it was that easy to give, then how easy could it be to take it away? No, she can’t endure the utter void again!

Click, clack, click, clack.

"Svetlana, I hate you. I hate you for saving me, I hate you for ignoring my will. Each time I see you, I feel anger, I feel like I might leap at you, bite you or even harm you," Svetlana looked down at her own paws, her expression unreadable. Against her feelings, she felt bad, Svetlana was always a nagging person, but she treated her wounds well in the past. They drank and partied together, by all rights she earned her spot in the pack, "I am sorry. I swear that I will never act on these impulses, but… It is how it is."

"I understand," Svetlana barely whispered, "If it will make you feel any better, I will request a transfer."

"Olesya, we will need to do something about this anger." The doctor said, writing something down in her notepad.

"Why?" She demanded to know, "Anger is what gives us strength. When you receive a bullet into your gut, it is your rage that drives you forward, to land a grip around the neck of your opponent, to propel yourself these few steps…" Her metal fist closed, crushing the windpipe of the unseen foe, "…And end the foe before he can hurt others. The anger born from envy drives us to excel, the anger born from hatred drives us to become stronger and stronger!"

"Interesting theory, Olesya," The doctor was writing something down, smiling to her, "However, I must remind you. Shortly prior to your injury, you and wolf hag Aranea had a fight."

"How do you know this?" She asked, confused.

"There are cameras all over the camp," The doctor explained, "but in this fight, both of you give in to your rage and nearly kill each other. Now tell me. Had you or Aranea died, how many of your pack members would have died in the recent battle?

"We stopped in the end." She said defensively.

"Yes, that is true. If you pardon me this observation, you showed more restraint than your friend, but both of you managed to make the correct choice. However, you only saved lives during the battle because you reigned in your anger against Aranea. By managing your rage and anger, you were able to fight side by side with your own soldiers, saving their lives," The doctor checked her notes, "Next, you apparently nearly hurt your pack member."

"Yes." She saw no reason to lie, still feeling shame burning in her. She decided to act like Ari would, no one pushed her in this direction. Initially, she decided to act like this because it was a fun idea, but over time she herself saw that this method worked. Right until Siri died, that is.

"If your teammate were injured, this would lower his chances in the battle, am I right? Pardon me, if I am mistaken, I have a limited understanding of military operations," The doctor said, and she only nodded, accepting the accusation. She elevated Mak, and he proved himself. Had she punished him in front of everyone, would anyone follow him? "That and you charged ahead during one of the training missions because, according to notes written by your former commanding officer, you felt angry that your friend might have prepared for the mission better," The doctor put the notes aside and looked at her, "How does your anger help you keep your soldiers safe or excel in any way? From where I stand, it looks like a detriment. "

She wanted to throw a bitter fit that this came at the cost of her own body, but the realization sank in, crawling deep within her thoughts against her will. This was true, wasn’t it? In the days of old, the Wolf Tribe would hit the foe head on, and how many pack members would have died during this? Meanwhile, defensive postures, restraint, collaborative efforts, and...

Click, clack, click, clack.

Closing her eyes, she made herself think, trying to find solitude among this damned noise. Because of her stupid envy, she and she alone drove a crack into her pack. Because of her sulking in despair and being angry at herself after Siri’s death, she neglected the proper training of her pack. Had they been better, who knows, maybe more would have survived.

Her eyes opened and Olesya looked at Svetlana: "You are staying. I agree to continue to work with Till Ingo, but only if Svetlana is the only one who will treat my body. This is my condition."

"Are you sure that you are in a position to make demands?" The voice of Till asked, accompanied by the sound of a working circular saw.

"Yes, don’t like it, just kill me now." Olesya snapped back at him, wondering what in the abyss he was doing.

"Svetlana will need to pass some additional training," Ingo said, sounding like he was lost in thought, before cursing loudly, "Damn you, you stupid fool! Stop trying to get your head into the saw! "Fine, Olesya, you won this round, we'll figure something out."

"But… you just said that you hate me." Svetlana blinked, looking at the wolf hag in confusion.

"Yes and…" Olesya forced herself to think and tell the truth, "I still do. I am sorry, I know that it is unfair, you saved my life, but I just hate you for this," Olesya gestured at her new body, "I would rather you leave me to die. Chin up!" She snapped at the nurse, "You saved Velka, right?"

"Saved is a relative term," Svetlana said carefully, "I simply ensured that she won't bleed out to death and will live long enough for the operation. She will still be spoon fed for a week at least, before she will be able to move her legs and arms once more. Her full recovery will take a month at least."

"Heh-heh, I won't let her live this one down," Olesya laughed, picturing all the ways she would mock the arrogant scout, "Anyway, point is, thanks to you, I am alive, Velka is alive, ten more people are alive! What in the Spirits name do you want more? You saved lives, you are an awesome person, and you will keep on saving lives if you stick with us! I swear that I will work with you, so please, if it isn’t much… stay with us. Help me and the others, please."

Click, clack, click, clack.

"I will." Svetlana smiled and raised her fist. Olesya forced herself to accept the fist bump, just like in good old times.

After the therapy session, Till allowed Olesya to return to her quarters in the "field research laboratory" as he called this place. Their agreement was still in place, Olesya would have to try on new power armor tomorrow, and if everything checks out, she would be allowed to rejoin the ranks. She told the doctor about her panic attack earlier today, and the woman gave her some pills to calm her nerves, sending Olesya back into the room and cancelling any training sessions for the forseeable future. Olesya dutifully swallowed them, along with dinner. To her disappointment, the food and the pills tasted like nothing, Till hadn’t deemed it fit to return these feelings back to her yet.

She looked in the refrigerator and saw rows of chocolate ice-cream. Such food was hard to get in the Wastes and in the Ravaged Lands due to how hot the area around here was and due to the fact that traders rarely transported such treats to the villages of the Wolf Tribe. She simply adored this hard-to-get food before, spending all her hard-earned tokens just to get one such treat, but upon seeing such untold riches now, all she felt was indifference. If you can’t feel the taste, what is the point of eating?

I guess, this is what depression feels like. Olesya thought, closing the refrigerator and walking to the bathroom. Looking at her monstrous form in the mirror, lighting herself up slightly with the gleaming crimson light from her augmetics eye, she finally understood how childlike her behavior earlier was. Getting all worked out because Ari got a bit ahead. As if that was significant. Getting all angry because people in the supply department were making jokes about how often her pack was breaking training equipment. As if anyone even cared about that! And now here she was, standing all alone, her heart dead, her pack way above her, while she was stuck deep underground, entombed like a corpse…

 Click, clack, click, claaaaaaa…..

I can hear you.

She blinked when the entire mirror before her stretched far and wide, spreading like water across the wall. Against her will, she was pushed inside the surface, dropping into the deepest fog, landing on all fours on the stone floor. Jumping back on her feet, she looked around.

She was in the vast cavern, the floor filled with the murky fog. Sharp rocks, the size of a small hill, were coming from the floor, tearing the fog and scratching the surface of the cavern. She felt cold over her body and, looking down, saw that she was whole again, her limbs were strong, far thicker than before, and her claws were no longer in her fingers, but were outstretched. Instead of white, the claws on her paws now were ten blades of utter dark, reaching the size of a normal human in length, the claws on her legs resembled hooked blades that hungrily bit the ground below.

Am I going mad? Olesya asked herself, looking around.

No. The voice, the all-encompassing word, the word that demanded attention and worship, was uttered in this cavern. Turning around, she saw a throne of black stone, reaching all the way to the ceiling and into the stone above. On the elegantly made throne, a huge form lay, throwing one leg over the armrest of the throne. The truly gigantic form of the human was covered with elegant robes of black and purple, a crown made of black steel with a burning ruby in the middle held the long hair in place. A pale hand, the size of Olesya herself, supported a beautiful head, eyes, two burning orbs of hellfire, looked down at Olesya, burning into her very soul.

"Who are you?" Olesya asked, taking a step back.

I am the one who made everything in this world. The reason for all existence, the one who gave birth to you. You may call me God. The man on the throne spoke, without moving his lips.

"My mom and dad gave me life, pretender!" Olesya shouted back at him, shuddering at the sudden command to cover and worship this person.

They exist because I allowed it. Thus, you are as much my child as you are theirs. Look at yourself, my daughter, are you not beautiful now? The voice made Olesya look at herself, admiring the sheer might of her strange body. Ones who mutilated you… The forms of King, Huntsman, and other members of the Resistance were jerked off from the fog, dangling like toys before Olesya. Unseen will hold them in the air. Ones who locked you in a steel coffin. Ingo, Svetlana, and the therapists were jerked from the fog as well, lifted in the air before the figure. Ones who dare to think that she is better than you. Aranea was jerked off from the fog along with Martyshkina, their arms bent backward by the will of this monstrous person. Their lives are yours, just ask. This eternal body is yours, just accept my blessing. The hand of the person on the throne extended to Olesya, his finger longer than her body. Accept me, praise me, worship me, and live up to the rage within you. Make the world pay. This is all I ask from you, my daughter. Fill the lands with blood in my name. With these words, the throats of people hanging in the air were torn away, blood poured from them, falling onto the stone floor like rivers.

"No!" Olesya shouted at him, slashing with her new claws at the finger before her. Her claws shattered, speared her with pain, "Never! Aranea, Svetlana! No, don’t you dare to harm them!"

Then you are irrelevant. Begone from my sight.

The world stretched once more before Olesya, stretching to the impossible limit, she was drawn somewhere, away and…

…Ck, click, clack, click.

She found herself standing before the same mirror, blood dripping from her nose. In a panic, she checked her body, calming herself upon seeing that her few remaining claws were still intact. She felt scared, terror grabbed her thoughts at the mere idea that for a moment, just for a moment, she was willing to give in and give up the lives of Svetlana and Aranea. Simply because she was angry at one and envied the other. Because of these feelings, she was ready to doom living people.

Click, clack, click, clack.

No more. She decided, calling and reporting this event to mister Till. The scientist was surprised, upon investigation, he found that there was some sort of spatial distortion in this very room. Grumbling in curiosity, he asked for help from the Investigation Bureau, while Olesya called her family. Till ensured that she would have daily contact with both her parents, her dad was looking after her brothers and sisters, while her mom served in the Wastes. Olesya omitted what had happened to her and simply talked for nearly an hour with her parents, before turning off the terminal. She was half-heartedly considering calling Aranea, but she was also terrified. Her friend always struggled to not become a monster, and what was Olesya now, if not some kind of a walking cadaver?

She walked toward the bed and looked at it. Till refused to return her the ability to sleep, not until she reaches the rank of a warlord. It would be a waste of time to simply lie down and cry.

Click, clack, click, clack.

"I have a duty before my pack." Olesya said and reached for the terminal, finding the books about tactics and usage of energy weapons. No matter what, she still lived. Twenty years. Just twenty years, and this nightmare will be over.