The clouds parted, allowing his massive body to move as he was lowering himself. Wings the color of azure hit the air just once, balancing his movement as he lowered himself almost to the ground. A shadow the size of most buildings fell to the ground. The being in the air looked at land scorched by heat beneath. Land, seemingly devoid of life, land of hills, sands, and rocks. peaceful at a first glance. So much more dangerous if you decide to travel on foot.

Ivar Murzaliev, captain of the Third Army, was on the hunt. His visage was calm as ever, not a sign of disquiet on his face. Blue eyes looked around the desert, watching for any movement. Vultures feasting on a corpse. Fearful of the approaching wyrm, smugglers have fled to the caves. He left them for the army, some of the smugglers were useful for the information after all. What else... Insectoids were coming from their caves to hunt at night. Pests, not worthy of being hunted down by someone like him. Scream in the night. Behind the hill on the horizon to the left. Ivar cocked his head in curiosity. Scream of a kid, probably around eight years old. Curious. Where are the older people?

In any other land, Ivar would be certain that this was a trap. A child screams, travelers come to help and end up being killed by one of the gangs. Not in the Ravaged Lands however. Not because people here were rotten to the core, human beings are the same all across the world. Some bad, most good. No, such tactic would be idiocy here because population centers and trade routes are sparse in these lands. Should something happen to an unhappy traveler, no one would be able to help you. Screams could be heard again, terror was filling the air this time. Curious. Wings hit the air as Ivar changed the direction of his flight.

"Sir, has something happened?" Captain Osero asked over the communicator, noticing a change in the course of his commander.

"Minor distraction, that is all." Ivar replied.

No one was truly immortal. Not even Ivar himself. For this reason, he always kept his closest subordinates up to date. Two members of his inner circle watched over him on the terminal tonight.

The death of the warlord. It was... an annoyance, he was forced to admit this much. Dragena was one of the reasonable members of wolfkins, one with whom it was easy to work with. Alas, her life was entrusted to an idiot. Even the perfect pawn will eventually lose her life if her superior has no idea how to use her. A tool, any tool, must be wielded with care and knowledge. And not try to bludgeon things with it!

No matter. He will turn the situation around and clean up the mess that others made, as usual. He has always cleaned up someone else's mess all his life. First, he limited the cruelty of his father, protecting his shitbrother and people under the rule of the Thunder Emperor. Now he was stuck helping his useless brother, as the idiot would perish without him. It was a sad existence, but Ivar needed the Wyrm Lord to reclaim his name in order to become legitimate and finally free. That and the ideas of his liege were interesting to him, and he owed a lot to Ravager to simply abandon her kin. Ivar will request a transfer into the First Army the moment his brother reclaims their destiny.

"We cleared most of the list, sire," Minerva said, operator in charge of his more intricate missions, "What should we do with Leila? Should we kill her?"

"Leila?" He asked in confusion, as it took him a moment to remember. A gift to forget things was a precious thing. Wyrms have extremely potent memory, forcing them to never forget any slight, to never forget any pain. It took Ivar quite an effort to learn how to forget and, in some ways, forgive. The moment he disowned her, he locked all memories of her away in his mind. Leila, the creature spawned by his inability to keep his dick in his pants, figuratively speaking, of course. A chunk of flesh that shamed him by her very existence. Could anyone truly blame him for despising her? After he wasted so much effort and time trying to make her useful, she found a way to become useless once again. All she needed to do was to distract Chort, and then she would have earned his respect and his trust, "No, of course not. She is no longer my daughter. Minerva, do not make me repeat myself anymore. We do not solve problems in the state with a danger to the back, it is so crude. Let her waste her life as she sees fit And never again suggest to me such crude ideas."

Wings carried him over the hill, and he saw the source of the screams. A mine, built into the side of the hill. By the standards of the state, it was an outdated structure. The surrounding area was not protected by a wall, there were no barracks for troops and there was no medical center in sight. The only protection here were two watchtowers, now broken in two and burning. A group of armored people were dragging bodies from the mine, some people were clearly dead, while others were tied up and had slave collars on their necks. These collars were mechanical devices that robbed people of their ability to move, unless their master allowed it.

It was to be expected, of course. When the rule of law erodes, it brings out the worst kinds of people who prey on the citizens. As the Resistance began to lose control of their territories, the people under their yoke began to suffer as a result of the fact that all of the Resistance's so-called "peace officers" were now being drafted to become soldiers. Slavers were not often seen in ordinary days due to the fact that only a fool would bother with slave labor these days, when it was simply cheaper to find a few locals willing to work for scraps in order not to starve. Yet, it was evident that some gangs still existed. An arena in Pearl was a sad reminder of this fact. Thankfully, Scorpio dismantled the place. The man might be a fool, but his skills at destroying something were a sight to behold.

The source of the scream was finally seen, a kid around eight years old, locked in a makeshift anti-heat suit. He was deemed frail enough to be left without a slave collar. He now desperately tried to shake the man in the slave collar, standing on his knees, frozen by the effects of the collar. A few people with weapons laughed at this sight. A large truck was standing at the center of the square before the mine, a few vehicles were parked outside of the mine. Ivar's senses told him that there was only one driver in the truck, and the raiders hadn't yet packed their trophies.

"Laugh at this." Ivar calmly intoned, landing on the truck, turning the vehicle into metal ruins and the driver within into a bloody mess. People all around him froze in panic when the truck exploded underneath his right leg, burning away the bandage on his shoulder and revealing an ugly scar for everyone to see. Flames licked his scales and the naked flesh between them, giving him no more trouble than a morning breeze would. And yet slave traders dared not even raise their weapons. A few tried to run, and Ivar moved his left wing, willing water into existence. He evolved at a young age, when both he and his brother sat under a table, hugging each other in fear after receiving a daily dose of beatings from their father. Ivar was not quite sure what sort of limit his original power even had.

Following his will, water came into reality above him. Droplets of saltwater shot from him like bullets, knocking people off their feet. Like glue, water remained on his victims, quickly covering them from head to toes. Then the pressure came. Ivar always aimed for perfection. He spent countless years trying to master his power, ensuring that the pressure of water bubbles would kill instantly, rather than slowly collapsing the organs of an enemy. People inside bubbles of water were collapsed to the size of a football ball in an instant, dying so fast that they could barely register even a trace of pain. The wyrm looked at the rest of the raiders.

"Why is there no laughter?" He asked with fake curiosity. One of the raiders threw up a rifle and fired at him. The wall of water appeared in front of the bullets, stopping them. A single droplet of water fell on the head of the foe, collapsing it to a black dot with a crack.

"Good sir, your power is impressive!" One of the raiders, a burly man, stepped forward, removing his helmet from his head. He had a thick neck and a coarse, humorous, brutal face, "Surely you are not against us raiding some regulators? Sire, I reckon that yer side got into a scramble with ‘em, so how about we become good neighbors and show res…" The man tried to offer him a deal, and Ivar allowed light from his eyes to fall on them, silencing the man and the rest of the raiders, robbing them of all sort of control over their bodies.

True, parasites like these have their uses. But in a stable and well-developed society, there would be no need for them. And since the state was claiming these lands, the choice was clear: "Die at once." He commanded them.

Influence was the innate power of all wyrms. The ability to bend the minds of lesser beings to one’s whims, it was a power that clearly heralded the fact that wyrms were a superior new breed, ones who stood above all. Ivar was irked that the rest of his kin were so pacifistic, the state could have conquered so much more had they gotten off their lazy asses.

The will of Ivar took hold of the minds of the raiders. Some had their hearts shut down. Some suffered a collapse of their mind. Some could no longer breathe. Whatever the cause was, their fate was singular, all of them were dying before the blue wyrm. Ivar looked at this and found it good. The state frowned at indiscriminate murder, the Dynast decreed that everyone could have a second chance if they spent their time in Torment paying for their sins. But Murzaliev was of a different opinion. Some people were trash, he decided, looking at how one of the raiders tore his helmet off his head, blood flowing from his eyes. A man took a step forward and fell. The water from above Ivar flowed into mine, checking for the presence of any survivors. He could sense none.

Ivar looked at the child and captives, the only living people aside from him left in this place. The child was frozen in fear, and the wyrm frowned. This presented a problem. His claws were too big. He could not remove collars with his oversized hands, not properly. These slave collars were packed with explosives to dissuade slaves from taking them off. Ivar had already figured out how to disarm these crude devices, but with claws like his… Maybe a precision hit with water pressure to sever electronics at once? No, he would just slice off the heads of captives as well.

"Please don’t eat dad," The kid whimpered, trying to stay steady, "He is all muscles and bones, there is no fat on him. Eat me, I am…"

"Be silent whelp, I am thinking," Ivar pondered the situation, his tail moved, gently pushing the child back. He made a mistake, that much was clear. He should have kept some of the raiders alive… It was all because of Leila. The thought of her stirred his calmness, prompting him to make a false move. The fault was not his. Even now, wicked girl, she was tainting his perfection simply by existing. He had a limited time, but running from problems was a bad habit. A problem was before him, and it needed to be solved, "Kid, can you follow my instructions to the letter? If you make even one mistake, the head of your father will go off. If you can’t, then I will have to leave you here and all of you will be devoured by insectoids. I can sense them nearby already." Ivar lied to the kid, hoping that fear would motivate the whelp into action. He had no doubt that insectoids would appear. But maybe one of the forward scout parties of the state, or perhaps one of the enemy groups, will come here sooner.

The kid was looking at him, trembling with fear. Ivar closed his eyes for a moment, remembering a similar look on his face when he looked in the mirror a long-long time ago, back when he still had no scales and still had a human body. He was a weakling back then. But weakness was not a sin, for one could grow out of it and become stronger.

The state forbids the use of mind control on enemy civilians, or on any civilian for that matter, but in recent years, the state has amended this rule, allowing wyrms to use their power and place imprints on the minds of other people, with the permission of professional doctors, of course. Minor mental problems such as fear of others, constant anxiety, all of them could be solved with wyrms' power, and his kin became richer thanks to it, wielding their power under the supervision of the state. It irked Ivar that his kin aimed to become healers when nature built them up to be champions.

Rules and laws existed for a reason, they were meant to prevent a fall to barbarism. Ivar turned off the cameras on his communicator, cutting off the video feed to Osero and Minerva. They were smart to put two and two together, but he saw no reason for allowing anyone to have dirt on him. That and writing an explanation report was such a bore.

Light shot from his eyes as he took control of the boy’s body. He was in him, sharing his mind with the kid. The child was scared, so Ivar flooded his mind with visions of the Core Lands, which probably looked like a paradise to this person. Then he pushed the consciousness of the kid into his own body, taking control of this body for himself. At that moment, he was in two bodies at once. Ivar walked toward captives in the kid’s body, wearing it like a flesh suit, and used tiny hands to unlock slave collars on captives. Sometimes, very rarely, rules have to be abandoned for the greater purpose.

It was unusual to perform any manual labor with such a weak and frail body. This kid was malnourished, Ivar could sense some parasites running on the kid’s back as if it was his own skin. His muscles were underdeveloped. Lurking in the memories of the child, he found that the kid had been working on this mine ever since he was able to walk. What a meaningless existence, the world will never notice this child should he disappear.

"Are you a god?" The kid asked inside the wyrm’s mind, and Ivar wanted to shut down the child's mind for daring to speak while he was working. He was very busy, his concentration was on inputting the right combination of collars, all the while he was standing on his, well, kid's, toes. In this situation, Ivar was in the mind of this kid, he was limited by the thoughts and tiny brain of this normie. The exhaustion and sick body of this being were also not helping.

"No. God, the true God, has no need for instruments. Without killing anyone, God would have been able to save you. What is your name, child?" Ivar could easily pull information out of the kid’s brain, but some restraint was needed. He had already broken one too many rules. He remembered his father and how he became a tyrant well.

"Pete, sir."

"Pete? Is that it? No family name?"

"Pete Aurobovich, sir." The child was speaking more calmly now, as his consciousness was nestled in the mind of a wyrm, fear and anxiety were slowly disappearing. Right now Pete felt like a wyrm, the few wounds that Ivar had were nothing to fret about.

"Good. Family name is important. Always keep yours," One more slave collar fell as Ivar was using the child’s fingers to press the combination. He felt better, the slavers were so easy to predict. Same damn combination every time, "Today I saved you by accident."

"I acted like a coward," Pete admitted, the sense of kid’s shame running across the wyrm’s body, "I whined and screamed, instead of fighting."

"And by whining and screaming, you draw me to your location. There is nothing wrong with doing what you can to help those who are in need. Had you been silent, I would have passed by this place. Had you fought, you would have been killed off. If you ever want to repay this debt, better yourself and join the Reclamation Army, or better yourself and lead a good life. Or both. But always try to be better."

Finally, the last collar fell and the wyrm pushed the consciousness of Pete back into his body, and Ivar himself returned to his own body. He felt relieved at this, being in the frail, useless body of a normie was… disgusting. Slowly, one by one, captives regained their consciousness, lifting themselves from their knees, looking in a mix of horror and awe at the wyrm before them. Some of them fell on their knees.

"Enough superstition. Do I look like a deity to you?" Ivar spoke with disgust in his voice, his words whipping the people before him back on their feet, "Show some dignity, people."

"We thank you for saving us, great dragon." One of the humans stepped forward, bowing ceremonially. This gesture alluded to their origins as plebs who lived on the Regulators' lands.

"Regulators just lost, big time, my good man," Ivar's tone changed, now he was speaking in a warm, amiable voice, worming his way to the trust of these people, "You already should notice this. This mine was supposed to be protected, is this correct? However, the soldiers have all vanished. Heed my advice, friend, take your family and leave for the lands of the Reclamation Army. For after every defeat, the losing side might start to force conscription. "

People before him started whispering among themselves, clearly worried by his words.Pete's father grabbed the kid with both hands, lifting him and saying something to the child.

"Your leaders lost. Jekaterina was defeated and had to run away naked. Chort was beaten by Valerye Foulsnout and had to crawl away like a parasite. Yasen had to run away from our soldiers, abandoning his own troops," The smile of Ivar became wider, as he sowed the first seed of discord on this night, "People say that loyalty is paramount for working society, yet loyalty always runs both ways. I ended up having to save you while their guards were slacking off. Is this how rulers should treat their subjects? How many of your friends or family members have died because of the ineptitude and cowardice of your leaders? Regular people die, while your rulers always end up being alive. I say that you owe them nothing. Abandon your unworthy rulers and live proper lives under the Reclaimers. "

He jumped, leaping in the air, leaving people on the ground. The only two buildings near the mine were rummaged, but there were still some weapons on the ground. Besides, there were still weapons from dead raiders. Workers should be fine and should be able to spread news in local villages. He turned his communicator back on.

"Sir, you are wasting time," Minerva calmly stated, with the barest hint of anger in her voice. She was the one who managed to get routes of enemy convoys in a hurry. Seeing them get away after all her insane work must have been infuriating for her, "Enemies are on the move."

Ivar tried to make peace: "This was not a fruitless endeavor," They settled for two convoys. He will claim three to make up for his distraction. This is how a leader should act, always taking the responsibility, even for the right calls, "Saving locals will help us in our task of forcing Chort’s hand and lowering enemy morale."

He omitted the fact that he was taking away the job from his agent. Both he and Minerva knew this. He allowed his emotions to rule over him once more. No more.

"I noticed a lack of one report, however," Ivar's voice turned to steel, "Mayor Less overworked construction teams, resulting in some people dying. Why have you kept this secret from my brother and me?"

"The mayor was just an eager fool, trying to impress us. I had already scared him aplenty. He should have told us that he lacked workers…" Minerva was explaining her actions, rather than apologizing. He respected an initiative from people who worked for him, and she knew it. Her idea was sound, but sometimes Minerva was just too soft.

"But he didn’t. As a result, people died under his leadership. If it happened once, it will happen again. Investigate him, determine how much money he is stealing, and then remove him from his position. Give the dirt to the police, let them put him behind bars. Make sure that the next major treats his subjects better." Both Ivar and Minerva were well aware that as the state grew, some level of corruption was inevitable. And yet, other rulers managed to satisfy themselves while building up their society. This mayor could not. Even a single death was too much.

Wings carry him over the hills, toward one of the mapped routes of an enemy convoy. For the past few days, each night a convoy passed here, toward the land of the Regulators. Blaguna appears to have given up hope on Resistance winning at Chokepoint A. Either that, or she simply took precautions.

Below him was something that could be called a road. It was made of stone, true, it was kept in proper condition, even. Ivar gave this much to Soultakers and the original Regulators, both did try to make the best out of their situation, they tried to build a better world. But times have changed.

Several vehicles were moving underneath him. His eyes picked up several tanks, a few trucks, a few light vehicles and... He whistled. A pitch-black armored truck, almost pristine in its condition. The truck clearly came from Pearl, a city state northeast of Soultaker lands, once a grand monument to civilization in the area, yet now it had fallen on hard times due to internal problems and corruption. At first, Minerva assured Ivar that it would be easy to reclaim Pearl, and at first glance, Ivar even agreed. Yet as he read the reports, worry crept into him. There was something weird about seemingly random murders and disappearances all around Pearl. Someone or something was hiding in there, carrying out its wicked plan in the darkness. No matter, these were problems for later.

A missile was unleashed from one of the tanks when the people in the convoy noticed Ivar. The wyrm changed the direction of his flight, creating a wall of water before himself. It would be easy to shoot this projectile with fire breath, but… Wyrms do not use their breath. Even his brother used his power, not breath. Using fiery breath was considered to be an insult, an unworthy action among wyrm’s society, something akin to spitting at your foe. A grave insult to the family of wyrm. It was a tradition of the past, yet traditions and laws shaped individuals. If you discard them at the merest inconvenience, are you truly a civilized person?

The missile crashed into a water barrier and collapsed, before it could explode. In the next moment, the water wall was changed into droplets that were propelled forward by the will of the blue wyrm. Water, speeding up to almost Mach nine, was unleashed, slicing through the tanks and several trucks, ruining the road underneath them. People inside never even had the chance to scream, their lives were ended in an instant. Ivar flapped his wings, sending his body flying low over the road. His tail moved down, claw at the end of his tail sliced through three lightly armed vehicles, rendering the vehicles and people inside asunder. Gunfire came from the remaining vehicles, stopped by another wall of water that appeared before wyrm. The remaining tank's main cannon fired at him, and the shell exploded inside the water, sending shockwaves buried beneath the pressure of water.

"Weak," Ivar responded, flying and stopping his body over the tank. He gave them but a moment to decide whether to surrender or fight. Seeing how the armored vehicle tried to move away, Ivar slammed his left leg on top of the tank, collapsing it into rubble. Tiny streams of red came from between smashed armored plates. Ivar looked at the few remaining vehicles and smiled, "Surrender and live. Resist and perish."

His voice was barely a whisper, but thanks to the light that now shone from his eyes, it spread all across the convoy. Trembling people stopped moving their vehicles, they stepped outside. Ivar motioned for them to lower themselves to their knees and place their hands in front of their heads. The enemy soldiers, mix of Regulators and Soultakers. The blue wyrm allowed his light to shine on all of them, ripping out the imprints from the Soultakers and ensuring that they would live on despite the surrender. Ivar lowered himself on all fours and lazily walked toward the black armored truck, keeping the smile on his face. He ignored the drivers and opened the roof of the truck with his claws, throwing metal aside. His eyes widened as he saw the insides of the truck. Several capsules, all made of steel. Thoughts ran through his head, while he read the inscription.

What could they possibly want with... Ahh... I was wrong. Yasen, not Blaguna. He thought and chuckled at the realization, turning toward his prisoners. He asked in a calm tone, "Which one of you lot has access to a universal bank? All of you will live, but one of you will have to deliver a special message. The message, for which I must provide compensation."

Ivar's smile faded as one of the Soultakers finally admitted to using global net once. He gazed at the man and started working. It won’t hurt him much, at most it will give him a headache for a week or two, before the effect wears off. And yet, such a simple thing can potentially produce great results...

****

The insectoid warrior fell apart as Jekaterina’s scythe cleaved through him. She looked at the surroundings with a grim face. On this morning she received several reports. The blue wyrm hit three convoys in person, destroying vehicles and supplies. Regulators abandoned their posts, allowing raiders and creatures of the night to feast upon the people in several villages and mines.

She was angry. People living on these lands were under their protection. Her hand, locked in power armor, gripped the shaft of her weapon. A new custom-made power armor tailored for her had yet to arrive, so Jekaterina took the regular armor with her as she hurried toward one of the ambush sites.

Chort was nearby, his blue creatures were blasting away insectoids. Insectoids always followed the slaughter, creeping from their caves to feast on the dead and survivors of slaughter. But this time, it was they who were dying. Survivors still had their weapons while the rescue team stomped the annoying critters. Chort used today as a test for his sentient creatures, allowing them to use firearms.

"Good enough," Chort clapped his hands to the eight blue creatures that bowed before him, ignoring the the insectoids that were charging at them from behind.The mercenary leapt from his position, his hands transforming into bone blades and he sliced through the attacking insectoids, putting an end to the remaining critters. His wounds healed overnight, yet bruises on his face still remained. Chort claimed that he had decided to leave them… But Jekaterina wondered, what if he could not heal them? The mercenary turned to his minions, "Your performance is adequate."

"Enough playing around, Chort." Jekaterina said, walking toward a group of survivors, "We pick up people and…"

"Chort? Chort is here?" A soultaker stepped forward, removing his helmet from his head. He smiled with an idiotic smile, his smile so wide, that the corners of his lips were nearly cracking. The man had glassy looking eyes expression, and Jekaterina gestured to the rest of her group to stay away from him, just in case, "Chort! I wanting to meet you for so long! But you decided to play a coward. Oh well, who can blame you, really, after Valerye savaged you so much that you had to run with your tail behind… Oh, my apologies, you left your tail behind as you run…"

The scythe in the hands of Jekaterina moved, striking away the incoming bone blade of Chort. She turned toward him and pointed her weapon at the mercenary:

"Bare your fangs at my people again and I will end you. My soldier is ill, he is not himse…"

"Chort, Chort!" The man screamed at the top of his lungs, "People already speak in taverns and pubs how Valerye dominated you. Check the news, even Iterna knows by now. You always wanted to have a legacy, so I helped you. No need for thanks," With these words, the eyes of the man rolled back and he fell on his knees. Other survivors rushed to help him, and the man shook his head, looking surprised face around himself, "What... what was I doing?"

"Being an asshole, that's what." One of the blue creatures laughed at him, silenced when Chort glanced at it.

Jekaterina let others question the soultaker, as reports came in. In the other two places that were attacked by Ivar, there were also people with glass eyes, telling crazy stories of Chort’s defeat to the people who rescued them. The mercenary carried no armor, but there was a communicator in his ear. No doubt he knew about this as well.

"We just received news," Jonathan whispered into the back of Jekaterina, "Funds were allocated to this man’s account. He could be…"

"No, this is humiliation, not betrayal," Jekaterina responded, gesturing for medics to take away the injured, "Our enemy used my soldier and paid him for inconvenience."

"Everybody knows, heh…" Chort spit at the ground. Anger was appearing in his eyes, "I am sorry, Kat, but I can’t join you in the north. I will find her, and I will end her. Foulsnout will die and my legacy will be preserved."

The mercenary walked away, surrounded by his creatures. As he walked, he spread his hands wide, and flesh started falling off of his fingers. While green forms rose all around the mercenary, he whistled an ominous tune, walking toward the lands of the Regulators. Jekaterina looked him in the back, already planning how she can replace his involvement in her battle plans. It seems that Blaguna will get some perfect reinforcements after all.