Decimated. The Taleteller rose, ending another life. Meanwhile, Janine whirled around, cwing and bludgeoning the fools approaching her position. No sooner had four mangled, torn bodies begun to fall than the warlord moved on, trampling the wounded and crushing the bones of the dead. Restrained rage guided her paws on this fateful day.

  Mariam. An image of a good-natured girl who had refused to bend under Terrific’s merciless bullying and who had ter risen to the respectable rank of a scout fshed before Janine as she stepped at the hordeman hiding under the corpses. A shell had killed her. Lake. The lucky male had been responsible for introducing the pack to the divine tahini, a spice that had found its way to the Wastes from the west, brought by caravanners. A wall of pure psma had disappeared him. There was nothing of him left to bury or burn, and Janine indulged her wrath, shoving a pair of enemy troops off the mound of rubble and cleaving through them.

  Forthbom. Alina. Helly. Mandy. Woebasher. Jake. These were just the test casualties of the never-ending onsught. Her pack had dwindled to a handful. Five warriors, a male and two scouts, were still unharmed. Nine were... Her HUD received an update. Eight were wounded; Maxence reported that one male had died on the operating table. The treasure collected by Terrific and hoarded by Janine was gone, spent in battle. Of the thousands of volunteers assigned to her command, four hundred and eighty-five still responded, and the rest either had their IDs damaged or died.

  A hordeman in golden armor leapt out of the smoke, tall and slender, unlike the usual fatties. He spun in the air, elegantly dodging aimed bullets; the tip of his spear glowed brightly, and Janine used her ranged weapon to block a yellow beam aimed at the eldest Oakster, who was dragging a wounded ally to safety. The heat touched the weapon, but there was no explosion; it had long since run out of energy cells.

  She took the Taleteller with both paws and lunged to meet the fallen golden boy. Suddenly heaps of smoldering human meat to her left and right trembled, and she ended up caught in a triangle of cws and the descending spear. Only the bde struck her shoulder, widening the already rge gash and injuring her in the shoulder, but the half-moon slice of her axe cleared the area of the two Malformed and ruined the golden man’s legs.

  He dropped, crawling away from her on his back, one hand raised, his spear stuck in Janine. Unknown nguage blurred from the well-crafted lips on his helmet, and his gaze was full of horror behind his ruby lenses. She wondered what made this man travel so far just to be crippled at the entrance of the foreign city and found herself not caring. Her kick sent the helpless man back into the misty smoke, reigning on the battlefield. Let the Spirits judge him.

  The males had spent their lives like coins, throwing themselves so that the females could retreat and regroup for future battles. This cruel practice had preserved the strongest fighters for long, but Janine’s heart ached. They had come so far together, witnessed the return of the Blessed Mother… To die now reeked of mockery.

  “Don’t expose yourself needlessly,” Janine advised the farmer. “Will she survive?”

  “Had seen bigger miracles today.” Shrugged the man, carrying a Wolfkin over his shoulders, and Janine snorted, a simple, casual noise that froze the approaching infantry.

  She waded through their ranks, covered in blood, ptes cut, cables hanging like entrails, the backpack struggling. Bullets, bdes, spears, and maces stuck in her hissing, sparkling armor gave Janine the appearance of a cactus. And yet, as she descended toward the enemies, arms spread wide, they faltered, no longer possessing the determination to rush her. Denying them an option to retreat and regroup, she barged into their ranks; the Taleteller incorporating their miserable, wasted existence into her own legend.

  The cannons sang no longer, and only the occasional crawler’s bombardment still tore through the veil of darkness, sending arms and legs flying. The wall had been breached along the entire length of its western section, and the sounds of intense combat echoed through the honeycombed catacombs.

  A grenade nded at Janine’s legs, and she grabbed a nearby raider, dragging the screaming woman near. The explosion hid them both, but she sensed the shape dissolving in her paws and roared, breaking through the fme, axe swinging. Till Ingo’s new suit was a marvel, and her body cheered, free of the need to remain in union with uncaring metal. Her foot pierced a visor and went down, shaving a man’s face. So light. So smooth.

  Was that where she’ll die? Janine spread her arms, focusing her lenses on another hordeman who trampled his own retreating comrade. The wretch shook, unexpecting to face her alone, and she brought down the axe’s knob at his head, silencing the pleas for mercy.

  “Want to live?” Janine called out to the advancing masses. “Stay away from the bridge!”

  “Janine, are you free?” Maxence’s voice rang in her helmet.

  “Sure,” she ughed, climbing back up the ruined ridge that led to the gates. Bullets rattled her back, but she stood tall, daring the Horde to come and try again.

  Jacomie had reported that their own surprise was ready, and she itched to try it.

  “Need your assistance.” The dispy of her left lens changed to show an operating table with a Wolfkin lying on it. Wolf Hag Zolushka, and by the Spirits did she grow! The reward of today’s battle had blessed the woman richly, and her arms doubled in size. Melina would’ve been so proud! Then Janine noticed the ck of everything below the waist. “Got a stubborn one, won’t give permission for augmentation,” Maxence panted, scurrying from one patient to another, stopping bleeding, administering painkillers, and preparing to send them away through the underground tunnels. “She’ll lose consciousness in about an hour and then…”

  “Warlord.” Zolushka exhaled. “The old way. My soul…”

  “No,” Janine said. “Do you respect me, soldier?”

  “Yes, warlord.”

  “Then live. Every life denied to the Horde pleases the Spirits,” a lie slipped easily from her tongue. “You have seen it. Our unbound progenitor, the Blessed Mother, divine in her eternal glory. Will you besmirch it by dying? Stay strong and kick some asses with your new legs for the sake of our tribe.”

  “And for the state, Warlord,” the woman said. “I… agree. I think that Melina would be proud after seeing you.”

  “You bet your ass she is, and I’ll make her prouder still!” Janine ughed, ending the link.

  The bridge was reduced to a smoking, heaping mass of concrete, metal, and bodies fused together. The stern and tall statues of the Dynast no longer welcomed the newcomers. Banners and heraldry of the Recmation Army had disappeared in the clouds of ash. But they held, denying the entry to overwhelming forces for four hours straight, butchering Normies and New Breed alike.

  An uneven, jagged slope, rather than a well-fortified position, now led to the gaping entrance into Houstad. The gates disappeared, obliterated by the acid spewed by Brood Lord’s Malformed. Supply lines barely carried fresh equipment, and the reinforcements no longer streaked from inside Houstad. The defense was growing increasingly unsustainable by the second. Janine raised her axe, ordering the volunteers and medics to escape back into the city, but a couple of the stubborn people refused and tried to evacuate the wounded to the st.

  The ground shook, and another line of enemies marched in. At their head were Malformed, cd in ptes inid with ivory. Brood Lord’s sigil. Infantry fnked them, at least eight hundred strong, with the Horde champions using the bondsmen as living shields. Wherever she looked, there was no sign of today’s prey, but the ground trembled, and even from here she could hear the stomping march. Close, but not yet.

  “Ambush,” Janine ordered, greeting the Malformed.

  She had learned how strong their kind was, and acid burns covered her body beneath the cracks in her armor. Eight of them were a tough bunch to handle, and there was an abundance of infantry, while she no longer possessed a ranged weapon. That was more than enough to make her sweat. Janine smiled and howled, signaling Jacomie.

  Much of the underground network had long since colpsed, partly due to the seismic activity caused by the battling demigods. But plenty of them still stood, right underneath the wall. Though it wasn’t feasible to unch precision strikes in the rear of the invading army because of the ck of ranged support and the overloaded defensive field, an ambush or two could still be perfectly set up.

  This was precisely what Janine had done. Jacomie and the remaining volunteers capable of combat waited below, positioning themselves to the north and south of the stubborn gates. The exits to the surface no longer existed; the extensive bombardment had taken care of that, but that had been accounted for, too. The Gilded Horde weren’t the only ones capable of utilizing the tools of their foes…

  Rays of energy pierced the barred entrances, and the thunderous roars shuddered the advancing forces long enough for Janine to crash into them like a meteor. Mechanical abominations stepped out of the darkness, their hooves pounding the ground, their lenses burning red, and gusts of superheated air from their nostrils. The steel servants, exact copies of the bull Janine had destroyed, had been completed by Keon’s friends, eager to avenge his death. A pair of muscur arms cast in photoluminescent paint adorned their sides, and the instruments of the vanquished oppressor eagerly joined the fray, ramming their way through the shocked Malformed. Jacomie ordered the volunteers to move out, and the battle had begun.

  Even assisted by their unexpected allies, they raged for a good fifteen minutes. The bulls trampled bodies, spilled superheated wind in the hordemen’s faces, and fried the Malformed with their beams. Acid bathed them, rockets exploded against their hides, denting and cracking the metal surface, exposing moving gears, but that merely enraged the soulless animals. Aware of their fury, Janine fought at their side, ending the critical threats.

  A hordeman champion gathered a fireball between his palms. The Taleteller reduced his head into rags of gore. Another, an avian priest, hurriedly began raising small pilrs of rubble to drop on the bulls. A cut across his knees rendered him screaming, and the stones fell on his allies. A groaning Malformed tried to pour his acid into the open gash on the beast’s belly. Janine buried her cws into his side, and the creature recoiled, lifting his hands in surrender.

  Easy. Easy, old girl. Don’t overdo it. Janine scolded herself and let the bastard go. Mercy was never wasted. But today it was also a means to an end.

  At st, a shift passed through the Horde’s ranks, and they turned tail. Janine barked an order not to shoot in their backs and joined her voice to the cheers of her soldiers.

  Near her, a bull dropped, stopping moving and turning into a broken pile of machinery. Its twin dragged a leg around, one nostril no longer functioning, and the light in its eyes dimmed. This brief engagement further reduced the number of her volunteers, and Janine dragged her legs toward the ridge and returned to her post.

  No good. She summarized, reading the reports dispassionately. Anissa was injured, and Chak died. She couldn’t dwell on it now. On the map detailing the ongoing engagements, the Gilded Horde’s jaws were closing in on the center of Houstad, threatening to cut off their own retreat. While the soldiers stationed inside the wall could hold on, those caught in the open would be cut out.

  “Syer of thousands!” Jacomie shouted, rousing Janine. Hundreds of voices echoed her words in unison. “Syer of thousands! Protector of Houstad! Gate guardian! True indomitable!” The bull bellowed, acting on some innate protocol.

  “That’s right!” Janine accepted the veneration of her soldiers, axe raised high. “But more than the syer of thousands! I see no Normies or New Breeds before me! You are the Horde’s Breakers! The champions of Houstad and the legends of the Recmation Army! Look at them, my soldiers!” She nodded at the st cowards fading from view. “Live or die, that moment will burn in their memory! For hours this undefeatable… uncivilized rabble,” the tired crowd burst into ughter, “has tried to pass us, and we have denied them. Stand proud! We won!”

  A roar of cheers answered her. No matter how dire the situation was, a spark of hope burned in the soldiers’ chests, sparked by the belief that the invaders weren’t unbeatable, that they too had bled and died. The ferocity of the Wolf Tribe and, she admitted without pleasure, the nobility of the Ice Fangs inspired the people, and she intended to ensure their survival.

  “Jacomie,” Janine called to the woman, raising her head; her armor hummed and shut down. Her shoulders slumped and the helmet slipped from her head. The py was on. “Organize a retreat. Take the bull along; you’ll need a punching force to reach the crawler.”

  “We can still fight,” Jacomie insisted.

  “Atta spirit. You have already fought. Would you let the remains of my pack die alongside you?” Janine asked mercilessly. “You sense the mood of everyone. They won’t retreat until everyone leaves. The civilians have paid enough. Keep them safe, captain. No more arguments. Leg it to safety. Reaper, still with us?” she asked in the comms, finding a capable person near the narrow pass on the map leading to the airport.

  “I was promised a battle to perish. I am thoughtfully unimpressed. Perhaps I should take my chances against Mad Hatter,” answered the former assassin, his voice full of static. He clumsily climbed out of the sewers, one of his legs twisted and a natural rib protruding through his bckened silver skin.

  “Don’t be in a hurry to leave us; there is work yet to be done.”

  “More? I should’ve requested payment.”

  “Grumpy. Well, if you are so tired, go to the crawler and sleep it off. And while you are at it, escort a lovely company there…”

  “I knew there would be a catch,” Reaper grumbled. “Sure you don’t want me to join you?”

  “No,” Janine assured him, gazing at the battlements above. Somewhere there, Martyshkina was holding the pce while Alpha dueled with her opponent. “This pce belongs to me.”

  “Scent-mark it or something then, you mangy beast.”

  Janine snorted, no longer paying attention to the evacuating soldiers. The corpses were abandoned; the survivors gathered what they could from the fallen and streamed after Jacomie, helping each other. Inside the gates, they were joined by a small contingent of Provincial Guards and soldiers from the Third, and the unusual gathering began a march toward the Inevitable, contacting their allies and warning them of the impending encirclement.

  For a while, she was all alone. No enemies to kill, no allies to shield, just the distant rumble of artillery, the occasional fsh of missiles overhead, and sharp shrapnel raining down, irritating her amber eyes. She imagined her soulmates and the deceased cubs calling for her, but their voices were distant, impossible to discern. A world of destruction, and in it a monster had briefly found a modicum of peace.

  Her ears twitched, hearing it clearly. Troops were approaching, so many that the ground trembled again. Occasional gunfire. They were probably gunning down those who had escaped, setting an example.

  “You lured him, sister,” Dragena said. The sounds of battle on the bridge had stopped, and several maintenance teams were busy removing any trace of Phaser’s body to prevent a possible resurrection. “The Ice Fangs are heading out.”

  “Good hunt to them,” Janine moved her eyes, keeping her snout up.

  The goal had never been to stop the Horde on their own. They simply cked the numbers for such a feat. But remove the unifying element, the khans in charge of the Horde, and their ckeys will fall into disarray, vying for supremacy. Mad Hatter was engaged in a battle, Iron Lord was occupied, and the final piece of the puzzle had finally arrived.

  Your superweapon is left all alone. Your crew must be feeling very lonely right now. Not to worry, the hosts are on their way to entertain the Horde rear. And when they destroy it, the Ice Fangs will strike toward Houstad like a sword through ligaments, cutting the fat from the Horde.

  “Come,” she whispered.

  An insectoid leg poked out of the smoke, its tip almost tasting the ground. Another joined it, a heavy metal limb, and kicked aside a ruined wreck. The khan appeared in all his glory, his segmented, spherical battlepte, each segment coated with a different yer of precious metal, unblemished by war, a broad grin visible through the visor. On his shoulder rested his curved sword with three skewered deserters on it.

  His elite guard followed, a sea of troops carrying the standards and readying pulse rifles. Heika walked in their rear, more gigantic Malformed approached. Tens of thousands had gathered in a crescent formation, a host as rge as they had repelled in the first battle. Force fields rose around them.

  “Hello, Janine,” Brood Lord sang. “Lost any children or friends recently?”

  For her sons. For every life lost in this war. It was time to put things right. Dragena’s pn worked fwlessly. Janine’s survival hinged on her own gamble and the choices she had made.