Savage Divinity

As Alsantset rode out to meet the Defiled at a slow and steady gait, Suret’s low growl grew in volume and intensity until her entire body was trembling with barely restrained violence. Thousands of quins echoed her call, for this was their battle cry, their call to the hunt, and Suret led her fellow quins as surely as Alsantset led her Sentinels. With the scattered picket lines of garo outriders growing closer and closer, Alsantset readied her bow and spear before unleashing her animal instincts, for this was a job for the huntress within.

Deep down in her heart of hearts, she was loath to admit that these were the moments she lived for, these intoxicating seconds before joining battle and the freedom, violence, and bloodshed which followed. She did not kill or fight for the sake of violence or torment, but today, on the fields of Sinuji, she was ready to do righteous battle against the Father’s foul minions and throw them back from whence they came. There were no politics here, no social, civil, or communal matters to attend to, only bow and blade to wield as she saw fit. Out on the battlefield, she was wholly in her element, where everything felt natural and she rarely had to think twice, for this was the Mother’s holy work and the sole purpose of Alsantset’s existence.

As a demi-human, it was not within her purview to bear children or give them sustenance, nor was it in her nature to settle down and nest. She was a tiger, a predator, a killer, and here on the battlefield, she was free to unleash her true self. Make no mistake, she loved her husband and children more than anything in the world, but no matter how hard she tried to be a good wife and parent, it never felt easy or natural, not like it did on the battlefield. At home, she had to constantly refer to a mental checklist of societal norms to make sure she wasn’t crossing the wrong lines, and while it was easy to love and cherish her family, it was difficult to always remember she had to also nurture and support them.

But today, none of that mattered, for there was blood to be spilled.

As the scattered perimeter of Defiled outriders entered into bow range, the huntress felt the urge to draw her bow and let loose, but she stayed her hand and waited for a better shot. These Defiled were not the crazed tribesmen of the wastes who welcomed arrows and pain with bared flesh and crazed grins, but more dangerous prey in the form of self-styled Chosen. Their armoured frames sat in loose formation with spears and shields at the ready, and even treated leather was enough to ward off arrows at this range, to say nothing of iron or steel. Even if she could pierce through their armour or aim between the gaps to deal a killing blow, these Chosen were fast enough to bat arrows out of the sky, a skill many of them had perfected over the past few battles. What’s more, their bipedal garos were comparable to quins in terms of speed and explosive power, and while their ability to change course on the fly left much to be desired, this was more than made up for by their armoured scales covering their heads, hearts, and legs, leaving no weak points to target from a head-on position.

All this meant the Enemy had grown far more formidable over the past year of conflict, but just as the Chosen had improved and adapted, so too had the huntress. She was no cow or goat to charge headlong at her problems no matter the circumstances, but a powerful and cunning tigress, a creature who rarely exerted more effort than required. This was her nature, for it would defeat the purpose of the hunt to expend more energy than the sustenance her prey provided. Fight smart where possible, and hard when needed, but always keep something in reserve for a life and death situation. This was not a lesson taught to her by Mama, Papa or even Grandma or Grand-Mentor, but a lesson ingrained in Alsantset’s blood, and one she would always adhere to.

Thus, she waited until she was within five-hundred metres of the Chosen outriders before bringing Suret to a halt, at which point she turned the quin about. Ignoring the quin’s vocal complaints about turning her back to her prey, the huntress came to her feet and raised her bow while her fellow Sentinels followed her lead. In one fluid motion, she nocked arrow to string and bent her bow back as far as it would go, savouring the sound of so many bows following suit from behind her. Having long since picked her target, she loosed and smiled as the world came alive with the satisfying hiss of death delivered from afar. Thousands of arrows blanketed the sky, in the same general arc as her initial shot, and in the blink of an eye, a second wave followed, then a third, fourth, and fifth, all sailing through the air with ear-piercing shrieks full of the promise of doom and demise. The huntress hadn’t set a steep angle, nor did she set a shallow one, and though her first arrow had long since been obscured by its fellow comrades and she never saw it land, it was easy to visualize the path it took. There it went out into the night, over the heads of the waiting Chosen outriders and into the packed masses of the unarmoured Defiled tribesmen almost three hundred meters behind them.

Let the Chosen waste their efforts lugging heavy armour and cumbersome shields about, for all it did was waste their stamina and overburden their mounts. Despite all their training, equipment and discipline, the huntress saw the Chosen as less dangerous than the Defiled tribesmen, whose crazed disregard for self-preservation made them difficult to guard against. Strange as it was, the Chosen were almost no different from elite Imperial troopers and actually a more familiar foe for most soldiers of the Empire, herself included. Thus, she was happy to put her limited arrows to better use thinning out the Defiled numbers, because there were easier ways of dealing with the Chosen.

This plan had been built upon another lesson she’d learned these past few days, that the Chosen were so disciplined they couldn’t even think for themselves. Were the huntress in their place, she would have ordered her skirmishers forward to meet the aggressors in answer to the obvious challenge, but the Chosen outriders had been ordered to screen for the Defiled tribesmen surging towards Sinuji to the east, and they were doing just that. The opposing commander was a controlling one, and foolish to boot, seeing the soldiers under his or her command as pieces on a chess board, but true battle was not carried out in alternating turns. Twenty volleys she loosed over the course of a minute, and only then did the outriders receive their orders to move out, but the huntress was ready and waiting with a response.

“Hold fire and fall back,” she bellowed, even as her blood burned to close in with spear and fang. “Ghurda takes lead!”

This was one aspect of leadership which neither Imperial nor Defiled commanders could grasp, and this was a lesson taught solely by Papa himself. A good leader knew when to lead, and when to follow, even if it meant turning command over to another. Where she once rode at the front, the huntress now rode at the rear and was in no position to guide them across the battlefield, so this was a task best carried out by another. This was the way of the wolf and quin pack, because while they followed a strict hierarchy, their favoured hunting method was to work in groups and shifts to wear prey down and run them to ground, which meant there was no feasible way for one leader to manage the hunt from start to finish.

Of course, this meant finding other leaders you could trust, but the huntress was spoiled for choice with so many Peak Experts and experienced veterans under her command. When she rode out for the front lines, Grandma requested she bring little Mila, Yan, and Huushal under her wing and offer them the guidance of her years. In truth, this was merely so Grandma could keep all her beloved younglings together and allow the hidden guards to look after all of them at once, so while the huntress chafed at the supervision, after almost a dozen engagements packed into a handful of days, she was grateful for the extra assistance.

True to form, Ghurda took the reins of command and immediately split the three-thousand riders into smaller, separate packs. Sumila took command of one, and Huushal another, and when they rode off with their retinues, the opposing commander demonstrated his inability to learn from his previous mistakes as the Chosen outriders followed suit. There were far more than three-thousand garos chasing them, but Alsantset’s Sentinels had so much empty space to work with and the unflagging endurance of quins on their side. Scatter the enemy, wear out the garos carrying their heavy burdens, then pick off tired, isolated enemy groups with overwhelming numbers. Such was the tried and true hunting method of the People which worked well against Defiled, Chosen, and Imperial alike, a tactic learned from their beloved roosequin partners, and Alsantset had mastered it well under Father’s demanding tutelage.

In some ways, she felt like they spoiled Rain too much by not putting him through the same rigorous training regimen she’d gone through, but her little brother was too brilliant to risk colouring his perceptions or stifling his creativity with preconceived tactics. No point asking the quin to teach a dragon to hunt; better to let the dragon learn on his own.

Mila’s retinue was the first group to close in for the kill, turning without warning to pounce upon their flagging pursuers. In the huntress’s eyes, her Aunt turned sister-in-law was a tad overeager in her decision, but the results spoke for themselves as Mila led the charge against her unsuspecting foes and ripped through their ranks with ease. The fiery red-head skewered Chosen after Chosen upon her short spear while Tenjin and Tursinai rode at her flanks, and Mila’s borrowed mount, Zabu, demonstrated how even the most vicious garos were no match for the full fury of an alpha quin. They made a good team, and while it pained Alsantset to see the gruff, grizzled quin without her little brother upon his back, Mila had acclimated and adapted to his aggressive and frankly terrifying attitude with startling ease.

Next it was Huushal’s turn to show off his skills, seizing upon an opportunity to outmanoeuvre his pursuers and leave them trailing in his wake. Now free to join forces with his mother, they set upon her newly outnumbered pursuers with ruthless efficiency, and there was almost no sport in the ensuing skirmish. Honed spear tearing through mundane armour, the huntress’s heart sang as Suret pounced upon one foe and then the next, ripping into the throats of Defiled and garo alike until her jowls dripped with crimson blood, and then there were no more Defiled close enough to pounce upon. Pursing her lips as Ghurda ordered them to split and retreat, Alsantset eyed the dead garos littering the ground and wished her husband were here with her. Garo flesh was an acquired taste for quins, and Suret did not much like it, but her mate Pafu and his litter-mate Mafu loved it dearly. Neither were present on the battlefield today, so Alsantset had a large stash smoked, packed and ready to bring back to the Citadel as a treat, though she still lamented at how she couldn’t share this glory with the father of her children.

Each skirmish did not last long before they were forced to turn tail and run, but as the Chosen numbers dwindled and their garos grew sluggish, Alsantset’s Sentinels grew in courage and daring. Mila angled her retinue to fire into the flanks of Huushal’s pursuers, while Ghurda led her pursuers to crash into Mila’s, sowing chaos and confusion amongst the enemy ranks. By the time both Sentinel groups were away, the Chosen were still milling about in confusion and arguing about who crashed into whom, which freed up close to two-thousand Sentinels to draw their bows and let loose on the huntress’s command.

This battle was a slaughter by any measure, yet no matter how many Chosen they killed, it seemed like there were always more to follow. Despite all their efforts to even the odds, the Sentinels did not escape without cost, and every skirmish cost them the lives of a few good men and women, a price they could ill afford to pay. These outriders were merely the appetizer, a distraction to keep Alsantset’s people from tearing deep into the Defiled flank with arrow and spear alike, so the sooner they dealt with these troublesome riders, the sooner they could get to the meat and bones of the battle.

Or so the huntress thought, for she was about to order her retinue to close in for the kill when she felt an inkling in the back of her mind warning her of impending danger. Sweeping her gaze across the battlefield, she narrowed her eyes and made sense of the milling chaos before realizing what she missed. “Incoming from the southwest!” She shouted, not caring if anyone caught the hint of panic in her voice as she spotted the sprung trap. The Chosen outriders were a sacrificial goat, here to hold the mobile Sentinels in place while the black-armoured gajashia cavalry circled around to cut them off from the fort. Their barbed lances gleamed in the morning sun as they walked their mounts into position, lining up their beasts shoulder to shoulder in a solid wall of equine hooves and leonine muscle. Built for repeated bursts of power, their armoured brows and razor-sharp tusks made them a force to be reckoned with, able to match roosequins kilo for kilo while almost treble the size.

Cut off from the fort, Alsantset had lost the positional advantage, meaning the Enemy commander could wait her out or even order his garo and gajashia cavalry to turn around and surge into the fort almost entirely uncontested. While her retinue could easily chase down and pin them in, if the Chosen were willing to throw away their lives, they could easily clear the walls and allow the Defiled infantry unfettered access into the fort. A waste of resources in her eyes, since the infantry would have no trouble taking the walls on their own without the Sentinels harassing their flanks, which meant the huntress was left torn between a bad choice and a worse one. She could either sit here, do nothing, and hope the Enemy did the same, leaving Brigadier Hongji’s soldiers and Yan’s retinue to hold the wall without her, or she could order a charge against the gajashia cavalry, who outnumbered, out-muscled, and out-armoured her retinue, and pray that when the dust settled, she would still have enough Sentinels left to make a difference.

Heart heavy with regret as she readied to voice the order, she stopped short as pandemonium broke out amongst the Defiled ranks, with riders turning their gajashia’s about to face a new threat. Cursing her inability to Scry, she Sent word to Ghurda for information and received a reply shortly after. “Rustram and his cattle cavalry are riding to our rescue,” Ghurda Sent, chortling all the while. “Them gajashias are in fer a rude awakening, they are.”

A rude awakening indeed, especially as the huntress gave the order to bluff a charge. With threats approaching from both sides, the Chosen ranks fell into disarray as they scrambled to react for both and ended up defending against neither, making it all the easier for Ulfsaar to find a nice, juicy target for Moomie to drive into. The creaking abomination of a vehicle didn’t crash directly into the Enemy ranks, and instead struck them at a shallow angle, allowing the wheel mounted blades to scythe through muscle and sinew at ridiculous speeds. Clouds of blood and spurts of gore sprayed into the air as Ulfsaar’s Chi-infused roar rang out, striking fear into the hearts of friend and foe alike. By then, Alsantset’s Sentinels had long since stopped short to enjoy the show, as twenty-nine other chariots chased down the stragglers and drove straight over piles of fallen gajashias and Chosen in a symphony of death and destruction.

For a brief, heartwarming moment, all Alsantset could hear was the meaty thump and crisp crack of heavy iron wheels driving over steel armour and gajashia flesh, followed by the truncated screams of the dying. Hearing their abrupt ends sent a shiver of ecstasy down Alsantset’s spine, and she thanked the Mother for returning little Rain to the People.

More traditional cattle cavalry followed behind the chariots, ambling by slowly to make certain that every last Enemy soldier and beast died quick lest their suffering turn the Father’s foul gaze upon them and give rise to a new Demon. While they cleaned up the gajashia cavalry, the huntress brought her Sentinels to mop up the remaining garo outriders, and when all was said and done, they linked up with Ulfsaar a kilometre north of the fort. “Mister Rustram sends his regards,” the fearsome half-bear growled, and the huntress’s grip tightened around her spear and longed to challenge him for supremacy. Ulfsaar the Voracious was a formidable warrior, and though he’d only recently come into his Domain, Mama said his path to becoming a Peak Expert was both swift and inevitable. The former bandit was more in tune with his own nature than anyone else Mama had ever seen, a blood-thirsty maniac in battle, yet a kind, gentle, generous soul in all other aspects of life, with no conflict between the two diametrically opposed sides. How this was possible, no one even cared to guess, or at least they refrained from doing so within Alsantset’s earshot, and both her parents warned her against seeking Ulfsaar out for advice.

It wasn’t fair. Here was living proof that a demi-human could find harmony between beast and human, something Alsantset had struggled with all her life, but she wasn’t even allowed to know about his methods, much less ask him for advice. How did he do it? How did he find balance between the two conflicting mindsets and unleash his inner beast without losing his human compassion? How was it possible to switch between the two without yearning to indulge one set of instincts and struggling to ignore the other?

Oblivious to Alsantset’s envy, Ulfsaar said, “If it suits the Major, this one requests permission to lead the charge, when it comes time to do so, of course.”

“Granted,” she replied, flashing an easy grin which set most men, young and old, to swooning. Not to flirt, but being friendly never hurt, and if he so happened to offer her unsolicited Martial advice, she could hardly be blamed for not ignoring him. “You’ve more than earned it.”

Barely even acknowledging her smile, Ulfsaar nodded, flicked his reins, and set off at an easy walk. Moomie was barely even breathing hard after his arduous charge and showing signs of ascending to a Spiritual Beast, but the other more mortal cattle needed the time to rest, so Alsantset swallowed her displeasure, ignored Neera’s suspicious gaze, and set off with her Sentinels to pelt the Defiled with arrows while Major Sun Qiang’s force of light lancers kept the remainder of the Defiled cavalry tied up on the southern flank. Thoughtful as always, Mister Rustram had stocked the chariots and cattle cavalry with extra quivers for the Sentinels, and they rained death upon the Enemy for twenty straight minutes before finally running out of ammunition. At this point, the battle was all but won, for even crazed Defiled had their breaking point, and they passed it about ten minutes back. The final charge was more of a formality than anything, so Alsantset rode the high of bloodshed and victory for as long as she was able to, before finally giving in to reason and sounding the retreat.

This was some of the fiercest fighting along the front lines to date, yet it was not over, and would not end anytime soon. Pausing on the fields to finish a struggling Defiled tribesman, Alsantset wiped the blood from her eyes and glared at the neat and orderly Enemy lines, which swelled in number with each passing day. Today’s battle marked their most costly defeat in the past few days, especially in terms of Chosen, garos, and gajashias, but they had the numbers to spare, so now they slinked back to lick their wounds, fill their bellies, and once they found their courage again, they would charge at the walls again. Even as she watched, Defiled tribesmen dragged the dead and dying behind them, not to give them a proper send off or medical treatment, but to consume them as sustenance. The sight of still struggling Imperial soldiers amongst the crowd sickened her to the bone, but even she was not so hot-blooded as to charge out after them. It wasn’t right, letting their people be consumed like that, but they could not afford to give up the safety of their walls and take the fight to the Enemy, so all they could do was grit their teeth and endure this injustice.

This thought led her to a different topic of contention, one she’d tried very hard to ignore these past two weeks, and she happily did so again while leading her Sentinels back into the fort. Their return was met with scattered cheers and grateful smiles from the beleaguered Imperial soldiers, as well as a wink and a wave from a surprisingly energetic Yan. Now there was a young hero in the making, with her marriage to Rain and exploits on the wall bolstering her reputation into previously unseen heights. Already, there were whispers of Du Min Yan’s stunning command of the Blessing of Air, and even the most exaggerated rumours did not do her justice. Most assumed she was already an Expert with a Natal Palace, but Alsantset knew this was not so, had seen the girl work day and night to hone her skills with Wind Chi and admired her heartfelt dedication. Were she to master her Mentor’s mysterious Talent which allowed a single Wind Blade to cut through multiple opponents, then Yan might well become a one woman army upon the battlefield, slaughtering tens of enemies with every swing of her sword.

In contrast, little Rain’s other wife was not so beloved by the Empire, for fiery Mila had a hot temper and a sharp tongue, which had her butting heads with sycophantic peers who didn’t know well enough to leave her alone. Granted, the poor girl had more reason than usual to be in bad humour of late, but considering the Legate issued an Imperial Decree demanding they keep Guan Suo’s fate a secret, there were few able to sympathize with Mila’s bereavement. On that note, Alsantset brought the poor girl with her to wash up after the battle. Careful not to pester Mila with questions or offer unwanted advice, Alsantset merely kept her company and silenced the bothersome Tursinai. The cheery warrior meant well, but she’d been trying to raise Mila’s spirits for two weeks now to no effect and didn’t know when to leave off. In fact, Alsantset thought Tursinai might even be doing more harm than good by persisting with her efforts, and little Mila just needed some time alone with her thoughts.

She was much like Rain in that regard, so fond of introspection and averse to asking for advice. It was pride, in a sense, pride in their own strength, talent, and wisdom, for they believed they had all the right answers, or would eventually come to them if given enough time and information. Alas, there were few ‘right’ answers in life, and many times it was merely a choice between ‘bad’ and ‘worse’, but neither Rain nor Mila cared to accept this.

Seeing the distracted girl stuck in a loop, wiping her one cheek repeatedly and doing nothing else, Alsantset swallowed a sigh and gently took the hand towel away and set to washing Mila’s freckled face. Again, Alsantset said nothing, and from Mila’s sheepish expression, she appreciated the gesture. It was one of the hardest things Alsantset had ever learned, to give Rain the space and distance he so desperately needed, and it was no easier watching Mila languish in conflicted anguish and anger, but it had to be done. Eventually, they both finished cleaning up and returned to camp, where they worked together in total silence while carrying out their duties. Alsantset had taken Mila as her second, for the sweet girl was well-versed in command and the most suitable, willing candidate, so they tended to their quins and checked them for injury, refilled their empty quivers, water-skins, and ration packs, cleaned their harnesses, boots, and armour, then strode about the camp to speak with the Sentinels who were still on their feet, offering a kind word here, a gruff order there, and condolences wherever they were needed.

The butcher’s bill was heavily weighted towards the Defiled, but there were far fewer Sentinels than Defiled. Gathered here in Sinuji were almost four-thousand Sentinels in total, with Rain’s former retinue and Yan’s current one making up the remainder of Alsantset’s five-thousand strong command. Well, five-thousand no longer, but most still drew breath, and thus far, none had been dragged back to the Defiled camp, for she and the Sentinels under her command would never allow it.

Again, the contentious subject refused to leave Alsantset in peace, and it grated on her throughout the day and well into the night. Readying for bed after an unpalatable meal of dried meat, pickled vegetables, and hard tack, Alsantset was pleasantly surprised when Mila quietly asked to speak with her in private. Dragging the girl into her yurt before she could change her mind, Alsantset asked Yaruq to put up a Sound Barrier through Sending and asked, “What do you wish to speak of?”

“I wanted to thank you,” Mila began, hugging Alsantset tight enough to squeeze the air out of her lungs, which was the mark of a good hug. “For you know... giving me room to think.”

“Of course. Anything for you, little Aunt.” Jokingly using the overly formal form of address, Alsantset shared a warm smile with Mila as they took a seat on the bed. “But we are family. No thanks will ever be needed.”

“Thanks anyways.” Falling silent in her embrace, Mila struggled to find the words she wanted to say, so Alsantset stroked her ruby ringlets and waited. After a long silence, Mila Sent, “I don’t know what to think. About Rain and...”

Neither did Alsantset, truth be told, and she’d been doing her best not to. Think that is, about the bizarre circumstances they’d left him in. Mila was the only one present from start to finish, and even she didn’t understand what had transpired. One moment she was fast asleep, and the next, Rain was hollering for her to get combat ready and shouting about how they couldn’t have ‘her’, who in this case, everyone assumed was the Guardian Turtle. Then, in the blink of an eye, Ping Ping’s vast bulk melted away, as did Guan Suo’s corpse, and left in their place was an adorable, wide-eyed turtle who responded to Ping Ping’s name, and a grouchy, cantankerous red panda who responded to nothing and refused to let anyone touch him, even Mila.

There were so many questions to be asked, Alsantset didn’t even know where to start, and it didn’t help that Rain had fallen asleep and refused to wake up. Her heart couldn’t take it if he went into a long coma like Mother had, because this time, Rain wouldn’t be around to wake himself up. Then there was the matter with Ping Ping and Guan Suo. Did Alsantset’s little brother tap into the secrets of Divinity? Was he responsible for Ping Ping’s new form and Guan Suo’s... reincarnation? Was that even Guan Suo? The little red panda didn’t appear to understand speech or care for pipes or alcohol, and he showed no signs of being able to use Chi in any way whatsoever. He could barely climb through the window to steal dried fruits to eat, and in doing so raised such a racket it had Papa scouring the manor for an intruder. All evidence pointed to the red panda being a red panda, and not Guan Suo returned to his previous form, but Ping Ping was undeniably still Ping Ping, only smaller, cuter, and far more willing to make friends than before.

It warmed Alsantset’s heart watching the happy turtle roughhouse and make friends with the quins, when previously she restricted herself to appreciating them from a respectful distance. A shockingly intelligent and considerate beast, and according to Taduk’s experiments with her collected excrement, Ping Ping was now a Divine Turtle in truth.

Of course, little Mila was more concerned about her progenitor, so Alsantset tried to focus on the topic at hand. “I can not tell you what to think,” she Sent, still stroking Mila’s hair. “Nor can I claim to know how you must feel. I too have yearned to meet my progenitor and dreamed of the things I would say, so I cannot even imagine what you are going through, but there is one thing I know you must do.”

“What’s that?”

“You must accept that Guan Suo is dead and gone.” Seeing how much the words hurt poor Mila, Alsantset knew she’d struck a chord. “Even if that red panda is him reborn, reforged, or what have you, the Guan Suo we all knew is no more, and nothing we do can bring him back.”

“But... what if that’s him?” Mila asked, her lovely eyes filled with hope and anguish. “How can I just ignore the possibility that it’s him inside that... furry form?”

“It might be him,” Alsantset replied, “In fact, I believe it is him, or rather his body at least.” It hurt seeing Mila’s conflicted hope, yearning to hold onto some scrap of the father she never knew, but Alsantset had to drive the knife home. “I think that when Ping Ping ascended to Divinity, she brought Guan Suo back, because he was her lifelong companion and she couldn’t bear to lose him. However, I don’t think she brought back the Guan Suo you and I know, but rather the one she grew up with, the gruff, red panda from inside her Natal Palace, who she no doubt knew for much longer than the Guan Suo we know even lived.”

“...But they’re one and the same.”

“No, Mila, they are not.” Looking her in the eyes, Alsantset shook her head and said, “The red panda Ping Ping brought back? He has never known the pain and anguish Guan Suo went through, for he is merely a beast, and nothing more.” Sighing, she added, “This is no real consolation, but I think Guan Suo would’ve preferred it this way. From what you have shared, it sounds like he was very unhappy in life, someone who hated himself for being neither man nor beastand turned to drugs and drink to escape from his suffering. He was a very troubled Divinity, but he tried to do right by you, and for this, I will forever be grateful.”

Sniffling in Alsantset’s arms, Mila cried until she had no tears left to her, but still Alsantset held her close. She was not so convinced as she sounded, but little Mila needed something to believe in. Alsantset too, for she clung to a single hope which she could not shake. When the Divine Turtle ascended to Divinity, she had been powerful enough to bring Guan Suo’s animal self back from the dead, and Rain had been right there with her, so was it too much to hope she somehow fixed his shattered Core? Perhaps even now, he was making ready to ride for Sinuji, with spear in hand and an army at his back to save the beleaguered front lines for the third time.

At some point, they both fell asleep like that, though for how long, she could not say, only that they both shot back to their feet at the haunting boom of a Defiled horn signalling yet another attack. Thankfully they’d followed protocol and were ready to ride into battle at a moment’s notice, but Alsantset’s fatigue from the first battle had yet to wholly fade, and little Mila was no better. Then, Brigadier Hongji’s Sending arrived to personally pass his orders to Alsantset, and her heart sank even further as she took in the dire news. While this morning had been some of the fiercest fighting yet, she suspected she would have to revise that statement soon enough. From what she could tell, there would be little room for tricky maneuvers or clever tactics during tonight’s battle, and they would simply have to rely on strength of arms and breadth of courage. Matters had grown desperate and all that was left was to kill or be killed, a clash of force in which only the strong would survive, and Alsantset worried that the Imperials might be in for a rude awakening.

For even as she stepped out of the yurt, she heard an inhuman cry which shocked the bustling camp into silence, a cry echoed by a chorus of Demonic throats to confirm what Brigadier Hongji just told her. The Father’s most foul minions were flocking to the battlefield and the Peak Experts of Sinuji were outnumbered and outmatched. Trials and tribulations indeed, as Alsantset had never defeated a Demon without assistance, but seeing as how she might have the chance to try her hand at it in the next few hours, she was more than eager to rise to the challenge.

After tonight, the Empire would know her as the Huntress of the Bekhai, and the Enemy would know her as death incarnate.

Chapter Meme