Mad Hatter could not be stopped. Her might tortured the very planet itself, and the ground around Houstad groaned and shuddered as the fist kept pressing into Eugenia’s cheek. She had endured everything the Reclaimers had thrown at her, withstood heat capable of vaporizing a warlord, ignored poisonous gas meant to decimate entire settlements, didn’t bat an eye to any kinetic projectiles, and toppled a titan.

  Janine had dared to believe that the Elite would be able to defeat her. That belief was being crushed right now as the cracks snaked from the two struggling women. Ripples passed through the soul, shattering the vitrified sand into tiny, shimmering pieces that reflected the lights of the projectors. An unnatural sinkhole began forming underneath Eugenia’s body; an area of uneven circular area thirty meters in diameter sinking, and mounds pierced the moon-surfaced battlefield in response to the ungodly pressure being unleashed upon a human body.

  They all heard it, New Breeds and Normies alike. A crack of bone, so loud that it briefly silenced every ongoing cannonade. Mad Hatter raised her head, meeting the defenders’ eyes, and smiled.

  “That’s right. Inexorable. Invincible,” the echo of elbows against her ribs accompanied each word. “Throw yourselves upon your blades or join the Horde, for the suffering I shall unleash upon those who stand against me will be worthy of legends to immortalize this day. I’ll torture you until your screams are heard, even by the ears of your cowering leader!” she laughed.

  A shaman stepped forward, a recently promoted female, too small compared to the proud sisters of the old. The Supreme Shaman was busy; Soulless One no longer drew breath; the Alpha Pack had suffered dire casualties among their spiritual leaders. The legends had died, but the traditions lived on, and the woman boldly folded her paws and began chanting a prayer, calling upon the Blessed Mother to deliver the Tribe in its darkest hour upon the Spirits to lend them strength to carry out their will.

  Voices joined her. First it was Wolfkins, but soon several Reclaimers and volunteers repeated the prayer, decrying the madmen and tyrants and declaring their intention to stand firm. Inspired by their example, the thousands joined in, matching Mad Hatter’s laughter with their defiance.

  And through it a second crack sliced, audible to everyone.

  “She is going to die,” Janine stated the obvious and headed to the dome. “I’m going out.”

  “Warlord, the Elite gave us strict instructions not to interfere,” Cristobo said tensely. “It may as well be that she has a hidden trump card capable of ending that bitch.”

  “Do you believe it?” Janine asked mirthlessly.

  “No.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Janine, the plan hinges on him abandoning the position,” Dragena said, accompanied by the noise of breaking bulkheads and knives slashing through the air. “Sister, consider the broader picture.”

  “If the Blessed Mother won’t arrive, then our plan is for naught, am I right?”

  “That is correct,” Dragena conceded. “Mad Hatter’s capabilities exceed everything prepared by us.”

  “So we lose nothing,” Janine stated stubbornly. “My conscience doesn’t let me stand. Open a path for me. Jacomie, you are in charge until I return.”

  “Warlord, Eugenia is responsible for the death of your son,” the gray-eyed volunteer said, and Janine froze in her tracks. “If she dies here, Iterna will be weakened. It may be beneficial for the Reclamation Army’s future expansion. I believe the captain and the warlord have sound points. Is it really reasonable to enter an unnecessary fight…”

  The collar of his shirt sticking out of his armor whipped, and the man frowned as a gust of wind whipped across his face. He raised a hand to keep his companion from coming to his aid and kept his other hand from reaching for his machine gun or a mace. The Taleteller’s edge nearly sliced through his neck, stopping a millimeter from the gorget, and the warlord’s jaws opened, ready to swallow his head whole.

  “Don’t ever try to play me, little man,” Janine warned. His skin was no longer heavily tanned, and his chin was cleanly shaved after he had stopped nearly murdering himself from exhaustion in the camps… She shook her head, recognizing the man as Daniel. Why did I assume that his skin was supposed to be tanned? I’ve only ever met him once. “An unnecessary fight, was it, boy?” she growled.

  “Janine, that’s enough,” Jacomie tried to stop her.

  “That Iternian out there is saving our butts. My grudge against her is my own, and I’ll die if needed to see it settled on my own terms and in war, but in peace the state expects better of us.” She faced the volunteers. “The world is large. It has enough place for us all. If we are to indulge in dishonor and let a foreign ally die, then it is just another step toward the Abyss. What’s next, exterminate this group of people here, eradicate a faith there, let the natives unable to follow our laws perish instead of amending the rules to ensure integration… Turning into another unscrupulous horde is in no way beneficial to our nation, people! We’ll see the world unite under the Dynast’s vision. That way, we will build a future worthy of our cubs…” She stopped blabbering and stormed toward the dome, contacting Command. “Cristobo, that volunteer, Daniel. He heard you and Dragena. Send an agent here…”

  “It is under control, Warlord,” Cristobo interrupted her, and Janine snorted. More secrets. Was Daniel and Oakster or something?

  A section of the dome opened, and she hurried to the growing sinkhole. Mad Hatter was at the bottom of it, still shoving her fist into the swollen cheek of her enemy. Eugenia stuck out her tongue, as if in teasing, but her own teeth were sunk into it; one eye almost escaped its socket; she exhaled a cloud of white dust, shaking and keeping elbowing her opponent. The ground level kept decreasing; the bastion’s lights no longer reached here, obscured by the mounds of bulging earth; the heavy swirling clouds above choked all natural sunlight, and only Janine’s lenses illuminated Mad Hatter in full as she descended toward the beast waiting for her.

  “Nice armor,” the khatun commented. “It suits…” A ball of plasma splashed against her face, brightly lighting up the surroundings. Its substance raced down the khatun’s hair, highlighting it with a blue-white color and drying the blood over her burns until it formed a black crust. “Rude.”

  Janine fired again. And then a third time, following the old rule Marty had taught her. When you come to kill, shoot and don’t talk. She lunged as the unleashed ball fully covered Mad Hatter’s face. She swung the Taleteller, preparing to bury the blade in that neck. The edge rebounded, stopped by a palm. Janine kicked straight into the fiery hell, her instincts screaming a warning. She jumped back, a nanosecond fast enough to dodge the clanking teeth that nearly bit her kneecap.

  “What’s the matter? Scared of a still woman?” Mad Hatter snorted.

  “Finally, your appearance reflects your soul, liar.” Janine returned the chuckle.

  “Again,” the khatun’s face contorted, lessening the pressure. For a second, Janine imagined the woman lunging at her, tearing her limb from limb. Eugenia sucked in the air. “Explain the meaning of your insult.”

  “Not for free. Spare her and I…”

  “No,” Mad Hatter said. “Those who refuse my grace always bask in my terror. That’s how it is; that’s how it will be. Answer my damn question, or I’ll shatter her skull here and now.”

  “Invincible,” Janine dared to sneer, tapping her head with the flat of her axe. “So much for not lying. Tsk, tsk. Not winning as easily as you used to? Gotta say, the ugliness suits you.”

  Come on, attack me already. Janine pleaded, preparing to survive the worst beating of her life. Mad Hatter should become enraged and vent her frustration on the warlord, giving Eugenia precious seconds to either finish off the khatun or escape. Yes, Mad Hatter could’ve easily killed Janine from any place here, but the humiliation of being proven wrong…

  Did nothing. The woman’s eyes shifted to her burn; her fingers tore away the scab, revealing smooth, fully healed skin.

  “You were saying?”

  A snap. Janine looked up, startled by the unexpected sonic boom. The dark sea in the sky parted, opening the view to the pleasant blue and soft yellow rays. A blot dropped from the center of that snap, darker than any night and yet attracting the sunlight. It fell, shining and yet not shining, gathering itself into a knot and releasing the accumulated tension into the kick that speared the ground.

  Janine lost her footing. The sinkhole rose, rapidly smoothing the battlefield. She clumsily cartwheeled once or twice, and then a paw caught her under the armpit. The Blessed Mother placed Janine upright, giving her a pat on the shoulder. Reassurance, greeting, worry, and care shared themselves in this simple gesture. Fingers closed around the warlord’s neck, hurling her back toward the readily opening shield. She didn’t mind the rough treatment and laughed, her voice joined by the Wolfkins.

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  The sun came back! And with it, their hope.

  “Not yours.” Ravager stood on four legs. “Return.”

  “Don’t listen to her!” Dalantai yelled. “Khatun, do it now!”

  Mad Hatter drew herself high and tossed Eugenia to Ravager. The commander caught the Elite on her forearm, and the Iternian slumped weakly on her legs.

  “No!” Dalantai wailed, pounding his fists against the Horde’s field. “You could’ve been the Sky itself! A daughter standing by the father’s side, one reigning over spirituality and another reigning over reality!”

  “And escape my fate? Avoid challenging the odds, forever not knowing if I deserve to ascend or not? Admit even a hint of fear of uncertainty? I don’t think so,” Mad Hatter said haughtily. “If a goddess is to walk today, it is to be done properly, through a trial of blood and endurance, the way a child leaves a mother’s womb and not the other way around. There is no cheapening of destiny, Dalantai. Those who try always regret what they have lost. I’ll claim what is mine by right.”

  “Thanks.” Eugenia grabbed Ravager by the fur to stand up. “You take her from the left and I take her from the right…”

  “Can you even stand?” The massive snout bonked the Elite, and the woman collapsed back on her knees, her hand slipping off the fur. “That answers it. Take what you came for and go. It’s the Reclamation Army business now. No need to push yourself any further; otherwise, Artificer is going to cry. You can’t give her salvation. I’ll exterminate her.”

  “That wasn’t the only reason I came,” Eugenia said, standing on one leg. The claws neared her helmet. They retracted back into fingers, which drummed on the surface, tracing the shifting nanomachines.

  “You’ve been… pretty good, Redeemer,” the Blessed Mother grumbled. “Can a machine cry?” she asked suddenly.

  “You’d be surprised what he conjures up in the laboratories.” Eugenia coughed. A blue light shone from under her legs, opening a portal. She fully disappeared in it.

  The khatun and the blessed mother approached each other lightly, not bothering to stay wary for weapons. They raised their right arms, and the chaos of battle ceased. No longer was Houstad bombarded, and the defenders’ batteries went silent. Ravager sniffed Mad Hatter all over, and the Sky’s Avatar returned the favor, examining her opponent unabashedly, even rubbing a strand of fur between her fingers.

  “Prey,” they said in unison, fangs and teeth bared.

  Ravager’s voice was clear and collected, utterly distinct from the crazed beast from the war against Techno Queen. She moved smoothly, her shoulders spread wide, not a twitch in her limbs. If it weren’t for the occasional sniff of blood, Janine would have suspected a doppelganger. On the brink of defeat, the Blessed Mother shrugged off her troubles and returned to her prime, radiant and a perfect hunter.

  “Strong,” Mad Hatter said. “I taste that. Made a deal with that liar to get it?”

  “You heard him.” Ravager waited for a nod. “No. What mine is mine and in service of the Dynast and the people under his legitimate rule. I know little of whom you speak. But I have met a group called the Godsworn, all of whom had taken the deal. They vary in power, but every single one is a lunatic and stages carnages for fun. Freaks. Kind of like you.”

  “Where are they?” Mad Hatter demanded to know.

  “Plan to join?” Ravager released her claws and began trimming her own hair. “No idea. The last one I met, I ate. Is that why you came? To find this God? Is he their leader?”

  “Should be,” Mad Hatter answered. “He never offered the deal to that fake.”

  “What can you do? She is a better person than we.” Ravager studied the woman’s face. “You could’ve simply asked instead of invading. I would’ve joined you on that hunt.”

  “Ask? What am I, a bondsman?” Mad Hatter smiled, clenching her fists around the scimitars’ handles. “Do I look like someone in need of help? Above or below the sky, no one is my equal. The weak whimper and beg. I take what I want. Whom I hate, I kill. The strong command, and the weak obey. I sense the boiling animosity. What bothers you about my invasion? It is the rule of nature; the losers have only themselves to blame for being weak enough to be trampled underfoot. No one sane is going to cry over butchered animals in a slaughterhouse.”

  “Cubs have such adorable imaginations,” Ravager chuckled. “The strong exist to ease the way for the weak. Such is our duty, and our reward is an unexpected helping paw to get us back on our feet. United we stand, divided we fall.”

  “Is that an excuse for why your armies failed to stop us?” Mad Hatter burst into a booming laugh and put a hand to her mouth. “Cub. You dare call me a child while spouting such hopelessly na?ve, idealistic nonsense?”

  “Forgive the insinuation.” Ravager stood on two legs, and a hint of steel showed itself in her jovial speech. “A child I might’ve spared. Fine, let us play by your rules, forlorn.”

  They laughed good-naturedly together, their heads held high. Janine blinked, surprised at the lack of aggression and the genuine happiness in their voices. The two acted more like friends reunited after a long separation than mortal enemies. Their laughter swept across the battlefield, echoing from the destroyed bunkers, drowning out the rumble of working engines and generators, and silencing the groans of the injured and dying.

  Janine missed the scimitar’s thrust. Mad Hatter’s hand had vanished, turning into a white streak tinted gold by her weapon. It pierced the amber orb, but the black form faded like a mirage. A titanic swing landed on the khatun from the left, caught by the second scimitar, but the erupting force of the blow scattered any debris far and wide, sending some of it bouncing between Houstad and the Horde’s shields. The claws drew blood from the neck, and a kick aimed at the knee followed, landing at nothing but emptiness as Mad Hatter scissored at Ravager’s back with her scimitars, lightly cutting the skin.

  A sphere formed of cuts and slashes formed around the fighters; the wind blew, forming a growing tornado that further cleared the sky above. Swathes of ground flew aside, uprooted by the attacks’ collisions. Janine heard officers hastily ordering the emptying of the underground tunnels leading behind the enemy lines as the conflict collapsed them. Occasional detonations haloed both titans, as most of the traps in the area were prematurely triggered by the resulting earthquakes. Acidic sludge, carefully prepared to thin the infantry, spilled out and was splashed aside without touching anyone.

  Ravager and Mad Hatter resembled ghosts, phasing in and out of reality amid the roaring tornado. Their struggle dispersed the flames around the Horde’s position, and Horkhudagh, awestruck, joined Iron Lord. Their bodies weaved around the attacks; a cleave that should have bisected a body merely sliced a fleshy ribbon from Ravager, creating a canyon hundreds of meters long in the ground. The returning swipe, poised to eviscerate a belly, scratched five lines on the khatun’s body.

  “Astonishing,” First said over the comms, and Janine agreed with his assessment.

  “Feast, Commander,” Janine whispered and pressed a paw over her heart. She felt it. Not exactly happiness, but a calculating focus spreading from the Ravager. Move. Plan. Murder. Parry. Repeat. Her broken mind gathered itself, and if she could push through her madness, what excuse did the Tribe have?

  In a heartbeat, hundreds of blows and fents were exchanged. Attacks were launched and immediately withdrawn as the fighters planned elaborate strategies, luring and positioning each other for the follow-ups. These two didn’t think at the same speed as Normies or most New Breeds. To them, a second was worth an eternity; their keen minds caught the slightest muscle twitch and predicted entire scenarios in a blink. Twice Janine had missed witnessing such battles firstpaw, and while she felt honored to be present for the third, she caught herself hoping it would be the last time.

  Gods should not fight each other.

  The sound disappeared alongside the tornado. Ravager and Mad Hatter, these divine incarnations of the deities that had molded them, had created a zone of perfect vacuum around themselves.

  Blades and claws visibly edged closer. Tufts of reddened fur and bloodstained clothing emerged from the blindingly fast sphere of death. The two adapted to the unfamiliar styles. Any moment now, the balance will be broken.

  Ravager caught the golden scimitar aimed at her heart, stopping it dead. She countered with her left arm, opening Mad Hatter’s cheek to the bone. The khatun elbowed the arm aside before the attack could go deeper and stabbed. The second scimitar pierced through Ravager’s jowls and was caught by the fangs. The commander slammed her elbow into Mad Hatter’s wrist and grabbed the scimitar, pulling it out. She shoved the weapons aside and prepared for a bite, closing her snout to her enemy’s.

  A knee strike closed the jaws, sending Ravager’s head back. The equilibrium was finally shattered, and Mad Hatter smiled, enjoying taking the lead as the ground erupted around the two, almost hiding them in an upward stream.

  And the one who did not miss the moment was the Blessed Mother. A split second of smugness equaled an eternity of distraction. This was Ravager’s trap for her enemy, understood Janine, witnessing an upward swing prepared to shave off the woman’s face. The khatun leaned back, and the knuckles struck her in the jaw, sending her flying high and adding to the widening chaos on the ground.

  Mad Hatter sought pleasure in the combat, while Ravager had a different purpose, fighting as a leader caring for her troops. If the two went all out, the resulting collateral damage risked destroying both armies and forever reshaping the region. Win or lose, if the battle continued here, there would be nothing left of Houstad.

  The two clashed in the air; Mad Hatter did not panic after missing the blow; she relaxed her body, calmly preparing for the inevitable confrontation, and when Ravager appeared behind her, she turned, tensing her abs and enduring a painful kick to her stomach. She drove her scimitar through the commander’s foot during the kick, lacerating the leg up to the knee. Neither had a chance to twist their claws or blade to widen the damage. Mad Hatter was sent over the horizon, and Ravager spun, using a passing piece of debris for a springboard to chase after the woman.

  Just how far did she calculate it? Janine thought, humbled. Yes, the Blessed Mother often surprised the Tribe with her occasional sparks of genius, but that was otherworldly. She purposely sent the broken remains bouncing between the shields to not let her opponent have any opportunity to prepare herself.

  From the north came a shockwave, tearing up grass and ruining fields. Entire forests were uprooted, roads sunk underground, and barns were flung away. The city’s force field groaned, painfully, straining to shield the wall and collapsed. Dozens of generators inside the bastions flickered and exploded, wounding and killing nearby technicians and guards. The same happened among the Horde’s ranks. But that was a prelude. The ground shook and screamed, tortured by a foreign object collapsing into it.

  A mountain range rose far on the horizon, turning everyone equally pale. Waterfalls from the underground rivers, violently pushed above the surface, crowned it, turning to steam as they slid down the slopes, and the yellow glow of lava painted this new formation. Fissures, wide enough to gulp entire vehicles, snaked from the mountain range to Houstad, forever changing the local geography. A single drop of blood came from the north, charting the ground between the armies with the force of a falling comet, and the tremors continued, announcing that the titans were far from dead.

  “End this rabble and secure Houstad!” Iron Lord commanded, pointing his glaive at the gates.