Monsters and Maidens (217 to 221)

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[217] [Earl Vitchatt]

The Earl was not an old man, as far as things went, he was relatively young, merely thirty years of age. He had been raised and educated in the ways of nobility and management. It had been a life rife with books and teachers, dusty rooms, and the scent of paper and ink.

Though he’d taken to his lessons as the scion that he was, he never really enjoyed the experience. Sitting down, staying still, focusing on old parchment and long winded speeches… it just wasn’t for him. His plump appearance might hint otherwise, but what called for him was outside, in the open air, the soft breeze, the people. Much to his guard’s disdain.

It was a blessing and a curse to have to handle the comings and goings of the minor court within his little slice of the kingdom. The nobles were a beast that fed on gossip and greed, carefully balanced against the threat of consequences and the risk of discovery. If only the fellow humans bothered to stop pretending the little ‘game’ actually mattered, the Earl might have actually enjoyed some of it.

As it stood, it was little more than empty gestures and empty words with little rhyme or reason other than self-interest and ego stroking. Tiny things to bolster influence or income in tiny ways. But the part he loathed the most was when actual dangers lurked under the surface.

There was always somewhere willing to bring a sword into what should have been a nice dinner with barely disguised insults and vapid smiles.

So it was with some trepidation that the Earl looked upon the city of Balet as a thick fog covered the walled district where the feralborn maidens lived. The fact that the spell had been cast was a sign of the attacker’s temerity, but that it had spread out so much before anyone detected it? That was a sign of the skill they possessed.

And yet, the first question that came to the Earl was not on who this attacker was, but who would have sent them? What was their plan?

“It is a vampire.”

“Do we know what they’re-?” The Earl’s words were paused by the sound of a roar. An unmistakable roar. He’d heard it before, not a fortnight ago. The Sabertooth Monica. The Earl’s chest tightened. “Of course.”

“My Lord?”

“Someone is targeting our former guest.”

His eyes narrowed. The timing was no coincidence, for one. They must have known Rick had left and prepared. But what to do? Vampires were known for their ability to cause terror upon their victims. Was the Sabertooth Monica on a forced rampage? Or entirely focused on protecting her owner?

But most importantly, who, and why? The realm the vampires controlled was on the opposite side of the kingdom. Who would cross so much land just to attack Richard Cross? Why? Was it a rogue element or had the vampires chosen to make a move?

In the silence of the night more sounds broke out. Screams, and destruction.

“Prioritize his safety.”

That startled Deneva, the knight captain, who glanced at the walled district. “And the other humans?”

“Richard and the other three companions are worth too much. Have the knights aid the citizens, but safely extracting the four must be prioritized above all else.” The declaration was firm, and it pained him to admit it. His gut was telling him that if a vampire was involved, then someone with far reach and influence had made a move. “They must be brought to the fort under the guise of a lawful operation, perhaps pretending they’re being arrested under suspicion of inciting the attack. No doubt someone will claim it is his maiden’s fault.”

“But if it is…”

“You have your orders, captain. Do not concern yourself with who is responsible for what until the situation is under control.”

“The vampire?”

“Kill on sight.”

He was not going to bother pretending he’d be able to break a vampire in for interrogation. No, the fog was proof this was no fledgling. If it was one of the older specimens of the breed, then any attempt at capture would put Deneva in far too much risk.

Deneva bowed and left.

The Earl kept looking upon the fog in the walled district.

Someone powerful enough to bring a vampire half-way across the kingdom.

Someone powerful enough to get them to start trouble within Balet itself.

Someone powerful enough they were certain they could get away with everything.

The Earl drew blanks; those who had this level of sway within the kingdom were not his enemies nor would they have done such a bold move without gloating over it.

Slowly he stroked his chin.

Who? And what was their goal with Richard? Unless it was a diversion? An attempt to remove a potential future threat? Or was the target Monica? The Sabertooth presented an unfortunate iconic reminder of the war, and Richard, her owner…

The screams began, and the Earl could only grimace.

He remained on the balcony, this far out it was impossible to see any details other than the odd flashes of light. Of maidens unleashing their powers. His fingers gripped at the railing and his knuckles whitened as he could do nothing more than observe.

Such was the weight humans had to bare.

To sit and watch and hope that the orders had been the right ones. To put one's trust onto their maidens and their skills.

If there was one thing about all the time he’d been made to spend reading, the one thing that had stuck to him the most was the idea that once upon a time humans could fight along maidens. A legend, from the times of the first maidens and their attempted conquest of the world. Myths of human armies putting a halt to the maiden armies. Stories of great battles with tens of thousands fighting to hold and protect that which they held dearest.

Of the first partnership, the first human to bond with a maiden, of how it changed the world ever after.

The human’s name and the maiden’s breed had been lost to time, each nation having their own variation of the tale. Yet they all held the same core. A simple man, lost and afraid. And a maiden, wounded and lonely.

The Earl turned away from the city, his eyes lingering on the massive boar pelt that hung above the fireplace. He contemplated, gazing back, there was a fire, and it was spreading. The knights had been deployed, the guards were all doing their jobs.

And the only thing he could do was stand still, watch, and trust in Deneva’s success.

[218] [Rick]

The burning had been slow to subside, and with its passing, Rick was left sweltered and exhausted. His mind could barely grasp consciousness, keeping his eyes open was a struggle. But he couldn’t let himself fall, no matter what. For one, slipping would mean becoming lost.

The feline maiden had been lugging him like he weighed nothing. She didn’t speak or bother hurting him, she merely carried him as she jumped and ran. She left Balet as the city was filled with screams and fire. There had been guards, maidens, that had tried to stop her.

And none survived the encounter.

Now the maiden was sprinting across the farmland as if she had wings on her back, and Rick was nothing more than the sack of potatoes she was carrying around.

He had a second reason for fighting the weight in his eyelids and strain against his chest. Rick wasn’t sure if Monica would be able to find him if he passed out. It was a reasonable fear, all things considered. While Monica was conscious, he’d been able to find her general direction even if not the distance. But whenever Monica slept, the feeling was muted, quiet, harder to notice.

And unconsciousness might result in that feeling being all the harder to notice and track.

So he endured.

His body was lead, his eyes weighed and his limbs too exhausted to even move, but he struggled, fighting to keep himself as awake as he could, as observant as he could. Monica and Dia were out there and they were looking to get to him. At the very least, if the nameless feline wanted him dead, she’d have killed him already.

There was hope.

And so he waited.

He tried to keep himself focused, on the golden fields shimmering under moonlight, on the glowing lights in the distance, on the snarl that seemed to emanate out of the maiden with every step she took. It would be an hour before he was tossed to the ground, Rick didn’t have the strength to stand back up. His body felt like it had been burned from the inside.

The maiden with orange stripped fur and claws only barely looked at him.

She left.

At first Rick suspected she’d left in search for something, maybe they had a camp somewhere, or maybe there was something she was looking for. Why bother bringing him here and dropping him off and then just… leaving? Maybe she was certain he couldn’t go anywhere with the hole she’d made in his leg?

Slowly, clenching his teeth, he managed to sit up. His head was spinning, it was hard to focus on anything other than the… where was he? It was far from the roads, a grove of some kind, at the foot of a small hill. There was little else in any direction other than some trees and grassland.

Panting as he moved, he confirmed the injury in his leg. The shadowy attack had punctured through his calf but not the bone. Everything below the knee was drenched in blood, but it seemed the bleeding had stemmed.

The pain helped stay awake, however.

That was good, stay awake, stay focused. He grunted, pressing down on the injury and trying to pay more attention. Where was the feline? Where had she gone? His brain sluggishly started to pick apart the details, they’d been attacked. The why was important, but he didn’t have enough information for that.

So now he was left wondering what was going to happen now.

The feline couldn’t have just taken him here out of amusement. It’s not like she didn’t have a chance to kill him. But she hadn’t.

He looked around again. Dawn was approaching, the meadow had only a couple dozen trees, and not a sign of anyone or anything within the immediate vicinity. Grimacing, Rick turned his focus inward. Monica was… focused on him, she was coming. From where he lay he couldn’t see the city, but he could sense her emotions, even if at a distance.

He needed to figure out what was going on.

They’d entered the house, the fight started, but neither the shadowy figure nor the feline had aimed to kill him. Granted, the former didn’t get much of a chance, but the latter certainly had opportunities to spare. Why would she bring him here?

Monica was getting closer, her focus was sharpening, her emotions becoming clearer, mild apprehension and a great deal of concern. She could tell where he was, and no doubt she could sense him, but also the other maiden.

The other maiden that was like Monica.

She could hide in shadows.

Rick’s eyes widened, looking around wildly, and then focusing. A singular idea, as clear as he could make it. He grit his teeth and tried to pass the idea to Monica as best he could.

It was a trap, and he was the bait.

“Monica!”

His voice didn’t stop her, instead, she only seemed that much more determined. Within moments he could see the streak of white that was dashing in his direction at a dizzying speed, going on all fours to keep herself low on the ground. Monica was leaving a trail of torn earth and upturned soil, a storm of movement. Her blue eyes weren’t looking at him, they were scanning the area as she approached, the closer she got the harder she ran.

She wasn’t slowing down.

Rick’s eyes widened.

Was she…?

Her gaze locked on him.

Everything happened so fast.

A split second with too many things happening all at once.

Rick’s heart beat once.

Monica entered the meadow, a shadow sprung from between the trees, a spear of darkness. Monica didn’t even look to dodge by jumping over it, a second spine emerged, and she ducked under, a third thrust directly from below and she side-stepped.

A second beat, his breath escaped in a gasp.

Monica vanished into the shadows, emerging half a meter ahead, three spikes tore at the air where she would’ve been otherwise. Her claws dug into the dirt, throwing it behind her explosively.

Third beat, his voice caught in his throat.

She was airborne, a pounce, a mistake, two more spikes thrust downwards from within the foliage of the treets. In response Monica kicked at the air as if it were solid. And her trajectory changed as if there had been an invisible wall for her to bounce off of.

Fourth beat, his eyes widened.

Like a heat seeking missile, she rocketed straight towards him, her body shrouded in wisps of shadows and darkness. Blue eyes gleamed with focused determination, claws prepared to reach out and grab him.

Fifth beat.

Something emerged from the shadows in front of Rick. It was not a spike, it was not an attack, it was the feline. She seemed to be intent on saying something. The very first notes of a word had rang out, a smug proclamation that came with a sharp sensation against Rick’s neck.

Monica didn’t stop.

She tackled the now shocked feline, shoving them both into the shadows.

And then they were gone.

Rick’s head whirled around, trying to find them.

He saw nothing but the grove and the first rays of sunlight.

A full second later, there was a roar several hundred meters behind him, just outside the meadow.

The fight had begun.

[219] [Monica]

Monica ran towards her mate, Rick was hurting, Rick was in danger, she was going to protect him. This was a fight, and she was good at fighting. She could smell the hunter, a tricky hunter, a strong hunter, an experienced hunter. Monica knew by scent alone she could not underestimate the hunter.

She saw Rick, she pounced.

She would get him out of there.

Except the hunter came out, and Monica changed tactics. She tackled the hunter and pulled her into darkness. The hunter’s strength was great, comparable to Monica’s, and she forced both of them out of the shadows.

But they were further away from Rick, Monica could fight.

So she did.

“Wait!”

The hunter spoke, but she moved to fight as well. Monica clawed at the hunter’s arms, testing defenses and reactions, seeing her pulling away and raising her paws. Scowling, ready to fight, but not fighting. Though she smelled of fight, it was a trick, a fake not-fight to trick and then strike.

“I said wait!”

Hunter growled, Monica growled louder.

Monica jumped into the darkness and came out on the tall grass, this time she jumped for a kick. The claws on her paws grazed the clothes the orange hunter had, she dodged, twisting sideways and clawing at Monica’s face. The strike was deflected, Monica elbowed the wrist and tried to claw her gut, she deflected the claw and stepped slightly to the side to punch at Monica’s head, Monica raised her arm and grasped the other’s. A mistake, the right knee came up and smashed against Monica’s chest.

The exchange of blows had been fast, and it would not be the last. Monica pounced right back into the extremely close range, claws slashing and being deflected just as much as she deflected the other’s attacks.

A flurry of claws and fur, each swipe potentially deadly or critical.

And with every exchange, it would come out the same. The orange hunter would kick or knee or hit Monica. Monica could only growl in frustration, she had to beat this enemy, but it was fighting like Monica. Except better than Monica.

“You’re nothing but a cub, you can barely know your powers. Stand down.”

More strokes, growls, threats. The words didn’t mean much to Monica, but the annoyance in the voice said enough. The orange hunter wanted to show Monica she was inferior, weaker, smaller, that she should withdraw her claws.

Not after Rick had been hurt.

Monica dove in, she remembered the bad tough-tough-one in the castle, she saw her fight. She stopped clawing, instead she punched and kicked, copying what she’d seen the other one use. Monica’s foot knocked the orange hunter’s knee away, she lost balance, Monica punched her face.

It knocked her down but she was back to her feet, Monica couldn’t punch again.

The orange hunter became angry.

Monica jumped as darkness extended all over. One of the tricky tricks. Monica stared, frowning, watching the shadows come out and try to hurt her. She could see now how the orange hunter controlled them. Monica jumped and kicked and tried to jump into the shadows, but the tricky spiky shadows were not for her to jump into.

“Do you really want to stay in that city with the filthy humans?” Orange hunter roared, extending claws, glaring. “I smelled your frustration, you stink of it, you don’t want to be there.”

Many words, some Monica understood, but many she did not. She understood some of it, yes, she was frustrated. She leaped between the spikes, dodging, keeping her distance, conserving her strength. Better to let orange hunter tire.

“You hurt Rick. My mate!”

That makes her angry. The shadows darken, more spikes emerge, like sharp trees with sharp branches that hurt. Monica cannot dodge them all, she has to run, she has to move, and even when she runs and moves, it starts to hurt. The spikes are scratching her, but not enough. Superficial.

“He is a pathetic human.”

The words are about Rick, and it has a new word, but Monica heard the word before, it’s a bad word, even if she doesn’t understand what it means exactly, she remembers it’s a bad word.

“Rick strong.”

“He’s weaker than a normal human!”

Large black spike shoots from the shadows, no longer remaining sticking to ground. This new trick comes too fast, the darkness hits Monica’s shoulder and she holds back from crying out. She would never show weakness, not after the Baron. She was strong now.

“Rick my mate.”

Her roar declared it as true, her power declared it as true, her chest was hot and warm and true. She glared at orange hunter. The orange hunter did not like Rick, Monica did not care, she did not like orange hunter either.

And yet.

The shadows went away.

Orange hunter glared. “Then bring him, whatever, keep him as your pet. You are young and naive, you are weak.”

“Am strong.”

“No, you are not.” Orange hunter crosses arms and glares.

“Am strong.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“Yes!”

“Fine, then prove it!” Orange hunter roars challenge and steps back, opening arms wide, snarling. “Make me bleed.”

Bleed? Monica frowned, looking at the orange hunter. She did not have a scratch. Monica looked down at herself. She had many many scratches and bruises. Her lips thinned, orange hunter was strong. But Rick taught her, he had said so. One could be stronger or strongest, and other could be strong too.

“If you can’t make me bleed, I’m taking you to the village.”

“Monica not understand. New words.”

That angers her. “Your owner treats you like a pet.” She snarls. “How many years has he had you, and you can’t even talk properly?”

“Year.” She understands the word, this one Rick taught her. Each year was ten and two months. Three months made time of rain. Three months made time of hot. Three months made time of sleep. And three months made time of cold.

“One cold snow, one year.” The orange one touches her chest, thinking Monica did not understand. “I am twenty and five cold snows.”

“Monica and Rick zero cold months.” She proclaimed proudly. “Monica and Rick months of rain, and months of hot. No months of sleep or months of cold.”

Surprise, wide eyes. “Someone else must have taught you.”

“Rick mate, only mate. Rick teach Monica all the words, every day.”

More surprise, more wide eyes, arms fall and orange hunter looks in forest direction. There is a frown of thought, Monica knew that frown, she had it when learning new complicated things.

“Then take him with you. Come with me.” Orange hunter speaks with soft words now.

“You hurt Rick. Monica hurt you now.”

There were words, there was talk, orange hunter was confused and didn’t want to fight.

She copied the dark shadows, letting them grow and expand over the ground and cover area bigger than orange hunter had. She copied the spikes, and she made them large, and she pounced.

More surprise and shock. “How!?”

Monica did not answer, she did not hesitate. She struck. Too fast for the surprised orange hunter to completely stop her. Her claws drew blood over the orange hunter’s arms, deep and red.

She screamed, she roared, and the spikes Monica made scratched at her.

Then she roared, and Monica was pushed back. Her ears were ringing, this was a roar louder than any she had heard before, louder than her own. A trick? Or just strength? It gave her pause and she jumped back.

But the orange hunter did not attack.

She looked at Monica with strange eyes, not angry, not sad, determined, but different. Dangerous. Monica understood, very dangerous.

“If he’s so important to you, then…”

Shadows, this time they were not spikes. They were vines, and they formed not around the orange hunter but ahead of her as she began running. Monica chased right away, because she knew that was the direction Rick was in. The shadows latched onto her, however, slowing her down.

She wouldn’t make it in time.

Monica broke free from the vines, she ran into the shadows, emerging where she knew Rick was.

There was someone else.

Two others.

One she knew, the tough-tough one from the not-mountain with green hair and the name Monica refused to remember.

The other was a new one, but Monica noticed her scent was on Rick recently.

The two stood still, along the orange hunter, and now Monica.

Tough-tough one was pointing one sword at New-one and another at the orange hunter. New-one was kneeling next to Rick, holding his neck. Orange hunter was growling.

Only one sound broke the tension.

Laughter.

Rick was laughing, laughing hard. Monica stared as Rick laughed louder, and louder, holding his gut and coughing and laughing some more.

Everyone stared.

[220] [Rick]

The only thing he could do was suffer.

He lay on the ground of the meadow in the outskirts of the city of Balet, Monica was fighting, and she was getting injured. Nothing serious, nothing intense, but she was in a hard fight against a stronger opponent. The notion was making her nervous and anxious.

And all Rick could do was sit and take in the distractions away from her.

Like the forest and the injuries, he drew them in, took her pain, took her anxiousness, took her nerves. Or at least as much as he could. His body felt like it was well past his limitations. It was an exhaustion that went past the point of tiredness. As if he’d run a marathon and been forced to run two others, everything ached in a way that left him just barely able to move.

And he kept focusing on Monica. The scrapes and bruises, pulling everything he could, to help her fight.

Because there was nothing else he could do.

“Richard Cross.”

It was an instant. One moment there was nothing, the other there was a soft breeze and a presence. He glanced over to… his vision was fuzzier than he’d realized, but the green hair and armor cinched it. “Captain Deneva… right?” He coughed, drawing in breath and doing his best to sit up. “I’d stand up, but I think I’m in no condition.”

“You’re dying.”

The words aren’t so much a question as a statement. Rick could only groan. “Certainly feels like it. Bloodloss?”

“No, your body’s taken too much elemental energy, it’s breaking down.” Her gaze seemed to furrow in focus. “And you’re still drawing in the energy.” Despite her words, she makes no move to approach, staring at him intently.

There’s a lingering question in that silence, ‘how?’, and Rick had a hunch about the answer. “Monica needs help.”

“I can sense that.” She stated. “If her opponent gets serious, however, I would not be able to ensure your safety.”

“So help de-escalate it.”

He couldn’t quite see her expression, and he doubted he would’ve been able to read it anyway. But he did sense a slight shift in the way she stood. “That is not how it works.”

“Forgive my manners, but the fuck it isn’t.” He drew in a sharp breath. “Just because there’s a bunch of people with big sticks doesn’t mean they should be swinging them around.”

“She attacked the city.”

“And I don’t want to die.” Another groan, his eyelids fluttered, threatening to close up. Rick bit into his cheek, the pain didn’t help, not much, just barely. Why wasn’t the captain doing anything, though. He’d half expected her to have kidnapped him by now. “Something’s going on.”

“There is another maiden hiding here. A vampire.”

She was holding a sword. Rick hadn’t seen her unsheathe it. But his vision was blurring and the forest around him was turning more into an abstract painting in his eyes.

Something soft and soothing touched his neck.

“I killed the vampire. You’re welcome.” Streaks of blue hair, and Rick sucked breath again, trying to focus. The touch against his skin was warm, it drew away the aches and fatigue. “Though I am sucking at his energy. Wouldn’t want him to die unduly.”

“Step away from him.”

“Attack me and I use him as a shield.” Kiara’s voice spoke coldly, her grip tightening ever so slightly. Rick choked a little, but she loosened her grip just enough. “Or I can just kill him. I’m not as fast as you, but I don’t need to be.”

Lying on the ground, staring between Kiara and the captain, Rick wanted to sigh.

“What do you want, Captain? What are your orders?”

“To retrieve you, Richard Cross, and ensure your safety.” She did not waver, she did not move, she raised her blade and kept it pointed at Kiara.

“And yet here I am, the only one able to keep him alive until the nurse reaches here.” Kiara spoke smugly. “For all your skill, you can’t really safely extract elemental energy from a frail human, can you? How fortunate that I am here.”

Deneva does not move, but her voice carries a sharp inflexion to it. “I can get him to the nearest medicen within minutes.”

Rick didn’t doubt that.

He didn’t exactly feel clear of thought, but he was certainly sharper than a minute ago. His gaze moved from Kiara to Deneva, and then considered the fight that was going on right outside the meadow. A fight could break out, so easily it hurt to think, just one wrong move and someone’s head would come flying off.

His, most certainly.

There was a roar, and Monica’s feelings shifted abruptly. The tenuous grip he had on things slipped as she panicked. Rick could only lay there and stare as the orange-furred variant of Monica emerged into the meadow, followed shortly behind by Monica herself.

Deneva raised a second sword she’d apparently drawn out of nowhere.

The tension could suddenly be cut with a knife.

The maidens shared glances, measuring each other. Each of them took a turn to look at Rick, and he could only feel like the situation was quickly slipping. The question was lingering in the air, it was in their eyes, it was in their tense bodies. Who’d fight who?

It wasn’t a question of whether there would be a fight or not.

The laughter came abruptly. It wasn’t funny, not really, but Rick couldn’t help himself. He laughed. He was going to die because a bunch of super-powered women were fighting over him. And in doing so, they’d get him killed. He laughed, until his chest hurt.

All eyes were on him.

He looked at Kiara. “Take me to Dia.”

“I cannot let you leave.”

“And you can’t stop me either. Monica? Come.”

That startled the orange maiden, she moved to approach but slowed to a stop when Deneva’s blade remained pointed directly at her. “The Sabertooth is staying.”

“Then you better team-up with the captain.” He groaned, closing his eyes and trying to stand. Kiara aided him to his feet. “Failing that, you two can talk or fight it out. Preferably somewhere I’m not accidentally turned to paste.”

The two stared at him as he began to limp his way forward. Monica was at his side opposite to Kiara within moments. Her claws reaching out to pick him up into a bridal carry. She glared at the Succubus as Kiara in turn kept her hand firmly on Rick’s throat.

“I’m not going to let you go back to the city, you know.” She declared. “They’re going to want to kill me.”

“Too bad for you, I guess.” He growled, having recovered just the slightest amount of energy. “I appreciate lending a hand, don’t get me wrong. But you’re fucked if you stick around me.”

Kiara’s brows creased, scoffing. She glanced over to the meadow. Deneva and the orange maiden had yet to leave, both were glancing in their direction, even when there was one of them pointing a sword directly at the other’s throat.

“You think I need to run away… and that I would not be able to if I were carrying you.” The Succubus proclaimed with a frown and a slow nod. Her golden eyes glanced down at him, ignoring how Monica’s fangs were bared and the growl fresh in her chest. “I killed the vampire. I’m not sure what makes you think I’m weak.”

“I’d rather just not have a fight to begin with.” He sighed, uncaring. “You can always find me when I leave the city.”

The Succubus becomes quiet, her eyes lingering on him and then turning ahead. She was clearly deep in thought. “I will bond you when we meet again.” Her words came out as a statement of fact, she wasn’t even looking at him as she said this. “That is the price for me saving your life.”

“I-.”

She was gone before he could even start his answer. No pop or blast of air or flash of light. Just gone, vanished as if she’d never been there. Instantly his body felt as if it were plummeting into the deadliest sugar-high-crash in existence. His mind spun and blurred, thoughts turning into a whirlwind of molasses.

Faintly, he heard Dia’s shouts.

Behind him, the meadow exploded.

[221] [Throag]

Throag was a mighty Sabertooth. She had been born in the tribes and she’d grown to learn many things. The elders trained her, taught her how to fight and how to hunt, and like all Tigresses, she was then tossed against the death of the great ferals.

Throag had risen to the challenge.

The great ferals of the dead forests weren’t dangerous in their strength but in their wits and cunning. They moved as teams, fought as if they were clans in their own right, they hounded and killed. To be able to survive on your own was a sign of great strength and wits.

Those who did not live were weak. Those who survived would make the clan stronger.

Throag had been the youngest Tigress to shift into a Sabertooth within living memory. Many had claimed she held the potential to one day become a Panthress, the culmination of the genus, the very peak. The ultimate predator.

With such strength, perhaps, she would have the clans join once more, and rally against the human kingdom. The hunger for revenge was fresh and strong, few had been alive during the first war, but they knew of the raids. Humans trespassing into their lands and killing kits and warriors, they knew of how the humans had pushed them towards the dead forest and the ferals therein.

Thus the acceptance to plans of revenge, to steal the secret of pokeballs from humans before they began making them in full. The clans knew that the moment humans could make enough pokeballs, they wouldn’t just be killed, they’d be caught. Getting their hands on someone knowledgeable was not just to use the devices against the humans, but also to learn how to protect against them.

Things had been going more or less well, until they’d been told to ‘test’ Rick.

An ‘order’ she’d been ready to dismiss until she’d heard the roar. Another Sabertooth.

They’d rushed things, not that they could remain hidden for long. They’d moved intent on kidnapping the human and seeing whether the maiden was under human control willingly or not. Throag would have helped free her from the humans.

But things had become complicated.

She had found a Sabertooth worthy of joining the clans, someone who would be a great asset. With just one look she’d learned how to use the field of shadows, and best of all, the Sabertooth was one who’d clearly not been contaminated by human lies. Yet was willingly partnered to an individual human. One the human kingdom was very interested in, apparently.

Now there was a knight captain before her, the human and the fledgling Sabertooth having run away with their tails between their legs.

Throag’s first instinct was to fight.

A knight captain was a mighty challenge, she wasn’t sure she’d win. Not that it would have stopped her, normally. Were things different, she would consider it a worthy thing to do, it would surely be a serious blow to the human kingdom. And if she won, she’d be able to take the fledgling Sabertooth and her human to the tribes.

But things were not so.

She’d heard the Succubus’ words. The Vampire was dead. Considering the damn blood-sucker was nowhere to be found, she believed it.

That changed things, it meant Throag had no communication with the ones helping their mission, and she still had a mission to carry out. She had to carry the human that had been cursed, take the new maiden to the clans and the Vampires. The information would be crucial. Throag was proud, but the clans’ success came first. Too much was at risk.

Having the promising Sabertooth and her human slip her grasp was… regrettable, however. She allowed them to leave, focusing on the only remaining maiden instead. The knight captain had been looking in the direction the human was for several long moments, then, she nodded.

The green-haired maiden turned to face Throag. The two blades she wielded glowed with her power, a soft white glow. “I am Deneva, Captain of the royal knights under service of the Earl of Vitchatt. And you will die here.”

Throag wrapped her claws in shadows. “You will fail.”

Deneva scowled. “What is your name?”

She didn’t bother to answer, she’d heard of weird magics that took someone’s names and placed great curses upon the victims. This could be a trick or a trap, and she wasn’t going to bother taking that risk.

Instead she spread the tendrils of darkness, to slow down the maiden.

“Very well.”

Deneva leapt at her, slashing at the air and missing her target.

Or not.

Throag felt aura impacting against her like crashing waves. She was forced to pull back on her darkness and condense it on the front of her body tightly. The knight captain was throwing some kind of invisible technique, and only Throag’s instincts were able to pick up on the faintest trace of the incoming attack.

Aura as a weapon, not sharp enough to cut, but concussive.

With a growl, Throag summoned a sliver of her power behind the knight, a spine of darkness thrust up against the maiden’s exposed back…

… and crumbled as it touched the enchanted armor, barely registering to the maiden as she continued slashing at the air.

Throag cursed, no point in remaining close enough to get smacked around by the aura. She leapt away, using the trees and their shadows to weave her way between the word of light and the world of darkness. She put distance between herself and the armored maiden, even as she did not bother to stop her rain of attacks.

Any tree that stood in the way of her abilities were crushed and toppled. Suddenly the number of usable shadows were being reduced. Clearly the terrain being forced to change to ensure Throag would keep moving away from the human.

The attacks were missing her purposely.

The knight thought Throag would fight seriously and attempt to get to the human.

Good.

It bought her time, time to put more distance.

This time she didn’t bother with shadows, the armor would stop her attacks. The knight was fast, but Throag was faster. She was not burdened by armor, and she was of the Sharp Fang clan, when she needed to run, none would catch her.

It was a shame she could not fight and enjoy it.

The captain threw attacks at her as she ran. Each sharper than the last, but it was clear the threat she posed was not from a distance but from up close. That, and Throag was aware the captain would not give serious chase.

She had her orders.

Maybe she would have attempted to follow more seriously and fight if she weren’t a willing slave to the humans.

As it stood, Throag managed to escape, though with some cuts.

She kept her pace, not bothering to slow down, running across the meadows and hills and hurrying southwards. She would turn east once far enough from Bastet and where the forests began. If the Sky Blues were roaming overhead, then it would be the only way to avoid being spotted from afar.

She needed to take care to get back to the clans without detection and capture.

It would take her several days before she realized there was one crucial item missing from her bag.

---

Hundreds of kilometers away, within the safety of the city of Balet, Dia looked at the half-destroyed remains of the house they’d been living in. Her owner was a guest to the Earl once more, and Monica had opted to stick to Rick’s side yet again.

So it had been left to her to pick up everything of value they had to bring back to the fortress.

The maiden hefted Rick’s travel bag and found it to be heavier than she remembered. Perhaps it was only her tiredness of a very long day. The day had been long, and it would take a while for things to be cleared out.

She just hoped things would become peaceful again.

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Rav PSA: Chapters 232-234 (to be posted for Gold Tier next week) will be the ending of Volume 3.

Volume 4 might see a minor delay before getting started, but overall it will see some changes in style for the story (not the characters or anything like that), such as trying to put the narrative focus more firmly on Rick's plot and keeping the stories that aren't directly affecting it as bonus content on the side.

PS: Tomorrow "The Flesh is (Not) Weak" post!

Also public posts are going to be in a bit place until I finish catching my breath and putting my ducks in a row. Need to reboot and re-schedule the whole thing, might take another week or so to get it all started.