Holly stood before the giant Menoux, unsure. Her missing chunk of teeth stood stark in her mind.

  Not as stark as Agare's body, now gone into the lake of metal-clad bodies that surrounded them both. Under the Citrine moon, Menoux's never ending grin seemed to grow larger with every second passed, the cruel delight in it no longer obscured. He took a step forward, and instinct drove her back.

  "I must confess, I have heard much og your person this past week, Lady Di Aila," he said, cocking his head from side to side, curious eyes taking her every angle. "I had been tangentially aware of your existence, yet underestimated the impact your emergence would have. Look at you now, shaking this island with your every move!"

  "I-I don't know whash'-"

  "The burning of the Hollows. You were there, with no small part in the calamity." he said, the certainty of his statement leaving her shaken. He rubbed at his beard. "Now, no judgments cast. Dreadful place it was, I'm frankly of the opinion you did us all a favor. What I did consider somewhat less welcome-"

  Fear and agitation drove her into another frenzy. She flew at him, nails stretched and ready to sever flesh.

  Halfway to him, and she saw the trick as it came together. A slight shift of the foot, leaving her facing his side, the sudden jab of his fist camouflaged against his pale skin. Even caught, it was still as fast as a blink of the eye, nicking hairs by the side of her head as she dove for his belly. She reeled her shoulder back, stabbing at soft meat of his stomach-

  She never saw the backhand coming. By the time she realized she had fallen for the deception, she felt the impact against the ground, body bouncing off and rolling away with the momentum. A sharp boot stopped her dead, pushing her back and retreating back to its comrades before she had the time to chomp it right off. Mind catching up to what had transpired, she scrambled to her feet, but found Menoux watching her, not having moved so much as a pace.

  "... Was the arrival of the Senesa," he continued, tone neutral. "I take from your expression that you don't know what I'm talking about, correct? Good to know. Still, I can't imagine such a large scale operation with such unfortunate timing could be any coincidence."

  The Hardskin over her arm had broken open, but the wound was quick to stop bleeding. A blow as strong as one from God, delivered through the body of a man, without a single drop of Will? No, no, she was missing something here. This was no common man, after all. The Haruspect, an Heir, she overheard, a cruel and evil creature enemy to the Remnants and to Marquise!

  "And finally, my dear protegees, the Di Aila family go on the prowl, out of nowhere! Or so I had believed at first. I knew their patriarch sent lackeys to the Hollows on occasion, but to think he held a secret of such magnitude he decided to cast away the anonymity I had so kindly gifted him all those years ago!" Menoux chuckled. "Oh, who am I kidding, of course I approve! Who am I to judge another's ambitions? And such heroic ambitions at that!"

  "W-whash' do you-" She paused, cringing at her own pronunciation. unconsciously, she began to lick at the broken shards. "Whash' do you want?!"

  "What I want? Have I not told you already? To extend you-"

  Finding him distracted, she dashed in. Only too late did she notice his expression shift with her attack. To make up for it, she sent in her Will, her thousand arms raging with her and eager to tear him apart, a restrain while she sunk low towards his ankles.

  What happened next, she wasn't sure. Her Will had reached something, but before they could grab on, she felt as if she had been slapped in the face so hard she blanked out. She couldn't have been out for more than a second, long enough to lose her balance and trip over her own feet, sprawling down before the sidestepping Menoux. She scurried away on her back as fast as she could, pushing herself closer to the cliff while the giant calmly watched.

  "... The grace of Aenexias to you. And my, it's been some time since I've seen a neophyte as eager as you!" He laughed, a full bellied cackle that seemed to shake the very air. "Has my body left you this flustered? You seem so intent on it even I am surprised!"

  She tried to hide her blush. "K-knock it off'! Y-you're my enemy, you shouldn't be talking like 'at! Besh'ides, I don't even know who that ish'!"

  "Who?" Menoux quirked an eyebrow. "The Aenexias? The Grandest, Father of The True Flesh, the Prophet of Steel? Could the myths truly have faded from the common people's tongue? No matter. The Prophet was a kindly man, he wouldn't hold it against you. If that is the case, however, allow me to make our purpose a little clearer.

  "We are the Aenexians, bearers of the teaching of the Lord in Iron, flock to the Prophet and his holy family, blessed with the true way of things in their pilgrimage to the buried city of Morrah! The way of need, the way of blood pumping heart, the way people like you pretend to cast away and then weep to your end as you die miserable and unfulfilled! We came here to preach our humble ways, as you may have seen, but we understand few share our appreciation to the Way, and when our noble work is revealed, conflict will be inevitable.

  "But look here, what we discovered scurrying down our hallways, squeaking up a storm! Mariwa Di Aila, last in the bloodline of such a dear ally, bumbling right towards the fire! Now, my reputation may give you the impression I am an uncouth sort, but even I would balk at the idea of leaving to burn out of neglect!"

  She gulped. "I'm not- We'll leave! Gif' me Agare and-"

  "so you may walk right back into the slaughterhouse. Did you not hear me?" Menoux gave a theatric sigh, shaking his head ruefully. "You don't know your way, we saw you stumble around as if blind!"

  " 'Ats becaush' of the bugs!"

  "Excuses, excuses, Huhuhuh! No, I wouldn't be able to live with myself if something happened due to my neglect! I shall bring you with us, show you a world where they can never touch you, a world where spiritual fulfillment is never farther than finger-reach from creatures such as us!"

  "...Such ash' ush'?" she said.

  How the giant's grin could somehow show more teeth defied belief. He thrust a thumb as his chest. "Us godlings, of course."

  She could feel it rise inside her chest, that old familiar savage anger, the buzz prodding it forward with barely contained glee. "You're nof'ing like me! Nof'ing! I saw whash' you did to those people! you're vile, you're gross, a-a monsh'ter!"

  "Yes, absolutely, Lady Di Aila! Still-"

  The buildup had left her shaking with desire, and the burst was unlike any pleasure she had ever had. Once the floodgates were open, she couldn't help but let it flow. "I'm Holly Sh'enesh'cal! You hear me?! Holly Sh'enesh'cal! I'm tired of sh'aying it! I'm human! Different, weird, but human! Mariwa is a delush'ion!"

  For a second, Menoux did look genuinely stunned, mouth slight agape and eyes wide. Then, that ugly, thundering cackle again. "Human! A human being! And that name! A Child of the Bear, who could ever imagine!"

  Red hot anger made her feel like in a dream. Words poured out of her mouth, and she barely felt them, "You're dish'gusting! Filthy tyrant! How dare you compare ush' when you hurt my comrade like 'at! The Elder would be cringing to death right now!"

  Like in a snap of fingers, a the unbridled joy in Menoux body disappeared. He stared at her, a predator forcibly awoken and measuring its intruding prey. Was this what it felt like to be drunk? The cold shiver down her spine barely lasted a moment until the pulsating warmth of indignation buried it alive.

  "Repeat yourself, please?" he said.

  "You're a tyrant, a filthy-"

  "Comrade," he spat out. "That? Our rotten little friend? A comrade. Hilarious! Did it ever teach you what that word means to their kind? Who they are supposed to use it for? Ah, I had wondered to myself how something like you had ended enmeshed with that lot, but to think I would ever see-"

  "You don't know me!"

  She knew, by then, that fighting face to face against him was pointless, but she could not care less. Shutting him up would be worth any pain. She was burning. Throwing all caution to the wind, all regards for her own wellbeing, her plans, her thoughts, her mind, there was nothing left but her and her desire to make him listen. She flew.

  So when she stopped, legs still kicking in the air, she froze, uncomprehending. Held by both arm, joints locked straight by hands that looked as if they could envelop her torso, she tried biting, tried kicking, scratching his torso with her toes, feeling as if she was cutting hard leather with a dull knife. The animal part of her cowered, suddenly under intense scrutiny.

  "I get it now," he said, almost gently. "What a poor creature you are."

  She quivered with disgust. "You don't-"

  "Oh, how you must delight in being a mystery! But you are not half as uncommon as you think." He threw her aside, softly when compared to his previous counters. "As a matter of fact, you are just the kind of person we've been born to help! A stubborn beast who saw the truth of her own existence with her own eyes and refused to believe, begging to be taught what she truly is!"

  She hit the ground on her rear, and was back up in a flip. "Y-you don't-"

  "Know who you are? As if you were any different." He frowned. "Say, have you ever seen any Dashi, let alone a human being, fight the way you fight, claws and fangs and sheer brutality?"

  She froze, half way to another attack, spell of rage cut short. He looked at her, expectant. Her jaws moved, but nothing but babbling came out. Another few seconds, and the denial would have formed itself, but when his smile returned as if it had never left in the first place, she knew she had failed herself.

  "How fascinating! Guess my eyes didn't rust after all!" He laughed. "Who is the vile one now? A mockery of human shape claiming to be the genuine article, but can't even be bothered to don the skin of one! Oh, if only you knew the kinds of beings you insult with games like that, you would be prostrating yourself to the forest right now!"

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  "G-gamesh'?!" she said

  "Games! The half-baked make belief a child would come up with. Not a lick of effort to it beyond your wild imagination!"

  She would have tried again, another useless charge, yet this time, the moment her legs tensed, he was upon her. The punch that met her in the gut was devoid of Will, but she felt her insides turn to mush, throat forced up over the back of her tongue. Spluttering blood on the ground, dozens of paces away, she felt the painful writhe of her body trying to realign itself back.

  "You overstep yourself. You didn't even realize that you already went past four, did you?" She heard Menoux click his tongue. "Deceived by the world, deceived by those who think nothing of her beyond how well a blade runs pierces her skin, deceived by her own sense of self! How am I supposed to not feel any pity?! Fine, fine! Allow me to compromise then. Up with you!"

  This time, she was none too eager to stand. Still, she didn't want to think of what he could do to her prone body, so up she stood.

  "You wish to ignore my hospitality, to deny your family, your name, your very divine inheritance? Be my guest! Who am I to stop you?" He shook a finger. "Is what I would usually say, but you know what I hate more than anything else? Those who lie to themselves. And let me tell you, I have one sharp nose for liars."

  His foot shifted, bringing his left slightly back and his right slightly forwards. His muscles tensed, but otherwise, his body remained in an almost casual pose, arms kept down and shoulders kept straight. "I will give you a chance to prove yourself. Stand on your two feet, and prove you can fight like a human, that you can take care of yourself without debasing yourself into that beast from before. You have four exchanges."

  "Why four?" She asked, bitter.

  He winked. "Must be a coincidence."

  She wondered if he really thought she was a fool. By now, they both knew she had no chance in a fight, so proving herself? What a joke! She wasn't even sure what he meant to be fighting like a human. Without her nails, without her teeth? If so, then he knew nothing about how people fought when desperate, when seeking nothing but to hurt one another.

  What then? An exercise in humiliation? Why the pretense? She looked around them, to the now hundreds of armored men watching the both. Just to please them?

  A shadow loomed over her. She jumped back, nails unfurling and teeth parted in a hiss. Menoux retreated in an echo of childish giggles, while she now stood five or six paces away from the cliffside, trapped.

  "So? Didn't like my proposal?" he said.

  She took a deep breath. Her heart thrummed in her ears, louder than the wind, than the rustle of the trees, but she had to calm herself. If she failed here...

  Did she even have a chance of success?

  Didn't matter. She had to find a way out, somehow.

  So, fighting like a human. What could that mean?

  She tried to think, a terrifying and very difficult endeavor with both Menoux presence and his effects on her body, but she had to force herself. She had seen other people fight before, had fought herself plenty times before the changes came... but her usual style wouldn't do. The lads from times past didn't fight so much as tried to inflict pain, punches and kicks and rocks all simple method.

  She shook her head. This wasn't the time! What else? She had seen soldiers practice, saw them in their mounts, but she had no weapons herself, no armor but her own skin, wouldn't know how to use them regardless.

  It was then that her memories brought her back to a grassy hillside, what felt like months ago now. Agare, Rosen, and her, and the strange round dummy. that was the day her supposed family first spoke to her, but she focused on her comrades, on her and Rosen punching their frustrations away, on the way his body had bent, on the way his limbs moved. She had seen him practice his moves before and after, never again in that slow, deliberate way, but she had watched, and she had followed.

  She lowered herself, knees half bent, arms brought closer to her torso, palms open and facing one another, jaws shut tight, if only to avoid the temptation.

  Menoux smile had turned loopsided. He scanned her from head to toes, then scoffed. "A Yine style. That's what you are going with? Very well then, come, show me your humanity!"

  Without waiting another second, she charged in.

  Memory and experience filled the gaps in knowledge. Rosen's motions brought her to Menoux right flank, and her time in Lesser Hollow told her where a hit could really hurt. Elder Seneschal's words, words so old she had almost erased them from her head once she understood with her body.

  "See here?" he had said, bent aside as he tapped right beneath his ribs. At the time, it had been hard to tell the exact spot with his robes. "Those morons go right for the stomach, the face, idiot meatheads always like to be direct! But here? Here is where hurt truly lies!"

  She took advantage of their height difference, coming in low and fainting for the stomach. How long since she had done that?! The true hit, however, would be the haymaker right to his liver, standing slight above eye level and at perfect height for her arms. Menoux's left foot dragged backwards, bringing his belly back and leaving tantamount to an invitation open for her to exploit.

  When his arm moved, it was slow, deliberate, to the point she felt like she should have been able to avoid it, to go low at her target or high at his forearm, salvaging the momentum into some kind of damage. But the way it bent, followed the trajectory of her own hand as if he had predicted it... her instincts screamed of danger, and she swerved away. Her nails nicked his rotund belly, a shallow scratch to the skin, and she retreated, frightened.

  She had made sure her blow was infused with her Will, full of fury ill-intent. As if to mock what little she understood of this new reality she had been pushed in, the wound did not even bleed, and began to slowly close.

  "That's one," he said, unamused. "Not even going to try?"

  Gritting her teeth, she threw herself into fray again.

  Her palm came at his stomach, honest and fast, and she would split him open if she had her way. A step, a slap to the back of her hand, and she was out of aim. She launched a sequence of scratches , palm strikes, a punch or another when reflex won over conscious thought, and flawlessly, Menoux dodged her, until she kicked.

  His eyes widened for an instant, but he showed no further reaction. She grunted in frustation. The deception should have been perfect! Distracted by her hands, he shouldn't have seen her strike to his shin. At the very last moment, his leg turned, catching her tibia to tibia. She had come the loser of the exchange too, her Hardskin cracking while his skin didn't so much as bruise.

  "Said the Lord in Iron, 'thee knows not the secrets, foolish Aenexias, yet thee knows thine own eyes.' what I perceive is my truth, and all I yet see is an animal." Menoux said. "Your tricks are rustic, I could stop them in my dreams."

  The grab came by surprise, his fingers caressing her arm before she escaped. She retaliated with a slash to the back of his hand, again to no reaction, but bleeding him a little a couple drops more. "Whash' is the poinsh' of thish'?" she asked. "Whash' do you want from me?!"

  "That's two. The point is to prove me wrong, isn't it?" The corner of his lips tugged into a brief glimpse of a smile, gone the next second.

  "I'm nosh' stupid!" she said. "I-"

  Again, he was on top of her the very next moment, enormous bulk moving like a bird diving through the air. Caught unaware, she swiped for his face, only for him to pivot on his hips, her nails passing by his hair, cutting a few strands. She looked down, shocked, and he met her eyes, expectant. Held on an arm, as low as a roach, she struggled to fit the image with the action, paralyzed.

  "Nothing? I'm going to count this as-"

  She kicked at his face, sole hitting his right shoulder instead. She fell on his back with both arms, all pretense thrown down the river so she could defeat him, only to be met with the back of his skull against her chin. She tasted the impact on her tongue, reeling back, too distracted by the pain and the surprise to avoid the weak shove to her chest that finally tumbled her down.

  "Three. You really don't know what the stance stands for, do you?"

  "A-at's not-"

  "Fair?" He brushed his shoulder, and as if by magic, the slight bruise she had made began to fade. "What? Giving you a golden opportunity any practitioner of the Wounded Lion would beg for? Wait, was that the name? I'm tend to be so uncorcerned by the boring styles of the Bear, I can't even recall..."

  From the ground, she pounced for his legs, tired of his games. She had tried to avoid thinking, looking at them, but this time, she aimed deliberately for his parts. An odd part of her delighted in the savagery, in the taboo, in that restrained thing she allowed free and roaring.

  Sadly, it couldn't bring her through. At the very last moment, seeing the dangle of his movements, feeling her blood heat up, she descended instead, narrowly evading the hand that tried to slap her away. Her teeth clamped over the top of his foot, and this time his leathery skin was helpless to prevent her. His flesh, chewy and fibrous, had an oddly familiar taste of acrid, rotting meat, but she didn't release him.

  A blow to the back of her ribs took a gasp out of her lungs, and forced her mouth open. As flimsy as it was, compared to that previous punch, the Will infused into it was unmistakable, a spear that pierced her all the way to her innermost being, cramping her muscles and bringing her down for the count.

  "Four. I liked that last one though!" He chuckled. He crouched over her downed body, pleased grin obscured under his shadow "Too bad you were too much of a coward to go for my testes. Now that would have fit you with us like a glove! Well, can't always have your way, I suppose. Let me explain your mistake to you.

  "The Yine have a saying that goes something like, 'a good Yine is sooner seen naked then unarmed'. Not always feasible, but they do take it seriously. Fisticuffs is considered a barbaric art in most of the 'civilized' provinces of the Bear, but the military had to come with a stopgap, even if a brief one.

  "Enters the Wounded Lion. Brutal, direct, and delightfully savage! It does have some strikes, yes, but it's focus is on either disarming the opponent so you can take their weapon or subduing them so if you failed to kill your fellow soldiers can deliver the blows of grace themselves. Someone taught the very basics, but never the purpose."

  "Y-you farce!" she said, and made one last attempt at him, hands grabbing for his thigh as fast as she could. The offending wrist was smashed against the ground, held down by fingers of steel as she screamed.

  "And your strikes... they are sad. It's like you were not even taking me serious! You windup like some gadget, I can see what you are doing before you can even think it! How pathetic is that? A half-baked mixup from a half-baked person. Is that all 'humanity' was worth to you?"

  "A-as iff' you didn't know... at' I couldn't beat you!" she cried. "W-why does 'is happen everytime?!"

  "I don't know anything about what everytime here means, but the why looks very obvious to me!" Menoux said with a giggle. "Don't worry your pretty little head about it, you will have plenty chances to understand."

  She shivered, reminded of the stakes. He would take her away, and then what? What would he do to her, to Agare, to the others? Had they escaped, had they been caught? She couldn't remember it at all! No, she couldn't let him, never!

  Panic gave her the second wind she needed, twisting her arm under his weight, she managed to bend her elbow, bring herself forward, teeth baring and closing over his wrist-

  She didn't realize at first, the extend of how easily Menoux could read her. She didn't realize what he had done, so fast it happened, until she falling from his grip.

  She was lost, confused, laying on her back. The sound of crunching only registered seconds later, some unexplainable anomaly, like the strange protrusion emerging from Menoux's mouth, a pallid and articulated tongue, its tip rearing and flopping around like some mad spider, dripping red down his white chin and cheek.

  "Aaaah... Aaaah-!"

  It was her mind slowly catching on. It was the sensation of loss, the limb that should be there disobeying her commands. It were the waves of pain pulsating up her shoulder, the wrecking sensation of that day when she was still a child, unchanged, but magnified thrice fold.

  Her ears rang as she clutched her stump, silencing the night and taking all the battle out of her. She saw his lips move from the corner of her eyes, spitting his mouth clean before speaking, and didn't register a word. Just the pain, the spraying blood, the need to get away, and damn anything else.

  She tried to crawl away, and the looming mountain rose, blotting the stars, following her. Fear and outrage forced her to expand, her thousand arms once restrained as proof of her humanity striking like snakes to rip him apart, keep him back, anything to let her escape.

  She stopped crawling, numb. This time, he allowed her to touch, and with touch she perceived him.

  Menoux the Burnt was a fortress.

  No, the physical analogies she relied on failed her. Solid? Real? he was smooth, impenetrable, a perfect sculpture of himself coiled in a shape curving with details, far beyond anything she had ever seen, far beyond anything she had ever imagined, not an edge or corner for her fingers to sink in and dig.

  Another word, then. Complete.

  Her legs left the ground. Two sharp blows took her, one driving the air out of her lungs and the other making her fly. She hit a hall, soft and breakable, sinking into deep cracks, just enough light to notice the absence as something barreled in her direction.

  Her lips moved. Who she called, she didn't hear. All she felt was the world crashing down on her, before everything went dark.

  There was a tension in the air, one not even the spectacle could lift.

  They cheered, they laughed, taunted the battered neophyte, but it was all restrained, demure when compared to the energy that crowd tended to have. The joys of the festivity, the high of that unimaginably large offering of yesterday, had already worn out by dawn and left only the lingering uncertainty. War was coming and nobody was sure how they would win.

  He was calm. Watching the back of the only master he would ever give himself to, he approached idly, posture stiff as to be unreadable, and waited behind him. The cliff, cracked by his finisher, gave away and released a boulder his own size onto them.

  He didn't move. The fist of the greatest ascended like lightning, turning the fearsome object mere chunks.

  "There is still one last thing for me to do, then," the Greatest whispered, the sound almost lost to the conversations breaking around them. He sighed. "Of all times..."

  "It was your own choice," he couldn't resist but say.

  When the Greatest turned, giving the same winning smile that had ran their band for decades now, he felt elated, hopeful, miserable.

  "Let us return! That no power in this earthly paradise may spoil our victory!" He boomed, and the howl it drew could rival the largest armies in their Starlit World. "May his name be forever etched in blood!"

  There would be no time left for pondering. Menoux the Burnt, the Haruspect, the Greatest, he left and the thousands marched in his stead, him together, until the very end, until their paths inevitably parted. May his own name be forever etched in blood.