Decka planted his shield in the snow, the air howled around him. He was sentinel, a loyal one. Since his partner's death, he had never killed anyone himself.
Each life claimed was from his Third Rule. He lied to himself, mumbling it was because he tried to protect himself and those around him.
There was an eerie presence as he stood guard in the snow. Not a muscle moved, he was frozen over completely. But unlike a Thawed, he was capable of freeing himself at any point.
Over the face of his remade shield were the three L's he adored. Loyalty, Love, and Learned. This was him throughout the years, ending with a lesson that he learned by force.
Figures stepped by his side, each one planting their feet on the snow as the blizzard came down over them. These were Volatile warriors, who were bribed by his sinister tongue.
"Shadows loom up ahead," a warrior whispered to Decka.
"Glory to the Nine, they are here. Ayaxiu," he turned to face a warrior to his left. "Run inside and prepare more food. These Variants have been restless, I can tell."
As requested, Ayaxiu unlocked her body. Like a machine, she walked inside the blooming home. Fires burned bright, warming her skin back to the normal temperatures of a Zegi.
Cyclone growled as he approached the stationed forces. Raw aggression was pure in his eyes, the distasteful greens and battered greys on the warriors' armors told him everything.
"Welcome," Decka opened his arms. "This station should have what we need until the storm is over. Should you feel like staying, that is." He stepped aside, allowing more of the light to flow through. "Do not bathe in the winter, walk inside."
Ferals were the first in. Their bodies were numb, iced over the by unyielding cold. Instead of chirping in satisfaction, they sat in silence close to each other. Passing their body warmth to their neighbors.
Some lamented going on the journey, mourning the loss of friends and allies alike. What broke them the most was the only Neddy in the pack sharing her story.
During the walk, she had to make the chilling decision to execute her cub - the only cub this branch of the Connisko had. It shattered their hearts, she was not to blame. In fact, she did the cub a favor.
Zegi were the last inside, some kept close to the windows in case more of them appeared. Cyclone's first decision was to assess his Ferals.
Bright oranges danced over the entire pack, casting half to shadows, as they sat in the far corner of the large room. Many were unhappy, rattled by the experience.
"Please, ask them to wait out the storm!" some begged. "Do not let us go back - we suffered enough. That winter is merciless, we will not survive."
Demon listened intently. He was careless on how they felt, disregarding the lives of those he swore to have saved. Yet he couldn't reveal this.
Cyclone approached, keeping his body leaned forward. Bruises and marks from the treacherous journey scarred his body. There was a cold type of anger in his eyes.
"My pack requests we wait out the storm," his voice was just as cold.
"Then we will," Demon crossed his arms. Black dust evaporated off his body as it shifted. "But we will run the gauntlet, I bet."
A bitter taste washed over Cyclone's tongue, he did not want to see those Volatile warriors there. If it wasn't for the dire situation, he would have had his pack take turns in beating them mercilessly.
Gnawing away at their fingers one at a time, then cutting surgical-like cuts across their bodies, and taking small chunks of flesh off their skin. Chewing it with great pride as they triumphed over their captors.
"Your friend," Cyclone growled. "Does he associate with the Trilogy?"
"He has never met them before," Demon replied. "As much as you wish to gore them, you need to contain yourself."
"I guess so," a sense of silenced anger replaced his former tune. "I guess so."
Another elite walked over, Hedix, he seemed unbothered by any of the events that had transpired. The fires from the distant forges burned bright over his body, bringing out the true color in his fake leg.
"Fourteen Zegi lost, two Thawed. How are the Ferals?" he asked Cyclone.
"Twenty dead," sorrow filled his mind. "Twenty beautiful Ferals with wide smiles. Oh, what joy they brought me. We will wait until the storm is over."
"That does it," Hedix shifted his attention down to Demon. "Fourteen Zegi, two Thawed, twenty Ferals."
Demon nodded, pretending to care. He connected to his pocket universe, distancing himself from the others. His servants were kneeling, keeping their heads bowed, waiting for his arrival.
[My dearest maid, make the Conqueror Legion and Volatile Legion know exactly where we'll be heading. As for my butler, set the next stage into play.]
Both servants sprung into action without hesitation. This was the backup plan. While the maiden did that, the butler would pay Niro and Neva a visit.
When Demon came back to his senses, he realized food was being passed around. Ferals munched on cooked meat, something they requested, warming themselves inside.
Zegi and Thawed chose something different. It was a simple but filling meal. Soup. Pieces of Egby, native livestock, meat was what helped add the weight to their bowls.
"Don't you eat?" Decka approached Demon with a bowl. "Fill your stomach, sir. It will give us the strength needed to this continue path."
In response, Demon shook his head. "I do not need to eat, my body produces what I need to sustain myself. Thank you, though, Decka. Perhaps instead, you may teach me more about your new ways?"
"Are you interested?"
"Of course, otherwise I wouldn't be asking," Demon replied in a tune that tried to mimic excitement.
Just as expected, Decka went on rambling about what he had learned through the years. How he no longer sees a point in killing if he could just defend. Yet some points stuck out to Demon.
He was a sentinel, forever loyal to one leader, and falls before everyone else. If Krugi was to be attacked again, he would be the first elite to push back the attacks. Even if it meant his life.