Cyclone and his hunting party finished destroying the trading post. Leaving nothing but rubble and corpses. Ferals feasted on the remains of Eteni and smuggled Stram.
The air felt heavy with the winter tension Yarno had all year round. Making his daughter feel what every Feral feels after being neglected and receiving an opportunity to prove they aren't just savages.
"Anyone here saw the shipment of Ferals all those years ago?" Cyclone pressed the survivors. "The one heading straight towards the floating island in the very heart of Yarno?"
A heavily shaken up Yomie raised her hand, she kept her head down. Not wanting to make eye contact with Cyclone out of fear of what he could do to her.
"That's good, really good. Now, did you hear what they were saying? Them begging to be released peacefully and even to stay isolated from the Trilogy?"
"N - no, sir. I was..." she paused for a moment, trying to find her words. "With my... Yonie. We were going t - to town hoping to purchase some fruits."
Cyclone glanced at his daughter, then back at the Yomie. "You, get up."
She did as she was told. Eyes were on her heavily battered body and torn apart clothes. The winter air lingered on her exposed skin, making it difficult for her to stop shaking.
Ferals turned to look at her, eager to watch the spectacle whenever it began. They stopped eating, even looting. It felt like a bloodbath was about to take place.
"Turn to your fellow survivors and pick six out for me," Cyclone ordered. "And if she calls you," he looked at the rest. "You will get up, step aside from the group. And prepare to earn your freedom."
The Yomie feebly turned, then studied each survivor for the strongest of the bunch. She picked four Thawed, a Feral, and a Zegus. And as Cyclone demanded, they stepped aside.
By now, Ferals cackled and chanted something in Kenekour. It felt like they were puppets in a show, where the puppeteers happened to be ruthless and vicious.
"Good," Cyclone stepped behind his daughter. "This is Hurricane, great cub of mine. Ever since I left, she had grown introverted and developed a habit of violence."
Hurricane glared at each Thawed, waiting to kill them the most. She remembered seeing her father trying to break free from the grip of two Thawed, only for them to strike him twice and but him in a headlock until he passed out.
"I feel she needs discipline, a lot of it. As her Neddy, I need to look for ways to break through to her. And what better way than showing how strong survivors are?" Cyclone continued.
"Knock out my daughter, even kill her, and that'll grant the freedom for the rest if you... or you can die before you blink," Cyclone finalized the deal.
Ferals fell quiet as Cyclone stepped back, leaving his daughter in the middle of the conflict with the Variants. Hurricane lowered herself, ready to prove she had developed a bad habit.
"Ready? Go!"
The four Thawed took positions to her sides, the Feral cautiously approached from the front, and the Zegus aimed to be a back up. Only for them all to drop dead on the spot.
Craters housed the bodies of each defeated Variant, making it seem like they fell hard enough to open such holes. Except they didn't cause this, Hurricane did.
After the fight, Hurricane remained with her hands by her hips. Glaring at the Yomie, almost demanding that she picks six more Variants. But there were only two more, minus the Yomie herself.
"Nobody touched Hurricane..?" Cyclone taunted. "You're a messed up girl, Hurricane. Very, very bad. You should've let them see how fast you were going before you killed them."
He stepped over the crushed grass, which appeared to have been leveled by a distant explosion. Dust decorated his hide pants and fixed stare, concealing his pride.
"Do you want to know what's the scariest thing about this girl?" Cyclone locked eyes with the Yomie. "She isn't a Third Rule Host. This is her at her weakest, and she'll slaughter your Trilogy."
The Yomie's panic grew, reaching a point where she screamed out of fear. But before she could last a split second crying out for help, Hurricane silenced her.
"You're a monster, Hurricane. The baddest there is," Cyclone chuckled. "These two are yours to play with. Unless you'd want to hand them over to your Neddy..?"
Hurricane kicked dug up dirt towards the survivors, disrespecting them. She then backed away with a cold stare in her eyes. They weren't the effort, she thought. Only the armored ones were.
The survivors huddled closer together, crying and mumbling prayers. Except the Nine weren't granting miracles, they never were. The only thing they granted were experiments.
Cyclone sucked air into his lungs, unlocking his jaws and narrowing his gaze. Ferals gathered around, making sure to avoid his front. They prepared to roar alongside him.
In unison, they all unleashed a vigorous roar that shredded the survivors. The howling of a tropical storm, the fury of a goliath, even the untamed anger of a doubted legionary.
Victory was all they could think about. Laying waste to their trading outposts, leaving bodies of both Variants and creatures, even looting what they could. This was all part of their plan.
Olavin-Faa was planned to become a killing ground for Trilogy members. They dared Ubitwa, Conqueror, even Volatile to walk in there. Because the old saying will always be true:
The only thing beating a Feral who fights in their territory is another Feral who fought for just as long in the same territory. Otherwise they would just deploy ambush tactics.
And Cyclone's pack was more than willing to get into an all out war against any Legion within the Trilogy, unknowing attacking even the innocent ones like Volatile and Ubitwa.
Hurricane approached her Neddy, bowing her head in submission. "Were you impressed by how far I've come? Does this prove to you I took out that Glyker that attacked us earlier before anyone even realized it was coming to attack?"
Cyclone chuckled. "Yes, it does. Run back to the chasms and tell your Neddy to ready the messengers."