The Mightiest Beast
Few people truly enjoy the thrill of battle.
The fight we’re discussing here isn’t one-sided brutality or senseless violence. Violence stirs a creature’s blood, strips away guilt, sharpens focus, and sometimes hands over raw pleasure. But combat and violence are not the same thing, even though they are deeply intertwined.
Combat is an act of uncertain danger. Even herbivorous animals possess teeth and horns and sometimes kill fellow predators. And when two near-identical species clash?
The very idea of fear in battle is one of a creature’s most primal instincts. That fear fuses with the will to survive, twisting into the one-sided slaughter we call “hunting.”
No hunter wants to meet his prey face to face. And certainly no living being enjoys the dance of spears, blades, and arrows.
“Do you want my ear?”
One truth was certain.
Tamugai Uushun was smiling while staring at the orc that aimed its spear straight at her head. She twirled the sling in slow circles, eyes scanning the enemy forces beyond the hill.
Orcs.
A hunting tribe that falsely called itself “blue wolves.”
Elves had become their favorite snack—ears torn from living skulls and strung as trophies.
Uushun’s gaze naturally swept the orc ranks.
*Just little stragglers.*
Only one of them still wore an elf’s ear.
Easy to see. Even without weapons, they were clearly no match.
*An orphan’s ear, then.*
It was tiny. Pathetically small. In an orc village such a thing would not even be worth the spit. And these idiots strutted around boasting about it as if it were something to be proud of.
Whether right or wrong, the sight was simply disgusting.
So she decided every last one of them would die.
Soon the orcs would loose their spears. She knew it the way one knows a storm is coming—pure instinct, impossible to explain with logic.
In a fight she was certain to lose, Uushun readied her first move.
Not yet.
Too soon and she would shake the enemy off balance. She had to wait.
Uushun fixed her eyes on the orcs’ fingers. She studied the breath in their chests and the fire in their eyes.
*Now.*
She whipped the sling low across the ground. Broken stones and dust exploded forward.
The moment the orcs tried to curl their fingers around the spear shafts, a tiny gap opened.
*Tick.*
The orcs felt it.
A mistake when releasing the spear.
Two of them watched their companions with the desperate hope that the slip would prove fatal.
Just like they should have done when the fastest rider drew his bow.
*Thud.*
Uushun’s sling had missed. One orc took the stone full in the eye and his eyelid sagged.
Uushun stepped forward. One orc made the quick decision to turn his back. She hurled another stone. The back of his skull sank inward.
*Grrrr.*
The orc beside him snatched up a thrown spear while still gripping his bow. One hand on the bow, one on the spear.
He hurled the spear. Uushun did not dodge.
She simply caught it out of thin air, spun it, and flung it back.
*Whoosh.*
*Boom.*
A wet sound as the spear punched through a large leather pouch.
“Guaaah!”
The orc’s lungs had been pierced. He tried to scream but only a gasping wheeze came out.
Uushun closed in and cracked her sling across the side of his head.
*Swing.*
The sound was wrong—impossibly dense, like a steel block accelerated by magic.
The orc lost his hearing first, then his sense of smell and balance in a single brutal blow.
*Crunch. Whump.*
How long had it taken the orc to realize his mistake after his eyelid dropped? A minute? Two?
He understood he had picked the wrong opponent.
But now there was no other way.
The orc swung his bow with all his strength.
Uushun did not swing her sling.
If she had, the orc would have died on the spot.
Or even before that—before he understood his own fate.
Instead she waited. She knew the bow would never reach her.
The moment the stiff weapon sank into the dirt, she reached out with her empty hand.
*Crack.*
Her fist like a pot lid slammed into the orc’s brain. He staggered and swung again.
*Snap.*
His jaw shattered. Teeth flew out in a spray of blood.
He tried to swallow a few of his own teeth with the blood still flowing.
*Crack.*
Not a punch. Not even a slap. It was a sledgehammer to the cheek.
The orc’s skull rang like a struck bell. He could not move.
But if he stayed still he would die.
He swung the bow wildly.
“Ah. Good.”
Uushun did not twist her waist, did not plant her feet, did not shift her torso.
She simply flicked her hand twice, casually, like swatting flies.
The orc’s jaw twisted. Blood sprayed.
*Crack. Crack!*
His body had reached its limit.
The smell of death filled the air. The orc turned and fled down the hill.
Uushun already knew Orolbai waited at the bottom.
Even if she left the orc alone, Vesta would not be hurt.
Orolbai was the khan’s shepherd. Only the khan’s shepherd could do that job.
And Orolbai would complain later about her “incompetence” in front of the khan’s consort.
So she had two choices—catch him and spike him to the ground, or swing the sling and reduce his head to paste.
She had plenty of time.
*Oh ho.*
But she lowered her hand.
The moment her foot crushed the rock and an unknown man jumped out, Uushun knew she had lost.
She could not snatch away someone else’s prey.
*
She had spotted the orc sprinting toward the rocks.
The orc was ruined. It did not matter.
The look in its eyes was unchanged.
A look of “I will live at any cost.”
That look was familiar to Vesta.
Vesta reacted like a machine.
He planted his foot on the rock, leaned forward, one hand on the scabbard, the other thumb pushing the guard upward.
He caught the exact moment the orc raised his wrist to chop.
His other hand rested on the hilt. Firm. Years of habit keeping him from being jerked off-balance.
He angled the scabbard sideways. Balance shifted from inside to outside—
He drew the blade and swung.
*Thwack. Thunk.*
Vesta’s sword slid under the orc’s blade, severed the wrist, and kept going.
Almost no resistance. The blade was unnervingly sharp.
*!*
The orc’s momentum carried it spinning through empty air until its sword slammed into Vesta’s shoulder with a dull *thud*.
Vesta’s blade punched into the orc’s side. The edge climbed up the throat.
“Ka… Ag… Ur… Gios…”
The orc’s vicious curse shattered on the blade that now speared him.
The orc’s body tilted.
*Thud.*
*Hoo. Hoo.*
Vesta’s pupils were wide open as he sucked in a single breath and met Uushun’s eyes.
Uushun was smiling with satisfaction.
*
“The other ones came to catch werewolves too.”
Uushun picked up the leather pouch that had fallen with the orc.
It was still twitching. Tiny claws scrabbled inside, trying to tear the leather.
Orolbai untied it.
*Creak.*
Three small, soot-black puppies tumbled out and rolled.
“This one we’ll take back with us.”
“Wow, what’s that?”
Uushun lifted one, impressed.
*Yip.*
It was three, maybe five times larger than the others.
“Isn’t it a bit old?”
“I don’t think so. Look at its mouth. It’s just big.”
“The dog blood is thin. If it had reached an orc it would have been a pain.”
Uushun wrinkled her nose at the thought; the very idea made her look murderous.
“Since we saved them, it’s fine. The khan will be happy.”
“You mean Captain Ahor?”
“Of course. We’re going to raise them until winter. That’s all on the khan. She loves puppies.”
Calling them puppies was generous. They were still going to die.
Orolbai had once said the werewolves would be killed the moment they started showing signs of their wild nature.
“Every year we try to tame them. They always forget.”
He had even tried biting one hard enough to draw blood.
“Did something like that really happen?”
“Yes. The khan loved that particular one the most. The tribe thought she was amazing for taming a werewolf—then the scent of blood drove them insane.”
“What happened to it?”
“The khan tracked it for a full day until she caught and killed it.”
Revenge? Probably not. It had felt more like responsibility.
“Maybe because of that incident, she stopped trying to tame them.”
The puppy licked Uushun’s cheek.
*Hek hek.*
“Oops. You can’t even lick the khan’s face.”
Uushun pushed the puppy away and tucked it back into the pouch.
*
Orolbai stepped away to scout the surroundings.
“Alone like this? Isn’t that risky?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
Uushun was not even worried—she was lounging comfortably beside Vesta.
*Yip yip.*
The poor puppy had become nothing more than a living pillow to her.
While gently poking the puppies’ noses, she played with them. She took little meat pieces from her pouch and gave them back, over and over.
She loved playing with animals. She was tormenting two species at once—puppies and a weak-looking orc.
*Whoosh.*
*Grrrr.*
The little werewolves growled in anger, but Uushun paid them no mind.
“Hm?”
Even while teasing a werewolf with one finger, she suddenly tilted her head with a strange expression.
“Eh… really?”
“Why are you like that?”
“Vesta-nim.”
“Yes?”
“Don’t be surprised.”
“Huh?”
Uushun suddenly pulled Vesta into a tight hug.
“……?!”
Vesta startled and flailed.
*Oof. Ugh.*
He barely managed to get his head free.
Uushun was hugging him. The Uushun.
Vesta stared at her, unable to believe it.
She was… tense.
“W-why is it here…?”
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