A/N: Monster: a person of unnatural or extreme ugliness, deformity, wickedness, or cruelty.

Notes on my LJ account.

Enjoy!

Chapter 6

Just as many before them had experienced, just as Volug had said, and just as Wolf Queen had dreaded; out of thin air, the Butcher of Beasts appeared before them.

In her lifetime, Queen Nailah had seen many beings in her country. She had obviously seen the wolves of her clan, she had met with beorc who lived under her rule, and she had observed the steadily growing community of those with both beorc and laguz blood cursing through their veins. But the man that stood before them looked like a beorc, yet he was something else. He had the body of a beorc, he carried the weapons of the beorc, he lacked any laguz trait, but something about him felt as ferocious as a beast. Nailah understood what the Butcher was. He wasn't a man or a beast, he was a monster.

The monster was encased in dark plates and he hid the lower section of his face behind a black and white striped cloth. The Butcher had four weapons, three of which she had recognized the moment she laid her eye on them, but the fourth weapon was foreign to the Wolf Queen. She could distinguish the sword on his hip, the knives on his belt, and the red tome he held with on his right hand, she merely couldn't pick out the object he pointed at them with the other hand. It looked like a bow that was attached to a metal stock. Nailah didn't care what that western contraption was, but she grew alarmed when she saw that it was loaded – she instantly feared for Rafiel's safety.

Nevertheless, the truly worst part was the awful stench he gave off. Perhaps a beorc couldn't detect the smell with their weaker senses, but unfortunately for Nailah and Volug, they had to endure the subtle reek of death.

There was something about that creature that simply made Nailah incapable of recognizing him as a normal being. The monster was simply… unnatural.

He didn't do anything since appearing before them. He simply kept staring at the transformed wolf laguz with a fierce determination, and completely ignored Rafiel. The Wolf Queen wondered why he hadn't attacked in that short moment in which she and Volug had been caught off-guard by his sudden apparition, or why he simply blocked their path if he didn't have violent intentions? And against her better judgment, Nailah decided to try to reason with the ebon-clad monster, even though she knew that the possibility of she regretting such a decision would be high.

Nailah motioned Rafiel to get of her back, which he hesitantly did. Once Rafiel had gotten close to Volug, she untransformed before the monster, in order to better communicate with him. Nailah ignored the protesting howls of her servant, and they stopped when Rafiel whispered something to him. She figured Rafiel must've used some of his heron ability to ease Volug's justified worries.

She was defenseless against him in her untransformed state, but it was at least much easier to breath in his presence when she was not in her wolf form.

The monster spoke before she had a chance to utter a single sound. "Got tired already? That's a real shame. I've seen pups last longer than that," it said mockingly.

Clever ruse, Nailah thought. Despite the monster's words and tone, Nailah knew that his taunt held no substance when he didn't lower his guard or even lower his weapon.

"What do you want?" she asked in the ancient language. She did not want to use his western language, and she figured that the monster must know how to speak the old tongue if he was carrying a tome.

The Butcher laughed amusedly. "I want you to answer me this question: what are you?"

"Does it matter?"

"It truly does! I need to know what you are so that I can label you properly!" He shouted the moment he positioned himself to shoot Nailah. But before it pulled the trigger, Nailah grabbed one of the monster's arms and twisted it with both her hands. Her sudden motion made him miss his shot – the bolt landed somewhere near Rafiel.

It was apparent that the monster didn't expect her to be as strong as she was, especially in her untransformed self. She yanked the monster's weapon away from his grasp, and threw it away with all her strength. Still taking advantage out of her enemy's shocked state; Nailah kicked the monster's ribs – in a small section of his torso that wasn't armoured. The force of Nailah's kick made the Butcher lose his balance, and he fell forward when he tried to retaliate.

Not wasting a single moment, Nailah threw herself at the fallen monster, and pinned him against the sand. "I've seen toddlers take a better beating than you have," she said before transforming back into her beast form.

Just before Nailah could put his miserable life to an end, she heard him mutter a lot of incoherent phrases in the ancient language. The combination of the cloth around his face and the rapid way he said things made it impossible for the Wolf Queen – even with her keen hearing- to understand what he was saying, but she understood the last word, in fact, everyone understood the last word...

The Butcher shouted, "Arcfire!"

He still has the tome!

Nailah leapt out of the way before the spheres of fire the Butcher had casted could reach her. Even though she avoided being hit directly by the fire spell, the tips of her white fur had been scorched by the spell's intense power. She watched as the spell hit the spot where she had been – and where the Butcher still laid. The orange flames glowed violently and the temperature around them rose drastically. Her first reaction was to ensure that Rafiel and Volug were safe, and was proud of Volug when she saw that he had taken the Prince of Serenes to a safe distance.

When the spell faded away, she saw that the grains of sand had turned into thousands of droplets of some transparent material. No trace of the Butcher could be found. There were no remains, no ashes, no melted steel, and no relief for the Wolf Queen, because that monster did not die in what she thought to be a desperate attempt on both their lives. She knew that he must've used whatever warping mechanism he had in order to escape his own attack.

In less than thirty seconds, Nailah had picked up her enemy's scent. He did not come for her, he ignored the defenseless Prince of Serenes, but Volug had not been as fortunate as Nailah and Rafiel. It had happened in a blink of an eye: the butcher had warped in front of Volug and Rafiel – somehow, with the ranged weapon Nailah threw away – and shot two consecutive bolts, one for each front paw. All the young wolf could do was howl in pain. His front limbs gave out on him and he collapsed on the sand.

With all her mighty speed, the Wolf Queen of Hatari charged towards the Butcher. Her blood boiled with anger, her senses were heightened with the adrenaline of battle, and her fangs ached for his flesh. Her actions had not gone unnoticed, for the Butcher reacted to Nailah's sprint by opening his red tome. In no time, the monster launched large spheres of fire. She dodged the first one by ducking, she avoided second one by jumping to the side, and the monster missed his third shot because he couldn't predict that the Wolf Queen's next move…

When Nailah was five feet away from him, she leapt at him, knowing that she would reach him – and that he wouldn't expect her to do that. Her weight forced him to fall backwards. Her goal was to bite him on the neck and get rid of him as quickly as possible, but he offered his right arm and she seized his forearm instead of his neck, preventing an instant victory. Nonetheless, Nailah bit off a big chunk of flesh and armour from his arm, and he dropped the tome he was holding.

She spit in disgust the contents in of her mouth. The monster kicked her off of him in desperation, and he scrambled to stand up.

"Come 'ere, little doggie!" he taunted with a wheeze. He raised the weapon he used on Volug with just his left arm – it appeared that he couldn't move the other one.

She didn't care that he pointed that thing at her. She knew she would survive being hit by its projectiles, so she readied herself to strike him once again.

"No! My Queen, they're poisonous!" Rafiel warned, but it was too late, Nailah jumped when the Butcher pulled the trigger…

Thankfully for Nailah, he misfired, and she landed well and unscathed.

Without anyone noticing, Volug had been able to push himself just enough to reach the monster, and he dug his fangs right into the back of the Butcher's ankle. He fell on his knees. The blood loss his body was experiencing seemed to be exhausting him rapidly.

For a moment, she stared at his bottomless dark eyes, and she saw something she didn't understand… something that could not be found in nature or her country. There was no way she could describe what she saw, but she knew that it had a word, and it was one of those words with an artificial meaning that the beorc had created, in order to name things only themselves had introduced – and infected – upon the world… or so Rafiel had once told her.

In one swift motion, the monster raised his weapon and pointed it at Rafiel – who was behind Nailah.

He pulled the trigger…

In less than a second split second, Nailah's world crashed. She became consumed with worry for the Prince of Serenes. And in that split second, all her cherished memories with him flooded her mind, and her vows to him had plagued her soul. In that split second, Nailah had dropped her guard for the first time in decades, and she disregarded everything in the world except the wellbeing of Rafiel. Instead of attacking the Butcher, she shielded Rafiel.

But the only thing that came out the monster's weapon was a click sound.

"Ha!" was the last thing he said before warping out of there…

With Volug.

XXXX

"Move it, move it, move it!" a former lieutenant of the Daein Imperial Guard yelled at the rest of the soldiers. In an orderly and efficient fashion, the soldiers that came with me ran through the halls, stopped at the armoury to pick up a single weapon or replace their broken one, and exited the ruins once they were well-armed.

I could tell that they were all very excited, and not only that, I related to what they were feeling. There were few greater sensations in this world than fighting for a worthy cause. It felt like no one seemed to question how they were able to find us – or even know about our existence. But to be perfectly honest, some of the pure patriotism was dirtied-up by the evident desire for violence in the soldiers. I always thought it was unbecoming of a soldier to wish to fight for the sake of violence, especially when a soldier can fight for virtuous reasons such as honour and freedom.

"General Tauroneo!" Jill called out as she ran up to me. "Sir, who is going to guard the entrance?"

"I am," I answered, even though I knew that she was aware of that answer.

"But you've sent orders to have me and everyone else engage the bulk of the enemy army!" The situation was an ugly one. A large army had come to our doorstep, and the ever vigilant scout known as Soldat hadn't warned us about their approach, but according to Jill, only mages and a few light-armoured soldiers were near our location, while the vast majority of the army were behind the rest of them.

"Someone needs to lead the men against the larger portion of them."

"General Tauroneo, I'm flattered, but you'll be all alone! Have Soldat lead our forces." She swallowed hard. "He has more leadership experience than me."

"No one can find him." It shamed me to admit it, but Soldat had been my first choice for the job I gave Jill.

"But what if..."

"Jill, we need to take advantage of the enemy's gap before their full force hits us! I can't cut your forces, and I'll be fine on my own." I looked at her with determination. "We can't afford to waste a single second! Please follow your orders without question."

She looked taken aback by what I said, yet she recovered fast and left without saying another word. I knew that it looked foolish to order all the soldiers to go around the group that were near us and head straight for the majority of the enemy forces. I was aware that it looked even more foolish to have only myself take on the men that were closer to us. Nonetheless, I was fully convinced that this was the right choice.

Someone had to stay and protect Prince Pelleas, and since I've always performed poorly in the desert battlefields, I was the obvious choice to stay and be the protector. Besides, according to the Jill's quick headcount, I would be facing fifteen to perhaps twenty men. In my youth, I wouldn't even break a sweat when faced against those odds! I wasn't so old to be shaking in my boots, after all, I used to be a rider of Daein! But sadly, I had to be aware of my limitations, for age had taken its toll on me. Even though I understood that aging was a part of life, I felt cursed by it for getting older and weaker just when my country needed me the most.

By the time I had made it to the armoury, everyone had already left the ruins. And the loud clanking had reduced to faint echoes when I stood at the ruins' entrance. I looked at the seemingly endless sea of sand and at the tattered plateau in front of me, and I thought that this place would be a horrible place to die. Not that I had plans to die, but I picked up the habit of determining if the battlefield before me was a worthy one for I, a general of Daein, to fall in combat. Needless to say, I deemed the barren wasteland before me to be unworthy of being the place where I would meet my demise.

The faint sandstorm that was starting up brought about some discomfort, but I was relieved for the lack of sound – meaning Jill and the rest had been able to slip successfully past the mages. But all sense of relief escaped me when a few blotches of red entered my field of vision. I gripped my lance, and I quickly prayed for the most important things in my life: my sons, my beloved ex-wife, and for my country.

My prayer had been interrupted by a ball of fire that came straight at me. Out of pure reflex, I raised my shield and blocked it. My shield glowed momentarily, and my hand would've been burned by the hot metal if I hadn't worn gloves.

I'm guessing diplomacy is out of the question, I ironically thought, for I had also reacted hostilely when informed of Begnion's approach.

I spotted the mage who casted the spell, he was about thirteen feet to my left. With him stood a simple footsoldier and an archer, and I started to clearly see more small groups of them approaching the ruins from every direction. It was the typical Begnion tactic that they always employed: overwhelm the enemy from every direction. But apparently, their commander wasn't aware that it only worked with large numbers, therefore, they had weakened themselves from the very beginning.

Even though I was outnumbered, I knew that I could turn the situation in my favour if I worked fast.

The first thing I did was drop my silver lance on the floor, and then I grabbed the javelin on my back. I threw it at the mage, and it impaled him straight on the chest. The archer was pulling his bowstring, and at the same time, the lancer was running towards me. I picked up my lance and ran it through the lancer's torso before he could even swing his own weapon. I yanked my lance upwards and used the dying soldier's body to block the arrow that came my way.

I kicked the soldier out off the tip of my lance, and then I killed the archer before he could even take another arrow from his quiver.

More Begnion soldiers came when I dispatched this first group.

I saw two large men with axes running straight for the entrance as I retrieved my javelin from the mage's corpse. I wondered why they were ignoring me, and then I got my answer when I saw Prince Pelleas standing in their direction. Before my mind could question as to why he was outside, I launched my javelin at one of them, which made him fall. But I knew I couldn't get to the second one before he could reach Prince Pelleas. Though I knew that, I still ran as fast as I could, but I stopped when three dark orbs emerged from the ground and surrounded the man with the axe.

The orbs circled around him before hitting him. The combination of the man's shrilled screams and his... consumed remains had been one of the most hideous things I ever witnessed in my life.

It took me a moment to realize that those three orbs had been a dark spell. It had been around two decades since I saw an elder magic spell in action... I was very surprised to have seen one, but not as surprised as I was when I realized that Prince Pelleas was the caster, especially since the poor boy was as pale as a sheet and shaking nervously.

"Milord, what are you doing here? Please go back inside!" I said as I blocked an arrow with my shield.

Instead of answering, the young prince said something in the ancient language and another three orbs appeared to dispose of the archer.

"I... umm... You see..." he stuttered. "I was looking for you, and Soldat returned – he was a bloody mess. But neither he nor Lord Izuka escorted me to my chambers like they usually did." He gulped. "I thought I could be of some assistance."

I would've told him to leave the fighting to me if I hadn't seen the look of determination behind his scared expression. I was able to finally see the true colours of Prince Pelleas. I knew that he had his heart on the right place, but I had doubts about his character. I didn't know if he would become a corrupted coward, or a tyrant. Those were not the eyes of a coward or a tyrant, those were the eyes of the strong and benevolent ruler Daein needed the most.

Against my better judgement and knightly teachings, I did not resist Prince Pelleas desire to fight alongside me. I wanted to see if I could somehow break Prince Pelleas from Izuka's insidious indoctrination by allowing him to make this one decision for himself. But at the moment, it did not matter if he broke out of Izuka's shackles, what mattered most to me was how great an honour I felt to fight with such as youth.

XXXX

"Are you alright, Nephenee?" Zihark asked me as I rested peacefully on the sand.

Let's just say I remember why I decided to continue on workin' on the fields after the war ended.

"I'm fine," I answered. "A bit exhausted, though."

"Good thing Jill came when she did."

"We'd be goners if she came a second later."

"Who?" Meg added. "The dragon lady? She was amazin' how she ordered everyone 'round her."

"You two weren't any slouches either," Zihark complimented.

"We're from Ohma!" Meg exclaimed. "Us Ohma gals are the sturdiest in all the land... or so my papa says." They both laughed

I cupped a bunch of sand in my hand. I know I'm doing the right thing... Why do I feel like I shouldn't be here?

XXXX

Volug did not expect to wake up in the conditions he was in: untransformed, restrained against a stone slab by metal cuffs, in a dark room with others in a similar state as his, and without even a sliver of his strength. The young warrior of Hatari had never been so terrified in his entire life. In fact, he was surprised to even be alive. He had expected to be dead after getting close to the Butcher for the purpose of preventing him to hit his queen with those poisonous bolts that had penetrated his tough skin.

Despite his lack of strength, Volug still struggled to free himself. All his efforts proved useless, yet he managed to get the attention of the man that had captured him, for the Butcher emerged from the shadows when he heard the noise Volug was making.

The Butcher limped closer to Volug. He had wrapped some dirty cloths around his wounds, and he smelled like medicinal herbs – which was a welcome change from his real stench. In his uninjured hand, the butcher carried a glass filled with a red-coloured liquid.

"My new pet awakens! Wonderful!" Volug was still learning the language of the western beorc, so he didn't quite understand what he said. Not that he needed to understand what that monster said to know that it was something unpleasant.

"Tell me, are there others like you?" he asked with a sense of twisted happiness.

Volug did not answer and looked away.

"That's right, that woman spoke in…" He cleared his throat. "Dog, I asked you if you there are more of your kind?"

Even though he understood him perfectly, Volug still ignored the Butcher's presence.

The Butcher grabbed Volug's head and forced him to make eye contact. "That's something I hate about your vile kind! Your pride gets in the way of what little rationality you have in your inferior minds."

Volug's fear increased, but he did not speak.

"You see that guy over there?" He pointed at a corpse on the floor. "I bashed his skull when he didn't respond to my questions." He gingerly caressed Volug's cheek. "But don't worry, you're special. There are plenty of cats in this world, so killing him wasn't even a loss. However, you're a different story. I need you to help me kill that white wolf and understand your kind's limitations."

"What makes you think I'll help you?" Volug finally spoke.

"This!" He forcibly made Volug ingest the foul-tasting liquid he was carrying… The Butcher left laughing like there was no tomorrow after Volug drank everything.

After one hour, Volug's vision became blurry.

After two hours, Volug's entire being was in pain.

After three hours, Volug was fighting in a losing battle.

In the fourth hour, It took control.

A/N: Lynch him! Kill the Volug killer! But wait, Volug's not actually dead. :D

It simply is in control... Let me just say that's this is something I read on a science fiction novel, and it was a concept I liked very much. You see, you have this character who is doing bad stuff, yet he's not in control of his/her own actions, and the internal stuggle is riveting! I don't know, it always kept me on my toes when I read that book.