Prologue
Apologies for any grammar/spelling issues. Still working on the kinks and everything a writer has to deal with lol.
This will follow the events of Dachande, Machiko, and an OC that will also expand upon the universe of the comics and novels.
Thank you so much for your support! Reviews are greatly appreciated!
Everything was white in her vision, not knowing if she was dead or alive but the pain was there, scraping at her skull, unusual to feel the breeze so close to it. It went by so fast, the shot that fired behind her, aimed to have her dead. But she was alive, that much was certain when she opened her eyes slowly to see her feet. Disoriented as she was, she reached for her temple, touching the warm liquid leaking and tasting the metallic in it. C'jit.
Screams suddenly erupted everywhere, shouts calling her a traitor, over and over again. Chaos ensued, roaring like a siren in her ear, buzzing next to the excruciating pain radiating through the side of her skull. The vision in her undamaged eye barely open, massive blood dripping through her dreadlocks and onto the ground. She checked her hands and serrated blades, soaked in the same liquid that wasn't her own. Fire and smoke dominated the air left behind by a barrage of blasts from the first outbreak of battle, she was lucky that her lungs hadn't collapsed.
Everything around her moved slowly, her gaze turned behind to the irritating sound.
Soldiers— no, oomans, howled in rage, pushing on the makeshift barrier of officers and lieutenants that kept them at bay. If they failed, there was no doubt they would come to kill her. She wouldn't be surprised, she committed the unthinkable in their faces. It was the ooman way, not hers . . . not anymore.
But the one male stood out from the rest, a young one with glasses and weird-looking hair that reminded her of a porcupine. She could smell the musk of aggression around him like an infection of the body. The gun that he used dropped to the ground when two ooman soldiers grabbed his arms to pull him back, restraining him like a trapped animal about to lose its meal. She could hear him cry out in vengeance, seeking for her downfall.
She couldn't blame him . . . after what she'd done by taking the life of his mi'esui that he cherished so much.
Her attention drew her to the body that laid at her feet, tugging at her firmness to stay strong. Two puncture wounds oozed from her chest where her heart once supported life, decorating in the same color as her own and crawling across the dirt and ashes. Her friend . . . the one whom she trusted all these years . . . was dead by her hand. It had to be done. This was the enemy. You had no choice.
Still, she shuddered out of nowhere, her arms tightened into steel bars. Was all of this worth it though?
As the oomans continued to chant many abominable and disgusting names in reference, she turned to the line of Yautja warriors standing there. Whether in astonishment or shock, she couldn't tell with their masks obscuring their faces. The Leader displayed impartiality, his body was like a steel statue as expected from one who faced many battles, forged and survived to keep others in line. He waited for the final outcome between the species, for all it took was another small spark to set ablaze another war.
Her decision alone would decide it. Yes . . .
She saw another warrior, barely recognizable with her sight blurred, adorning a golden mask with the bolt symbol between the eyes. My ua'de . . . His clawed hands were shaking terribly, uncertain of the reason behind it. She wondered if it was out of rage for the oomans for what they did or terrified.
She squinted her eye. Why should he be scared? There's nothing to fear.
A surge of energy overwhelmed her from those words, a resolve that gave her strength. Despite her legs shaking, she straightened, her chest held high in regard for her accomplishment. She suffered, been raped, left for dead by the species she thought she'd belonged to, and told she was weak and would amount to nothing. Weak? Amount to nothing?
She tightened her fists, anger swirling in her like a storm. No. I'm not weak anymore. I'm strong. I am the transcendent one!
The throbbing in her head dulled as she raised her chin, hand held to the side directed at the oomans, "Leave now. This is your last chance."
They went silent, almost bewildered. They never expected them to be spared after this, but it would be her last act as a human being. She knew full well of letting them go, the Code would condemn her but no more blood would be shed. The war had taken so many and to let unnecessary killings happen under her account, it would be dishonorable in her eyes.
She kept strong, waiting for the disapproval of the Yautja warriors watching, the leader and her teacher most of all. She remained strong, firm in her resolve. If not for herself and her clan, her honor would see it through.
Yin'tekai. Nothing else matters.
C'jit - Shit
Mi'esui - Mate
Oomans - Humans
Yin'tekai - Honor
Ua'de - Teacher