PROLOGUE

A Miracle

CIGAS

After running for what seemed like an eternity, I eventually made it home to my mother with whatever food I could find. But not just for her or me, but also for my two younger siblings. Our home wasn't much, but for Urdnot Clan territory with its rugged and rustic scenery, it was better than being out in the open in the wastes and deadly weather.

My people value strength and a brutal life. We hunger for battles and wars, proving to ourselves that we are mightier than any other species in this cluster. Surviving our harsh world of Tuchanka is part of the krogan life. Long ago, our world exploded in heavy nuclear fire. Deadly and radioactive storms changed us, shaping us into what we are today – brutes with superior strength and multiple organs that enhance our endurance, stamina, and longevity. A long life that I hope to have for my people and my family, one that I hope my two younger siblings can also experience.

My mother called them a miracle. "A miracle" that out of a thousand eggs, very few survive... For my mother, only two hatched. The youngest is a girl.

It is unfair that our population has been hindered by this disease we carry. Long ago, my ancestors provoked a war for conquest, and the various aliens from other worlds across the cluster halted us. The salarians, the second short-lived aliens, were amphibians with hyperactive brains and thought processes. They were the ones that developed the sterility virus to slow our population.

My perceptions of the salarians are that they are slender, smart, and squishy. However, blaming them for everything was unfair. Because even though they created the virus, it was the turians that deployed it long ago.

Turians, in my opinion, are neither as short-lived as the salarians nor as long-lived as our people. I was told not to underestimate them; they are tough bastards with an exterior carapace that is designed to withstand their planet's weak magnetic core and weak radioactive atmosphere. They are proud individuals with a militaristic background.

But, in any case, our numbers were steadily declining due to our illness.

I saw my two siblings gorging over the food I brought home. I would do whatever it takes to help them live their lives despite our culture and traditions and maybe preserve our people's existence.

While my mother tended to her children, I waited by the entrance. Waiting for the storm to pass and waiting for my father...

Brutal strength is valued by our people, and my father has never hesitated to fight me for as long as I can remember. And yet, I managed to survive. Indeed, insults were directed at one another, and there was bloodshed. I will concede that there was one positive thing about him: he would lead me to a private, quiet place where no one could see us. That way, we would never be insulted.

"Not worth killing." It is regarded by our people as the biggest insult ever spoken.

And it was logical because if I ever lost on a war front, a battle royale... If I had to pick between dying from a gunshot to the head and fleeing like a coward... The bullet would be much faster.

The sun emerged above us as the storm moved on. I gazed back at my two siblings with my mother. They seemed to want to be near me as they gazed at me. I noticed someone approaching us when I turned to look outside again. His armor was recognizable to me. My father was returning with a rucksack. He gave my mother extra rations when he came in so the siblings would have plenty to eat.

As for me, I braced myself for another fight between us.

But that wasn't the case.

He told me that after living and surviving for so long, he had spoken to the clan leader and the shamen. It was time, he added, for me to complete the rite of passage.

A few days later, I went into the arena alone and struck on the keystone. The gong rang, and the attackers rushed at me.

First, the Varren. Hungry mutts regard me as prey. But in an instant, I changed into a predator and shot them to death. Then came the klixen, whose carapace was difficult to crack. That fight was challenging, but I enjoyed it. Finally, the mother of all battles: one of Kalros's offspring. It was a tough beast, but I survived.

After three trials, I received the title: Urdnot Cigas!

But, as I stood there, it struck me... My two younger siblings would have to deal with the rite as well. Worst-case scenario, I may have to fight them. Our people are not afraid to slaughter their own, including relatives. My father once informed me that Urdnot Wrex murdered his father during the Crush. Then he helped Wrex depart Tuchanka. He heard that Wrex became a mercenary.

Tuchanka is the ultimate survival challenge. As our shamen says, "Kill the week, torment the slow, and destroy the stupid."

A hundred years or so will pass until my siblings complete the rite. But I'll do whatever it takes to help them realize their greatest potential.

Decades have passed. I worked hard to obtain credits and supplies for my family. I went everywhere—the Citadel, Omega, and Terminus Systems. Many aliens shunned me due to our past. Only a few were considerate.

When I returned, my siblings had grown up quickly. I trained them in combat, strength, and ammunition. It was difficult, but they succeeded. I saw my brother survive his rite first, and then my sister days later. After generations of training paid off, they earned their names:

Urdnot Marak

Urdnot Megi

They may possess property, join the army, and serve under a battlemaster. I felt convinced that they could fend for themselves.

Things altered in the decades that followed. Our mother disappeared one day, leaving no message. Our father had business with an old acquaintance. So, it was just us three...

As more time went by. The turians found a new species that activated a dormant Mass Relay. There was a Nakmor krogan that was approximately 1400 years old. He grinned about the arrivals, saying, "They are bold for being so squishy. Do they know they're mostly water?"

Humans. Thin skin with maroon blood. I wondered if they could withstand a thresher maw attack. Or a headbutt?

But, wait a minute. I'm getting ahead of myself. And actually, I shouldn't be the only Krogan telling this story.

Right, Marak and Megi?

I DO NOT own the Mass Effect franchise or its content. I DO NOT make any money from the writing of this story. All rights belong to their rightful owners (EA Games and BioWare).