Changeling
(82): To Lizardia

The Beacon’s lobby was packed with gleams running errands. With portal clearing slowed to a bare minimum and no money to be made, raiders and companies were using the down time to do administrative work they would normally spread out over slow days. Typical of Threshold, that, Nestra thought. Every moment of freedom was sacrificed on the altar of productivity. If one avenue of effort was closed, they just focused on another. What surprised her was that she was stopped near the entrance by a guard gleam — not army, just security.

“Sorry, new regulations about transformation gleams. Gotta conduct additional tests,” he said in a bored voice, but his eyes were narrowed and his hand hovered over an electric cudgel.

Nestra wasn’t aware. Not that it mattered. She made an exaggerated show of looking around her.

“Who are you talking to?” she hissed, getting into the guard’s personal space.

Some of his colleagues were making their way here. Two D-class and another C-class like the one facing her.

“Don’t make this difficult, miss.”

“Am I registered anywhere as a transformation gleam?”

The guard hesitated. Nestra wasn’t sure if he could tell he was being lawyered or if he was just assessing his chances. He hardened immediately after anyway.

“Don’t play coy. Is there going to be a problem or not?”

“Fuck yeah there’s going to be a problem. You don’t know what I am. You can’t, because that means you’d have access to my files which were sealed by Shinran. I’m here because the army called me here and you’re illegally stopping me.”

“I don’t care about that.”

Nestra really moved closer, then she lowered her eyes until they were level, giving the guard a view of her mask and the abyssal eyes behind.

“You really should.”

She felt and heard the other guards moving around her. A part of her knew she should be deescalating. Fuck, she could even momentum past them. That part was drowned by anger.

“Make your move, bozo,” Nestra suggested.

He took out his baton, igniting it. Nestra grabbed the blade. Electric current coursed painfully through her arms but between her massive resistance and the Skin, it was more unpleasant than debilitating. The pain fanned the flames of rage.

“Wrong move.”

The baton cracked. In the guards’ eyes, fear led to realization. Nestra kicked behind her, sending the other C-class flying before he could try his luck. With her left hand, she grabbed the guard by the throat, holding him up like a wiggly pinata. She tore the broken baton from his dancing fingers.

“Crescent! A moment, please?”

A prim man in dress uniform walked at the maximum speed before it turned into a run. A forced smile was plastered on a face twisted by nerves. Around them, the gleams had formed a distant though interested circle. This one was neutral, which meant they didn’t favor either side. The usual embarrassment at being the center of attention as an Aszhii joined restraint and planning in the depths of Nestra’s amygdala. No neck snappings.

“What. Do you want?” she asked.

“If you could release him, please. I apologize for the delay; you are indeed expected.”

The guard made choking sounds. At her back, the C-class she’d sent crashing against the wall picked himself up. Earth mana spoke of a defensive spell being cast. The two D-class had wisely decided to step back.

Nestra tossed the guard aside. He managed to right himself up before he could crash. Deep resentment twisted his mouth into an ugly grimace. Nestra didn’t give a shit.

“What the fuck,” the guard forced out of his damaged throat.

“I fear you have… overstepped your authority,” the officer commented. “Considering what happened to the mercenaries sent to illegally arrest her yesterday, I would say you were lucky and should consider yourselves as such.”

That was a nice way to ask them not to make waves, but in Nestra’s opinion, it lacked threat. Truly a PR maneuver, as expected from someone posted at the entrance. Honestly she almost wanted them to press the issue here and now. She could use the warmup.

The army guy quickly led her past two security doors Nestra didn’t need him to. He turned.

“Don’t,” she said.

“Miss Crescent this is a sensitive time, especially with the recent Chicago events.”

The what?

“While I appreciate that people have infringed upon —”

“There’s been a lot of infringement and I’ll infringe back until it ssstops,” Nestra hissed back. “It’s the only way for people to learn, or they will keep pushing until you push back. And regulations? On transformation gleamssss? Since when?”

“Please, Crescent. I am on your side.”

Nestra forced herself to release her hold on void mana. Claws retracted from her fingers.

“It was a little known addition introduced by the recently deposed Citizen Hunnigan, a detail considering the handful of transformation users present in the city. It has been poorly advertised. Like most of his regulations, they will be overturned since they are discriminatory in nature, but until they officially are…”

“You don’t know that I am a transformation gleam.”

The man tilted his head in a surprised way. What a funny man.

“You do not know that I am a transformation gleam because you do not have access to my file, nor have you seen me without the mask. Do you understand me?”

“Perfectly, Miss Crescent. Of course. Consider the incident closed, of course.”

“It will be really closed when the cause is gone. This is the second time I’m attacked for what I am or what I look like in less than three months. I thought we were better. Was I mistaken?”

“I cannot speak for all of the city’s current population, but I assure you that Threshold itself is on your side. Hunnigan’s measures are illegal, therefore they will be repealed.”

He smiled in a way that was entirely too smooth to be anything else than well-practiced. More social tricks. To calm her down. To gently bring her back within the lines. What pissed her off was, it was working. With the soldier showing proper respect and the guards reprimanded, she just didn’t feel like lashing out anymore. He was right. Well, not really. There was no such a thing as ‘Threshold’ being on her side when Threshold itself only got together to kill kaijus. But he was right that there was no legal pressure on her as a transformation gleam. He wasn’t her enemy, nor was he representing them. If she acted against him, then she’d just behave like an ass. And that wasn’t ok.

There were better things to use her time on.

“What do you mean, Chicago event?” she asked.

He blinked.

“It’s been all over the American news. I fear one of your fellow — I meant to say that a transformation gleam has committed an act of terror. I’m sure you can learn more by opening your news feed. Any news feed will do, really.”

He stopped in the middle of a sterile corridor that smelled of cheap coffee. An aug with a variety of head implants rushed by, carrying three datapads stacked precariously.

“I need to return to work. If you’ll excuse me. Goodbye.”

Nestra ignored his retreating back. He’d done his job, she supposed. The briefing room where she was supposed to be was empty when she arrived, so she took out her mask phone to check the news. Finding what the soldier was talking about wasn’t difficult considering it was the headline of every major news outlet in Threshold, temporarily eclipsing even the current political crisis. Reporters talked nonstop in live feeds while ribbons mentioning the ‘Grant Park Massacre’ and the total of confirmed kills drifted across the screen in strings of ruby letters. It was the middle of the night in Chicago, but the park was illuminated by flashing signs. Nestra read the short summary.

‘Transformation gleam loses control during Neon Metal concert. Thirty-eight confirmed fatalities and close to two hundred wounded.”

There was a link to a live footage of the tragedy with plenty of warnings. Nestra clicked that yes she was over eighteen and responsible for collecting her own second-hand traumas. The video started with a very loud music show complete with strobing lights in the middle of a park. In the distance, the skyscrapers of Chicago’s CBD towered solemnly, untouched by the enfolding madness. It looked like a real party, so much that Nestra’s head hurt from just looking at it. It made her want to reach for earmuffs. The deep beat matched electricity jumping between two large coils as tall as trees. It was a very impressive installation. Even the icy weather hadn’t deterred the revelers.

Nestra didn’t need to be told what to watch for. Her cop instincts immediately picked a lightly dressed man with long dark hair crashing through a group of dancing revelers who scattered at his approach. He grabbed his head in pain. Some people approached, some took their distance. Most jeered, or laughed. Bottles of alcohol circulated among friends.

And then it happened. Nestra narrowed her eyes, seeing the struggling man’s body suddenly warp inside his T-shirt. The spectacle of growing flesh that followed was horrifying, each burst of power irregular, sudden, and painful from the way he moved. His half-transformed body lurched like a drunk Frankenstein’s monster. A clawed paw sent someone careening against a barrier but only the closest people moved. The rest were too absorbed in the music. They wouldn’t have heard the screams.

Things went wrong fast after that. The gleam turned feral, hunched. Blue scales covered an increasingly feline body. His paws found entire groups. The camera was starting to focus on him but it also moved erratically so the mess of dancing and dying people merged into a strange, chaotic display of excitement and terror. Waving arms, flying arms, dancing bodies, dying bodies. The person holding the camera finally recovered their self-preservation instinct. They ran. Whatever they were holding dropped on the ground.

Nestra now had a stable view of a group of concerned teenagers, some of them pointing at something in the distance. It was painfully obvious that they were underage and intoxicated, hesitating about what to do. Most of them were also baselines and good-looking in fancy winter clothes. Nestra knew exactly what was going to happen next.

The transformation gleam crashed in their midst, now a large blue cougar thing with a metallic tail that glinted in the light, its fur covered in blood. The slaughter took less than two seconds but its brutality was only matched by the early footage of the incursion every teenager had to watch at school. A black girl in close-fitting white trousers. Meat. A tall blond anglo in a baseball cap holding a shorter teen by the shoulder. Also meat. And the girl too. Exposed rib cages. Spilled innards strung over the ground, shining red with every burst of light. Cut limbs still wrapped in designer clothes stained with the remains of their owners. It was because the group was so conventionally attractive — the sort you’d see in brochures — that their corpses were so blasphemous. They were too young to die. They were also harmless baselines who never stood a chance. Innocents. Behind them, the transformation attacked the coil with a maddened screech while the rest of the party finally erupted in a complete pandemonium. Nestra dropped the visor.

“Fucking hell.”

“Checking the competition?” a male voice said from the entrance.

A gleam stood by the door. He was blond, tall and muscular with an aloof posture that immediately reminded Nestra of Bard, right before he’d betrayed and killed half her squad. His eyes were black with something more, something really exotic there that her horns couldn’t quite identify because she’d never seen it before. She hadn’t noticed him until he started talking.

One good thing about the mask is that she didn’t need to show disapproval and that people felt when she was looking at them, even though they couldn’t see her pupils. That guy might have been B-rank yet even his smile grew more brittle.

“Tristan-nim, if you please...” a female voice said.

The gleam shrugged, then he and the rest of his team filed in complete silence. They were all wearing assorted dark armor with dull metal armatures, clearly a custom job. Besides the first guy, there was a short Korean woman with a bob and half a dozen grim men and women looking at everything but Nestra. They all had a shadow primary. The light in the room dimmed just by their presence.

“You’re not shadow,” the man added. “What makes you think you can infiltrate?”

Nestra tilted her head.

“What makes you think I’ll tell you?”

“Ooooh, spiky,” the man replied.

“Tristan-nim, please do not antagonize our valued allies,” the Korean woman said with the tired voice of someone who didn’t expect to be heard. “Please excuse him, Crescent-nim. I am Hwang Miho. Please call me Miho. This is Tristan. We are the founders and officers of the Specter Guild.”

“Very supervillainous. Vintage. I like it,” Nestra said in a flat voice.

“Never heard that one before,” Tristan commented while lounging in his seat. He really was like Bard and that triggered all the wrong sorts of synapses in Nestra’s sore brain.

“Specter was picked as a way to express our infiltration capabilities,” Miho explained like she was at a shareholder meeting. “We offer unique scouting solutions to prepare for extremely dangerous raids on unique worlds. Our survivability allows us to report accurately on a variety of factors up to and including monster strength and composition.”

“So you will be able to pass the portal without being noticed,” Nestra surmised.

“Without sharing proprietary information —”

“Might, might not,” Tristan joked, “but we’ll probably survive the experience. You, though? You feel like a firebrand. A risk lover.”

Nestra ignored him. She was among the first to hear the coming of footsteps, resolving itself in Ragnarok. The woman looked just as intimidating as ever in her uniform, no-nonsense expression plastered on her face like a shield. She ignored Nestra.

“Welcome. We’re all busy so I’ll be brief. Your task is to infiltrate lizardman territory, go through their gate during a diversion Shinran and I will provide, gather data, and return. Let’s discuss the details.”

The operation was barebone. The plan was simple: Ragnarok and Shinran would wait for the signal that Nestra and Specter were in position before engaging the A-class guarding the lizard-side portal, preferably at night, destroy the camps of the tribes that had attacked Camp Riel, then fight the reinforcements while the spies infiltrated the gate. Whoever managed to activate their sensor thingie first would notify the other then retreat. In order to warn each other and communicate with the base, Nestra and Specter would have short range communicators with them with the express instruction to only use them when necessary. Nestra wasn’t sure why since the lizardmen seemed pretty far from deploying the signal interception department of their security agencies. The communicators even used text, not voice! Whatever.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Then they were supposed to leg it back to base on foot.

If possible, the groups were supposed to do basic intelligence gathering such as counting warriors and tribes but that was a plus. In theory, the operation looked simple but that was just because Threshold had little idea what to expect, so there was a large part of improvisation. If this were a real planet, they could have launched a high-altitude spy drone and spotted a mite on the A-class’ scaly ass. The portal world didn’t allow that, so they only had grainy footage taken at very long range by disposable drones. Nestra wasn’t too worried, though. The lizardmen didn’t look like they had a tight security. And winging it was where she really shone. Which didn’t mean that she was incapable of planning, just that she was good at, what was the corpo term? Dealing with ambiguity. And also creating ambiguity.

“Any questions?” Ragnarok asked.

Miho did, in fact, have many questions ranging from intel reports (there were precious few) to payment (it was very high). Ragnarok hinted that Threshold would sell the recovered data to other governments, so that might be very profitable.

Then came the time to move. The raiders descended to the Beacon’s secret level in the usual secure elevator. The iris opened over the usual colossal opening, then Nestra was through and back in the Bridge world.

***

Nestra stared at the scale pattern of her clawed hand. Strong, but rigid, Awkward. That hand made wielding a blade impractical, but the spear she’d bought would do. Her main issue was that it was a portal artifact.

Not a very good one and it still cost her over two hundred thousand creds.

It was the best she could do. Her form’s memories told her how to move and speak, but the spear was cultural. And as far as she could tell, the lizards built their own. It was still better than using a Threshold-issued spear, she thought, or forgoing one entirely. This world was still dangerous. She looked around. It had been a day since she’d left Camp Riel. After Specter objected to the mission parameters, they’d gotten ten days to get in position. Nestra could only assume Specter liked it slow and steady. That would leave her time to get in position herself, as well as hopefully find her secondary target: her brother. And not to attack him.

Argent Ephis was going to help her, not just with the infiltration but also with the being a lizard thing. She was sure he would help if possible. What she wasn’t sure was that he’d still be there, but the lizardmen moved slowly. Maybe his tribe hadn’t left.

The forest darkened the farther she traveled, with the mana concentration steadily increasing. So far, Nestra hadn’t come across anything large enough to endanger her, only small flying critters that let out disturbing chirps from the canopies. They’d fallen silent some time ago, however. Experts were still unsure if the bridge world’s monsters replenished, or ‘respawned’ as was the favored term, given time, but that was at the very least a slow process. Camp Riel’s immediate surroundings had been cleared of anything larger than a cat. Now Nestra would find out if the other side had been equally thorough. In any case, spending extended periods of time in this form felt salutary, and the more time passed, the more comfortable she felt in it. Striding through the forests was already something she could do as if she’d been born to it in part thanks to her new nature affinity. She felt the trees and their roots as if they were part of her proprioception. It was just neat.

A pungent smell attracted her attention when she entered a ravine. Fog filled the valley. Uneasy, Nestra moved carefully ahead though nothing moved except for small insects. After crossing the fog for a while, she left the ravine to find the the form of a large skeleton, that of some large reptilian creature with entirely too many legs. Tattered, leathery scraps of skin still clung to its ribs. Insects in the thousands buzzed, crawled and gnawed over the bus-sized corpse. Mlemra found the stench neutral but human Nestra would probably be glad about her filter right about now. In any case, the beast was long dead and all useful parts had been harvested, including the fangs and claws. It was probably a sub-guardian.

“Hsss.”

So the competition had indeed been clearing this part too. Nestra considered making a note of the location in her communicator, but she was too exposed here. Making her way past, she found signs of battle and an effigy made with broken spears. The lizardmen hadn’t taken that one down without fatalities.

The path went on, still silent. The fog lifted but the deep shadows remained, and soon the falling night made visibility difficult with her inferior lizardman sight. She noticed a hollow tree with a large ‘cave’ that would do nicely for a rest. It stood in the middle of a clearing of exposed roots and sickly ferns. She made her way towards it.

Something crashed against a nearby trunk. Nestra jumped and twisted, helped by her short tail. She stabbed by reflex. The tip of her spear found an extended hand, cracking a clawed knuckle off course. The monster retreated. Nestra assumed a low guard.

Her opponent looked like a short, buff, well, werebat. It had more teeth but the upturned snout certainly looked familiar. The long floppy ears reinforced the grotesque appearance forced by its gray, sallow skin. Two scraggy, long arms ended in four fingers tipped with grasping claws. The creature smelled dimly of air and something else in her mana perception. It was a rather strong C-class.

Which was convenient for a benchmark.

Nestra had trained hard in Shinran’s facilities to learn the fundamentals of magic in preparation for unlocking new affinities. It was time to put her training to good use. She cast stone armor. A layer of rocky plates grew on the left side of her body.

The creature charged her again, this time using air to blur its form but its feet beat the ground and it helped Nestra follow its movement. Her first spear jab forced it back, then she was on the offensive. With quick, basic gestures, she needled the beast. A few painful pokes irritated until it screeched something that hurt her ears. She winced. The creature used it to inflate its chest.

More out of experience than anything else, Nestra shoved her fingers into the tiny ear orifices she had, At the same time, she dove to the side. A wall of sound peeled the bark off the tree behind her, but she was already up and standing. She kicked the beast in the knee which turned the spell into a pained gurgle. Grabbing her spear cost her a precious second she would have used if she’d felt more confident facing the creature bare-handed.

By now, the bat thing was properly incensed. It charged her. Pieces of cracked roots flew under its every step. Nestra leapt back, then lunged. The feint caught the creature off guard. The tip of her spear tore through its pectoral. She hissed in an effort to pin it down but it was already up and recovering before she could follow up.

Remnants of instinct made the predator look back, towards the tempting darkness that would cover its retreat but the monstrous urge to kill overrode it. As it lunged again, Nestra cast a spell of grasping roots — a nature mana staple. Sadly, she was too slow and the spell missed. The monster screeched in triumph. The tip of its claws found Nestra’s flank just as she shortened her grip on her spear. Her armor took the brunt of the attack and her scales the rest. Her counter dug a deep gash under the creature’s armpit. Blood, more of it. Then they were facing each other again.

She was doing it. She was winning. Even if she had never trained in whatever combat styles lizardmen used, her Scornful Crescent style and battle experience translated. Well, it would have been over in an instant as an Aszhii but that was besides the point. She could fight as a lizard. Not very well yet, but she could.

Why was it getting so hot though?

The furious creature changed tactics. It tried to trade blows, ignoring defense. Nestra predicted the first and second strikes which led to two more bleeding gashes — though it felt weird not being able to see the blood’s color. But she could smell it, that ferrous stench. In a last attempt, the monster impaled itself on her spear. Both arms grabbed Nestra’s shoulders. She let her spear go, cast stone fist and punched the creature in the face. With a howl of pain and fury, it catapulted Nestra into the nearest tree.

“Guh!”

Ok that still hurt. A screeching beast stumbled as she was picking herself up from the ground. She grabbed the handle of her spear and pulled while dodging, then circled it, patiently waiting for the monster to bleed out which took another solid ten seconds. Finally, it fell on its face and stopped moving.

Power filled her lizard core. Victory was hers.

It had gone… reasonably well. Her lack of familiarity with her limits and spear techniques severely restricted her range of motion. Her spellwork was still too slow. Nevertheless, the result spoke for itself. With only a couple of days fully wearing this form, she had managed to defeat a monster of equivalent class. She wouldn’t stand out too much when she met other lizardmen. Or at least, they wouldn’t take her for a complete klutz. The heat she’d been feeling lessened now that she didn’t have to move so much. The lizards struggled with temperature regulation? She wasn’t sure how useful this piece of knowledge could be but she filed it for later.

Her gaze returned to the monster and the thin trail of blood it had left over the entire clearing. That was why Aszhii Nestra often went for massive damage. Sometimes, monster resilience was so absurd, nothing short of decapitation could finish them off. But it was still hard to fight when cut in half.

Nestra approached the beast. She felt… something, a pulse of nature mana maybe? Something that touched her.

She wasn’t alone. With careful gestures, she reached into her lizardwoman’s pouch (bought from the store in Camp Riel) and found a small, carved obsidian blade. She patiently cut the monster’s chest open for its core which she pocketed. The meat looked super stringy. Unfortunately, it would have to do. She started working on the leg muscles since it stood the most chance of not tasting like complete ass. Meanwhile, she kept her attention on her surroundings.

“Are you really going to eat that flesh?” a voice hissed from a branch.

Nestra looked up without surprise though she didn’t stop working. Seeing that he was detected, a lizardman hunter dropped down from his perch though he didn’t approach. He was C-class, weaker than her mana-wise but he was more physically imposing and carried himself with confidence. She could tell. His skin was… probably black and brown from the shades of gray she could see.

“I am hungry,” she stated.

The lizard now slowly approached though he kept well out of spear range.

“Your spells are strange. You are not a shaman. Who taught you?”

Nestra didn’t reply. An obsidian blade was not the best tool to cut stringy meat and her fingers, not the best interface.

“And this spear? Ooooh, a portal treasure. Why do you carry it? You are not a Sacred Wielder for your tribe.”

He sounded very definitive. That gave Nestra an idea.

“I am bringing it to my brother,” she explained.

The lizardman tasted the air with his tongue, something that was… nakedly greedy. Nestra shifted, but he spoke as if nothing had happened.

“Who is your brother?”

“Argent Ephis.”

It was subtle but the lizardman froze,

“You are of the Bleak Spear tribe?”

Again, Nestra didn’t reply because she didn’t feel the need to. A part of her wondered if he was trying to trap her by mentioning the wrong tribe. That was until she looked in his gormless face. There wasn’t a hint of subtlety here.

“I can prepare the food for you, if you will share it,” he added.

Nestra smelled a fish, and that wasn’t the bat thing’s emptying bowels. She bobbed her head to signify assent.

The lizard proved to be an adept butcher, if that was even the term. He was obviously an old hand at dressing dead prey. Although Nestra had followed wilderness training and despite the cooking show, she was still an amateur compared to her new companion. Without being prompted, he gathered some of the damaged roots and started a fire near the tree’s hollow, making basic skewers with slow focus. After enough cooking, the bat’s smell ended up being tolerable.

The way her new companion kept looking at her made her uncomfortable though.

Discreetly, Nestra conducted a few preparations. Just in case. She also retreated to the edge of the hollow which she had no intention whatsoever to share with him. Her knowledge of lizard reproduction and courtship was even worse than that of human courtship. The only thing she was sure was that changing shapes hadn’t come with a libido, or a desire for offspring. She couldn’t trust him.

“What is your name?” she eventually asked.

He looked very pleased that she asked.

“My name is Hidden Moss! I am a great hunter! Three days ago, I trapped and killed an even larger Famished.”

He pointed at the carcass.

“I was hunting this one. I am a great tracker!”

“So you led it to me and then waited for me to kill it?” Nestra asked.

Hidden Moss withered under her glare. He bowed his head.

“Hssss. Women of the Bleak Spear have a sharp mind. Yes. I admit. I wanted to see what you could do, and move if you could not defeat it. A woman! Alone! Since you defeated it after all, its carcass is yours.”

Hidden Moss moved, making conversation by himself. He mentioned that monsters were growing more rare between the two ‘gates’, and that there were too many hunters around anyway. He also said that the absence of strong monsters meant that it was at least safe. He went on to talk about his own tribe’s lands.

“And Old Stoneback claimed the lives of five hunters just this generation! There are always shiny-scaled spawn who think they are the very best hunters. They claim that they will be the ones to bring Old Stoneback’s head to the tribe so they can be covered in gifts and women. Hsss!”

Nestra let him talk. Sometimes, he would steal glances at her and her spear. She had a bad feeling about this, but she also wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do besides taking precautions. Hidden Moss was a fount of knowledge. Even his mannerisms were useful to study.

He handed her a skewer. The taste was pretty disappointing and the consistency was that of an old shoe. Nestra solemnly swore to herself that she would never unfairly dunk on army food again. Nothing like living off the land to make her miss MREs. More skewers followed, slowly, over the course of several hours. A feeling of contentment and lethargy filled her until she wanted to sleep.

That was when Hidden Moss jumped on her, forcing a squawk out of her throat. He wrestled her to the ground and on her belly before she could truly react, her metabolism slowed by satiety. Her hiss of anger was ignored. Outrage allowed her strength surge back but thankfully Hollow Moss was apparently only trying to tie her wrist together.

“Your brother will offer me a good price for you,” he said in a mocking voice. “And his spear. Hah!”

So Nestra triggered her trap. The tree they were in woke up. Spikes and tendrils filled the cave, lashing out at her foe, who was forced to jump to the side. Nestra reached for her spear which he hadn’t taken yet. She left the hollow to face her opponent.

Hidden Moss appeared more bashful than ready to attack her which was… honestly she wasn’t sure what to think about it.

“Women of the Bleak Spear have sharp minds indeed,” he said. “You were ready all along. You are strong and cunning. I give up, and offer reparation.”

Without pause, he reached for his bag, then took out a small core that gave the same mix as the one she’d just obtained from the bat thing. His head lowered in a gesture of… not exactly submission. Respect?

“This Famished core, I obtained after a hunt that lasted two days! I give up willingly as blood price. Do you accept?”

Nestra didn’t move. Hidden Moss appeared really confident she would accept, but when she didn’t speak, that confidence was replaced by fear. He reached for his bag again.

At that point Nestra wasn’t sure what to do but she mostly wanted him gone.

“I accept. Now, go away.”

“Thank you.”

A relieved sigh escaped from his lips. He turned to leave with one last sentence.

“The Bleak Spear have returned to the true world, but your brother remains with a few other warriors. They are at the Gate of Illusion, near the prisoner cages.”

He was gone, unaware of Nestra’s surprise. The Gate of Illusion was probably the main portal. That wasn’t her main concern, however. Prisoners? They had prisoners? What sort of prisoners did they have?

Humans?

***

Nestra didn’t stay, just in case Hollow Moss had tribesmen he might convince to give it another shot. Apparently, kidnapping the relatives of strong warriors for ransom was a thing here? She retreated to a different part of the forest, slept fitfully surrounded by nature-based alarm spells, then woke up with nothing having approached. By now human Nestra would have loved a shower, but Mlemra’s scales only required a quick brushing which, she had to admit, was pretty darn convenient. The journey continued without much action for another half a day during which she finished the last of her Famished jerky. Some mushrooms and fruits she came across looked fine but she didn’t want to risk throwing up her entire stomach lining over a snack.

She still picked them up. For later.

Around noon, the trees spaced out a bit, and the sun returned. Occasional tracks and markings lined the most direct path to the distant energy signature of the portal. Eventually, she came across more people. A hunting group appeared at a bend, walking forward in a line. It was led by a large B-class in, if she had to guess, shades of brown and green. He glared at her until she stepped to the side and lowered her head in the same way Hidden Moss had shown her. A female C-class and half a dozen D-class followed, looking at her with curiosity. The little ones felt… young.

“Has your tribe not taught you manners, little sister?” the B-class asked, though he had mellowed after her salute..

His eyes found her spear. They narrowed.

“You are not a Sacred Wielder.”

“I bring the spear back to my brother,” Nestra replied.

The B-class nodded.

“Yes. Many warriors were lost. Now, even our women will fight.”

He shook his head, then licked the air.

“You are trained in the shamanic arts. Such a shame to lose one such as you to the ways of the spear. The hairy pink moles have brought much fire… Hsss! What a time we are seeing! And what of your own spear?”

Time for Nestra to use her prepared excuse number 2.

“It burnt…” she said, dejectedly. “Hairy pink mole fire.”

The B-class hissed in anger.

“They love fire so much. May it swallow them, one day.”

Oh ok it worked. Nestra was more and more confused. It was like the lizardmen were good at traps and deception, but terrible at lying to the extent that they didn’t even expect it to happen. Or wait, maybe it was about making stuff up? Truly, humans were the master of bullshit. And now she was proving it by bamboozling a B-class. And to think Shinra’s training AI said she had no potential for intrigue! Who was the manipulator now, huh?

“But you, little sister, whose treasure do you return?” her new friend asked.

“The Bleak Spear’s treasure.”

The B-class let out a very low growl. It didn’t feel like aggression.

“Hmmm. Have they not left?”

“Argent Ephis remains.”

“Ah! So that is who the spear belongs to! Well then, you are not far from your champion, little sister. Go! And so we, too, shall go.”

Nestra bobbed her head, this time in assent. The mix of youths following the older C-class were a mix of males and females…. or boys and girls? Her perception of the species shifted faster than she could comprehend. How did Sereth ever manage? In any case, the young women of the group looked at her and the spear excitedly.

“I came across a Famished yesterday,” she ended up saying just to, well, make conversation?

The B-class turned to her.

“Where?”

Nestra helpfully pointed in the right direction. Or at least she thought so.

“Not much prey left between the two Gates of Illusion. The beast might have been driven off from another hunting ground. We will head for the edge to find lesser opponents for the young ones. Take care, Bleak Spear woman.”

Nestra politely saluted again. The B-class headed off with his young raiders like a mama duck leading a column of ducklings. Nestra watched them for a few seconds before leaving too. She came across a lone hunter returning to the portal only ten minutes after that, female this time, with the processed carcass of a quadrupedal strapped to her back. She gave Nestra a cursory glance but she didn’t speak. Finally, the forest fell off to show orchards and beyond that, the sprawling mess that was the lizardman town.

Nestra stopped. She knew that the lizards were loners but they also had a social structure so there had to be some form of settlement, but she hadn’t expected that. Her steps carried her through mixed crops fields and vegetable gardens separated by marked stone pillars. Smoke rose from kilns, directing Nestra’s steps in that direction. A majority of the lizards were female here, and they worked mostly in silence, in small groups either seeding or harvesting since the portal world didn’t appear to have seasons. Sometimes, a hissy drone rose in a strange harmony punctuated by the beating of tools before falling back down a minute later. Music, Nestra realized. Altogether not unpleasant. The approach to the kiln was defended by an actual barrier. An older lizardwoman worked there with a stylus, engraving runes on a shockingly green bowl scintillating like emerald under the afternoon sun. She turned to Nestra.

“Do not cross the barrier.”

Nestra bobbed her head in assent. She just wanted to look.

“You are not a Sacred Wielder,” the woman observed.

This was getting old.

“I am bringing this to my brother.”

The older one accepted her explanation by returning to her work. Rather than resembling a pen, her stylus was very long, and she was holding it delicately, in a grip that had to be exhausting for lizard muscles. She didn't seem to struggle however, and the piece of art progressively took shape as the minutes passed. Nestra had to remind herself that she was on a schedule or she would have stayed there for hours watching the old woman work. So the lizards did have advanced crafts. Maybe they were using local stones as dye, which would explain why someone had taken the pain to build a full workshop here.

On the way, Nestra realized that most lizard dwellings were dug rather than built, but the domes were decorated and covered in glyphs and symbols of belonging. Some of the larger ones were places of gathering. Others were guarded and warded so Nestra assumed those were storage spaces. The hubbub of conversation was missing, besides the occasional songs. By comparison, even at its most quiet, Camp Riel had dozens of conversations happening. Soldiers absolutely loved to complain. The lizards… didn’t. Or maybe it was too early?

With her spear, Nestra was attracting too much attention. She hastened the pace until the dwellings spaced out, replaced by open air gathering spots around carefully enchanted fountains, or lone trees. The portal was fully visible by now. She was almost there.

A familiar smell filled her nostrils so she wasn’t surprised when the path finally led to the aperture to find cages. A row of wooden cages, filled with around thirty humans. Hirsute. Starving. Filthy and dejected, those raiders looked on the verge of death. The human part of her twitched in her pocket, sending aftershocks of horror. Nestra had never seen people in this state outside of documentaries. Death in Threshold was usually faster, if not cleaner. Poverty was more insidious. This? This was debasement. Callousness pushed to its limits. Any thoughts of intervening was dashed by the fact they and the portal was guarded by B-class raiders. And they were in enemy territory.

That was human Nestra and the more goal-oriented part of her mind thinking, however. The truth was that Mlemra didn’t feel much one way or the other. Which was a little disturbing.

A familiar black and white form suddenly towered over Nestra. She looked up into a cautious glare.

“Who is this?” a lizardwoman asked from the side.

She was a powerful C-class, taller than Nestra and heavily pregnant. Or so Nestra assumed. She knew the lizards were viviparous but seeing it in action was something else. The newcomer’s voice dripped with jealousy with a hint of warning.

“Argent Ephis,” Nestra greeted.

“She is… kin,” he slowly said.

“Not another partner?”

The two of them shivered with disgust at the same time. Having sex didn’t horrify Nestra but… having sex with another Aszhii? Ew. A thousand times ew. Gross.

“Kin then.” the lizardwoman chuckled. “And what is this?”

“For you,” Nestra said, offering the spear to the other hidden Aszhii. “Your treasure.”

Argent Ephis picked it up with careful gestures. His eyes traveled from her face to the prisoners, and then back. He seemed to come to a sudden realization.

“You had a treasure?” the woman exulted. “You are so mighty!”

“We should talk, kin,” Argent Ephis interrupted.

“Yes, brother.”

“Brother?” the lizardwoman asked.

Nestra had used a more neutral version of the word. Argent Ephis’ answer confirmed it was on the father’s side.

“Yes, brother.”

The lizardwoman accepted the lie with a shrug. Argent Ephis returned his attention to Nestra.

“I invite you to my hearth. Death Bloom, please give us time to share our exploits,” Ephis continued.

“You would chase me away? Although I am heavy with your spawn?”

“... then it is us who shall move.”

“Do so. And fetch me fruit.”

Argent Ephis grumbled but he excused himself, and Nestra followed him. She felt naked without a spear, but safe in the presence of Argent Ephis. Behind her a few children jeered at the cages and the humans within. She would have to do something, or so the rational part of her brain said, but then her mind returned to Argent Ephis’ pregnant partner.

It was weird because she was certain her kin should be adverse to starting a family by instinct. Given the personality of his belle, he might not have had a choice though. Walking behind him, Nestra went over her new mission parameters. It was no longer enough to infiltrate the lizard world. She had people to save. It concerned her that she was now including lizardmen civilians in the list because if Shinran obliterated the base, he would have the blood of innocents, of children on his hands.

Would he even care like she did?

Just how much did her form influence her thoughts?