One could see countless bug-like creatures swarming the surrounding area, some smaller than humans, others larger and grotesque. Their shapes and colors varied wildly, but they all shared a common enemy: humanity.


    Amidst the chaos, armored figures cut through the horde, their white, bulky armor glinting under the dim light. They wielded cold weapons and firearms, swinging their swords and spears while firing their guns and rifles with ferocity. Their skills could noticed even by someone who has never seen a war. Each swing felled multiple foes, each bullet pierced through several enemies. Yet, even from a distance, it was clear they were losing. Their fighting style resembled a cornered animal—furious and desperate but even that didn’t help them. One by one they were outnumbered, overwhelmed, swarmed, and ripped to pieces.


    One knight stood out from the rest. His armor was adorned with delicate flowers, a stark contrast to the others. Unlike his heavily armed comrades, he wielded two thin, lightweight swords, moving with an agility that made him appear as though he belonged in a dance studio. His graceful movements were deadly, cutting through bugs with precision. But his dance was cut short when four bugs overwhelmed him, clawing at his armor, eager to tear through it and get to his juicy insides. Just then, one of the creatures was yanked away and slammed into the others with a growl.


    The savior was another warrior—one like no other. His armor was jet black, sleek, and fitted as if it were an extension of his body. A helmet resembling a wolf’s head crowned him, and he descended into the fray. His fighting style contrasted sharply with the dancer’s; he was rough, and brutal, tearing bugs apart and using their severed limbs as weapons. He hunched low, hands grazing the ground, embodying the ferocity of a wild beast.


    Amidst the carnage, the Dancer let out a sigh of relief. “You’re late.”


    “The engineers took their sweet time. Blame them,” the Wolf replied, his voice a gravelly growl.


    The Dancer stood tall, avoiding close proximity to the Wolf, aware that nothing good could come from getting too close to a creature that resembled a rabid beast even if that said beast was his best friend.


    I opened my eyes, wincing as pain radiated through my body. After managing to distance ourselves from the cultists, Morrigan had treated my wounds, her stitching skills matched only by her roughness. While I was grateful for her help, I wouldn’t have minded if she was a little bit gentler.


    “It’s been a long time since I had a dream,” I muttered.


    “You awake?” Morrigan asked her hood down for the first time. Her black, shoulder-length hair framed her sharp features at least the ones I could see through her mask, and two feline ears twitched atop her head. Did she carry hair products with her to make sure her hair looked good? Also, I couldn’t help but wonder if those ears were the reason she was labeled beastkin. Just because they had different ears they were prejudged? That sounds illogical.


    …


    Nevermind. That’s just racism in a nutshell.


    “Unfortunately.”


    I replied, catching a glimmer of a smile in her eyes.


    “Good. Then skin those. I’ll be lighting the fire.”


    She tossed me two rabbits, which I barely caught before they hit my face. I glanced at them, then back at her. “Hmmm. Cannibalism?”


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.A dagger embedded itself in the ground before me.


    “I was joking. Did I offend you?”


    She shot me a cold glare. Come on, it wasn’t that bad of a joke. Maybe it was. I yanked the dagger from the ground and began cleaning the rabbits. Symbols were carved into the blade and I wondered if they meant something.


    “Wait! Are you using my dagger to clean?”


    “I mean, you threw it at me…”


    “Give me that!” She snatched it away. “Use yours!”


    “Okay.”


    After cleaning and cooking the rabbits, I looked over at her, waiting to see her without her mask. She noticed my glare and glared back.


    “What are you staring at?”


    “I haven’t seen you without your mask before.”


    Without a word, she turned her back, removing her mask. Since her back was turned to me, I couldn’t see her face.


    “Oh. I see.”


    After chewing on the meat for a while, she broke the silence. “What will you do now?”


    “I have no fucking idea.”


    Her head snapped around, her expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. That’s when I was able to get a good look at her face. Despite the irritation on her face, she was beautiful. Coupled with her height and athletic body, she definitely could have become a model or famous athlete back on Earth.


    “I have no idea what’s going on inside your head.”


    “Head empty. No thoughts.”


    She sighed. “You don’t have a home?”


    “No.”


    “A family?”


    “Nope.”


    “Friends?”


    “Do you count?”


    She chuckled, a sound I hadn’t expected from her.


    “So you can laugh,” I said, noting the shift in her demeanor. This was the first time I’d seen her smile.


    “Huh. You shouldn’t cover your face. It’s a shame for the world not to see your beauty.”


    Her complexion was sun-kissed, and her features were sharp and mature, a stark contrast to her young age.


    “I would have taken you seriously if you hadn’t eaten with all of your face.”


    I stopped laughing and touched around my mouth. The fat on the meat was all around my face. I wiped it clean with my coat.


    “You are disgusting.”


    “Thank you for your kind words.”


    I flashed her a grin, a shit-eating one, relishing the moment.


    “You really don’t have anything to do? Not even a job?”


    “I’m a ship with no end destination in sight. What about you? Just going around freeing beastkin?”


    “Yes.”


    I tilted my head back, staring at the sky for a moment before looking back at her. “You do realize that won’t change much in the long run, right? You’re treating the symptom, not the disease.”


    I noticed a flicker of curiosity in her cat-like eyes. Heh, cat ears, cat curiosity.


    “What do you mean by that?”


    “Think. We have a main problem. What is it?”


    “Beastkin being enslaved,” she answered without hesitation.


    I snapped my fingers.


    “Ding! Wrong. That’s just a problem created by the main one. Think again.”


    She paused, her brow furrowing. “Others seeing beastkin as lower creatures?”


    “Ding! Correct!”


    Discrimination was a universal constant; I’d faced it, I’d done it to others, and I’d read about it endlessly.


    “But how can you change others’ perspectives?”


    She asked. I shrugged.


    “All I know is it’s a hard and long process. Do beastkin have an organized center?”


    “I know several places that fit that description.”


    “They need to band together and have enough power to avoid being swept away by others. After that, trade goods, forge alliances, and make your culture more recognized. Then maybe, just maybe, you can change some minds.”


    “So, you need a lot of power first.”


    She leaned closer, her interest piqued.


    “Yes. People will only listen if they can’t easily take something from you. When they do listen, you might have a chance to change their minds. But there’s always a risk of increased hostility if you show resistance. It’s all about the factors, most of which are beyond your control.”