Two painful years has passed since Mors had been press-ganged into the Federation's scouting division, the Pathfinders.

Although officially considered scouts with around about 100 members, the pathfinders were more similar to an elite hit squad tasked with eliminating all threats outside the Federation's borders. Recently, with the suddenly increased in corrupted infestations they had been recalled to aid the purge.

It was on a routine elimination mission when they stumbled across information relating to the summoning. Although it was a slight concern that a single kingdom would gain some powerful assets, the real problem was the high possibility of corrupt magic interfering with the ritual creating yet another headache for them to deal with.

========

Captain Verz had been waiting at the arena for days to inspect the so-called summoned however when they finally arrived she was extremely disappointed.

Although the strength sensed was astronomical for newborns, they already had the bodies of pre-evolution younglings. This meant they had not grown naturally into their bodies and would be considerably weaker for a fair time, not having built up the motor skills or muscles needed.

Finding no signs of corruption and eager to return to her troops, Verz was about to leave when something interesting happened. An unbelievable amount of bloodlust suddenly exploded. It was only for a split second but the intensity almost caused her to lose grip of the invisibility spell masking her presence.

Verz was almost world renowned for her skills and unshakable character being rarely surprised by anything. These traits had given her the nickname the ‘Blood Wolf’ due to her strictness and merciless attitude to anyone she deemed a threat.

Another less common nickname and one never mentioned in front of her, was the ‘Federations Hound’. She gained this after chasing a corrupt magician across the continent, ignoring any national or racial borders, nearly starting more than a few wars before she finally ran her prey to the ground and destroyed him utterly.

Not one to leave an unknown alone, Verz watched intently watched trying to identify the source of the bloodlust. It didn't take long as a scream fit for the underworld soon emanated from a convulsing young demon after he tore the throat out of a young boy.

-”Not even 2 days old but knowing how to suppress this insane amount of bloodlust, striking at the perfect moment even dislocating his arm to ensure the kill, giving no chance for escape. Even one of my lieutenants would have difficulties avoiding it.” [Verz]

Not wanting to spook the already highly-strung soldiers, Verz waited until the situation was under control before releasing her spell and letting out a chuckle announcing her presence.

-”Looks like I found a dragon's egg this time” [Verz]

She used her shadow step skill to quickly retrieve the boy and his status plate before giving the standard conscription notice. Technically she wasn't allowed to conscript newborns but it looked like most of the people didn't know the fact and her experience told her never to waste an advantage.

Quickly taking him before they had time to think, she rounded the corner and took a brief look at his status plate causing her eyes to slightly widen.

========

Mors had lost count of a number of times he had nearly been killed when training with this crazy woman. If it wasn't for the deal he would make a break for it.

-”I wonder if they will let me spar with a fell beast instead?”

Rubbing his bruised neck, he was once again thankful to be rid of the hateful collar. It had been removed soon after he arrived at camp however not before Captain Verz beat him into submission, at least he managed to get some terms of his own.

He was conscripted into the Pathfinders for four years before he would need to be returned to the Colosseum. If he passed the trial set at two years, he would be able to become a full member. All that would be left was to impress the captain suitably and she would put in the request to central so that he could become a permanent member and avoid returning to slavery.

The only obligation was that he had was to attend the graduation examination of the Coliseum which weirdly enough was at the same time his conscription ended.

After they came to an agreement Verz quickly removed the collar, destroying it in disgust. Pathfinders, being part of the Federation as well as mixed raced despised slavery in all its forms.

Little did he know that Verz had taken an interest in him and singled him out to become her future second in command. Unluckily for Mors, this meant an intense training regime that would even shock the most veteran elites.

The pain in his broken arm jolted Mors from his reminiscing and he quickly attempted to stand before falling back to the earth. The captain did not like to be kept waiting and his dawdling would cost him. Having a quick glance he noticed his leg was twisted at a horrific angle.

-”Why can't I spar with someone normal, like a frost wyrm instead of this monster” [Mors]

Ahead of him, Verz was standing in a lazy manner with her weight on one foot. Her bright green eyes were locked onto him in predatory gaze and a vicious smile was plastered across her face.

Very few got the ‘privilege’ of being personally trained by the captain and Mors couldn't help but wonder if there was such a thing as karma and he was getting his dues for his past transgressions.

Her grey, bushy tail with a white tip was slowly swaying back and forth as her ears slightly twitched taking note of every sound around her. Mors originally thought she was pretty cute and before he knew better he had tried to touch her tail, well grab before waking up a few days later in excruciating pain.

“You only have two days until the initiation and you're still pathetically weak, looks like evolution did not do you any favours” snarled Verz as she launched another wave of devastating strikes with the wooden sword clutched in her hand causing Mors to kick off the floor with his good leg trying and gain some distance before being pummelled into the ground.

Mors had recently evolved into a Greater Draconic Demon but as he was the only demon in the camp and Verz kept his status plate on her at all times he was only able to take note of the physical changes and how he felt inside, which was pretty vague at best.

Although his horns remained the same, his black hair had turned white almost matching his skin and he now appeared to be around the age of a 17-year-old human male. He had lost his wings causing Mors unbelievable joy as he could now sleep on his back. It also gave Verz one less thing to grab hold off during training.

The only other difference was that already menacing, black tail now had jagged spines sticking out down both sides and running along the top, complementing the dagger-like tip.

He still couldn't use it for much more than balance but both friend and foe needed to be careful when he darted about the battlefield. Bumping into it, even slightly ended up in a lot more than a small scratch and the magic used to regrow limbs was very painful.

It wasn't long until Mors was renowned as the camps black cat, attracting havoc and mayhem wherever he went, so much so that when he evolved in the middle of a corrupt troll hive no one was really surprised.

Although he was beaten all shades of black and blue by Verz when he finished his metamorphosis, it wasn't really Mors' fault. He fell through the ceiling into the pitch black hive while scouting for another entrance.

It took a few hours for a rescue force to be assembled and enter the hive. They were surprised how easy it was, facing almost no resistance. That was until they found the pit Mors had fallen into. It was as if they were standing at the entrance of hell.

The dirt on the floor had turned into a red mud and was churned with blood, bone and sinew in what appeared to be a nightmarish fight. That was if you could see the floor the a number of bodies strewn across the floor, creating little stacks here and there almost like they tried to hold each other up.

Mors had fallen into the Matriarch's chamber causing the entire hive to converge on his position resulting in on one hell of a final last stand, for them of course.

Mors was well known for his titanic strength and viciousness causing a begrudging respect from the other Pathfinders but this scene made them pale. It was evident that he lost his weapon on and resulted to his natural weapons, teeth, claws and tail in a devastating display of brutality.

Moving steadily, trying to avoid the organs and dispatching trolls that were still clinging to life they moved through the cavern searching for Mors' body assuming the worst.

It wasn't until Verz appeared carrying his status plate showing he was alive was there any urgency to the search.

Verz homed in on a large pile of trolls that looked to be the most mangled before flinging them aside before pulling out what seemed to be a large, black leather cocoon. Throwing it at the closest person, they quickly retreated to the nearest outpost as it was unsafe to camp in the surrounding area now there was so much blood in the air.

====

It has been a few weeks since then but whether it was the experience in the hive or the captain's brutal assault upon waking, Mors hasn't been the same around anyone but the captain. Keeping a noticeable distance and avoiding any unnecessary contact.

Tomorrow they would be heading to the Beastkin town of Flatner, famous for its expert blacksmiths. Pathfinder tradition dictates that every participant has a soul weapon before they take the trial. After Mors and the other initiates got their weapons they would be sent on an A level mission without any support.