The Enemy

Author's note: Fair warning, this chapter will be violent. It will delve into a rebel group who oppose interspecies relationships between New Worlders and monster girls as a whole.

It was 3:42AM. The campsite was quiet. Deathly quiet, considering who was among them that night.

The Watchers, a small paramilitary rebel group who oppose New Worlders, yet more specifically, relationships between New Worlders and their so-called monster girl “pets”, sent a detachment of five units into the campsite. All of them dedicated and loyal to the cause. Armed with swords, bows and arrows, and anti-monster girl tactics, they were a **** to be reckoned with.

Lying on a cot in a pitched tent Ghorza set up a few hours earlier, bundled under the blanket with his wife, Adam lightly snored, hand creeping upon the ogre’s taut, green belly.

A cadre of shadows crept into the room…

Almost immediately, the five of them came upon the couple at once. Adam was jolted away by two men who covered his face in a burlap sack, while the rest fixated on the ogre. Her eyes shot open, only to be met with a flurry of hands, knees, and feet smashing against her at all sides. “NOOOOOOO!” She growled in pure, indignant rage, ignoring the punishment her body dealt. Her husband was getting hauled away, just like that. He was gone as fast as he came.

What seemed like the blink of an eye, Adam was hauled away in a carriage, the two men shoving him into the back box seat. Meanwhile, the remaining three withdrew their swords from their sheaths, grinning wide. “Haven’t killed an ogre before. Have you fellas?” One of them, a male in his early 40s, commented.

“Nah, can’t say that I have.” A human woman, mid-30s, remarked. She was equipped with a sledgehammer.

“First time for everything!” Another man, early 20s, said as he lunged at Ghorza with his dagger.

The third man, his teeth bared like an animal, eyes bloodlusted, raised his dagger in an overhead stab at the ogre.

When out of nowhere, a green fist impacted against his ribcage, smashing through bone and tissue. The young rebel fell on his knees, grasping for breath. The other two looked on in horror. She was fast. Unnaturally fast. This hesitation was all the ogre needed. Another hit came fast and low, raw strength from Ghorza’s fist smashed into the rebel’s throat. He crumpled over, eyes glazed, his larynx shifted a few inches to the right. He grasped for sweet, sweet air - receiving none.

The rebel woman screamed in horror, bearing her sledgehammer with both hands, attempting to slam down on the ogre which killed her friend. But she was too slow, too inexperienced, and the monster girl came at her all too fast, like she was going through slow motion, and Ghorza was being fast forwarded.

The rebel woman’s sledgehammer was wrestled away from the hilt in mid-air. Off balance, the woman stumbled, just enough for Ghorza to spin and swing the hammer around and in an upward arc, catching the jaw of the rebel, smashing it up and into the front of her face, teeth shattering in a spray of white shards. Blood erupted from her ruined mouth, causing the rebel to stagger back, just enough for Ghorza to leap up and chop down with the hammer, crushing the woman’s skull.

“O-oh shit!” The final man said, dropping his sword and making a run for it.

Ghorza walked outside. Picking up the sword, she flung it like a shurikin, the sharp, glistening metal of the blade hissed through the air, and buried itself in the running man’s face, puncturing his eyeballs and driving a sliver of metal through the cartilage of his nose. He screamed and shook like a rag doll before going down.

The ogre says nothing. Three dead rebels, her campfire in ruins. She doesn’t consider it. Her lower lip trembles, a stream of tears trailing down her cheeks. Her fists clench, cracking due to the sheer ****.

“A-ADAM…” Is all she musters to say, “I FIND YOU.”