"You—fight 'Sea God' again. Those other humans are no match for him."

  Josh pointed at one of the trainers. After a week at the arena, the other human fighters were clearly inferior to Sam. In every sparring session, Sam dispatched them with clinical precision.

  Josh, a seasoned trainer, was baffled. He didn't know where this human had been schooled, but he knew that in a real life-or-death struggle, Sam’s opponents would have died even faster.

  Damn, if I could put him in the Mud Pits, we’d be champions, Josh muttered to himself.

  The pig trainer stepped forward, visibly annoyed. He looked at Josh and grunted, "Are you serious, Boss? One-on-one with a human?"

  "Just fight him. Stop whining."

  "Am I allowed to crush him to death?" The trainer sneered. To him, dueling a human was a professional insult.

  "If you want to offend the Princess, be my guest."

  "He’s just a human," the trainer grumbled.

  "He’s a human whose life is worth more than a dozen pigs like us, you idiot," Josh snapped.

  Sam watched the two-meter-tall pig approach. His heart hammered with excitement—this was his first time facing a Pig-man. He recalled the brown bear he had killed; this trainer didn't look much different. He understood the subtext of Josh’s warning: just like the wealthy in the old world valued their pets over the poor, in this world, social hierarchy was the only true law.

  The trainer picked up a two-meter wooden staff and spun it, his eyes locking onto Sam.

  "Sea God! Fight him. Find a weapon!" Josh shouted.

  The arena went silent. Pigs and humans alike stopped their drills to watch. The humans looked terrified; to them, the Pigs were masters, gods of order and violence.

  The trainer stepped into the mud pit. His massive weight caused him to sink instantly, making his movements sluggish. "Come on, human! Let’s end this joke."

  Sam entered the pit. He immediately dug his staff in for leverage, lifting his feet and landing on his heels with toes pointed outward. It was a specialized movement technique he’d learned from Delta Force training to navigate marshy terrain.

  The trainer lunged, swinging his staff with massive force, but the mud robbed him of his agility. Sam planted his staff, vaulted over the sludge, and slid to the side, narrowly avoiding a strike that would have shattered his ribs.

  The trainer’s staff buried itself deep in the mud. As he struggled to yank it out, Sam seized the opening. He used his staff to propel himself into the air, driving a kick straight at the Pig-man’s face.

  Thwack!

  Mud sprayed everywhere. Sam tumbled back into the muck, while the trainer only staggered. Sam’s heart sank—the kick felt like hitting a solid rock. Against a human, that blow would have been a knockout; against a Pig, it was a mere nuisance. This was the raw physical gap between the species.

  "Son of a bitch!" Josh hissed, watching the exchange.

  Infuriated by the "insult" of being kicked by a human, the trainer wrenched his staff free and swung a horizontal blow. Sam brought his own staff up to block. The impact was bone-jarring; Sam’s arms went numb, and his knees nearly buckled. The strength was monstrous.

  The trainer swung again. Sam tucked his staff against his body and performed a tactical roll through the mud, escaping the second strike. The trainer overbalanced, his staff burying itself in the pit again, sending him face-first into the slime.

  "Oh!" The crowd gasped. Josh and the other trainers burst into laughter.

  Sam scrambled up. He had the advantage now. The Pig-man was flailing in the mud, trying to regain his footing. Sam raised his staff, looking down at the vulnerable neck and base of the skull—universal kill zones.

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  But he hesitated. What was the point of winning a fight against a Pig in a world where they ruled? If he spared him, would it be seen as mercy or an insult to their dominant pride?

  Crack!

  Sam swung. He didn't hit the head; he struck the trainer’s back. The Pig-man roared, spun around, and caught the staff on the second swing. He yanked it with terrifying strength, pulling Sam toward him. A massive hand shot out, gripping Sam’s chest.

  "Argh!" Sam cried out as his ribs groaned under the pressure. The Pig-man pulled back a fist. "I’ll punch your damn brains out!"

  Suddenly, the trainer froze. Josh and the others turned and immediately bowed.

  "Princess! When did you arrive?"

  Juliana stood there, flanked by guards, watching silently. The trainer’s rage vanished instantly. He set Sam down and bowed low.

  "Clean him up. He’s finished for the day," Juliana said coldly.

  As Sam left to wash, Josh approached the Princess. "Princess... if I may... this human belongs in the Mud Pits. With him, the Royal Team would reclaim its glory."

  "I will consider it," Juliana replied.

  "Why consider? Put him in! The team needs—"

  "Master Josh, watch your tongue!" the head of the guards growled, stepping forward.

  Josh recoiled, bowing frantically. "Apologies, Princess! My mistake."

  "How do you rate him as a Human Guard?" Juliana asked.

  "As a Guard... he is peerless. Loyal. Like a..."

  "Enough. That’s all I needed to hear," Juliana cut him off. She knew exactly what he was going to compare Sam to.

  Later, sitting beside Juliana in the car, Sam remained silent. Juliana reached out and stroked his head. Sam flinched instinctively, an uncomfortable feeling rising in his chest.

  "Why didn't you finish him when you had the chance?" she asked.

  "I didn't dare, Princess," Sam replied calmly.

  "On the ship, you were decisive enough to shoot down a plane."

  "That was instinct, Princess."

  Juliana smiled behind her mask. "You are my Human Guard. You don't need to fear anyone. From now on, you only follow my orders. To me, Pigs are not to be trusted."

  Sam realized his role: he was being groomed as the Princess's personal assassin. She trusted him because, like a dog to an old-world master, he had no political stake in their society.

  "This is for you." Juliana handed him a bag. Inside were a custom-fitted dagger, a pistol, and a submachine gun—all scaled perfectly for a human hand.

  "Thank you, Princess."

  "It took a lot to convince my mother to let me keep you as a Human Guard," she added. "Now, we are going somewhere that requires your absolute obedience."

  The motorcade didn't return to the palace. Instead, they arrived at a heavily guarded building.

  BAM!

  The doors to a high-level briefing room were kicked open. A group of high-ranking generals, led by a man with four purple boar insignias, spun around in shock.

  Juliana walked in, followed by Sam and her guards. Sam was now in full tactical gear, a "Human Guard" patch on his chest, his face hidden behind a cold mask.

  "Princess!"

  "Greetings, Chairman of the War Council," Juliana sneered.

  Her eyes locked onto an elderly pig with two purple insignias. His name tag read: R. Adetch.

  "What is the meaning of this?" the Chairman asked, his voice trembling with suppressed rage.

  "I am here for Master Adetch. My apologies for interrupting the War Council," Juliana said. Adetch turned pale, looking like a man whose secrets had just been dragged into the light.

  "Master Adetch, we have things to discuss. You're coming with me," Juliana commanded.

  "I... I am in a meeting. I will see you after," Adetch stammered.

  "The Intelligence Director must stay," the Chairman intervened. His personal guard stepped forward to block the path.

  "Anyone who interferes—kill them," Juliana said flatly.

  BANG!

  A single shot rang out. The guard’s eyes rolled back as a hole appeared in his forehead. His massive body hit the floor, blood geysering onto the expensive carpet. All eyes snapped to Sam. His draw had been impossibly fast.

  "Adetch, you are under arrest for treason and endangering the Tahi Imperial Army," Juliana announced.

  "On whose authority?!" the Chairman roared, his hand hovering over his sidearm. The room was tense. The generals knew they could bully other pigs, but a Human Guard was different. A Human Guard was a mindless killing machine with no family to threaten and no politics to play.

  "The Queen’s authority," Juliana replied.

  Sam stepped toward Adetch, the cold muzzle of his SMG pressed against the old pig's snout.

  "Direct verbal command from the Queen," Juliana continued. "If you wish to challenge it, take it up with her. But for now, anyone who stops me is an enemy of the Crown, punishable by immediate execution."

  She glanced at Sam. Without hesitation, he shifted his aim to the Chairman’s head. The four-star general, a veteran of a hundred battles, felt a cold sweat break across his neck. A regular soldier wouldn't dare. But this... thing... didn't care about his rank.

  "Fine. I will speak to the Queen later," the Chairman hissed, clenching his fists.

  Sam gestured with his gun, and Adetch stood up, trembling. As the guards led the traitor away, Juliana turned to the room.

  "Please, continue your meeting."

  She walked out. Sam was the last to leave, politely closing the door behind him.

  Inside the room, the Chairman shook with rage. "Petr!" he snapped.

  A one-star general named Petr stood up. He was the same man who had met Juliana at the docks. "I will take temporary command of the Intelligence Bureau," Petr said with a face like stone.

  As the Chairman watched Petr, he wondered if he saw a ghost of a smirk on the younger man's face. The game of thrones had officially begun.