Living among the undead isn't so bad when these unusual half-humans, half-monsters do jobs that are more difficult for ordinary people to do. These include phoenixes, who are excellent firefighters, and vampires, whose ability to control blood helps in surgery.

But what about without 'watchdogs', whose main profession is military or border guard? It's damn good when you can sharpen your teeth on other people's bones without getting into trouble. That's why you joined the army, and they gladly took you, as a Werewolf, under their wing. Are you a werewolf, or just a Changeling, who can hardly even be called a “puppy”? You definitely didn't like being equated with the lesser undead, growling even at the hint of it.

But here you are standing in front of an unfamiliar smell, feeling anxiety from the unknown and... insignificance. Three pairs of eyes look out from three identical masks and even though the new soldier doesn’t growl, you hope he doesn’t grab your throat. This is your first time seeing Cerberus. Damn Cerberus is from the very bottom of Hell and you can hardly stand upright without seeming even more defective. Your tail treacherously presses against your hips as you make a confident face, looking into the eyes of the Guardian of Hell's Gate himself.

You ask his name and rank, trying to sound confident even though the tremor is noticeable in your tongue.

"Nikto," all three heads answer in a single hoarse voice, as if steam is about to come out from behind the holes in the masks. "Lieutenant."

It was like you were doused with cold water. Your title of 'Lieutenant' is not even close to him... To THEM.