Page 115 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Let us temper our wills in each other’s blood. Let us forge ourselves anew.
I lash out—a sweeping kick aimed for his overextended knee. But he lifts his leg, blocking the strike at the last moment, protecting the joint, absorbing some of the impact. Still, pain ripples across his face, the muscle of his thigh darkening from the impact.
He retaliates. Claws rain down in a blistering flurry—fast, but not fast enough. Almost slow to my senses now, my Rush burning hotter, pouring liquid metal into my veins, pushing me to heights untapped.
I weave through the onslaught. Then my hands shoot out. Fingers entwine. Claws lock like the twisted cords of arcweave. Our muscles bulge, veins perturbing, teeth clenched. His strength—his power—I have never felt anything like it. It is intoxicating. Far surpassing my previous, weak opponents.
Yet—it is not enough.
A growl rumbles deep in my chest as I squeeze harder. The twitch of pain, the flicker of realization in his eyes—I savor it. My breath comes slow, measured, the mist of my Rush bleeding into the dark, silvery-red,callingto him,daringhim to push harder.
Overcome me.
Give me the fight I long for.
His eyes blaze like a roaring furnace, fangs sinking into his lip, drawing blood. His body tenses. He clamps down, summoning every ounce of his strength. He pushes with all his might and yet—
He cannot move me.
Disappointment washes over me, like a river of ice snuffing out my molten joy. This is his limit; he can go no further.But how? Is he not me? Am I not him?And yet—between us stretches an abyss too vast to cross.
Agulfthat should not exist.
“There can be only one, babes!” Princesa’s laughter rings behind me, wild and unhinged, her fervor blazing through our bond like a fever. “Rip out his throat!” Her voice rises in a crescendo of madness.“Show me you’ve still got it! Show me my Red Dragon!”
The realization strikes like a hammer blow. Soobviousnow. Sosimple. It’s Princesa. Our bond. The gift from the Gods. Through them, I’m chosen—ascendent. No mere genetic material, no simple clone. Something more. Much more. Close to divine.
These echoes, these perversions—they are mere flickers compared to the blazing inferno of my soul.
Impatient now, my strength surges. The clone snarls and thrashes, but his fingers bend further beneath my crushing grip,creakingunder the pressure. He twists, desperate to escape the agony, to escapethe inescapable.
I will put him out of his misery.
With a roar, I slam my warvisor into the bridge of his nose.
CRACK.
Bone shatters with a sickening crunch. Blood explodes over my visor. He reels back, stumbling, wheeling from pain and momentum. I seize my advantage, my claws gleaming in the dim light as Istrike.
The razor tips spear his chest. His tough skin parts. My claws breach flesh, cutting through the breastplate of muscle—piercing his beating heart.
A wetsquelch.
Warm blood oozes over my fingers as he collapses into my arms.
I hold him.
“You fought well, brother,” I whisper into his long ear, supporting his weight as his life wanes. “Know this—I will carry your strength with me. Every step I take will echo with your fury and power.” I promise with a solemn nod. His last warmth bleeds from his body.
“How touching. I think I shred a single tear,” Drexios barks a short laugh, bending to retrieve his fallen plasma blade. “You really are a voiding monster, War Chieftain.” He exhales, shaking his head, lips curling into a smirk.
I lower the clone gently to the ground, turning him onto his front.
“You’re just jealous you’re not half the man, my Dracoth is,” Princesa retorts, her breath husky as she brushes her fingersagainst the nape of my neck. But then—her tone shifts. “Wait... what are you doing?”
I begin mygrislywork. A promise made to a brother. A promise kept.
My claws cut deep, slicing clean strips along the contours of his spine. My fingers dig in, parting muscle, veins, and tendons.
