Page 284 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Dracoth surges forward, axe raised like a scene fromKlendathian Chainsaw Massacre XIII: Bone-Zone Edition.
Krogoth stands firm. Defiant. A twig bracing for a tsunami.
A flash of motion—thenimpact.Their grips collide on the axe, muscles bulging, veins flaring, blood glistening like warpaint. The crowd holds its breath. So do I.
Dracoth’s fury floods through our bond.A wildfire. An unstoppable rush of glorious rage. This is his specialty—the meatball supreme.
The slag cracks beneath Krogoth’s feet, his bones groaning under the weight of my Red Dragon. The axe inches downward, creeping toward his neck like a stage ten clinger.
My fists clench. My breath stops. He’s going to do it.
Krogoth—the cheater—moves. A desperate headbutt. But Dracoth pivots—clean, sharp, perfect.
Then—SHREEK.Dracoth’s claws rake down Krogoth’s chest. Green blooderuptslike some Halloween-themed champagne bottle of celebration. I can hardly believe my eyes. But Krogoth stumbles—collapses.
Defeated. A loser-turd waiting to be flushed.
“YES!” I scream, voice slicing through the silence like a glitter bomb of triumph. My heart thunders like a broken washing machine.
Bitch Brick wails like a banshee, shrill and delicious. She crumples, her scarred face twisted in anguish. I almost feel bad for her.
Almost.
She could’ve stopped this. Shechosenot to. Ego always comes before the fall.
“Are you happy now?” Sandra breathes beside me, her hand falling from her mouth, eyes locked on Krogoth’s torn form. “Does it feel good? Getting to the top? Stepping on everyone to do it?”
I grimace. “It’d feelbetterif you weren’t guilt-tripping me,” I glance toward Todd, silently praying he’ll clamp her mouth shut with his adorable little mandibles. “Don’t blame me. We both know Bitch Brick could’ve stepped inanytime. Shechosethis.”
But Sandra doesn’t back down. “Maybe you’re always alone because youuseeveryone,” she snaps, sapphire eyes burning.
“I...”
The words stick—dry, dead, useless. Like she’s just hit me with a hundred eviction notices straight to the soul.
Is that what I’ve been doing?No. That doesn’t make any sense.
Right?
“No, Sandra!” I snarl, silver daggers in my eyes. “Peopleuseme! They leave me! Like my prick parents. Like my prick friends. So don’t stand there like some dollar-store therapist, spouting self-help crap and ruining my moment of victory. You—you Ginga Ninjaabandoner!”
I spin away, focusing on the ruined obsidian arena, done with her—done with this. “Only Todd and Dracoth have stuck by me. And they’re more than enough.”
I exhale, loud and deliberate. Movement catches my eye.
Krogoth stirs.
My heart seizes. “...No way.”
The crowd gasps—a million held breaths becoming a thunderous drone.
Krogoth rises.
Like something out of a horror flick. A corpse reanimated by vengeance. His body a ruin of blood and ash, skin flapping like grotesque avant-garde curtains down his chest. Green gore slicks every inch of him.
“Oh my god.” Sandra gasps, hand flying to her mouth. Even Todd perks up on her head, eye blinking, croaking in awe.
And then it getsworse—Krogoth’s claws extend. Eyes burn like twin furnaces of hate. Raven-black hair whips in the wind like a Jolly Roger soaked in wrath.
