Page 44 of Scorching the Alien Empire
Drexios erupts into cruel laughter, savoring my hesitation as he begins to jog in tight circles, his boots echoing against the gleaming floor.
“Are you in there, War Chief? Blink twice if you can hear me!” He raps his knuckles against my armor, until I swat his annoying hand away.
Even the Ravager Berserkers lining the walls joy in his jest, their laughter rolling through the chamber like thunder.
Drexios’ gaze sweeps over them, a twisted grin plastered across his face. “Terrible what happened to the ugly big bastard,” he shakes his head, absently taking another deep draw from his scoomer inhaler. “No offense,clone,” he sneers, blowing ruby fumes into my face, the sickly-sweet scent not nearly as rage-inducing as his words.
“He had the traitor Krogoth in the palm of his hand.” Drexios lifts his hand, staring at it with unsettling intensity before fluttering his fingers. “Then—poof! Gone. Just like that. Sucked into something... piece by piece. You should’ve seen it, clone—something so big, squeezing into something so small.”
He barks a sharp, derisive laugh, his attention snapping to Princesa.
“But you’re no stranger to squeezing into tight holes, are you?” he sneers, his words dripping with mockery.
The warriors erupt into laughter, their jeers echoing like a cacophony of hydraliths circling prey.
“Oh, please,” Princesa interjects, tutting with boredom. “You’re just a little puppy, high on his own supply.” She waves a dismissive hand at his inhaler.
Drexios doesn’t miss a beat, holding out the black polymer inhaler with a mocking grin. “Want a drag?” he offers. “Then later, we can do some squeezing and barking together.”
Before he can laugh again, I snatch the inhaler from his pathetic grasp, cutting him off mid-taunt. The chamber falls silent as my roar fills the void.
“She is mine, Drexios!” I lean down, my molten fist trembling with barely restrained fury as I sneer into his face. “Touch her, and I’ll squeeze the marrow from your shattered bones and drink it from your skull.”
With a sharp crunch, I crush the contemptible inhaler, letting its broken polymer shards slip through my fingers to shower his head like tears of shame.
“It speaks!” Drexios mocks, as his hands dart out to grab my wrist. He snarls, baring his fangs, his face darkening with effort as he tries to shove my arm away. All his meagre strength manages is a faint nudge. The black shards in his long green hair glitter faintly under the dim purple glow.
“Aww, you’re all dirty,” Princesa coos mockingly, feigning sympathy as she leans forward in my other arm. “You’re being averynaughty dog.”
“Shut your fat whore mouth!” Drexios roars, ruby mist billowing from his organic eye. He releases my wrist and activates his arc claws. The five plasma prongs ignite with a hiss, scorching the air and casting flickering blue glows across the dim, cavernous throne room.
He lunges at Princesa like a hydralith poised to strike, fangs bared.
Instinct takes over—I lash out, my hand a blur as it clamps around his wrist with molten force. His charge dies, crashing against my unyielding strength, my unshakable will. My grip tightens, fingers coiling like a ship breaker crushing megatons of arcweave.
Drexios drops to one knee, his pain obvious, though he tries to mask it behind a defiant sneer.
“Kill them!” he snarls, his voice sharp with agony.
“Stay your weapons, brothers!” Jazreal commands, his voice booming somewhere behind me.
No one moves. The only sounds are the static whispers of the Scythian comms and Drexios’s strained, rasping breaths.
“No one is coming to save you,” I growl, twisting his wrist further. His organic eye widens, yet the fanged smirk remains. “Submit!”
“Kill him, Dracoth! Burn him alive!” Princesa shrieks, delirious with excitement.
“I will never submit to a voiding shorthair clone,” Drexios hisses through clenched teeth. With a sharp snap, the natural claws of his left hand extend, sweeping wide toward my throat. With Princesa nestled in my other arm, I’m forced to launch him backward with a brutal kick to his chest.
Sparks erupt as metal grates against stone. Drexios skids across the polished floor before flipping into a controlled tumble, landing on his feet. He spits a glob of green blood, flexing his wrist as if shaking off the pain.
“Betrayers, just like the Scythians,” he growls, his Rush-fueled glare snapping to Sarkoth.
“We betray no one,” Sarkoth replies firmly, his voice steady. “There stands the son of our War Chief.” From the corner of my eye, I see him gesture toward me. “His claim is stronger than yours.”
His words ignite a surge of pride in my chest.
“Claim?” Drexios spits, wiping his sneering face with the back of his hand. “Itake!”
