Page 105 of Scorching the Alien Empire
The air crackles.Suffocating.
With a flick of my wrist, I summon a divine barrier, sealing the exit. Dracoth’s fury is intoxicating, igniting a murderous wildfire in my veins. If they are responsible for this, then let them suffer beneath his wrath.
“Last time I checked,youngWar Chief, we aren’t made of metal,” Drexios sneers, his red eye glinting even through the tension. His hand flicks out—rapping his knuckles against a nearby soldier’s head. “Hear that? Hollower than a Glaseroid’s ball sack. Definitely not metal. Nope, no Scythians here. Sorry, boss.”
He grins.
Dracoth moves faster than lightning. Brutal and blinding. One second, Drexios is standing. The next—Dracoth’s massive hand has his armor in a death grip. With an effortless heave, he flings Drexios sideways like a too-smug cannonball.
The impact is deafening. The shelves collapse in a catastrophic avalanche of shattered glass, broken containers, and shrieking metal, burying his crumpled form in the falling debris.
“OUR ANCESTORS WEEP RIVERS OF BLOOD AT THIS SACRILEGE.” Dracoth’s voice is raw with fury. “AND YOU—YOU MAKE JESTS?!”
His eyes leak silver and crimson fumes, his presence a walking cataclysm. He stalks forward, each step a clicking thunderclap, as he closes in on the dusty wreckage.
“EVERY CUT. EVERY DEATH. EVERY ATROCITY. IS YOURS TO BEAR.”
I feel feral joy surge through me. My fingers curl, nails digging into my palms as I lean forward, heart pounding.
“Make him suffer, Dracoth.” My voice slithers from between clenched teeth, delighted, hoping, praying Drexios is about to be torn to shreds.
Drexios stirs beneath the wreckage. A low groan escapes him as he shifts, bracing against the floor with trembling hands. Dustand debris slide from his back. He coughs—a wet, hacking sound—then spits, a thick glob of green splattering across the metal.
Slowly, he lifts his head. A ragged grin splits his bloodied face. “...Void.”
He wipes his chin, smearing the blood like war paint. His single red eye gleams with something twisted. “How sweet of you to care.” A mocking pause. “But you’re a little late, aren’t you? Maybe the female’s spirits would rest easier if you hurled yourself into a wall.”
Drexios groans as he rises, swaying slightly. “You led us down this path—a version of you. The one you call ‘father’—War Chieftain Gorexius.” His sneer deepens as he sweeps his arm over the stunned space-knights. “Not me. Not the war brothers.You.”
Dracoth’s gaze falters. Through our bond, his doubt and fear roar through his crimson flame, melting through his rage.
Drexios steps forward, his hands clenched, trembling. His voice drops to a venomous whisper. “After all, who could resist the War Chief? Look at you—a titan. A monster. Not evenIcould. Oh, but how I tried.”
His single eye burns, bright as a molten ruby. “Gorexius ripped the eye from my skull when I questioned his orders. It was so long ago now, but still—” He taps his temple, a slow, rhythmic gesture. “Itthrobs.Itburns,like it happened yesterday.”
He exhales sharply, then tilts his head, his words landing like the twist of a blade.
“Voiding funny, isn’t it? That you did the exact. Same. Thing.”
The room is deathly silent.
Drexios inches closer, his voice rising. “And now his ghost stands here, screaming at us forhiscrimes. For ordersheforced on us!” He gestures wildly toward the space-knights. “What’s the matter? Don’t like your handiwork? Not enough guts? Not enough blood? The scent of urine and gore too long faded?”
His breath hitches. His sneer curls into something savage. “Come on. Say something?Justifythis clone,” he spits inches from Dracoth’s face.
I seethe, my nails digging into my palms. “You have no idea if Dracoth is a clone or—”
My words are swept away in the storm of Dracoth’s bellowing rage. His roar shakes the room, a monstrous, deafening howl of suffering and fury. His energy claws ignite, blinding-hot, distorting the air with searing waves.
I gasp as Drexios recoils. His sneer vanishes. For the first time—panic flickers in his single eye. But Dracoth directs his murderous strikes not at him, but toward the metal tables, the murder-bot droids nearby.
I’m jostled like a ragdoll in his arm as he swings like a savage beast. Again and again, he hacks, snarling with fury, his energy blades scream, slicing through metal like butter. Molten slag splatters, circuits hiss, and the acrid scent of burning metal chokes my lungs. He’s a primal whirlwind of destruction, kicking aside the wreckage, ripping down more shelves, reducing the room to a sizzling broken mess.
Then as quickly as it started—silence.
We hold our breath. Waiting. None dare to speak, the tension thicker than my mother’s lip filler. Dracoth stands in the wreckage, chest heaving, his massive frame radiating heat in murderous waves.
“...These rooms.” Dracoth’s tone, an unnerving, final whisper. “Destroy them.”
