Page 45 of Scorching the Alien Empire
“Then prove the strength of your words, Drexios,” Ignixis interjects, his tone dripping with dark amusement. “Seize your glorious destiny by defeating Dracoth.”
“You!” Drexios’ murderous glare snaps to Ignixis. “You spineless coward, I’ll rip out your lying tongue! Bringing this walking corpse here to challenge me!”
He gestures furiously behind him at the pulsing green light, the endless fleet of Scythian ships zipping and lumbering through the void.
“You swore they’d give me power, but the machine doesn’t work! It doesn’t answer—just those voiding whispers that never cease!” His voice cracks into a shout as he clutches his head, his eyes wild with desperation.
“You are not the one, Drexios. Dracoth is.” Ignixis titters, his soft boots scraping off the polished floor as he steps closer. His voice sharpens, dripping with mockery. “You’re nothing more than a loyal hydralith that’s lost its master. And now, another stands before you.” His tone crescendos, becoming reverent. “Bow your head before Arawnoth’s chosen!”
“Void Arawnoth!” Drexios sneers, flicking his right wrist, the unmistakable sign he’s activating his arc blaster.
Without hesitation, I lower Princesa to the floor and charge forward like a streak of crimson lightning. My plasma shield hums to life, a radiant barrier of blue that catches the searing bolts meant for Ignixis. The air warps and shimmers under the blistering heat, loud zaps ricocheting through the cavernous throne room.
Fury boils in my veins, crimson Rush leaking from my eyes in swirling wisps. Through the bond, Princesa’s rage burns just as hot. Her anger merging with mine. Our flames roar in unison, blood-red and molten silver, entwining in a beautiful, violent dance—a shared testament to our ambitions and anger.
I summon miniature molten suns against his vambraces. His wrist armor glows white-hot before dripping and sloughing off in rivulets of liquid metal and melted circuits.
His arm remains raised, failing to realize his weapon and shield are steaming puddles at his feet.
“What the void!” Drexios curses, his eyes flicking to where his wrist plates should be. He jerks his arm as if it might summon more bolts. It doesn’t.
I advance, slow and deliberate, letting his helplessness claw at his mind.
“Submit,” I growl, my shadow stretching over him.
“Make me!” he snarls, dropping into a low crouch. He reaches behind his back, and twin plasma blades flash in his hands, their blue energy buzzing as he twirls them in an intricate flourish.The air ripples with heat as he sneers, “Come closer, so I can carve a big smile into that bloated face of yours.”
Amused, I halt my approach, instead, channeling molten heat into the hilts of his weapons. The effect is instantaneous—Drexios howls, recoiling as the burning metal sears his hands. The blades clatter to the floor, ringing against the polished black marble.
“You’re just like Krogoth, aren’t you?” he spits, sucking his scorched palms. “You and those alien bitches, using sorcery instead of fighting like true warriors.” His voice drips with venom as he fumbles at his belt. When he rises, he holds a plasma grenade aloft. The sight of it sends a jolt through me, chilling the molten blood in my veins.
“Gotta fight fire with fire,” he barks, thumb poised over the detonator. With a wicked grin, he hurls the grenade toward us.
The device arcs through the air, its deadly glow intensifying with each second. A plasma grenade could obliterate everyone in this throne room, and using Arawnoth’s gift may only hasten its detonation.
The gray, spherical device halts mid-air, frozen in place by the almost invisible barriers summoned by my Princesa. The plasma grenade blinks neon blue, its tempo quickening—a warning of imminent detonation.
A blinding flash erupts, blue-white and searing. I shield my eyes instinctively, the intense light forcing me to blink away spots. Behind me, Princesa grunts with effort, holding her invisible prison firm. Then, just as suddenly, the light extinguishes, leaving behind only dim, blue radiance and a faint trail of vapor curling through the crisp air.
“What’s the matter, Drex-iot?” Princesa’s heated voice cuts through the tension, brimming with mockery. “Your fire turned out to be just a limp little spark.”
Drexios’s organic eye widens, darting between the dissipating vapors and Princesa, a look of genuine shock wiping the smirk from his face.
Before he can recover, my hand shoots out and clamps under his jaw, lifting him effortlessly from the floor.
“I submit,” he gurgles, the words barely audible. His red eyes meet mine, a flicker of desperation swimming in their depths. “I submit,” he repeats, louder this time, his hands raised in surrender.
“Good,” I rumble, releasing my grip. His feet slam onto the floor with a heavy thud.
He doubles over, coughing and gasping for air. But just as relief flickers in the air, I hear it—a faint snap. Instincts honed by countless battles kick in, and I leap backward as Drexios lunges with two vicious sweeps of his natural claws, narrowly missing my eyes.
“Oops, I lied!” He erupts into laughter, his gaze sweeping over the throne room. “See? We’re all liars and traitors now. One big, happy, dysfunctional family.”
Straightening, he tilts his head forward, the predatory gleam in his eye daring me. “Fight like a true warrior if you have the balls. Let uncle Drexios teach you a lesson.”
Excitement surges in my chest, my warrior’s soul roaring to life. A faint smirk tugs at my lips as I step forward. Burning him to ash with a mere thought would be dishonorable, too easy. No, we warriors deserve more. A proper battle. My strength and skill tested against the best.
“Let us bathe in blood,” I declare, my voice booming through the chamber as I drop into a fighting stance.
