บท 367: Weakling
The alien froze in shock, his mind struggling to process what was happening. How had Stark managed to do that? Just a moment ago, he had been behind him, yet now, there he was—calmly standing in front of him, as if mocking his every move.
The alien's body trembled involuntarily. Was this some kind of nightmare? No, it couldn't be. This was real. The hairs—or what passed for hairs on his cartilaginous skin—stood on end as a wave of cold fear swept over him. He shook his head violently. No, this couldn't be happening!
Anger mixed with his fear, a sharp bitterness rising in his throat. How dare this stranger humiliate him like this? Without thinking, he spun around and darted off in the opposite direction, his instinct for survival screaming louder than his courage.
But even as he pushed himself to his limit, his mind kept racing with unanswerable questions. How had Stark moved so quickly? The alien prided himself on his survival skills. He was far from a fighter, but he was an expert at escaping danger. He knew his speed and reflexes were top-tier among his kind, yet this man—or whatever he was—had completely outclassed him.
A sick feeling settled in his stomach. He realized that no matter how fast he ran, Stark would still be faster.
A mocking laugh echoed behind him. The sound sent chills down his spine, cutting through his rising panic like a blade. The alien risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately regretted it. Stark was already ahead of him again, standing casually with his arms crossed, his keratin-enhanced armor glinting ominously in the dim light.
"How—" the alien choked, his voice breaking as the words refused to come.
The mocking smile on Stark's face widened, and the alien felt his heart sink further. He could feel the icy grip of despair tightening around him. His once-proud confidence shattered like fragile glass.
In a final, desperate bid for survival, the alien let out a guttural scream and charged straight at Stark. His cry was raw and filled with the kind of desperation only a cornered animal could muster. His body hurtled forward, but his movements lacked the grace and power they had earlier. He was no longer the predator—he was the prey.
Stark, however, didn't flinch. He stood perfectly still, raising one hand as his suit's targeting system came online. A faint blue crosshair locked onto the alien's chest. Stark's palm began to glow with the energy of a fully charged repulsor beam. All it would take was a slight flick of his fingers, and the alien would be reduced to nothing but a charred smear on the floor.
But Stark hesitated.
Before he could fire, a streak of brilliant energy tore through the air like a bolt of lightning. It struck the alien mid-charge, the impact so powerful that his body exploded in a grotesque burst of blood and tissue. The alien's remains splattered against the far wall with a sickening thwack, leaving behind nothing but a lifeless, sticky mess.
Stark lowered his hand slowly, his targeting system deactivating as his gaze shifted toward the source of the attack.
From above, a figure descended gracefully. It was a woman, her feet barely touching the ground as if she were floating. Her presence was commanding, almost otherworldly. She wore an elegant yet intimidating suit of armor, its surface adorned with intricate patterns that shimmered faintly in the dim light. Her face was cold, her expression unreadable, but there was an undeniable air of authority about her.
Stark recognized her instantly. She was the same god-king he had encountered before on Krafal, the one who had been interested in the secrets of the temple.
She landed lightly and turned her icy gaze toward the mess of alien remains splattered on the wall. Her expression didn't waver as she surveyed her handiwork.
Finally, she looked at Stark. "Are you hurt?" she asked, her voice calm but tinged with an undertone of concern.
Stark tilted his head slightly, bemused by her sudden appearance. He glanced at the remains of the alien and then back at her. "I think I'm better off than that guy," he said, his tone laced with dry humor.
The god-king's expression didn't change. "Preying on the weak and defenseless is his own fault," she said coldly. "If I hadn't been passing by, you might have ended up like him."
Stark raised an eyebrow. Was she serious? It took him a moment to realize that she had completely misread the situation. She thought he was the victim here, some helpless traveler who had narrowly escaped a grisly fate.
He decided not to correct her. There was no point in revealing the truth, not when her misunderstanding worked in his favor.
The god-king continued, her gaze sweeping the room. "This place is dangerous," she said firmly. "People's hearts are filled with darkness here, and their true natures come out in places like this. You were lucky this time, but you won't always be."
Stark shrugged casually, but her words carried a weight that made him pause. It was clear that, in her eyes, he was just another weakling who had wandered too far into dangerous territory.
"You shouldn't be here alone," she added, her tone softening slightly as if she were genuinely concerned.
"I can take care of myself," Stark replied smoothly.
The god-king didn't seem convinced. Her eyes scanned the room until they landed on a small bunker in the corner. She pointed toward it. "Hide there," she instructed. "Don't move. I'll return for you once I've completed my mission."
Stark blinked, momentarily caught off guard by her insistence. He wasn't used to people underestimating him, let alone trying to protect him.
Still, he nodded, playing along. "Thanks," he said, making his voice sound as grateful as possible.
The god-king didn't move until Stark walked over to the bunker and crouched down inside. Only then did she nod in approval.
"Stay here," she said firmly. "This place is no place for someone like you. I know there are rumors about the treasures hidden here, but they're not worth your life. Desperadoes flock to this temple, and the dangers far outweigh the rewards."
Her tone was so serious that Stark almost felt bad for deceiving her. Almost.
"I'll return as soon as I can," she promised, her voice softening slightly. "Don't move until then."
With that, she turned and walked away, her figure vanishing into the shadows.
Stark waited for a few moments, listening to the sound of her footsteps fading into the distance. Then, once he was sure she was gone, he climbed out of the bunker and dusted himself off.
"Stay put and wait?" he muttered to himself, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, right."
He had no intention of sitting around like a helpless bystander. There was still work to be done, and he wasn't about to let anyone—or anything—slow him down.
As he moved deeper into the temple, he couldn't help but wonder how the god-king would react when she returned and found the bunker empty. The thought brought a small, mischievous grin to his face.
He adjusted the settings on his suit, activating its stealth mode as he slipped into the shadows. Whatever dangers lay ahead, he was ready to face them head-on.
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