Grey shattered another Syrn into a bloody mist. He killed and pillaged as he came across, eating the scraps of their armor and then continuing on to the next.

Every time he shot into the skies, he checked on Thi Lan and Amunet again, making sure that no one was getting close to their location.

"Is it done?" Grey shot into the skies again, as he fell down, he couldn’t seem to find anyone else, but he felt like something was off.

He had defeated plenty of powerful Dormaji. Three of them in particular were pretty tough to crack. What he didn’t know was that those were the top three of the group that had come this time. But if he had known, he would have definitely said it checked out.

The problem was that he hadn’t fought any Syrn of nearly the same quantity. But... Grey wasn’t sure if he was overthinking things or not.

Thi Lan’s contract had said she had to kill 18 of the Syrn versus just 7 of the Dormaji. Could it just be that the Syrn were much weaker?

Plus, there were supposed to be two Volthari, but only one of them was killed by him, and there was no sign of the others.

He also had to factor in that the group was probably killing one another too. If they were vying for sponsorship spots, maybe they were competing with one another.

The zones seemed divided by Race and it wouldn’t be until later arcs that they melded. So it could be said that every Syrn was competing with every other Syrn, and the same was true of every other alien race.

Just the same way Grey was technically competing with humans.

But something still felt... off.

Grey adjusted his landing path, zipping across the tall hedges until he made a slow landing about three or so meters away from where Thi Lan and Amunet were.

Even now, Thi Lan continued to hold Amunet who was entirely unconscious. She looked up when Grey arrived, about to give him a light smile when she suddenly froze.

A mirage flickered and a blade appeared at her neck.

A Syrn manifested from thin air.

Grey, who had been about to move forward, stopped walking instantly. It was hard to read the expression of a race he wasn’t familiar with, but Grey could almost feel the sneer.

A dark forked tongue slithered out of the Syrn’s mouth, licking at her non-existent lips.

Bexanca’s teeth bared in a smile, their jagged, sharp contours perfectly fitting into one another.

"I was waiting patiently for you, Grey Temolt. You have quite a bit of power on you, surprising, truly surprising. You’ve given the people quite the show."

She almost sounded like a slithering snake.

Grey didn’t reply, he just stood there.

"Nothing to say? I thought you were a lot quippier than this. One of the things I was looking forward to was the banter."

She pouted. Or, rather, she tried to. It was hard to pull off when your lips were thinner than hair was thick.

"It seems you care about these two quite a lot. What was it? You were going to come here and play hero? Save everybody before the big bad aliens could get to them?

"You were close. Unfortunately for you, I’m planning on winning and taking everything. Though, I do have to thank you for taking out the Volthari for me. I’m not quite yet ready to fight the higher races—ah, ah, ah," she pressed her blade even more firmly against Thi Lan’s neck, her scythe swaying down to cup at Amunet’s, "don’t move. I don’t think these things would end well if you did. Of course, I’m talking about Neural Frame as well.

"You see, I’m very sensitive to such things, and I’m just a small, frail woman. I scare easily too.

"Maybe I just might kill one of them to warn you, then use the other as bait. Should I do that?"

"Ha." Grey let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. "You know, I really do try to be a good guy. Like I really, really try."

"I get it," Bexanca nodded as though she was truly listening to his plight, "the world is a place full of bullshit, though. It’s a real problem, don’t you think."

"Yeah, true. Like why do I have to be subjected to talking to ugly ass bitches like you. If you’re going to piss me off, can’t you at least have the decency to be hot?"

Bexanca burst into laughter. "There’s the Grey I know. The aesthetic of your Race is quite different from mine. I am actually quite popular amongst our men. It makes it quite easy to kill them.

"But this sort of kill, I value so much more. After all, being sexy and conniving is so last year. I prefer sneaky and conniving. Very chic."

"Mm." Grey nodded. "It seems, though, the aesthetic of your race is kinda shitty. Your self-awareness is even worse."

Bexanca smiled, but didn’t answer. That smile, though, dripped with contempt. Those were the words of a man who knew he had lost. The irony in them was clear enough to her, why should she bother to say anything else.

"I bet a Producer was involved in leading you here, huh?" Grey continued without a care. "I also bet they had a cute little storyline, split screening my kill spree while you were lurking in the background sneaking up on the damsels in distress.

"I can see it now. They probably think they have a damn good storyline too.

"Unfortunately for them, you’re a dumbass."

Chi.

A line of white gold sliced across Bexanca’s neck.

Her head toppled to the ground, her body only having the time to tense once before she fell over limply.

Her head rolled to a stop at Grey’s feet. He raised his heel and smashed it down.

"Ugly hag."

...

"FUCK YEAH!" An old man leapt from his seat, unleashing a swift and sharp combo of punches that chained into a wild rain. "That’s fucking grandson—OW! FUCK MY BACK!"