The city smoldered under a gray sky. Smoke rose in thick columns, painting the horizon black. The streets were empty, littered with debris and broken dreams. Khael'Thar stood amidst the ruins, tail coiled, sword-hand gleaming, dark purple eyes scanning the horizon.
He had felt it before it appeared—a presence unlike anything he had faced before. Not human. Not like the first rival. Something… organized. Calculated. Deadly.
From above, ships descended in formation. Sleek, angular designs, bristling with weapons and alien technology. Beams of energy cut the sky, searching for him. The humans, the alien coalition, anyone who thought they could stop him. They were here.
Khael'Thar tilted his head, listening to the hum of engines and the faint chatter in alien tongues. A low sound came from his mouth—a high-pitched, metallic roar that echoed across the city. The sound made the ships shudder. A few smaller vessels exploded midair, torn apart by the sonic scream.
"Fools," he muttered, voice calm, cold. "You cannot stop what is coming."
The ground shook as he moved forward. His tail lashed with precision, impaling a landing platform and tearing through metal like paper. Soldiers scrambled, their weapons useless against his transforming sword-hand and devastating tail strikes.
From one of the hovering ships, a figure descended. Unlike the others, he didn't land immediately. Horns curved from his head, metal skin reflecting the dim sun. Green eyes flickered with energy, and his posture radiated confidence. The rival from before.
"You didn't waste time," Khael'Thar said, voice low, almost amused.
"Neither did you," the green-eyed one replied. "But this isn't your fight alone anymore. They sent reinforcements. You'll need more than brute force."
Khael'Thar's tail lashed again, shredding a building's wall effortlessly. "Let them come," he said. "I will crush them all. Every last one."
The newcomers landed in a circle around him. Armed with alien tech and weapons designed to pierce the strongest defenses, they approached cautiously. Khael'Thar noticed the pattern of their movements. Traps, formations, coordinated attacks—but they moved slowly, carefully.
He smiled, a low, terrifying sound. "Predictable."
Then he attacked. His sword-hand spun, slicing through armor, stone, and energy barriers alike. His tail followed, piercing through the ground and launching debris with deadly precision. The sound from his mouth shattered shields and distorted energy blasts. Within moments, the first wave of attackers was gone.
But more were coming. Ships hovered above, artillery charging. Soldiers scrambled from the shadows. Every strike he landed made him stronger, sharper, faster. Every attack fed him power.
The rival green-eyed destroyer jumped in beside him. For a brief moment, they clashed—not with each other, but in tandem against the hunters. Khael'Thar noticed the synergy, the thrill of fighting someone powerful, and he felt… alive.
From a distance, other watchers recorded the battle. This was no longer just one city. This was the beginning of a war across worlds. And at its center was Khael'Thar, half-alien destroyer, growing stronger with every strike, every roar, every death.
By the time the sun began to set, the plaza was rubble, the city was burning, and the sky was filled with smoke and falling debris. Khael'Thar stood alone—or almost alone—tail coiled, sword-hand ready. Dark purple eyes glowed with anticipation.
The universe had noticed him now. And the hunt was only beginning.