Among organisms intelligent enough to master interstellar travel, the Solarians were widely regarded as the most respected beings in the universe.
Not loved. Not appreciated. Not liked.
Respected.
Respected meant you never talked shit about a Solarian. Respected meant whenever they were brought up in a conversation, serious looks were exchanged and their ruthless empire was discussed fearfully in hushed tones.
They had always stood above the rest when it came to war, unstoppable and unyielding, but within a matter of weeks, their reputation was in shambles. News of the king’s constant failures to eradicate the slug planet had spread around the universe faster than the most contagious virus. It was the hottest topic on most planets, including the ones they ruled over.
Needless to say, none of the Solarian generals found the situation funny anymore. They sat around the oval-shaped meeting table and solemnly looked up at Volengi with piercing eyes.
“This is getting out of hand, your majesty,” Gemon said, a Solarian general with a raspy voice. “I suggest we send out a small group to—”
“You don’t think I’m capable of the task myself?” Volengi asked calmly.
“Not at all,” Gemon replied quickly, avoiding eye contact. “It’s just that…”
“You know what he means, brother,” Laxon said. “Let’s face it. Your attempts are everyone’s source of entertainment right now. The more you try, the deeper the hole you dig for yourself. Why can’t we just invade the planet and be done with this?”
Volengi raised an eyebrow, not sure if the question was a joke.
“You know why. It’s the same answer to why I refused to transform… It’s a slug planet.”
Laxon scoffed, but said nothing.
“The hole has already been dug and everyone is already watching,” Volengi continued. “If I seek unnecessary help, then our allies and enemies will think I’m not strong enough to lead. The planet was supposed to be blown to bits for our father’s ceremony by me, not an army.”
“We trust your judgement,” Emon said, a stoic faced general littered with scars. “I think your father would have wanted this, but may I suggest a plan of action?”
“Proceed.”
“Planet Zegoba has recently had multiple cases of… disrespect. They pose no significant threat, still under our control of course, but the natives talk down on your name and joke about your failed attempts the most. Before you destroy the slug planet, perhaps you could deal with the issue as a form of relaxation.”
“Relaxation, you say,” Volengi repeated, orange eyes glistening.
“Yes.”
Volengi sighed, irritated at having such a problem. “Maybe I’ll make them an example.”
“Corny and vague as usual,” Laxon said, rolling his eyes. “Just say you’re going to slaughter everyone.”
“Shut up, brother.”
“Am I wrong, though?”
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Volengi wept inside.
Solarians could not physically cry but if he was able to, maybe he would.
Camouflaged as one of the Zegoba citizens–a purple lizard-like species— he sat in one of their automatic flying capsules. The high-tech alien device was telepathically linked to the passenger and swiftly took them to their desired destination purely by reading their thoughts.
Volengi could hear every conversation on the planet, loud or quiet, no matter the location. He could hear them speaking about his failure to destroy the slug planet. Boldly. Confidently. They laughed and laughed and laughed.
But how could they laugh?
How could they mock and tease him as if only two Solarians hadn’t taken over their pathetic planet?
How could they laugh at him after all of his accolades and accomplishments, and after knowing all the ferocious, terrifying enemies he had defeated? He was above them all in every shape and form, superior physically and mentally, yet they suddenly saw him as incompetent?
Volengi knew the answer.
Stupidity. Delusion. From the beginning, they might have always thought he was a myth, maybe some kind of legend.
*Thud*
The capsule landed in a parking zone on the outskirts of Zegoba’s most valuable city, Pika. Its architecture was a blend of intricate geometric designs, with some buildings twisting and curving like giant vines while others formed perfect crystalline structures.
Volengi had stumbled upon the planet after discovering a unique corpse on the battlefield embedded with diamond crystals. The body was from a species he had never seen before which was a rarity for him. After some detective work, he had been able to reanimate the body and use it as a signal to track its home planet.
Polar opposite to the slug planets, Zegoba was extremely valuable. Every Zegoban had the ability to manufacture any element they wanted under very specific conditions.
Annoying conditions.
For instance, they had to be in a “positive” mental state to manufacture Volengi’s desired alloys. Because of this, the Solarians couldn’t enslave and torture them like they typically would. Instead, they watched from a distance and collected their resources in batches, once every ten years.
Before Volengi could even climb out of the vehicle, a small group of Zegobans scuttled towards him. Every step they took was accompanied with a glass-like ringing which was only magnified by the Solarian king’s hearing ability.
Scobo, the alien race’s pathetic excuse of a leader, kneeled, bowing his head too far down. “Hello, hello, hello!” the alien squeaked. “What a surprise to see you visit, my king. What brings you here? Our next batch of crystals are ready very soon. How are you doing this fine twilight afternoon?”
Volengi swallowed hard, refusing to look at the scum's face, fearing he might succumb to his overwhelming urge to decimate everything within a 50-million-mile radius.
And he couldn’t reply. Entertaining a conversation was far too generous.
Silence lingered for a solid thirty seconds and Volengi spent every single one focusing on the countless insults which leaked out of the Zegobans mouths in the city surrounding him.
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“I assume you want to request a meeting. I would be happy to— mmh!”
Volengi’s hand shot through the air faster than a bullet, gripping Scobo’s neck with one hand. He squeezed. The alien’s gaseous head burst like a balloon and before the group could even scream, energy beams erupted left, right and centre causing heads, limbs and body parts to spiral in the air.
Disgust planted on Volengi’s face. He had no satisfaction in killing them. How could he when there was no chance of resistance or struggle? Solarians craved fights, not executions.
Instead of indiscriminately killing everyone nearby, he slowly made his way towards the largest source of laughter, fighting off the rapid streams of insults and doubts of his dominance and excellence. The urge to explode into a merciless rampage was almost too much to suppress.
But somehow, he reached the source.
Without being noticed and masking the tiniest of sounds, Volengi skulked in an alien pub filled with joyful laughter and smiles. Everyone’s attention was drawn to a holographic screen above them. He nodded curtly.
Ah. So this is the source of disrespect.
A slimy red skinned creature with a dozen eyes on its face made large dramatic gestures with its four tentacles as it explained to its audience why it believed the new king of the Solarians was garbage.
Volengi knew the perpetrator well. Most people did. It was Garbo, one of the most popular livestreamers in the nexus galaxy. He was a self proclaimed analyst who made fun of anyone who crossed his radar. The alien was adored by most, seen as a saint who picked on the “bullies.”
“Disgraced King Volengi failed again, unable to eliminate the slug species who call themselves the humans,” Garbo spat, cackling while wiggling all of its tentacles in unison. “According to the Solarians, they are the most powerful organisms in the universe. Many mighty strong civilisations have risen and crumbled while they have passed the test of time… and yet… it seems their intelligence is equal to a primate. I’m not a warrior, but I’m sure even I could destroy such a feeble planet. Doesn’t he know how to lure a monkey in with bananas?”
Everyone in the pub roared with laughter.
Volengi folded his arms, ignoring them all. With his piercing orange eyes, he looked not only at the holographic version of Garbo on the screen, but also at the physical one, thousands of light-years away.
The alien sat on the most comfortable, well protected planet in the universe, Narstance, which was home to the Solarian’s most mortal enemy—Narstanians. Even Volengi’s father had been unable to overthrow them, forced into a stalemate.
Garbo sat in the most disgusting room Volengi had ever seen in all 832 years of his life. Every square inch of the room was filled with trash and mouldy leftover food. Green slime, the Narstanian’s ejaculate substance, covered the walls. Large purple eight-legged insectoid creatures scuttled across the room, bumping into each other.
Only Garbo’s floating chair and ceiling was slightly dirty, which was perfect for him, as that was the only thing the audience could see.
“Baby boy Vol’s countless failures really makes me think, you know…” Garbo yelled, spitting green acid with every word. “If he can’t get rid of such a weak planet, does that mean all the terrifying, monstrous stories about him were lies? I mean, let’s think about it… Solarians are known as being crafty, diverse creatures. They could have easily spread the rumours using mind control to cover the truth! Yes, my friends, you heard me correctly! We’re being deceived! The truth, ladies and gentlemen, is that baby boy Vol is a pathetic, useless, weak excuse of a—”
Volengi’s palm flashed orange for a split second and the holograph disappeared, followed by the collective groan of everyone in the pub.
One alien rushed to the floating spherical device. “The damn thing’s broken!”
Volengi inhaled deeply before speaking as loudly, but calmly, as he could. “I’m not going to miss this planet.”
A few aliens turned around, but most froze, paralysed with shock.
There was no need for introductions. Everyone knew the rough, distinct voice. No one spoke. No one dared look him in the eye.
“Surrounded by your friends, it’s easy to drown yourself in delusion. It’s easy to run away from reality, to save yourself from terror. From the truth. I don’t blame you. If I was you, I would do the same.” Volengi tried smiling but failed, snarling instead.
He cracked his neck to one side and headed for the exit. “As I speak, surrounding this planet is a small, excited group of Solarians. All of you will be tortured until the last day of your lives, and we will do everything in our power to keep you from dying. In other words, we will serve you hell.”
Volengi closed the door behind him and as he flew out of the planet’s atmosphere, he received a telepathic message.
“Brother,” Laxon said hastily. “Your—
“It’s Your Majesty,” Volengi corrected.
“Your Majesty… You’re not going to do anything reckless, are you? What Garbo said was unforgivable, but let’s not do anything—”
“Evolve to your true form and break open their force fields. Don’t bring the elite squadron. Only you.”
“Are you insane, brother? Not even Father was—”
“I am not just your brother; I am your King!” Volengi roared. “Obey me or commit treason!”
There was a brief silence.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Give me a distraction,” Volengi growled. “Ten minutes. That’s all I need.”
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King Volengi floated in space with crossed legs, drifting to one side. He resisted the urge to watch Laxon’s intense battle from a distance and prepared instead, calling upon large reserves of energy to accelerate millions of rare chemical reactions in his body.
Suddenly, he teleported.
Ten minutes. Laxon's voice boomed telepathically.
Volengi flew over rugged and rocky terrain covered in vast sheets of ice and snow while miles behind him, his brother held back hundreds of enemies which increased in number with each passing second.
Every living thing could sense Laxon’s true form. It was the energy equivalent of an extremely bright beacon of light. Although a part of Volengi longed to witness the full carnage with his own eyes, it was considered disrespectful for a Solarian to view another's true form without entering their own. So he caught only glimpses of the violence: countless bodies and green blood flying through the air, accompanied by the heart-wrenching screams of terror.
Volengi endured the planet’s typical hellish blizzard with its strong winds and heavy snowfall since the teleporter bracelet was unusable on the planet. If he hadn’t prepared beforehand, the sub zero temperatures would have restricted more than half of his abilities.
Garbo’s fortress stood atop a towering mountain peak. Its walls were made of a metallic material that constantly changed colour in the light, making it difficult to discern the true shape of the structure for most organisms.
As Volengi had expected, a horde of Zorlon insects flew about the area, two meter tall, six-legged aliens with silver heads dominated by two large multifaceted eyes. In exchange for consuming the Narstanians' unique feces, the Zorlons defended them in a symbiotic relationship.
The waste fuelled the Zorlon insects to an absurd degree, intensifying their durability and reproductive ability. They outnumbered the Solarian species by a ratio of ten thousand to one.
The insects simultaneously froze, then suddenly charged while Garbo’s insults invaded Volengi’s mind, clawing at his pride.
Their intelligence is equal to a primate.
They could have easily spread rumours
Disgraced King…
*BOOM!*
Volengi soared through dozens of the insects, using his dense body as a sledgehammer. Green, acidic blood exploded onto him, corroding his Solarian armor and scorching his skin.
Hundreds of Zorlons engulfed him, slowing him down, but even as they chomped on his flesh and sucked his blood, Volengi only saw Garbo cowering within the fortress walls. He let out a wave of raw energy in the form of a blinding purple light which vaporised all the nearby insects and crashed through the fortress wall, slamming right in the centre of Garbo’s bedroom. Without hesitation, he seized the alien’s exposed cube shaped testicals and ripped them off.
“Yahowwwwww!” Garbo shrieked. “My nuts! My nuts! My n—”
Volengi grabbed him by the neck and repeatedly pounded his head against the filthy floor, adjusting the holographic camera with a free hand to ensure the two of them were still being watched.
*CRUNCH!* *CRUNCH!* *SPLAT!*
“Where’s all that charisma now, huh? What did you call me? Talk more shit! Talk more shit!”
*CRUNCH!* *THUD!* *SPLAT!*
Green, putrid blood covered Volengi’s body. He whistled. “Ten point five billion viewers. Impressive. Garbo had quite the audience. I’m feeling kind of nervous. What to say, what to say? What to say to a group of delusional idiots who doubt my brilliance?”
He picked up a chunk of Garbo’s remains and smeared it against the camera lens. “Compared to me, all of you are nothing! Nothing! You think you can make fun of me when I’m the best? When I know which galaxies you crawl in? It doesn’t matter where you hide or how strong you are. None of you are safe!”
Suddenly, Volengi regained composure, snuffling out the rage as if it was all an act. He pointed forwards. His eyes glowed orange.
“I see you. All of you.”