A low sigh could be heard as Mouranek turned towards Tekark.

“You are becoming worse at controlling your emotions, junior.”

Tekark quickly lowered his head to the floor. Looking at an elder without permission was considered disrespectful in their Zrathras Clan, which boasted strong hierarchy and flourishing traditions.

“I will try to work on myself, elder.”

Mouranek observed Tekark in silence. The old Zrathras couldn’t tell if Tekark would take his advice to heart.

Never having been a man of many words, the elder let go of this issue, getting right to the point:

“We just received a confirmation from sector 14B039A. Go and kill those refugees. Fast and precise.”

“Sector 14B039A? So, it is Eldrak’s?”

A short silence hung in the room before Mouranek answered.

“Yes!”

“And… did Eldrak send the confirmation himself?”

Tekark flinched as soon as he asked this question. An imposing pressure suddenly bore down on him.

The elder didn’t even move as Tekark already felt pain all over his body.

While his surroundings seemingly became stagnant, Tekark found it difficult to absorb any mana. A suffocating feeling assaulted his brain.

Looking at the hunch-backed man before Tekark, one could easily forget that the elder himself has been a relentless warrior for millions of years. The ice attacks from his four characteristic, deep blue eyes spelled a nightmare for humans and ancient races alike.

Now, said eyes were focusing on Tekark, instantly making his body feel like frozen in million-year-old permafrost.

“This is none of your business!”

Mouranek didn’t say many words, but they conveyed a lot of meaning.

How could it be that Tekark asked it Eldrak confirmed those refugees himself?

The sensor Eldrak was given obviously had the function to independently communicate with the base station. Eldrak didn’t know about this, as the elders wanted to test his resolution.

This time Eldrak didn’t notify the clan of his findings, but their base station got the information anyways.

However, sine Eldrak didn’t know about this, Tekark naturally shouldn’t either.

While punishing the junior for his transgression, Mouranek’s real anger was directed towards whoever gave Tekark this information.

It seemed some of the younger Zrathras needed to learn where his name ‘Emperor of Red Ice’ came from.

This quick exchange happened in an instant. Tekark couldn’t bear Mouranek’s anger longer than a second after all.

As soon as the old Zrathras withdrew his pressure, Tekark slacked to the ground, panting heavily.

His gaze as he looked at the elder’s lower body covered in green scales now contained some fear in them. He didn’t dare to complain, as he knew that heir faction stretched the rules a bit much this time.

Containing a slight threat in it, Mouranek’s deep voice sounded in the room again:

“You know your job. We have one confirmed refugee, so grab a partner and head out. I expect clean work from you!”

Tekark meekly apologized as he pulled his body up and offered a submissive bow.

Now even less daring to look at Mouranek, the young Zrathras fled from the bridge.

Mouranek’s stern gaze followed him for a while, before the old warrior turned around and observed the insignificant planet Earth again.

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After Tekark left the elder’s sight, he reached a spacious corridor. Not having the mind to observe the luxurious decorations often depicting their clan’s coat of arms, the young man threw himself on a chair, which served as a waiting area before the bridge.

Despite the chair’s metallic look, it proved to be almost viscous as it threw ripples due to the impact.

Shortly after Tekark sat down, a streak of light rapidly ran about the chair’s surface, proving to be a signal for the piece of furniture to perfectly adjust its form to its user’s needs.

Obviously used to this so-called living furniture, Tekark ignored this process while he closed his eyes and clenched his fists.

Just now he felt what his meant to posses real power.

Although as a genius warrior of their clan and a war veteran, he encountered high leveled beings more often, this was the first time he was on the receiving end of the latter’s anger.

He was completely defenseless against Elder Mouranek’s simple gaze. The old man could have frozen him in ice on a whim.

Amongst the elders in their clan Mouranek was one of the strongest, also called a pillar.

According to the system their enemies used, elder Mouranek probably reached level 90, putting him among the mightiest beings in the whole universe.

With his body shaking from exhilaration, Tekark imagined himself wielding such power.

Who would ever dare to go against him then?

Who would ever criticize him for being weaker than Eldrak?

Who would dare to tell him what to do?

With such might Tekark imagined himself doing whatever he wanted in this vast universe.

Only daring to get lost in his daydream for a short moment, the future Zrathras pillar used his desires to fuel his motivation. He vowed to do his best in this mission and soon rise up in the clan.

To fulfill his goals Tekark knew he needed more than just his personal prowess. He also needed the strongest helpers.

Therefore, the young warrior decided not to waste time as he spoke up:

“Tek, connect me to Riark!”

A mechanical sounding voice stemming from a bracelet on Tekark’s arm gave an affirmative answer.

It was unfortunate that although many members of their race had the talent of telepathy, they were prohibited from using it most of the time.

From what Tekark had learned the Malohcras race had often used telepathy as an advantage during their wars. Since the rise of the Soulsage amongst humans, however, this practice had become increasingly dangerous, leading to their need for primitive alternatives.

Only the strongest of their race still communicate with their mysterious headquarters through telepathy.

Tekark had to wait a few seconds as those thoughts flew through his mind.

The technological masterpiece, which was considered primitive by the Zrathras clan, soon established a connection as it used the surrounding mana to project a picture of a rare female warrior in the air.

“Senior Tekark. How can I help?”

A satisfied smile formed on the genius warrior’s face as he looked at the woman before him.

Riark Prim Gurom Turfurint Zrathras was a junior with massive potential among a newer generation. As Tekark grew more ambitious he especially went to observe the younger warrior’s training and soon took a liking to Riark.

After some persuasion and promises, the young female accepted a position as Tekark’s closest aid.

Since the probability for females in their clan to be born with the body of a strong warrior was rather low, female warriors were often the most hardworking, a trait Tekark valued highly.

Therefore, Tekark was extremely satisfied with Riark, who turned out to be a prime example in this regard.

Naturally this prodigy became Tekark’s first choice for his upcoming mission.

“Riark, we received a mission. We will eliminate a refugee. It seems you must interrupt your training for a day.”

As the female warrior didn’t dare to directly look at Tekark even through the projection, the older Zrathras could only imagine the annoyance on his close aid’s face.

“Those dammed refugees… why are we wasting time with searching them one by one? Can’t we just kill all humans on those planets and be done with?”

Tekark disapprovingly shook his head while answering:

“When did you learn to question the clan’s mission? You should be more careful with what you say!

But to answer your question: We will naturally do so in the future. However, although the human decision makers don’t care about this backwater place, we will still alert them if we start killing on a large scale.

Right now, we are on a stealth mission. Unfortunately, even I don’t know the overall goal.”

Tekark could tell that his protégé was only venting. Going without training for a day was almost considered punishment for Riark.

Still, he had to prevent the young Zrathras from saying something disrespectful about the clan. The elder’s punishment would be way harder than a day without training if they heard her.

“Ok I don’t want to hear any more complaints now, junior. We meet at the hangar in 5 minutes.

Gather your full equipment, you know the protocol.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Hearing Riark’s affirmation, the older warrior nodded in satisfaction before cutting their connection.

Not daring to laze around, Tekark stood up and strode down the long corridor.

His trained steps made no damage to the expensive carpet hiding the gray metal floor. All kinds of artistic movies depicting their clan’s biggest victories filled the empty space between the few doors.

After a few seconds Tekark arrived in front of a heavily reinforced door. In an instant multiple security scans have been performed before the door slid to the side at an unexpected speed.

Already familiar with the proceedings from his many missions Tekark entered the room which seemed to be an empty space of around two cubic meters.

Not bothered by the door closing behind him, Tekark impatiently stared at the opposite wall. Soon, the mechanical voice of the ship’s AI sounded in this room as a hole appeared in the wall, revealing various items.

“Mission #14I782M# confirmed. Officer Tekark, please take out the provided equipment. We are Zrathras, sword of the Malohcras.”

Gathering his equipment Tekark repeated with a reverent tone:

“We are Zrathras, sword of the Malohcras!”