"Hey! That wasn't very nice at all you know? Also, you're quite the creep."

"Am I? Even so, does it matter? "

A little stunned by Makhar's perfect imitation of her voice, Brit couldn't do anything but grunt in disapproval.

"Fine! Keep chewing on anything you want, but give Trevor his gun back, he's very attached to it."

Yet, no response came back, as Makhar kept on chewing the metallic walls of the cell.

His desire and hunger ever growing.

His ravenous hunger wasn't all for naught, as he did grow quite noticeably, reaching about a meter and a half in height, which, in comparison to a normal human wasn't small at all, given that Makhar standing parallel to the ground was more long than tall.

His exoskeleton, also, got much harder and started taking some shade of gray. The sword embedded on his back was also being slowly integrated into his body, as now only the hilt remained visible from the outside.

Seeing no chance of his favorite toy coming back, Trevor walked to a corner of the cell, disheartened as Brit followed him, promising a new one as soon as she could.

Dane kept observing Malhar with a watchful eye, not trusting such a weird alien in the slightest.

While a little conscious over one more taciturn guest that had yet to present itself. Dark red skin, no hair, and a pair of pointy ears, hayati, a rare elven variant.

Looking at him the elf's pitch-black eyes locket his back, a deadly stare that would have intimidated most. Yet he knew the strong point of their species was their cunnings, they were more brain than brawn, preferring traps and tricks rather than direct confrontations.

Unknown to all but Makhar, another individual was hiding in the cell, camouflaged, sticking to the dark metallic surface of the cell's roof.

"I know you can see me or rather perceive my presence."

"And? If you wanted yourself to be seen you could have just dropped your camouflage.

I don't care, I've got my meal to think about."

Makhar's indifferent cold voice responded to the inquisitive alien.

His build was quite different than most beings Makhar had seen till now. Even if humanoid in general shape, his head was particularly elongated and flaccid, like that of an octopus, as even various barbs and tentacles come down from when his mouth should have been.

His skin tone was porcelain white, while fluorescent blue veins streaked from below, weirdly pulsating with rhythm.

He had a pair of bright red eyes, while his general corporature assumed to be quite muscular, as the alien stood about two meters tall.

He dressed a long black coat which started with a crown of spikes that surrounded his neck. His forehead was also adorned with a silver tiara containing a deep red gem in the middle.

On his hip was also hanging a long sword made out of a transparent material similar to glass, yet hopefully, surely much more resistant.

What made it even more bizarre was his posture, the alien sat on the roof with his legs crossed, just as if he were in a chair.

"Always cold and indifferent, only about your business. We haven't seen one of your kind in a very long time, Arch'Sazar."

Suddenly, the atmosphere inside the prison cell started shifting, as Makhar started emanating an aura of danger all around, readying himself for combat.

Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

Without much consideration he suddenly left forward, too fast something carrying such mass, charging the invisible foe with his remaining claw.

A sudden ring of metal colliding echoed through the dark cell. The stranger had responded in a timely fashion with a quick draw of his sword.

Makhar wasn't about for any compromise, while holding down the sword with his scythe claw, directly battered the foe with fury, not caring about injuries.

Shielding himself with his sturdy arms, the alien prepared himself for the impact. Hitting the wall at such speed would have been a problem for many, yet his peculiar body had no such problem tanking the hit.

The squid-man's flesh could, in fact, change their density, becoming softer in the area around the impact, while harder on the opposite side.

As such, the alien had hardened his arms and legs facing Makhar's fury, while softening his back which he knew would have it the wall.

Of course, everything happened with incredible speed, highlighting the Alien's prompt reaction.

Yet as soon as that, Makhar's metallic gray claw came down clenching on the Alien's torso, as he barely managed to change its course.

Dark blue blood dropped on the floor, as a few of the alien's barbs were receded by the deadly scythe claw, now squirming on the ground like worms before the hook.

Angry for his recent loss, the stranger's psychic fluctuations suddenly peaked, as a dark wave of power heavily pressed against Makhar's exoskeleton in all directions, threatening to squeeze him like a can of soda.

Seeing cracks forming all over his shell, bleeding all over, and groaning in pain, the alien already anticipated the sweet taste of victory.

"Your fame does not give you justice at all, you're much weaker than I thought. Now if you will, die."

However, his sense of superiority would soon fade, as a weird feeling of foreboding warned him of danger. Without thinking twice, the alien sprinted out of the way with all his mind, only to find himself slammed down against Makhar's immovable shell.

Only now came the realization of the vicious attack he had just been subjected to.

Broken doll's mind attack managed to confuse his mind, as he saw Makhar utterly defeated under his psychic compression. Yet it had only managed to stun him for a split second before he could adjust to the sudden increase in pressure.

At this point, Makhar's shell had integrated a good percentage of metals and couldn't be underestimated. Also, the strange scriptures chiseled onto his shell conferred him high resistance to energy attacks.

As he was about to deliver a fatal attack to his new victim, the alien's body suddenly turned to fine grains of dust.

Coming from behind, a quick, heavy trust of the alien glass sword unexpectedly pierced Makhar's shell.

A trickle of blood came down his new wound. The sword did not manage to reach much deeper, as Makhar was already on the enemy's tail.

"Enough! You two stop it right now, it's an order!"

A long, blue crystalline spear suddenly materialized on Dane's right hand, declaring his intent to stop the duo's crude fight.

Yet none of the two seemed to care in the slightest, as they kept ramming into each other without care.

Only a few seconds later heavy steps echoed through the corridor, even silencing all the other cells.

The duo finally stopped, looking at each other with animosity. Makhar first broke their rigid stance.

"We'll keep it going later squid face. You can call me Makhar."

"Sure, this is Damon. Not much a pleasure to meet you, you deranged animal, we could have talked it out."

"Empty threats are not good conversation starters."

"Shush it, the head goblin is coming our way, you two keep it quiet."

As if confronted with a lower life form, the duo ignored Dane's pleas for the second time. Damon straight up vanished from sight, while Makhar resumed his much more important meal.

A small laugh escaped Brit's lips as she tried to restrain herself from bursting into laugh. The young aalari was in fact, fuming with anger, not used to negative answers with the exception being his sister.

Yet, even if Aalari matured much more slowly than humans, and so Dane was definitely not the epitome of wisdom, he was still centuries old and could avoid such free trouble.

A crooked, old goblin, sporting a small pair of round glasses and a wooden cane to help him carry his weight around just stopped in front of their cell, scrutinizing the insides with deep curiosity, his old, long curved nose almost peeking through the bars.

"Barely a day has passed since your group was assigned to this cell, unbelievable..."

"It's the big, bad bug's fault for being such a mischief. Give it some deserved punishment!"

"Try me."

Still bickering, the dynamic duo made themselves known, as Damon suddenly appeared a few inches from the goblin, denouncing Makhar's previous actions.

Speaking of which, he didn't hesitate to resume his gluttonous endeavor.

"Crazy"

Still mocking his newfound rival, Damon took his face down to the goblin's level, observing him with caution and interest before disappearing from view.

"Right... We get a couple of teams of 'special' individuals like yourselves.

Weird abilities, stronger than average, a little off with their sanity, you must have chosen the dark maw as either your first or second trial.

Well then, I welcome you among Grom-Uruk's tenth military regiment.

We're always in need of fresh blood!"