His hand closed into a fist.
The disabling blast hit with surgical precision, violently distorting the Majarin craft’s hull as systems collapsed inward.
Engines flickered. Power died.
Disabled, the ship hung in mid-air, tilting downward as its anti-gravity mechanisms began to fail.
He gave the command.
Metal cables extended downward from the much larger Nhaelor, and powerful metal clamps attached to the Majarin ship’s body, suspending it beneath Kyrax’s vessel.
Caught, just like the Saelori they’d intended to enslave.
Now, the hunter became the prey.
Kyrax boarded the alien vessel alone, dropping from a lower hatch, using a plasma blade to cut through the roof panels and force entry.
Inside, the corridor was stale with the scent of sedatives and containment fields. He followed the trail to a dimly lit chamber, where spheres lined both sides—each holding a motionless Saelori, their luminous skin dulled by sedation. Their hair floated slightly inside the stasis fields, their faces slack, their bodies limp.
Living cargo.
Hispeople.
Anger surged through him. The Majarin should know better. At least, the Marak, Karian, should. Was he so lax in controlling his people?
Kyrax stepped forward, his armored boots striking metal in heavy, steady beats. The red glow from his visor washed across the floor and the trapped Saelori bodies.
A Majarin officer stumbled into view, half staggering, still affected by the impact of Kyrax’s blast. His eyes widened when he saw the towering gold-armored figure.
“You…” he gasped. “A Vykan? Impossible. This region is?—”
Kyrax simply walked toward him.
The officer backed into the wall, trembling, breath hitching. “These creatures… their saliva alone sells for more than a starship,” the Majarin rasped. “Distilled, it drives clients mad with desire. You don’t understand what people will pay for Saelori essence. Cruxar kept the trade alive?—”
Kyrax’s eyes narrowed behind the mask.As if he didn’t know.
He had seen the aftermath of those dens: bodies collapsed in heaps, minds hollowed out by a desire not their own, entire outposts ruined because someone had paid for a vial of Saelori essence and lost themselves in it.
The traders had turned Saelori saliva into a commodity. Into a vice. Into a weapon.
Ah. That explained it. This Majarin had nothing to do with Karian. He was a subordinate of the other Majarin—the boastful one whom Karian had killed.
He should return this creature to Karian and let him deal with it, but he was angry.
Kyrax reached out, gripping the man’s throat with armored fingers. The Majarin kicked against him, uselessly.
Kyrax did not breathe venom freely.
Heactivatedit.
A click echoed from within his helm.
Vents along the jawline split open in thin, precise seams.
A measured pulse of vapor exhaled in a narrow, deliberate stream, directed only at the Majarin’s face. This amountwouldn’t affect the trapped Saelori, but it was more than enough for his target.
The officer convulsed once, nerves collapsing. His body dropped lifelessly when Kyrax released him.
