"I will show you how I received my identifier." He stands suddenly, staring down at me with expectation in his eyes.
It didn't sound like a threat but it was similarly menacing. Show me how?
Standing, I follow him out the door. I know I should look at the ground but I can't help myself. Everyone moves quickly out of his way as he walks. His head is high as he glides down the center of the ramp. He doesn't slow down or move, everyone else parts around him.
They don't even seem to notice me.
We walk the entire length of the dome, to the bottom. The more I see it, the more I'm convinced they couldn't have built it. His large, rough hands could not have made this place. They must have taken it from a group they destroyed. The delicate crystal looks like it would crack if he touched it.
The prisms reflected on the ground remind me of earth, of childhood and innocents, of chasing rainbows. It makes me long for home in a way I haven't in such a long time. The unexpected beauty of this place is actually painful.
I'm so lost in my own mind, trapped under the rubble of my broken world that I hardly realize that we've left the crystal dome. We're under the ground and going deeper.
Down, down, down.
Things look more clinical down here. Bright white metal that looks sterile and cold. He stops at a door, placing his hand against it. There is a beep, then an orange light, and the door slides open.
"Touch nothing." He looks over his shoulder.
Clasping my hands together, I follow him inside.
On one wall, there are rows of seats but otherwise the room is empty. He points, sending me to the seats while he presses buttons on another screen.
Having no basis to even formulate a thought on what's about to happen, I just sit, watching his every move. The far wall begins to drop down, lower into the ground to reveal a very different scene behind it.
The empty room opens up to chaos. As far as the eye can see, a muddy wasteland stretches out in front of us. Monturians are running around, fighting each other, fighting terrifying creatures and attacking several of these warriors.
Did they capture them and bring them here to kill them?
When he pulls his sword from its sheath, the crisp pinging sound catches my attention. He walks out of the room into the mud and suddenly, everything else looks smaller. He is large, sure, but it's more than that. His presence demands attention and respect.
His body sinks down into the mud, almost up to his knees but he walks through it with ease.
Several Monturians have joined forces, standing in a circle to fight anyone that approaches while keeping their backs protected. He goes right for them. A group of five against one.
I'm surprised that they are armed. This is more than a fair fight.
His movements are so graceful it's easy to forget that he's killing people. The swing of his arm, his sword whistling through the air, it's poetic. Where the Monturians are loud and aggressive, screaming and grunting, he is completely silent. I can't peel my gaze away from him. It's beautiful, in a terrible way.
He doesn't just kill them. He completely obliterates them. One hit with his sword and their bodies are irreparably broken. He cuts right through the middle, separating the top half from the bottom like cutting through warm butter.
The group of five falls easily, they weren't even a challenge. They're lying in pieces, large gray chunks all over the field.
When one of the creatures runs toward him, I shrink back into my seat. I've never seen anything like it. It's something out of a nightmare.
Pale white skin barely stretches over its body. Galloping on four legs, its round open mouth reveals row after row of razor sharp black teeth. It doesn't have eyes but it follows his every move.
Rearing back on its hind legs, the pointed front legs look like spears that it moves like swords.
This is a fight.
They move around each other, circling like a dance. Each time the monster lunges forward, my heart stops but the Destroyer doesn't need my concern. He never falters. With sure, elegant steps, he moves patiently.
That is where the Monturians made their mistakes. From here, this safe spectators seat, I can see it. Everything he does is calculated, calm. His eyes could be closed for all I know. He doesn't rush or strike in a hurry. They lashed out and he struck them down every time. Whatever this creature is, it understands that.
As I watch them, I find myself gasping and tensing whenever it looks like The Destroyer might be injured.
Eventually, one hit at a time, he takes the creature down. It dies slowly, violently, fighting until the bitter end.
The sludgey mixture of mud and blood covers him as he wipes his sword and runs out for more. One after another, he battles with anything that will step up to the challenge. By the time he comes back to where I'm sitting, a stream of blood runs across the ground.
He wipes his sword clean again, meticulously removing any trace of blood.
"Come." He walks past me, his eyes on the door.
Jumping up, I rush after him, walking behind him up the ramp. Just as before, the seas part before him.
We pass another human, one of the women that was with me but we don't have time to speak. The shock of seeing each other takes over and we've moved on too quickly to be able to gather our wits before we say a single word.
Inside his room again, I sit down on the furry carpet, waiting for whatever comes next.
He presses the panel that opens the bathroom but he doesn't close the door behind him. Instead, he walks inside, strips his filthy clothing and armor and drops it in a hole in the floor.
I probably shouldn't be watching him but I am. Wide eyed and open mouthed, I watch him step into a tube similar to the one I was submerged in. Around him, water rises, turning an inky black color almost instantly.
Just as with me, the water rises and falls, changing colors and clearing his body.
When the liquids stop rising, his fully naked body is exposed before me and a sound comes out of my throat that I can't hold back.
"Oh my god." I choke and his eyes meet mine.
Between his legs hangs two rock hard cocks.
He steps out of the bathroom, his third and fourth arms bobbing up and down. It's so different from a Monturian, my only point of reference for what they're supposed to look like. The top one is covered in a pattern of bumps. The lower is slick and shiny.
His hand comes down, touching one of them and a vibrating groaning sound comes out of his mouth.
Coming up onto my knees, I reach out and run the tips of my fingers over the bottom one. It's so smooth. It pulsates, throbbing against my hand. I don't want to disappoint him, so I take a deep breath, preparing myself for whatever he wants me to do.
Wrapping my hand around it, I move down the shaft once before he growls and jerks away.
He shouts something furiously and I cower back, scooting away until my back hits the wall.
He snatches something out of one of the panels, staring at me like I just committed the most horrific possible atrocity. He snarls something I don't understand and leaves, rushing out the door without a shirt on.
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