Again on the Unknown Planet
The green planet slept under a sky full of slow-moving stars. The jungle around the crew's camp was quiet now the glowing bugs had dimmed, the trees swayed softly in the wind, and the dragon-pets curled up by the fire, their breathing slow and calm. Only the hum of distant night creatures echoed faintly between the vines.
Destroyer sat alone on a smooth boulder near the edge of the clearing, his heavy black coat draped behind him like a cape. His boots were dusty, and his right hand was resting near the long scar on the side of his neck jagged, still slightly red. It was the only wound he had not allowed Crania to heal.
Beside him sat Tyrant, calm as ever. His long green coat didn't even have a wrinkle, and his book Mystery of Teleportation lay shut in his lap for once. He wore his glasses low, the lenses catching a glint from the small campfire between them.
For a long time, they said nothing. Just the crackle of firewood. Just the gentle hiss of the wind.
Finally, Tyrant spoke, voice soft and smooth. "Still hurts?"
Destroyer didn't answer right away. He touched the scar again, slowly. Then he exhaled through his nose. "Not the pain. The memory."
Tyrant gave a small nod, adjusting his glasses. "He was fast."
"He was inhuman," Destroyer said, voice sharp. "No breathing. No blinking. He didn't even move like something born. Just… appeared." His fingers tightened. "I saw him slice through an iron crawler. I've fought monsters, warlords, commanders, leaders. But him?" He turned his head slightly. "He wasn't fighting. He was… cleaning up."
Tyrant raised an eyebrow. "Cleaning up?"
Destroyer nodded. "Like he wasn't angry. Or cruel. Just… doing all this for a purpose."
Tyrant went silent again. His fingers tapped the edge of his book slowly.
"Do you know what's his motive?" Destroyer asked.
Tyrant's head tilted. He looked at the stars. "I have guesses. But guesses are dangerous things."
The fire popped. A spark shot into the air and faded.
Destroyer leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "Back on Jaya's Moon... I felt it. For a split second. That cold pressure. Not fear warning. Like the universe itself warned me to leave. Like Butcher didn't belong in it."
Tyrant didn't move. "You felt it too, then."
Destroyer looked at him. "So you do know something."
"I know," Tyrant said quietly, "that he shouldn't exist. He wasn't born in this universe. Or any of the three that remain."
"Then where?"
Tyrant looked straight into Destroyer's eyes. "i don't know, but he doesn't belong here."
A long silence followed. Even the fire seemed to hold its breath.
Destroyer stood up slowly, his coat trailing like a shadow. He stared out into the jungle, jaw clenched. "We're not ready for him. If he comes back…"
Tyrant opened his book slowly, flipping through a few pages without looking at them. "He will come back. Not for us, maybe. But for someone."
"Boboboy?" Destroyer asked, turning sharply.
Tyrant didn't answer, but his silence was louder than words.
Destroyer let out a low growl. "Then we train him. Fast. I won't let that freak touch the boy."
"You may not have a choice," Tyrant murmured, not looking up. "He isn't hunting. Maybe speaking with him helps."
"Speaking with him?" Destroyer whispered. "we already tried several time. But he didn't responds."
Destroyer walked to the edge of the clearing, staring up at the sky where three moons hung in perfect silence. Somewhere out there, in the great black cold of the Eternity, something ancient something left behind was still moving.
And it had a name.
"Butcher".