《An Alien in Wonderland》


 Prologue: From Birth, a Purpose

    It remembered its birth clearly, for it was bornwith a developed mind.


    It tore out of its cocoon with claws that could rend reinforced superalloys like paper. It did not crawl along the fleshy floor of its nest like the weakling larvae ¨C it stood tall on therian legs firm with musculature denser than stone. Unlike its drone kin, it did not have cloudy, blind eyes at birth ¨C its four eyes glimmered with a gemstone radiance, receptors of all kinds packed in their pupils, letting it see all lights, all wavelengths. There was no awkard tremble in its movements as its embryonic liquids dripped from its limbs, and there was no mistaking its purpose when one saw those limbs ending in claws meant to catch, tear, and kill.


    It was born a Conqueror.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    The apex predator of its planet, the prime warrior of the Hivemother, and as her herald, his mission was simple.


    Go, she had said.


    Leave our planet, for we have already conquered it and all others in our solar system. Our flesh has assimilated every inch of thisthis solar system''s worlds. We have devoured every living creature, adding their biological data to our own. We have faced the other races, so weak and feeble that they rely on their tiny guns and ships, and feasted upon their fragile corpses.


    But we still hunger. We crave for more flesh, more information, and there is yet more among the stars.


    You will go. Into the depths of the void, through the eons of space, and find a planet with life rich enough for us to devour.


    And so it went, slumbering as the Hivemother once more encased it in a cocoon. Not for birth now, but for travel. She launched it into the vast emptiness of the universe, into a ripple in space-time that transported it where she could feel the promising heartbeats of planets that harbored life.

 A Curious Report

    The following is the court scribe''s transcription of high general Velmoore''s report to our majesty Deimos III about the battle with the Cloud Empire.


    <hr>


    Scribe: Today is the eighth day of the sixth moon cycle. The start of summer. For recording purposes, may you state your name?"


    Velmoore: Belfry Velmoore.


    Scribe: My thanks. You may begin your report about your loss against the Cloud Empire two days ago. I would advise you to keep in mind that your report will determine whether your head remains on your neck or not.


    Velmoore: I understand.


    King Deimos: Enough with the pleasantries. I understand that we have lost over twenty thousand men. Three of our legions have been crippled, and yet you promised victory. You have much to answer for.


    Velmoore: My deepest apologies, my liege, but you cannot blame me or my men. By all accounts, we had victory in our hands. The battlefield was a wide, open plain where our infantry and cavalry reign superior. In addition, our squadrons of wyvern riders far outclass their kirin corps.


    The only issue was that they held high-level cultivators within their ranks that acted as one-man armies. Even then, we disabled them with a new spell the witches of our dark magic department developed that disrupted the mana they call ''Qi''.


    King Deimos: Yes, yes, you''ve already told me this. These were your battle plans, and I was the one to approve them. However, you lost and have come crawling back with thousands of dead. Obviously, the Cloud Empire outmaneuvered you.


    Velmoore: They did not, my liege. We did not face defeat at the hands of the Cloud Empire.


    King Deimos: Then what? Careful now, Velmoore, though I respect your tactical head, if I hear an unbelievable yarn, I will not hesitate to take it and have it decorate my throne room.


    Velmoore: We lost due to...a peculiarity.


    King Deimos:Details, Velmoore. Give me details.


    Velmoore: It came from the sky. Fell down in a ball of fire and landed in our ranks during the thick of battle.


    King Deimos: A falling star, is it? Like the one the Knightsguard blades are forged from? Our astrology department has not divined any such event to occur.


    Velmoore: Not a star, not a ball of rock and metal, but a thing. A creature.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    King Deimos: A monster that fell from the skies? A wounded dragon?


    Velmoore: I''m afraid not, my liege. For if it were a dragon, we could have handled it, as we had Diamond-Class Adventurers on standby for monsters or undead that came close from the scent of blood. It was not a creature that the adventurers recognized even with their decades of experience.


    King Deimos: If not a monster, then what else? Has the Cloud Empire created a new beast of war?


    Velmoore: Not at all. When it broke from its shell, it did not seem to know friend or foe. The first thing it did was split a man in two with its claws.


    King Deimos: The soldiers did not fight it? No monster can afford to stay in the middle of an army without falling eventually.


    Velmoore: I do not mean offense, my liege, but if you were there, you would understand. There was no fighting it. A few men tried, yes, but their spears snapped in two off the creature''s hide. Swords shattered. Arrows bounced off. Yet each swing of its great arms cleaved dozens of men in half.


    King Deimos: A monster with a diamond-class danger rating or above. Well, it''s fortunate that there were diamond-class adventurers for a diamond-class threat - fitting, no? Did they engage the monster?


    Velmoore: Indeed, my liege, but they fared no better than the average soldier. One swipe, and the halves of their bodies fell into the growing pile of corpses just like the average peasant soldier. After they died, the captain of the Knightsguard, ever the courageous and battle-hungry warrior, engaged it and managed to trade blows with the creature for a few seconds. Far more than could be said for anyone else.


    When the captain fell to the creature''s blows, the creature¡­ate the captain.


    King Deimos: That is what monsters do, no? What is so surprising about that?


    Velmoore: Yes, but the results, I have never observed before in a monster.


    After the creature devoured the captain, it shrunk. It looked more human and yet still monstrous, much like an arch-demon. And it spoke.


    King Deimos: Why pause. Tell me, what did it say?"


    Velmoore: It shouted so loud that soldiers near it bled out of their ears. At the backlines, many hundreds of meters away, with the sound of screaming men and clashing weapons in my ear, even I could hear it clearly. Must I repeat its words verbatim? It does not suit my character.


    King Deimos: You are required. Speak.


    Velmoore: "FACE ME, YOU WHO CALL YOURSELVES HUMANS, PROVE THAT YOU ARE WORTHY OF DEVOURING. THOSE WHO STEP FORWARD AND FIGHT, I WILL CRUSH THEIR SKULLS AND GRANT THEM PAINLESS DEATHS, BUT THOSE WHO RUN, I SHALL TEAR THEIR SPINES FROM THEIR BACKS AND MANGLE THEIR CORPSES SO THAT EVEN THE INSECTS DARE NOT FEAST UPON THEM."


    King Deimos: A lively creature, eh. Since you have come scrambling back from a retreat, I assume the creature made true on its words.


    Velmoore: Yes. It certainly did. It proved its words with twenty thousand of our own lives. When the Cloud Empire pressed forward to attack when we retreat, the creature attacked them too. I am sure it brought much suffering and misery upon their encampments as well.


    King Deimos: Have these events been recorded by observing sorcerers?


    Velmoore: They have, my liege. Though my story may sound far-fetched, I have more than enough proof. You may question the peasants drafted for that battle as well, if you wish, or the Knightsguard that saw their beloved captain squashed like a bug.


    King Deimos: Enough. I am harsh out of necessity. I do not truly doubt your words, and you have proven to me an honest and good man already. I merely wanted to hear the situation from your own mouth.


    This report is over. Go rest.


    <hr>


    Thus concludes High General Velmoore''s report to King Deimos III. May our kingdom continue to prosper through these trying times.

 Fear

    It tended to its wounds at a spring, putting some water on a myriad of cuts and gouges across its angry red flesh. The Conqueror let out a low growl as the cold water chilled the throbbing wounds. It did not understand why its wounds would not heal even after two days. Even with its instant regeneration and antibodies that adapted to any poison or illness, its wounds would not patch. Minor wounds, yes, but wounds nonetheless.


    The other humans had jabbed at it with their puny tools but could not break through its armored skin. It was when that man came that it sustained these wounds.


    The man it ate.


    The Conqueror smiled, baring its curved teeth pointed like daggers. As an apex predator, it understood the human''s strength, and as a sign of respect, ate him. That was the greatest gift it could grant: a chance for a life-form on this planet to enter the greater organic sea of the Hive. An astounding privilege that a lowlife drone or grub on its home planet could not ever consider.


    Only the strong were worthy.


    With that man''s organic data inside it, the Conqueror had learned. It gained the humans'' speech, a semblance of their forms, and some understanding of how their minds worked. From what it found, it felt disappointed.


    These ''humans'' were weak. They did not have claws, tough skin, or strong muscles. They, like the tinkering races of its home solar system, relied on tools to make up for their biological imperfections. The Conquerer knew from the memories the Hivemother had imparted to him that the tinkerers could be formidable enemies. They had guns that fired scorching beams and ships that did not rely on wings to fly.


    However, the tools he saw on that battlefield two days ago were pitiful.


    Wooden sticks with pointy metal ends. Sharp bits of steel they waved around with clumsy swings.


    But that man''s weapon was different. It looked like another little piece of pointy steel, but when it hit the Conqueror''s hardened carapace, it sliced through, managing to nick the flesh underneath. It was at that moment that the Conqueror decided to consume the man, for he had proven worthy.


    "Hayke," said the Conqueror, testing out its new human vocal cords. That was what that man had called himself. It would remember that name.


    The Conqueror closed its eyes and began calling for its Hivemother. It relished this connection, this mental thread that connected it to its mother even light years away. It would report to her that this planet had a few promising samples, but that it would need further time to assess whether a full-scale invasion was in order.


    "Do you pride yourself in eating our captain, monster?"


    The Conqueror swiveled its head around, lips curled back to reveal multiple rows of teeth. Some sharp like blades, others hooked, others barbed. One bite from that jaw capable of shredding spaceship hulls would render any limb unusable.


    Tarkus trudged forwards with heavy steps, his plate-armor clunking as he walked. He stopped when he found himself about twenty meters from the monster. His eyes scanned the creature through the slit in his cast-iron helmet.


    About three and a half meters tall. Humanoid proportions with two arms, two legs, and a head.


    However, this wouldn''t be like fighting a large humanoid like a troll or ogre. The creature was noticeably larger and had bladed weapons.


    Claws on its fingers that curved like scythes. Spikes protruding from its elbows and joints. Thick, plated carapace, red like blood, that outlined its sizable musculature, and yet its figure remained lithe.


    A perfect mix of raw strength and agility.


    Its face stared at him, its four slit-pupil eyes emitting a yellow glimmer that reminded him of gold. Horns protruded from its skull, but unlike the curled horns of a demon, they were shaped for warfare ¨C one set of horns curving around the head as a helmet and battering ram and another curving down, guarding the chin and face while doubling as mandibles.


    Tarkus shivered under his armor. His instincts, his very cells, understood that he was looking at the pinnacle of biological performance.


    A predator unmatched in any environment ¨C and he was challenging it.


    Even so, he stood his ground. As a member of the Knightsguard, he had sworn to defend the honor of his Order, and avenging Hayke was first in his mind. The other Knightsguard did not follow him, too afraid of facing down the living incarnation of misery they saw on the battlefield.


    But Tarkus had something they didn''t: faith.


    Faith in the Greatfather, the god of light, warmth, and all that is good in this world. As a paladin, he had grown to trust the Greatfather''s light no matter what he faced down. Whether he stared at an army, a demon, or a dragon, he could stand firm knowing the Greatfather blessed him with divine protection. And so he had the will to don his armor, all blackened by the fires of a drake whom he slew single-handedly many years ago, and grab his sword and greatshield. In the two days it took for him to hunt this monster down, he did not once hesitate or think about turning back.


    "Greatfather, give me strength." Tarkus bowed his head for a second. He entered into stance, his greaves tearing up the grass beneath him. "Face me, monster! For my captain''s honor, for the honor of the Knightsguard, I will cut you down!"The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The Conqueror grunted and roused itself, baring its claws and fangs. It felt an irresistible urge to fight, to never back down from a challenge. Where it came from, it did not know, but the emotions that welled up inside it, a deep, burning sensation in its chest, felt good to go with.


    "Very well," it said. "I hope you will be another worthy meal."


    The Conqueror''s body went rigid, its leg muscles expanding with explosive force. It''s clawed feet dug into the earth and its fingers splayed, each bladed nail glinting under the sunlight.


    Tarkus felt cold droplets of sweat rise up on his neck and forehead. His breathing quickened. He would not survive this charge. Not with his own strength.


    With a grunt, he slammed his broadsword down. It looked like a black cross, the way its blackened blade and crossguard oriented themselves. He knelt down, and in his peripheral vision, he noticed the monster observed him, thin folds of pale flesh glazing over its four eyes as it blinked.


    All the better for him. He would show this creature that granting him time to call upon the Greatfather was no light mistake.


    "Greatfather, bless me with your divine protection!"


    Sunlight beamed down from above, wreathing Tarkus in a bright mandola. A golden bubble arose from the ground, surrounding him in a shining capsule of divine light.


    The Conqueror put power into its legs, driving up two great sprays of dirt as it ejected forwards. Tarkus did not even have time to blink before the Conqueror had clawed across the shining bubble. Its claws skidded across the smooth surface, scratching up great showers of sparks that pattered on the grass. The bubble shattered like glass, its crystalline shards fading in the wind.


    Cocking its head, the Conqueror glanced at its claws. They were still sharp, still bared, still capable. Though it had pulled its punches, it still did not expect this flimsy barrier to stop it, if even for one blow.


    It searched its implanted memories. Though it did not have many waking hours to its name, it could sift through a veritable ocean of memories. The collective knowledge that its species shared, letting it learn from all the battles and struggles its race had toiled through from its inception. A knowledge base that the Hivemother granted with to only her most trusted children.


    "Forcefield?" it grunted, finding the best possible explanation for this barrier. "Where is your generator?"


    The human clad in black did not respond. Instead, he took his sword from the earth and pointed it at the Conqueror.


    "Greater blind!" the human bellowed.


    The Conqueror stepped back, bright light sapping vision in all of its eyes. It clicked its claws and listened, tracing the echoes of sound, nodding when they came back after they bounced off the human. The human was close, its arms reared back and gripping its pointed metal stick for a swing. The Conqueror stuck itself on the ground, its very muscles deflating as it turned almost flat. Black metal whistled above it.


    Grinning, the Conqueror pushed out its arm, making sure to ball its fists so that its claws would not skewer the man.


    Tarkus felt an impact crush into his breastplate, caving it in with a heavy thud. He soared several meters back, landing on his back, trying to jam in pained breaths through several broken ribs.


    The Conqueror did not understand how it had became blind.


    It searched its memories again.


    "A flashbang?" The Conqueror''s sight came back. It looked down at the human, hearing the faint differences in frequency in his breathing that told of internal injuries. "But where was your grenade?"


    "Greater heal," wheezed Tarkus. A gentle light enveloped him, painting his black armor with splotches of shining white.


    He stood back up, sticking his broadsword into the ground and leaning on it a little.


    The Conqueror clicked its mandible horns. "Your species can regenerate? Strange. I have consumed one of your kind, but I find no genetic code for restoration."


    "I know not what you speak of, monster," said Tarkus. "But we are not like you beasts. We are greater, better. We gain strength from our hearts and from the gods."


    The hearts and the gods? The Conqueror did not know what a ''god'' was. Perhaps the heart led to it? Then it would tear this human''s heart out for inspection.


    The Conqueror reached towards the human''s chest.


    "God Force!" shouted the human.


    A sudden burst of force blew the Conqueror back, making it cover its face with its arms as squalls of wind pushed against it. It dug its feet into the ground, its claws finding good traction while they acted as brakes.


    The Conqueror searched its memories, trying to find a means to rationalize this human''s curious tricks.


    "Gravity bomb?" The Conqueror let out a wondering growl. "But where was your device?"


    The Conqueror widened its eyes, looking at the human with all its different sets of photo-receptors and color cones. It stared at the exhausted human across all wavelengths, wondering if the human had cloaked his weapons.


    The human let out a spirited cry into the air. He dropped his shield and took his sword in both hands.


    He charged.


    The Conqueror reacted to the human''s sluggish, inefficient movements. It stopped the human''s blow mid-air with the flat of its armored palm. Metal clashed against condensed flesh harder than any known alloy. It closed its hand, keeping the sword clenched in its grip.


    "This is the only tool I see on you," the Conqueror said. The human struggled, grunting as he pulled back on the handle. The sword did not budge.


    The Conqueror squeezed, and the blade shattered.


    "My beloved Nightblade," said the human under his breath as he stared at the pieces of black metal falling onto the grass.


    "You call these metal sticks Nightblades?" The Conqueror nodded, looking at the sparkling pieces of black in its red palm. "They are useless. Why do you stop using your flashbangs and gravity bombs and forcefields?"


    The Conqueror waited for a response, but the human stood there, staring down at the pieces of the toy it wielded.


    "No matter," said the Conqueror. It sent the human flying back with a backhand. "You are very weak. Much weaker than the worthy human from before. Not worthy of consuming."


    Tarkus looked up to see treetops. He''d been sent flying twenty meters. Adrenaline dulled the pain at his side, but when he tried standing, he couldn''t. Breathing felt hard. He touched his side. His cuirass had shattered, its pieces digging into him. He tried rationalizing the damage he took.


    More than a few shattered ribs. A punctured lung. Too much damage.


    The monster''s red figure stood above him, blocking out the trees. It did not look at him, but stared up, beyond the trees.


    "I will report this to the Hivemother," the monster said. "You humans have a way to keep your tools hidden. Not like the tinkerers we''ve faced before. I thank you for your contribution to the Hivemother''s knowledge."


    The monster closed its eyes, and Tarkus desperately tried to muster some strength. He needed to use this chance to strike the defenseless creature. He couldn''t kill it, but if he could leave even a scar, he would be proud that he could do some honor to his captain. But he couldn''t. His body wouldn''t listen. It grew number by the second ¨C death come knocking. When all seemed lost, he saw it. A thread of light blue that emerged from the creature''s head, spiraling into the sky. He recognized this. A connection between a sorcerer and a familiar. Between a god and a herald.


    Now he understood. The monster before him was strong because some god gave it strength. There was no other explanation for its oppressive power. He hoped that he would be doing humanity a favor with his last breath.


    Tarkus managed to push out a smile with the last dregs of his energy. "Greatfather''s Dispel."


    The Conqueror clicked its mandibles. It could not reach the Hivemother, and for the first time in its life, it felt fear.

 Of Magic and Gods

    The Conqueror spent the next few days hunting, seeking to consume a species that could manage to mend its broken connection with the Hivemother. Fueled with desperation, it combed through the forests surrounding the spring with precision.


    It did not like to devour lifeforms without intelligence ¨C it felt like it was letting low-lives enter the Hivemother''s knowledge base too easily, but it had no choice. Without connection to the Hivemother, it could not report on this planet. It could not fulfill its duty, and that was what it was born for ¨C its sole purpose.


    The hunts were unfruitful. Today, too, nothing of value digested in its stomach, and there were fewer and fewer creatures. It''s presence had sent the nature around it on alert, causing a mass migration of fauna whether they be prey or predator, for all of them valued the most primal instinct of all: survival.


    That is, until the Conquerer found another one of this planet''s intelligent species. A human at the end of the forest, many miles from the spring it slew the other human. Over here, the trees ended abruptly, revealing paved roads that snaked up and down hilly terrain.


    The human stood in the middle of the road, staring it down with a fierce scowl.


    "When I heard there was a monster taking out every single breathing thing in the Azerleafs, I knew it''d be a demon," she said. She bent a little to unsheathe another one of those metal sticks from her back. It was different from the others, much larger, as tall and wide as she was. "You''ll fall to my greatsword today, demon."


    "Great...sword?" growled the Conqueror. "The other human called those sticks Nightblades."


    "Eh?" said the human. "Nightblade? As in, Valerion''s Nightblade? The Nightblade that cut a millennial dragon apart?"


    The Conqueror cocked its head. "So Valerion was that human''s name. I did not consume him, so I did not know. Perhaps you are his kin to know of him?"


    "No, nothing like that." The human gulped audibly and lowered her weapon a little. "Say, when you talk about consuming him and all that, did you beat him? By yourself?"


    "Of course."


    The human dropped her sword. "Haha, we started off on the wrong foot. It''s a good thing you''re an intelligent monster, though, since surely we can talk this out, right?"


    "Talk?" The Conqueror snorted. "I do not have the time. I must recover the connection to my Hivemother, and it will be easier for me to gain the relevant knowledge by consuming you."


    "Woah, woah!" The woman put up her hands and stepped back, her greaves clanking. "I''m much more useful to you alive. I..I can read a little, taught myself some history, and have an idea about magic. Surely I can help you with your, uh, Hivemother."


    "Magic?"


    "Yes, yes," the woman stammered. Her trembling hand plucked a lengthy strand of black hair from her head. "I know some divination. A witch told me, old one too, so you know I got taught right. I can find things for you by using my hair as a catalyst!"


    The Conqueror did not understand. It could not search its memories with its severed connection, but it had an instinctive idea that it would not find the word ''magic'' in its database. It felt curious.


    "Find my connection," it said.


    "Of course." The woman took the stand of hair and wound it around her finger. She whispered to herself, an incoherent babble that the Conqueror could not understand. It was a language foreign to the warrior it had consumed on the battlefield.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    The woman grimaced. "Uhm¡­"


    "Where is it?"


    "Looks like I can''t find it."


    "Then it will be easier for me to devour you," said the Conqueror with a matter-of-fact tone.


    "No, it won''t!" the woman squeaked as she took another hurried step back, this time tripping and falling on her butt. "You need mana to use magic. I don''t sense any from you, so even if you eat my brains, you won''t be able to cast anything."


    "Then where can I obtain this mana you speak of?"


    "You, well, how do I say this. It''s not something you can have. You''re either born with it or you aren''t."


    "Ah, like genetic traits? Very good, then, for I can assimilate those by consuming as well."


    The Conqueror opened its jaws and bared its claws.


    "No, nothing like that!" The woman had no idea what a genetic trait was, but she had to say something to keep herself alive. At this point, she decided to just lie. "People like me that are born with mana can''t have it stolen. It''s not a¡­genetic trait or anything. The most important thing is that I need to stay alive to help you, OK?"


    "But you could not help me just now with what you call magic."


    "If you give me a second chance, I can do much better!" She raised herself up and plucked out another hair. "Divination''s gets better the more details I have and the more I know what kind of being you are. Trust me, I can do this."


    The Conqueror let out a low growl reminiscent of a purr. "Very well."


    "Okay," the woman said. She wound the hair around her finger again. "Can you tell me what you are?"


    "I am a Conqueror. The highest in the hive hierarchy."


    The woman stared at her finger blankly. She had no idea what a Conqueror was. "Uh, can you tell me where your species lives?"


    "In Skraa. A mesoplanet many light years away. Exactly how many, I do not know, for I was asleep throughout my journey here."


    "Skraa? Is that another country?"


    "No, another planet."


    "Planet?"


    "I sense that the term ''world'' would be more familiar for you."


    "Another world? There are other worlds?"


    The Conqueror stirred. "Is that not common knowledge?" It raised its claws up to the sky, pointing at a faint orange dot. "That is a gas giant ¨C another world."


    "Eh?" The woman blinked, trying to dredge up what little knowledge she held on magical tomes. Finally, she remembered ''The Gods and their Sky Signs'', and felt like she sort of understood what was going on. "Oh, you mean the gods? We call those gods. That orange one there represents Dhaka, the god of war."


    "Ah, so that is what that man¡­his name was Valerion? That was what he meant by gods. He meant other planets."


    "I don''t understand, but if Valerion talked about gods, then he mentioned the Greatfather, yes?"


    The Conqueror clicked its mandibles. "Indeed he did."


    "That''s his god," said the woman. "The Greatfather, king of the heavens. Patron of all paladins. Male counterpart to magic, which is feminine. Oh!"


    "Hm?" The Conqueror''s ears, slits in its head, vibrated, listening.


    "I get it now! You wanted to find a connection, and you''d recently fought Valerion, who champions a god that despises magic. He must have cut your connections off!


    "But how?" The Conqueror closed its eyes again, seeing only darkness instead of the familiar voice of its Hivemother. "No species has been capable of such a feat. The Hivemother''s mind-matter connection has withstood all manner of disruption whether it be electromagnetic or radioactive."


    Mind and matter? Electromagnetic? Radioactive? The woman felt half the words the monster said go into one ear and out the other, but she tried to sound like she knew something all the same. "F-from what I can tell, the Hivemother is your goddess, and Valerion evoked the Greatfather to cut your connection with her."


    The Conqueror could not understand. "The Hivemother is my goddess? She is a planet? Well, I suppose that is true in a sense. But then your human, this Valerion, he evoked a planet to disrupt my connection?"


    "I feel like there''s a huge misunderstanding going on," said the woman. If only she knew where exactly the misunderstandings sprouted from, but she didn''t, so she started from the ground up, hoping something she said would satisfy the monster. "The gods are higher beings that grant us guidance. The spots in the sky you pointed out are their sky signs. I don''t know if they''re ''planets'' or whatnot, but they live here, and not up there."


    "Ah, I am starting to understand," said the Conqueror. The woman sighed in relief. "So these ''gods'' are a more intelligent species that has enslaved your kind. And it is one of them that has dared to tear my connection away. Tell me, where do these ''gods'' live, so that I may beat them with their spines?"


    The woman bit her lip, the mental wear and tear of trying to appease this monster''s curiosity really getting to her. She figured she was in for a very long talk.