Devour Vol 2 Ch 3: A Warriors Rage, The Two Strangers!

Kaelen scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting across the strange pink hills that towered around him, smooth and unbroken. The air was warm, faintly perfumed with something unfamiliar, and it only fueled his disgust. He clenched his fists as he muttered, "Despicable." His voice grew louder, full of defiance. "You would call this a battlefield?"

With a burst of energy, he sprinted forward, his feet pounding against the fleshy ground as he closed the distance to one of the pink walls surrounding him. The surface loomed high above, faintly glistening, and he swung his fist with all his might, striking it with a force meant to split stone.

The ground beneath him quaked—not from his strike, but from the thunderous vibrations that suddenly filled the air. A sound, light and playful, echoed all around him, growing louder and louder until it filled his head, making him stagger back. It was laughter—giggles that rippled through the air like a child's, yet each note was deafening, vibrating through his very bones.

Kaelen dropped to his knees, clutching his head. "My head," he groaned, pain shooting through his skull as the sound threatened to overwhelm him.

"Sorry, sorry!" Zephora's voice rumbled, a mixture of mock concern and amusement. The sheer scale of her words made the ground quiver beneath him. "It's just... you're so cute!" Her giggles subsided, replaced by an indulgent tone. "A little warrior like you, so fierce, so determined... it's adorable."

Kaelen's vision blurred with rage. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white as he pushed himself to his feet, glaring up toward the sky—or whatever sky existed in this strange battlefield. "Face me like a proper warrior!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the pink walls. "On equal terms! Fight me fairly!"

Zephora's giggles bubbled up again, her tone dripping with playful mockery. "Oh, you want me to take you seriously?" she teased. "You want a fair fight? How noble!" She paused, clearly savoring the moment, before her voice softened, a hint of genuine intrigue lacing her words. "Very well, little warrior. You've entertained me enough for now."

Kaelen gritted his teeth as the air grew still, the oppressive weight of her presence shifting. Then, her voice boomed, louder than thunder. "Here I come!"

Kaelen turned quickly, feeling the heat of a blinding light at his back. It surged forward, washing over the pink terrain and forcing him to shield his eyes. As the light faded, he looked up to see a figure stepping out of its glow, the faint shimmer of energy crackling around her.

She stood tall, her silver armor glinting in the strange light of their surroundings, its intricate design both elegant and practical. Her brown hair was tied into a ponytail, strands framing her sharp, focused face. She carried no weapon, only the confident poise of a seasoned fighter as she looked down at him with piercing eyes.

"I hope you're ready to fight for your planet," she said, her voice steady and calm, yet carrying a weight that made Kaelen's resolve tremble.

Kaelen stared at her, his breath quickening as the gravity of the moment sank in. This was the same being who had devastated his world, towering over it like a god—but now, she stood before him, close enough to touch, wearing the guise of a mortal.

His anger burned brighter, but so did the weight of his task. For his people, for his world, he would fight. No matter how impossible the odds, Kaelen clenched his fists and prepared himself. "I'm ready," he said, his voice low but resolute.

***

(Earth)

Conrad sat on his worn-out couch, the flickering glow of the television illuminating the dimly lit living room. His fingers gripped the remote tightly, his knuckles pale as he stared at the news broadcast. The anchor on the screen looked as pale and shaken as he felt, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed.

"Tragedy struck Paris today," the anchor began, her tone grave. The screen shifted to shaky footage taken from a rooftop, showing the distant figure of a colossal woman with flowing crimson hair standing amidst the ruins of the city. Her sheer size dwarfed the Eiffel Tower, which lay in shattered pieces at her feet.

"Eyewitness reports describe the being as a gigantic woman with crimson hair," the anchor continued. "She appeared without warning, her movements wreaking havoc on the city. Entire districts were flattened under her unimaginable weight, and some say they saw her deliberately crush buildings with her hands. Death tolls are estimated in the thousands, but the numbers continue to climb."

The footage changed to aerial shots of Paris—or what was left of it. Blocks of rubble stretched for miles. Smoke rose in thick columns into the sky, and the once-proud landmarks of the city were now unrecognizable. "The Louvre, Notre Dame, and other monuments that stood for centuries are gone," the anchor said, her voice cracking. "This is not just a disaster. It is devastation on a scale we have never seen before."

Conrad's stomach churned, but the report wasn't over. The screen shifted again, this time to grainy satellite footage of Egypt.

"In Egypt, similar destruction has been reported," the anchor said. Her voice was quieter now, almost reverent, as if she couldn't fully comprehend the enormity of what she was saying. "The lands of Egypt are now unrecognizable, covered in massive craters—footprints, according to witnesses. Entire regions have been swallowed by the desert, tidal waves of sand burying villages and cities miles deep."

Conrad watched in horror as the camera panned over what had once been the Giza Plateau. The pyramids were gone. No trace of them remained save for a distant, faint outline in the sand.

"Reports suggest the pyramids were dug up and destroyed—some claim they were crushed beneath the being's body or consumed entirely," the anchor said. Her voice carried the weight of disbelief, but the footage spoke for itself. "Millions are displaced, and the death toll is impossible to calculate."

Conrad let the remote slip from his fingers, his head sinking into his hands. His mind raced, but the sound of quiet giggles and clinking glasses pulled his attention to the kitchen.

He turned his gaze to the two girls standing there, both stark naked and seemingly unbothered by it. One was reaching for something on the counter while the other sipped from a glass of water, chatting casually as if the world outside wasn't falling apart.

Conrad's heart clenched. He couldn't shake the memory of the blond-haired girl he had seen earlier—the way her presence had felt unnatural, almost otherworldly. He prayed there was no connection between her and the destruction he was seeing on the news, but the pit in his stomach told him otherwise.

"What am I going to do?" Conrad muttered under his breath, his voice barely audible. His question hung in the air unanswered, the faint sound of the news anchor's voice continuing to drone on in the background, painting a picture of a world that seemed to be spiraling into chaos.