Two Hunters, from different worlds.

Chapter 2

By now, I'm used to this planet, just as my clan has adapted to it. My brothers and I have been here for many years, and today, I will finally be able to hunt honorable prey. Once I prove myself, I will ascend to the ranks of the elite and earn everyone's respect. There is no greater honor I seek than to stand among them as an equal.

I may be the largest and strongest among my brothers, but they possess wisdom and skill in their own ways. Each of them has a talent in either hunting or combat. While I take pride in my ability to stalk and kill silently, I am also aware of my own shortcomings-I can lose my temper easily, and my curiosity often gets the better of me.

Despite having spent years on this planet, I still do not understand its people-their behaviors, their expressions. I observe them from time to time, follow them, try to decipher their actions, but I always reach the same conclusion: they are weak. They act calculatingly when it suits them, selfish toward one another, and they scare far too easily.

I move across the rooftops of buildings, houses, and streets, my trophies already in hand. My prey was strong; they fought back. But nothing could stop me from claiming their heads.

Now, I'm cleaning my third trophy of the night. The man belonged to a 'clan' of Romans-not particularly honorable. From what I have gathered, they revel in their obsessions and pleasures, often pursuing their victims with cruelty, delighting in torture. Pathetic. Their way of displaying strength is as feeble as this man was.

Yet, he was a leader of sorts, so he has earned a place on my wall. But I have already set my sights on another prey-one my clan leader spoke of. A man who calls himself "The Skeleton Man." Ridiculous.

As I imagined how this new hunt would unfold, my mask detected movement. My senses sharpened, and I positioned myself by the entrance, ready to strike. The door creaked open, and a figure stumbled inside-a woman. She staggered forward, barely able to remain on her feet before collapsing onto the ground, losing consciousness.

What am I supposed to do now?

She is a female. I have no reason to kill her. She hasn't seen me, nor does she seem aware of my presence. I take in her scent-alcohol. She is drunk. Which means she likely won't remember any of this. But the question remains: what should I do with her?

As I continued to watch her, debating whether to leave, a noise broke the silence-a 'phone,' as they call it. The device rang, pulling her from the haze of unconsciousness. She fumbled for it, answering in a loud, aggressive tone.

"Fuck Race! Fuck everything! ... You just had to help me, damn it!"

So she was aware now? If she regained enough clarity, she would surely notice me. Though I doubted she would pose a threat, something about her intrigued me. The raw anger in her voice sent a rush of adrenaline through me. I found myself curious, almost eager, to see her in action.

Once she finished her outburst, she threw the device to the ground, shattering it. Then, she lifted her head-and our eyes met.

I moved toward her slowly, emitting a low growl, expecting her to react in fear. But instead, she merely slumped back onto the ground, her gaze drifting toward the sky.

"I wonder if there's anyone out there," she muttered. "I know I saw you... but maybe this is all in my head. This time, I really overdid it."

I remained still. Motionless.

Now that she was aware of my presence, I should kill her. But... she doesn't know what I am. And the fact that she spoke to me-it startled me. Something about her unsettled me.

I made a decision. Without concern for whether she might regain full awareness, I removed my mask and stepped closer. She lay there, quietly resting, oblivious to the danger she was in. A Yautja hunter stood before her-one who could easily take her head and add her to his collection.