[GTS] To devour is to survive, that is the way of life for all those who transcend the confines of the Insignificant things called planets, who break the laws of mortality and go beyond the sanity of reason, that is the way of a Devourer of worlds...
Conrad pushed himself up from the couch, his legs unsteady beneath him. He cast another glance at the TV, the horrific images of destruction still flashing on the screen. Egypt, Paris—entire cities obliterated. He couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't stop wondering if it all had something to do with the two... beings currently occupying his kitchen.
He wouldn't call them human. Not after everything he'd seen, and definitely not after everything they'd done.
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The more he thought about it, the harder it was to breathe. His heart thudded against his chest, and his palms were slick with sweat. What was he even supposed to say to them? What could he say to beings who might have the power to destroy the planet with a flick of their wrists? And, most importantly, why the hell were they here?
Why him?
He swallowed hard, trying to suppress the tremor in his voice as he took a hesitant step toward the kitchen. "Sooo..." he began, forcing a smirk he didn't feel. "How can I help you naked women today?"
His nervous laugh was as shaky as his knees, but it was all he could muster.
The two women stopped talking immediately, both of them turning their heads to look at him in unison. Their smiles were eerily similar—mischievous, predatory, as if this was all a game to them and Conrad was the unwitting pawn.
The taller of the two stood with a grace that made Conrad's stomach twist. She had long black hair that fell in smooth waves down her back, her posture elegant and composed, her expression calm. Yet there was something about her that made him uneasy. She exuded an air of maturity, but the more he looked at her, the more he felt like he was falling into her eyes—like she was drawing him in, pulling him under.
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His chest tightened, and he realized with alarm that he was actually struggling to breathe. He tore his gaze away, gasping slightly, and the sensation vanished as if it had never been there.
The other woman, still seated, was completely different. Her hair was shorter, wilder, and she had a kind of tomboyish vibe to her that contrasted sharply with the elegance of her companion. Where the black-haired woman radiated a quiet, almost overwhelming authority, this one felt chaotic, unpredictable. She leaned back in her chair with one leg draped over the armrest, grinning at him like she was waiting for him to slip up so she could pounce.
