Xalthar's Dilemma

[A/N: All of Xalthar's thoughts and communications go through humanity's language filter to avoid further complicating the situation.]

If looks could kill, thousands might have perished under Xalthar's gaze alone. But for him, he didn’t need his eyes to end lives—his hands were more than capable. The proof of this lay before him: three bodies sprawled on the ground, broken and lifeless, resembling smashed dolls. Their mangled forms were a testament to Xalthar's brutal strength and his readiness to expel and express his feelings through sheer violence.

More than twenty minutes had passed since the surprise attack, and the new vice-captain's plan to flush out the infiltrators was proving ineffective. Over eighty kilometers of the ship's surrounding outer area had been completely overtaken, and the alarming part was that they hadn’t even seen how it happened. Every soldier, slave, or armed crew member sent to confront the enemy went completely dark, as if the opposing forces were walking