A month had passed since Razor and Android 18 left Planet Xirx behind.In that time, silence had become their only companion.
They rarely spoke. Razor spent most of his hours inside the ship's training chamber, his strikes echoing through the metal hull like thunder in an empty valley. Each punch, each kick, each breath — a desperate attempt to quiet something inside him that refused to fade.18, meanwhile, kept her distance. She filled her time with maintenance, navigation, and the occasional sarcastic remark that now earned no response.
The air between them was colder than space itself.
When their ship finally neared a mid-sized planet — Dargan-7, a trading hub ruled by a warlord named Durx — Razor didn't care about him, he wasn't strong enough to grab his attention. It wasn't a place of peace. It was a place to resupply and move on.
Once they landed, Razor headed to a nearby facility to purchase energy cells and rations. 18 had gone her own way — to explore the local markets, she said. For the first time in weeks, she seemed almost… at ease.
Hours passed. She didn't return.
Razor waited inside the ship, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the entrance. The silence stretched. His patience thinned. Finally, his expression darkened. He closed his eyes — trying to sense her ki but remembered her energy couldn't be sensed.
His aura flickered. Without another thought, he blasted off into the dusk sky, soaring above the neon-lit sprawl of the city below.
Then he saw it.
A crowd had gathered in the lower district — jeering, laughing. It was the shadiest place of this planet. In the center stood 18, her arms restrained by several armed men. Her hair was disheveled, her face marked with bruises. And holding her by the throat was a hulking alien wrapped in battle armor — Durx.
Razor landed silently on the roof of a nearby building, his eyes narrowing.
Durx grinned as he lifted 18 effortlessly. "You've got spirit, woman," he said, his voice deep and mocking. "But under that pretty face, you're just another prize. A high-rarity one, at that. No ki signature, no traceable energy but strong — perfect for the trade."
18 struggled, fury burning in her eyes. "Let go," she hissed, trying to break his grip, but Durx only laughed. He pulled out a metallic collar that sparked faintly with blue light.
"Let's make you more manageable."
The collar clicked around her neck — and something inside Razor snapped watching that collar. The sound echoed through his mind like a haunting memory he'd fought to bury — chains, restraints, commands. His vision blurred for an instant, overtaken by the past.
And then came the rage.
The air cracked. A golden flare erupted around him, blindingly bright. His hair stood on end, eye pupils turning pure green. The rooftop beneath him shattered as he vanished from sight.
Durx barely turned before a sharp crack split the air. Razor appeared behind him — silent, expression cold — and delivered a precise chop to the back of the warlord's neck. Durx's body hit the ground instantly, unconscious.
The collar on 18's neck snapped and fell apart as Razor caught her before she collapsed. His hand was steady; his aura, seething.
The crowd froze.
A single glance from Razor's golden eyes sent Durx's men fleeing in terror, scattering like insects before fire. He didn't chase them. That — surprised 18 more than anything.
Razor carried her back toward the ship, wordless. Inside, he placed her gently on a bench and began applying ointment to her bruises, his movements mechanical, almost… human. But his expression was void — empty in a way that felt colder than anger.
"Stay still," he said quietly.
18 stared at him, trying to find words. She wanted to say thank you, or make fun to lighten the mood — but the look in his eyes stopped her. They weren't the eyes of a savior.
They were the eyes of someone barely holding back something monstrous.
Once she was stable, Razor rose without another word and walked to the control console. He entered the launch sequence, and as the ship began to lift off, he stepped toward the viewport. His hand rose — a faint crimson glow forming in his palm.
18's eyes widened. "Razor—?"
Before she could finish, a concentrated beam of energy burst from his hand, shooting straight down into the planet's surface.
A moment later, the scanners went wild. The planet's core destabilized — melting, collapsing. And then, with a silent flash, Dargan-7 exploded, shattering into debris and dust.
From space, the destruction looked almost beautiful — a golden light blooming in the dark.
18 watched in stunned silence, her reflection trembling in the viewport. The children she'd seen playing in the streets… the merchants… the ordinary people just trying to live. All gone.
Her chest tightened.
She turned her gaze toward Razor — his expression calm, eyes fixed on the fading explosion. There was no remorse, no hesitation. Only stillness.
And in that moment, she understood.
Whatever softness she thought she'd seen in him — that brief flicker of humanity — was gone. Or maybe it had never been there at all.
To him, she realized, destruction wasn't cruelty. It was instinct. And she was just another part of his possession — something to protect, not because he cared, but because he couldn't stand losing what was his.
Fear crept into her heart. Quiet, cold, suffocating.
Razor didn't notice. Or maybe he did — and simply didn't care. Outside, the remnants of the planet scattered like dying stars, and their ship continued forward — toward the next unknown, leaving behind only silence and ash.