Walking through the dark, narrow corridor, Aedric kept searching for a path leading downward, hoping to reach the Alien Queen's chamber as soon as possible.
But he had to stay constantly alert for any sudden attack from a facehugger, which forced him to move carefully instead of quickly.
To make things worse, this damned pyramid reconfigured itself every ten minutes, making navigation a nightmare. He almost got lost several times.
Still, there was some good news.
His ears twitched—instantly, Aedric drew Longclaw from his waist and slashed to the left. A facehugger drifted silently through the air—only to be cleaved neatly in half by his blade.
Looking at the sword, utterly unscathed even after being splattered with Alien acid blood, Aedric couldn't help but grin. As expected of Valyrian steel—almost indestructible. Its toughness even surpassed the Predator wrist blades, which were products of an interstellar civilization, far beyond Earth's metallurgy.
Jorah Mormont, your sword is safe. No need to thank me.
After half an hour of winding turns and shifting walls, Aedric finally reached the lowest chamber of the pyramid — and there she was, bound in thick chains: the Alien Queen.
Even from a distance, her grotesque form radiated evil. Yet, to Aedric's disgust, he felt a flicker of strange familiarity — an echo of kinship. Then he realized it was an aftereffect of having possessed the seven young Aliens earlier. Their instincts were bleeding into his own.
Thankfully, without Alien DNA in his body, the feeling vanished as quickly as it came.
Seeing the Queen's swollen abdomen still pulsating, endlessly producing eggs, Aedric's eyes hardened. He pulled Blackfyre from his storage space and unleashed a jet of black divine flame upon her.
That flame, condensed from dragonfire, was notoriously tenacious — once it latched onto something, it would burn until nothing remained but ash, unless countered by another energy type, like the Night King's magic.
The Alien Queen, terrifying as she was in sci-fi lore, had no such powers.
So the black fire spread rapidly across her body. Within seconds, the egg sac — the disgusting, unarmored breeding organ — was reduced to cinders.
Her body, armored in chitin harder than steel, didn't burn as easily, but the divine fire still scorched her, forcing shrieks of agony from her maw. She writhed and thrashed violently, but the Predator-forged chains held firm.
Those bindings weren't mere metal — they were technology, ancient and enduring. Even the divine flame could only make them glow red-hot, not melt.
Starfaring civilizations… terrifying indeed.
Aedric watched the burning Queen, almost satisfied — when suddenly, a sharp whooshing sound sliced through the air behind him.
He reacted instantly, leaping sideways. A split-second later, something invisible slashed through where he'd been standing, tearing open the outer layer of his coat.
Expression turning to ice, Aedric turned toward the attack's source.
With a burst of blue-white light, two massive figures shimmered into view — cloaked no longer.
Predators. Two of the three who had come for the hunt.
Though still juveniles, these Predators weren't weak. The two-man team, however, were infamously dishonorable — the same ones who, in the movie, even tried to kill an unarmed woman.
If not for the heroine's plot armor — and a lucky Alien interference — Lex Woods would've died under their wrist blades.
Aedric wasn't surprised they'd found him.
He knew their helmets had multiple scanning modes — including one that could trace residual footprints and heat trails. They must have followed the signs straight to him.
And, of course, his backpack contained a Predator shoulder cannon — something they'd definitely come looking for.
Ironically, Aedric had planned to give that cannon to the third Predator, the lone honorable one. But since he didn't know which would find him first, fate decided otherwise.
Looks like the "good" Predator chose the wrong direction — and was probably dead already.
Unlucky bastard.
Calmly, Aedric sheathed Blackfyre and summoned another sword from his storage space — the True Martial Blade. Against Aliens, he used magic; against Predators, he preferred cold steel.
The two Predators hesitated for a moment as the weapon in his hand suddenly changed shape. Then, after exchanging some guttural, crackling chatter, the one with the skull trophy on its shoulder roared and extended his right wrist blade, lunging straight at Aedric.
Their weapons clashed with a deafening metallic clang. Sparks flew as both staggered backward.
Aedric glanced down: the True Martial Sword was flawless. The Predator's wrist blade, however, had a thin crack running along the edge.
As expected. Even interstellar alloys, when wielded by adolescents, couldn't surpass the finest blades of the martial world.
The skull-faced Predator froze, then roared in rage, its pride wounded. To be injured — even slightly — by what it saw as mere prey was the greatest humiliation imaginable.
Aedric just smiled faintly, then raised a finger—first pointing at the skull-faced one, then at his partner, the elephant-masked Predator, who had been watching.
The gesture was simple: "Come at me together."
Sure enough, the two dishonorable hunters exchanged a few hissing words, then both ignited their wrist blades.
One left, one right, they charged in unison — the No-Honor Duo, attacking together.
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