The arena, a magnificent structure that had just hosted the galaxy's most spectacular and absurd battle, had mostly emptied. Aetherion was still there, sitting at a small, circular table someone had thoughtfully wheeled into the middle of the scorched battlefield for him. He was halfway through a plate of pancakes he had found in the wreckage of a concessions stand, his face a picture of serene contentment. The air still smelled faintly of antimatter and burnt ego, but to Aetherion, it just smelled like a good meal.
He was pouring a truly magnificent amount of syrup onto his second pancake when a shadow fell across him.
"You made quite a mess," a voice said. It wasn't accusatory, just a simple statement of fact.
Aetherion looked up. She was standing there—a girl with long, dark hair that looked windswept even in the still air of the coliseum. Her eyes glimmered like starlight, a testament to a distant, celestial heritage, and she was wearing a battered leather jacket with scorch marks. Not from the battle, he noted with a moment of casual observation. Those were clearly from before. She looked tired, cynical, and utterly unimpressed by the cosmic destruction around them.
"Oh hey," Aetherion said, his mouth full of pancake. "Want a bite?" He gestured with his fork. "They're pretty good. A little dry, but the syrup helps."
She crossed her arms, her posture radiating an air of quiet danger. "You're the guy who punched the Emperor into another dimension, right?"
Aetherion took another bite, pondering the choice of words. "Eh, more of a… gentle shove. I didn't want to hurt him."
She sat across from him without asking, her chair scraping against the scorched synth-concrete of the arena floor. The action was loud in the profound silence.
"You're either the galaxy's strongest man, or the galaxy's biggest idiot," she stated, her eyes locking onto his.
Aetherion grinned, a genuine, easy smile. "Why not both?"
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[Meanwhile – Galactic News Drones Hovering Nearby]
Drone #1: Scanning facial recognition… match found.
Drone #2: Name: Lyra Veyne. Occupation: Bounty Hunter. Current target… Aetherion.
Drone #1: Uh-oh.
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Lyra leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand, her expression unreadable. Her eyes, however, betrayed a flicker of amusement and a whole lot of professional suspicion.
"You don't seem surprised I'm here."
"I noticed you tailing me three planets ago," Aetherion said, chewing. "You're cute when you think you're being sneaky."
Her eyebrow, a perfect arch of dark hair, twitched. She straightened up slightly. "Careful. I'm not here to flirt. That's a ten trillion credit bounty on your head."
Aetherion tilted his head, a spoonful of pancake halfway to his mouth. "Then why are you still at my table?"
She opened her mouth, a sharp retort on her tongue. Then, she paused. Her eyes scanned the empty, ruined arena, the smoking remains of the Emperor's last stand, and the single, utterly oblivious man eating pancakes. Her lips closed in a firm line.
"…Shut up."
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[Five Minutes Later]
They were walking down the ruined streets of the city together, the chaotic debris of the bounty hunter free-for-all now a silent, ghostly landscape. Lyra quietly pretended she wasn't interested, her gaze fixed on the wreckage, her hands in her pockets. Aetherion, meanwhile, was happily pointing out snack stalls he had seen before they were vaporized by a stray black hole bomb.
"Pancake stand, donut stand, galaxy fries… this city has a great food scene," he said, shaking his head at the mess. He turned to her, a genuine question in his eyes. "Wait, are we dating or bounty hunting?"
"Bounty hunting," she said instantly, a touch too quickly.
Aetherion smirked, a look of pure mischief on his face. "Cool. I like danger in my relationships."
The moment the words left his mouth, a new, more immediate danger arrived. A swarm of assassin drones, black and sleek and silently waiting for their moment, dropped from the sky. They were small, but their purpose was clear, their targeting lasers locking onto Aetherion's head. Lyra, a professional to the bone, instinctively drew her plasma blaster, the familiar weight in her hand a comfort.
But before she could even aim, Aetherion casually flicked a pancake at the nearest drone. The syrup, somehow imbued with an impossible amount of kinetic and electrical energy, short-circuited the drone in a flash of light. The pancake, a simple breakfast food, was suddenly a weapon of cosmic-level destruction. The fried drone spiraled into its teammates like a flaming bowling ball, the syrup from the pancake causing a chain reaction that short-circuited the entire swarm. They fell to the ground in a smoldering, pancake-drenched heap.
Lyra lowered her blaster, her mouth agape. "You're insane," she muttered.
Aetherion shrugged, looking at the puddle of syrup and scorched metal. "And you're still walking next to me."
Somewhere deep inside, where she kept her sanity and her professional dignity, Lyra realized… she might be in trouble. Not because of the bounty. Not because he was the most powerful man in the galaxy. But because she was starting to like him.