The metal corridor echoed with heavy footsteps. A lone alien, wrapped in a long, frayed cloak, slowly approached the center of the spaceship. Before him rose the leader's throne—a dark, organic structure, half machine, half pulsating matter. The leader sat in it, his eyes like two cold, glowing balls of fire.
"Sir…" the henchman began in a trembling voice, his head bowed low. "We… we have scanned the entire universe. Every corner. Every line. Every fracture in the space-time continuum. But…" He paused, his throat trembling. "But it's as if he doesn't exist. As if Lukas never existed."
Silence spread. Only the deep rumble of the engines vibrated through the metallic walls.
Slowly, the leader raised his head. His gaze pierced the henchman. "Nothing?" he asked softly, barely more than a whisper, yet like a dagger cutting through the air.
"N-nothing, sir," the henchman stammered, his voice almost breaking. "Our scanners... our systems... they all confirm it. No trace. No fragment. No residual energy. As if he had... wiped himself out."
The leader remained silent. He didn't move, but the silence that now filled the room was more oppressive than any words. The henchman felt his breath become heavy.
"You dare..." the leader finally whispered, "tell me... that my eyes are lying? That my knowledge, my instincts... are misguided?"
"N-no, sir!" The henchman almost fell to his knees, raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I... I'm just reporting what the systems say! We've checked every possible level, every signal, every residual particle! He's... gone!"
A low, dangerous growl escaped the leader's throat. Then he slowly leaned back, his gaze remaining fixed on his subordinate.
"Get out of here," he said finally, cold and sharp. "Get out of my sight before my patience runs out."
The henchman bowed deeply, his body trembling. "Y-yes, sir. Now."
He turned quickly, his steps hurried, like someone who had narrowly escaped death. He had almost reached the door when the leader's voice penetrated the room again.
"Stop."
The henchman's footsteps froze. He turned slowly back around, sweat—or what passed for sweat among his species—glistening on his skin.
"Tell me," the leader began, his voice now even quieter, even more dangerous, "is our ship Scan... safe?"
The henchman nodded vigorously. "Of course, sir! Our systems are flawless. Perfectly calibrated. They can't possibly be wrong."
A long, scrutinizing look met his gaze. Then the leader slowly closed his eyes, as if weighing the words.
"Of course..." he finally murmured. "Of course."
But there was a doubt in his voice that froze the air in the room like ice.
The leader exhaled slowly, as if the entire space had suddenly become smaller. His eyes shimmered coldly, and an uneasy vibration ran through the organic walls of the command room.
"...He's here," he whispered finally, so quietly that it was almost just a thought hanging in the air. "Lukas..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a muffled sound sounded—clack—followed by a stifled gasp. The henchman who had just been standing in front of him collapsed in mid-motion. His body sagged to the floor like an empty shell.
A sickening squelch accompanied the impact as the creature twitched to the metal plates. For seconds, there was silence until a thin, silvery glimmer flickered in the leader's eyes. He immediately noticed the impossible: a black, almost organic-looking knife protruded from his henchman's chest, stuck at a grotesque angle.
The leader jerked up from his throne, the walls pulsing as if in sync with his heartbeat. His voice rumbled low as he growled:
"Impossible... How can you kill a creature of mist... with a knife?"
His cold eyes fixed on the shadow behind the corpse—and sure enough: Behind the body, half-hidden in the darkness, stood a figure. A man, shrouded in blackness, yet with an eerie clarity in his silhouette. His posture was relaxed, almost mocking, as he slowly pulled the blood-stained knife from the dead creature.
The leader clenched his fists. "Answer!" he thundered. "Tell me how you did it! We are made of time dust, of ash beyond dimensions—no steel, no flesh can hurt us!"
The figure raised its head, and a grin flashed from beneath its hood. Its voice was hoarse, but full of malicious glee.
"Oh, but that's the trick."
The leader tensed, his body flickering briefly as if struggling to maintain control. "Speak!"
The man laughed softly, the knife in his hand sliding playfully back and forth as if he were dancing with the blade.
"Your body is made of dust, yes. But dust..." – he paused briefly, twirling the knife between his fingers – "...needs an anchor. A source of energy. Something to keep you here."
The leader growled. "Impossible..."
"Not impossible," the man continued, his grin widening, his eyes beginning to glow with a sickly orange glow. "Just... unrecognized. This knife..." He raised it slowly, the blade dripping as if it had lost not just blood, but pure essence. "...severs the anchor. It cuts the hold that keeps your ashes in the here and now. Without it..." – he pointed to the dead henchman – "...you decay. Just like that. It doesn't apply to you, but it works for your henchman there."
A gasping, almost animalistic sound escaped the leader. "This is forbidden... No one outside our people may know this!"
The man threw his head back and laughed loudly, a laugh that vibrated like knives in the air. "Forbidden? Forbidden for whom? For you? For me?"
He slowly took a step back, the shadow on the walls almost swallowing him. But his voice remained sharp, as if it had bored into the leader's nerves.
"Come on..." he whispered. "Let's play."
The leader tensed, ready to assume his true form at any moment. "What... do you dare...?"
The figure raised the knife, tapped its temple mockingly, and then disappeared, as if he had dissolved into the darkness itself. Only his words echoed, accompanied by a final, mocking chuckle:
"Let's play hide and seek..."
The leader stood alone in the room, the knife gone, the corpse crumbling to dust. But the words hung in the air like an indelible threat.
The leader stared at the corpse, his eyes blazing with anger. Should I use the second form? For a moment, he toyed with the idea, but immediately dismissed it. No. Not for him. I am untouchable in dust. If I went any deeper... it would kill me too.
BONUS:
"Hehehehe... wow, that was so awesome. So cool. Knife in, poof, just like that. He fell over, like nothing. So easy, so fast.
The boss, he looked at me. He looked so stupid. So shocked. Hehehehe, so funny. I was cool. So cool. The coolest in the room.
Henchman destroyed, boss speechless. And me? I was relaxed. Totally relaxed. Cool. The coolest.
Lukas, you're the best. The very best. So awesome. So cool, so cool, so cool.
Hehehehe... and then, the shadow. Gone. Just gone. Disappeared so coolly. So whoosh – and poof, nothing there anymore.
Wow, that was like magic. How really awesome. Just a shadow and gone. I was cool. So cool.
Best exit ever."