Savior or Prey?

"Finally, someone!" 

A trembling voice called out from the shadows, filled with desperation. From the darkness emerged a creature with soft, rubbery features. Its form sagged as it shuffled forward, its thin limbs shaking as it pressed its hands together in a gesture of pleading. Tears, or something like them, welled up in its wide, glassy eyes. 

"Savior! Benefactor! We belong to the Second Alliance of Krafal. It's all because of some stupid conflicts with the Aval Alliance on the road. We took a wrong turn, got separated from the main group, and we've been lost ever since! We couldn't find the way. Please, help us, sir!" 

Stark smiled warmly, a friendly expression that spread across his face like sunlight breaking through the clouds. "Well, that's a shame. Very unfortunate." His tone carried a casual air, almost amused. Then his eyes sharpened slightly. "If you're hoping for my help, you'd better keep up. I'll have you know my asking price is significantly higher than the rates those navigation guides are charging outside." 

The creature perked up, nodding quickly and eagerly. Behind it, two other beings emerged, their faces wearing identical expressions of desperation. One of them—a humanoid figure with sharp features—spoke up. "That's no problem at all! As long as you can guide us out of this place, we'll pay whatever you ask." 

Stark chuckled softly and gave a slight nod. 

The group followed him, their steps hurried and uneven as they struggled to match his calm, confident pace. The temple's corridors stretched out before them in a labyrinth of black stone. Faintly glowing runes lit the way, casting eerie patterns of light across the walls. The atmosphere was thick and stifling, the air feeling heavier with each step. 

It was only a matter of minutes before the inevitable happened. 

"Ahhh!!!" 

The cry was sharp, piercing the heavy silence of the temple. 

Blue energy rippled across Stark's body, lighting up the otherwise dim corridor. The translucent armor flickered into view for a brief moment before returning to its stealth mode, leaving Stark standing alone among the crumpled bodies of his would-be attackers. He sighed and shook his head, his tone almost playful as he muttered to himself. 

"Honestly, you guys are just so unoriginal. Same old lines, same predictable tactics. Can't you come up with anything new?" 

Stark glanced around the corridor, taking a moment to examine the aftermath. The bodies were sprawled at odd angles, their faces frozen in expressions of shock and fear. The three beings who had approached him so desperately moments ago now lay motionless at his feet. 

It wasn't his first encounter like this, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. Stark had been wandering the temple for long enough to understand its cruel, unspoken rules. 

The astral realm operated on one fundamental principle: the strong devour the weak. Killing and being killed was simply a way of life here. And in a place like the temple, where greed and desperation collided, violence wasn't just expected—it was inevitable. 

Reputable groups entered the temple in large numbers, traveling in tight, organized formations. Individuals who ventured in alone were rare, typically only those confident—or arrogant—enough to believe they could survive its dangers unaided. Among these solo explorers, most were seasoned veterans, powerful fighters whose reputations preceded them. 

But Stark? 

He was an enigma. 

To anyone watching, he appeared to be an easy target. With his armor cloaked in its stealth mode, Stark looked nothing like a hardened warrior. His lean frame and composed demeanor gave him the air of a scientist—an unarmed intellectual who had wandered into the wrong place. 

This illusion was precisely what drew attackers to him like moths to a flame. To them, Stark seemed like an easy score, a lone wanderer ripe for exploitation. 

They couldn't have been more wrong. 

Over the course of an hour, Stark dealt with three separate groups of attackers. Each encounter followed the same predictable pattern. They would approach him with pleading expressions and desperate stories about being lost or separated from their group. Stark, feigning kindness, would agree to help them. 

Then, without fail, they would attempt to ambush him. 

And each time, Stark dispatched them with cold efficiency. 

After dealing with the third group, Stark stopped to inspect the items they had carried. Star coins, small tools, and other trinkets littered the ground around the bodies. He collected what seemed useful, though most of it was junk to him. His armor's storage compartments were limited, and he had little patience for hauling around unnecessary baggage. 

Still, Stark viewed these encounters as more than just opportunities to gather supplies. They were practice. The alien fighters he encountered in the temple were far more skilled than the criminals he had dealt with back on Earth. Fighting them offered valuable experience, and Stark welcomed the challenge. 

Of course, for him, it wasn't much of a challenge at all. 

The attackers were predictable, their strategies unoriginal. Each fight was over in seconds, and Stark barely broke a sweat. 

It wasn't long before another group arrived. 

This time, the attackers introduced themselves as members of a small organization called Warpers. Stark didn't bother to remember their backstory. To him, they were just another set of faces, another group of "experience packs" waiting to be dealt with. 

"Savior! Please, we're lost!" one of them cried, its voice quivering as tears streamed down its grotesque face. "We've been wandering for hours! Please, help us find our way!" 

Stark's lips twitched into a smirk. 

"Oh, of course. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you get out of here safely." 

As they followed him, Stark couldn't help but marvel at their lack of creativity. "Is there some kind of handbook for these excuses?" he wondered. "It's like they're all using the same script." 

Once again, the group waited until they thought Stark's guard was down. 

Then they struck. 

The three attackers moved as one, their strikes perfectly coordinated. One lunged from the left, another from the right, and the third aimed for Stark's back. 

But Stark had seen it all before. 

He spun, his elbow connecting with the nearest attacker's face in a blur of motion. A quick backhand strike sent the second flying, and three precise energy blasts from his gauntlets finished the job. 

When the dust settled, Stark stood amidst the wreckage, unscathed and unimpressed. 

However, this time, there was a twist. 

As Stark turned to leave, he noticed one of the bodies twitching. A boneless, cartilaginous alien had somehow managed to survive. Its body contorted unnaturally, twisting away from the blast at the last second. 

Before Stark could finish it off, the creature sprang to its feet and bolted. 

It leapt into the air, its body stretching as it flew upward. Stark watched as it disappeared into the shadows above, its movements surprisingly swift for something so grotesque. 

"Not bad," Stark muttered. "But you're not getting away." 

Flames erupted from the soles of Stark's boots as he engaged his armor's flight mode. With a burst of speed, he shot into the air, pursuing the fleeing alien through the temple's maze-like corridors. 

The chase led to another platform, where the alien abruptly lowered its altitude and began flying close to the ground. 

Stark recognized the strategy immediately. The alien was sticking to a predefined route, likely familiar with the temple's navigation plans. Straying too far from the designated paths was dangerous; even a slight misstep could lead to getting lost in the temple's shifting terrain. 

Still, Stark wasn't about to let it escape. 

The alien glanced back, its face twisted in panic. Seeing no sign of Stark, it allowed itself a moment of relief. 

But as it turned forward again, it froze. 

Standing directly in its path was Stark. His armor glinted faintly in the dim light, and a faint smile played on his lips. 

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?" Stark asked, his tone calm and almost mocking. 

The alien's shoulders sagged, its brief flicker of hope extinguished. 

Stark tilted his head slightly, his smile widening. "Did you really think you could outrun me?" 

The alien didn't answer. It didn't need to. Its trembling body said everything Stark needed to know. 

[TL Note - ngl I was both bored and confused translating this chapter]