54 - Let Them Be My Hostage Instead

"You're more valuable to them dead."

Apex Two had a point sharp enough to slice through their hopes. They were essentially cannon fodder, ready to be tossed aside at the first sign of failure.

But, oh, if they triumphed, they'd be basking in the glow of a hefty reward. Perhaps even a golden ticket to a long-term gig with the Alliance. A tempting carrot, no doubt.

After failing, they had pretty much resigned themselves to becoming one with the ground. Even if they somehow managed to run, they'd quickly find themselves in the Alliance's crosshairs, accused of stealing the White Dwarf. 

The end result? A swift execution.

Whether they die in Burn's hand or the Alliance's hand, it was the end when they failed. Even though at the time, they thought dying in the hand of this monster was scarier than the Alliance—

Well.

This time, the Alliance didn't have a leg to stand on. They couldn't justify whipping out the White Dwarf on the ground like they did in previous loops. Thus, Burn noticed the changing of the user.

In his previous loops, the users were straight-laced military types. This loop, however, had mercenaries on the front line, their combat style clearly non-military disciplined.

And yet, it was better.

Indeed, these faceless space guns-for-hire put the officially appointed military personnel of the previous loops to shame. 

Maybe it was the pressure of having to take out Burn without the bigwigs noticing the White Dwarf was missing from its cosmic cradle. And yet, they outshone even the Alliance's White Dwarf operators.

It was thanks to them that the planet wasn't reduced to space dust, even though they were wielding 3% of a condensed sun's power.

What mastery.

"Do you have loved ones?" Burn asked abruptly, veering the conversation into a new direction. "Folks waiting for you back home?"

"If we do, they're well aware of our line of work," Dirk replied coldly, before stating a fact. "They know there's a chance we might walk out the door one day and never return. It's not like you can hunt them down or anything."

The crack in the sky was just a one way portal without the proper technology.

"I was about to extend an offer of refuge, but never mind," Burn retorted, his words tinged with a hint of sarcasm.

"Shouldn't your concern be the Alliance, now that you've let them down? Those people you hold dear..." Burn shook his head, as if lamenting their folly. "If they found out you're alive and kicking, here in my company, sans the White Dwarf..."

The prospect of the Alliance setting their sights on them wasn't lost on Dirk and his crew. They were painfully aware of the crosshairs potentially aimed at their backs. And their families.

"What's your game?" Dirk demanded, his patience wearing thin.

"Let them be my hostage instead," Burn suggested, his voice as smooth as silk. "Your spaceship isn't completely totaled, is it?"

In their minds, they vehemently disagreed. The ship was a wreck, barely holding together.

"Use your communication device to call your family here. There must be a sneaky way for them to slip through that tear in the sky, right?" Burn queried, his golden eyes glittering with anticipation.

"Bring the tech that can navigate through that rift, and then we can have a proper chat."

This was quite the long shot.

Burn wanted all of them, lock, stock, and barrel. Not just their lives, but their loved ones too. And the technology to traverse the portal. Right now, they were backed into a corner with no escape.

Their options were grim. They could die here, or their family could be targeted by the Alliance. But if they accepted Burn's proposal, there was a glimmer of hope. They could survive, albeit in this realm, under the thumb of this ruthless tyrant.

Emperor Burn—Apex Two.

"After that… What chat?" Dirk asked.

"Employment," Burn shrugged as he leaned back on his chair. "You're mercenary, right?"

What? He was simply…

KA-CLACK! BAM!

Suddenly, the door was flung open.

"Caliburn!"

A voice, beautiful yet nagging, echoed through the room.

"You've reduced them to slavery? Those children—even the prince?!"

A breathtakingly beautiful woman stormed through the door, charging fearlessly towards the monstrous bastard. "You've seen what they've endured, and still—"

"The Elysian Kingdom didn't resist, but they didn't exactly surrender either. They're still nobles from a conquered nation, and you expect them to retain their titles? Be real," Burn retorted.

"Is there any chance you'll spare them?" Momo inquired.

"No," Burn responded, his tone final.

With that, Momo spun on her heels, preparing to storm out.

"Hey. Hey, hey!" Burn caught her wrist, but she resisted. "You disappear for a day without a word, then waltz back in just to berate me for doing my job superbly?"

"We are to talk," Burn demanded.

"I don't want to talk!" Momo shot back.

Burn might have been injured, but his physical strength was still superior to most men. Seeing Momo try to pull away, he drew her towards him, trapping her in his lap.

"Ah!"

Now, he held her firmly, refusing to let her go.

"Where are you going?" Burn wasn't playing around. Everyone in the room knew that.

"To buy their freedom," Morgan answered, realizing she couldn't free herself.

"You're not going anywhere," Burn declared, his hand behind Morgan gesturing for Galahad to usher everyone out. He then turned to stare at Yvain, who was doing his best to blend into the background, hoping he could stay and watch.

In the end, he was reluctantly ushered out along with the rest of the crowd — the servants, aides, and prisoners. As they exited, the melodious yet nagging voice of the woman could be heard echoing, "Caliburn…"

And Burn's firm reply, "No."

A few strides away from the room, Dirk murmured to himself, "Who was that absolute bombshell?"

"Rude!" Yvain exclaimed. "That's my master!"

"And who's this little guy?"

Yvain sighed, preparing to snap his fingers. "So it's the same everywhere, huh? Children are always treated like this, even outsiders like you…"

SNAP!

At the sound, the group felt a sudden, crushing weight from their handcuffs. Not the futuristic kind, but the magical kind. In an instant, they were sent sprawling forward, their hands pinned to the floor.

SLAM! CRACKLE!

"UGH!"

"URK!"

Dirk clenched his teeth. This was even heavier than the gravity on his home planet—

"Be careful. Our physicians worked hard to reattach those valuable limbs. You don't want to rip them off again, do you?"

Yvain stood before them, his hair and eyes a stark black, casting a dark shadow over his presence.

This… little tyrant…

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