Thragg raised a brow, but otherwise gestured for the mayor to step inside. The man did so, after taking off his muddy shoes and leaving them out on the rack by the front door. The mayor walked awkwardly, as though he'd hurt his knees after running all the way here or something. The old man was certainly convinced that the entire planet was under threat. It was a possibility, of course, given that he'd seen the corpses of ruined vessels in the scrapyards more than a dozen times, most of it stripped bare of essentials, but he'd seen enough spaceships to know what one looked like and how they operated. Once, a few years ago, Nareena managed to scavenged an intact space ship engine, which she sold for a very hefty sum to the Scrapper Guild.

And many of those vessels were definitely not of human design.

But, not once, Thragg recalled, not once has there ever been a mention of aliens or interstellar civilizations, which had led him to believe – and rightly so – that the humans of this planet simply did not have the capacity for space travel. He'd traveled to each and every single one of the thirty cities that dotted the world and found that, while some form of locomotive transportation was common in some and rare in others, not a single city or group had any real access to space travel, even if the knowledge of how to achieve it was strangely common. Or, at the very least, the concept of it was well known to the people. Perhaps, they simply did not care to.

Still, he'd wait until he heard the mayor's explanation, before he made any conclusions.

"Oh, it's you," Nareena said as soon as she spotted the mayor, her eyes not at all concerned. Argall, meanwhile, stayed quiet, eyes narrowed. Good. Thragg taught him the value of patience, of sitting and waiting, of thinking before he acted. "Good evening, mayor."

Nareena stood up and walked towards the living room. The mayor followed her. She gestured at one of the seats, made entirely of polished beast bones, and the mayor sat down. Nareena sat herself on a seat opposite to him, a chair made entirely of matte black metal. Thragg leaned against the nearby wall and crossed his arms together. Argall silently made his way into the living room as well, after covering up their food, and made himself scarce upon one of the corner seats, shrouded in shadows. Nareena scowled and placed one leg over the other. "Now, what do you want, old man? I was having a very good meal with my family. So, you better have a pretty good reason."

"Aliens are invading this planet as we speak." He said plainly. "The southern cities are at war with them."

"What?"

"I received the news only a few hours ago." The mayor continued. "The situation is dire."

"What do you need me for?"

"Please, the people of Alka - no, the people of this world - need your help, Nareena," The mayor said, his skin pale and his eyes manic. Thragg raised a brow. The man was desperate, clearly, but anyone would be in his situation. Sure enough, however, Nareena was a legendary scrapper, ranked among the Scrapper Guild's top five, a position of great renown and honor. She was already in the top ten by the time Thragg encountered her. If the mayor was looking for powerful individuals to fight against... whoever and whatever was invading the planet, then Nareena was definitely one of better options. Her skill at arms was astounding; if she'd been born a Viltrumite, Thragg had mused numerous times, then Nareena would've easily been one of their strongest.

"We're gathering all the scrappers we can. All of the southern cities have already begun arming their civilians." The mayor continued and, at the mention of the arming of non-scrappers, Thragg's eyes narrowed. Violence of any kind, ones that were directed towards fellow humans, was unthinkable to the people of this planet. He wasn't sure how such a thing was even possible as the humans he remembered had always been violent, especially towards each other. "It's total war down there, entire scrapyards reduced to molten slag and fields burnt to ashes."

Despite the strange pacifism, however, weapons of war were kept in storage, rifles that shot focused beams of light that could reduce a giant boulder to molten rock or rockets with nanomachines capable of reducing mountains to nothing; these had never once been unleashed, not once, simply because the people of this world had not tasted war - or, as Thragg figured, they haven't tasted war for a very long time. However, the fact that some of the cities have resorted to arming their residents meant that they were dealing with something that endangered everyone – or, at the very least, something threatening enough to warrant such a response.

"We don't know what these creatures are. It's... armies and legions of them, alien creatures and... horrible things. Our sister-cities are holding them back – for now. But we don't know how long they can sustain their defense. The aliens apparently do not fear death and there are reports of them charging right into a volley of laser beams." The mayor continued. Based on his description, it seemed like they were dealing with a conclave of aliens that waged war upon the backs of slave-soldiers. Alternatively, they were either dealing with a hive-minded super-organism made up of trillions of lesser minds, or a machine-race of some kind. The Viltrumite Empire, under Thragg's leadership, had faced many such races and trampled them all into dust. "You are the greatest Scrapper in Alka; please, we need your help."

"I refuse." Nareena said, plainly.

"Wha-"

"I'm getting old, mayor," Nareena's eyes turned to Thragg, an unspoken message shared just between them. Aside from Argall, who likely already suspected it, no one else on the entire planet had even the slightest idea of who and what Thragg was and what he was capable of, save for his wife, Nareena, with whom he shared... everything. Argall's supreme genius and intelligence would've garnered plenty of doubt, especially since the boy had witnessed him easily lifting things no human being should've even been capable of lifting, though his son has yet to voice the question that likely still burned at the back of his head. Thragg wouldn't lie to the boy, however, and he'd answer truthfully if Argall ever bothered asking. One of their agreements was that Thragg would not reveal his true abilities – not unless it was of dire need and extreme importance. "I don't think I'd be of much use in a war. Besides, I'm an adventurer, not a soldier; I'm not as strong or as fast as I used to be. You're better off asking the other, younger Scrappers, mayor."

That... wasn't a lie, Thragg figured. Nareena was still stronger, faster, and more skilled than most Scrappers who were younger than her, but her age was catching up to her. Unlike most, his dear wife and heart abhorred the idea of Rejuvenant Treatments, youth-preserving potions that prolonged one's life if ingested regularly. It was expensive, true, but Nareena had more than enough funds to buy thousands of potions and still live comfortably. It was unfortunate, but his wife would soon meet her end; human lifespans were tiny, after all. Thragg had long since accepted that, which was why he treasured every single moment he spent with her.

Hopefully, Argall's superhuman nature meant he'd live long, because Thragg would rather not bury another child of his blood.

"B-but, we need all the help we can get! You're a legend, Nareena. Your mere presence would inspire others!" The mayor argued. "As we speak, every scrapper in Alka is gathering in the Guild Hall to prepare for an expedition to the south. I've authorized the use of Weapons of War."

Nareena whistled as she leaned back against her seat. He what sort of thoughts were running through her mind now. As tempting as it was to just go and deal with the alien menace himself, the people of this world simply were not ready to accept an existence like Thragg, a god among them; he wasn't, but the gap between them was so incredibly wide that he may as well be.

But then Argall came and challenged that. His frightening growth, inhuman intelligence, and unnatural abilities made the boy appear almost divine. Save for Thragg himself, the boy was clearly above anyone else in the planet, mentally or physically; his son had no equal. Luckily, the people of this planet weren't particularly religious; so, their fascination for Argall did not turn into worship.

Thragg very lightly shook his head. Now was not the time just yet. After all, just because the people of the planet were afraid of this alien threat did not mean they had no chance of victory. He'd intervene only when and if there literally was no other hope left for the people of this planet. As it was, however, it seemed like the mayor was simply panicking and, because of that, made the problem appear larger and grimmer than it actually was.

"I'll go," Argall said, standing up. Thragg and Nareena turned to look at their boy and saw only conviction in his eyes. His heart swelled with pride. Argall was young and had plenty to learn still, but he was old enough now to learn on his own, to succeed or fail and face the consequences of his choices. A single look between him and Nareena told him that his wife and heart felt the same way. The mayor turned to his son. "I'll fight for humanity. I will fight until this alien threat is defeated or destroyed."

"My son is very strong," Thragg said, smiling and nodding at the boy. "He is faster and more powerful than any human could hope to be and he is capable of building wondrous devices that would surely be beneficial to the war effort. He's not technically a Scrapper, but if you're willing to arm everyone, then surely you'd accept my boy as well?"

"Indeed," Nareena added, before she turned and glanced at Argall, smiling softly at the boy. "While I am too old and weak to fight, Argall is more than a match for any Scrapper. In combat, I can think of no one – not even myself when I was younger - who could possibly exceed his might."

At their words, Argall glowed, brimming with confidence and pride and happiness. Argall's aura expanded and Thragg saw the exact moment that it affected the Mayor, the old man's eyes widening, his mouth gaping, as he turned to look at Argall. Perhaps, Thragg mused, the boy wasn't ready yet, but that was not his place – as a father – to decide. That responsibility must be shouldered by Argall and Argall alone. Thragg's responsibility was to stand by his son's side and offer him guidance should he need it. This was Argall's moment; whether he'd fail or succeed was entirely up to him.

"Of course!" The Mayor stood up and took a step towards Argall. The boy's aura had intensified, Thragg noted, a fact that became clearer once he heard the reverence in the mayor's tone. "The expedition to the south welcomes all who wish to join. And the son of Nareena is known to many, a great inventor they say, a boy who could outrun a galloping Wilderbeast and carry it over his shoulders as though it weighed nothing, the top of his class, and spoke of by his teachers with awe and wonder. We would be honored to have you fight with us."

Thragg smirked. Argall's aura and supernatural charisma meant that people naturally flocked around him, hanging onto his every word; it was both dangerous and useful. That also meant that, if this war dragged on for long enough, Argall would end up becoming a leader. He wouldn't even have to try; Argall was a natural.

"I'll accompany him," Thragg said. He walked towards his son and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Argall nodded at him, smiling. Thragg nodded back. The Mayor, of course, sent Thragg a dubious look. He wasn't exactly well-known, unlike Nareena, Sereen, or even Argall; everyone knew him as just Nareena's husband, a quiet man who liked to go out into the nearby scrapyards to scavenge for junk or hunt the occasional Wilderbeast. Still, Thragg was taller than most humans and still retained his muscular physique, honed after thousands of years of training and war and conquest. People took a single look at him and knew, immediately, that he was no weakling.

After a moment, the Mayor nodded. "The expedition leaves tomorrow at noon. I'll have weapons and armor prepared for the both of you."

"These aliens," Nareena suddenly spoke and stood up. "What do they look like?"

"We do not know," The mayor shook his head. "There are many of them, numerous aliens fighting and dying as one. A few have suggested that these are merely slaves or drones. If they have masters, then we've not seen them. Their ships are... horrible. Here, see for yourselves."

The mayor reached for his pendant, a black rectangular thing with a blue line running down its center. The old man then traced his thumb across the blue line and the necklace emitted a holographic projection of a... strange bio-mechanical ship. It was... odd, Thragg thought, covered in spines and strange flails, and tendrils of metal that dragged behind it as it flew, much like tentacles; it reminded him of some ocean-dwelling creature – a jellyfish, humans called it. Its hull was reminiscent of animal chitin, made of interlocking plates of some sort of bio-mechanical armor, gray dull like metal, but grooved and uneven like bone.

How very fascinating.

Nareena's eyes narrowed as she stared at the holographic projection of the alien ship. Her mind, it seemed, ran through a hundred thoughts at once, before she spoke. "These slave armies you mentioned... there were humans among them, were there?"

The mayor's eyes widened and the old man paled further. He looked just about ready to vomit. Argall's expression turned dark. Nareena looked... disturbed. "Yes... but these humans were not from this planet. You can imagine the conviction it must've cost the southerners to fire their weapons against fellow humans. Even I find such a thing... unthinkable – humans waging war against fellow humans. But these are desperate times."

"A few of them must've been captured. Was communication at all possible?" Nareena asked.

The mayor shook his head. "That, I do not know. But a message was sent to one of the Southern Cities, Oxphen, from the alien ship."

Argall leaned in. "What was the message?"

The mayor ran his thumb across the pendant's blue line once more and the holographic projection disappeared. And then, a recording played, and there came the voice of an alien. "You are prey. You will fall, like all the others. The Galaxy belongs to the Rangda."

Thragg's eyes narrowed. That did not sound good.