Internal Strife

The place Zill was pointing at was a vast expanse of open space. There was only long grass drifting along with the gentle breeze.

But Zill's face was filled with joy and eagerness.

"Lord Veron, you're finally back. I keep having an ominous feeling. All of us feel much more reassured with you back in charge. Is this the head of the prey you killed? I'll help you process it at once. In less than an hour, it'll turn into an exquisite work of art to be showcased on your display shelf!"

While Zill spoke, he stepped forward with great courtesy. He then held out his hand towards the empty air and took the "head of the prey" that existed in his imagination.

"Really? You want to promote me to a reserve Elite, Lord Veron?! That's a real honour!"

The other two Predators gulped restlessly. A silent fear started creeping into their hearts. One of the Predators roared furiously.

"Zill! Zill! You f*cking idiot, you're talking to empty air!"