Krauk gripped the knife, all five fingers of his left hand buried deep in Charius's soft tissue. He forced a thick mass of tissue apart, then sliced through the thick, translucent flesh with the slime-covered blade, exposing a pitch-black, bloody organ.
Gorpious watched from the side, its heart pounding. "That should be enough, right? He must be completely dead."
"What if he isn't? I have to make sure he won't cause trouble later."
As Krauk answered, he quickly dug out the lump of flesh that looked like a brain and shook off the slime clinging to it.
He tossed the knife aside and seized the brain in both hands, digging all ten fingers into the flesh. Then he tore it apart, hurled it onto the floor, stomped on it with a wet splat, and finally ground it to pieces under his heel.
Next, Krauk produced a Small Flamethrower from somewhere and blasted the puddle of soft tissue on the floor, cooking it down over high heat. The brown flesh crackled and shrank violently in the flames, soon becoming a heap of ashes.
A Spider-Shaped Cleaning Robot trundled over, sucked up all the ashes, then trundled away again.
Gorpious was left dumbstruck by this corpse-disposal combo. After a moment, it managed to squeeze out one word:
"Professional!"
To be honest, Gorpious had learned a thing or two during its years with Krauk.
Krauk claimed to be an ordinary person who had fled to escape a coup. In fact, after careful observation, his Insectoid buddy had found his performance flawless.
But no one could keep up an act for more than ten years without slipping up, especially around an Insectoid as perceptive as Gorpious.
One tiny inconsistency was enough for it to confirm Krauk's true identity.
Through a few barely perceptible details,