Ok, due to the overwhelming response to the poll the hish qu ten shall be added along the way, and will play a factor in Mark's evolution as a character.

Let us proceed then.

The lone figure panted, blood and spit escaping his chapped lips.

With a tug, the head of the serpent was pulled off its dead body.

The human stared in its eyeless dome for a few moments.

A victorious scream echoed in the desolated cave a few moments later.

Mark walked forward, uncaring of the pools of acid that sizzled but ultimately failed to melt his metal plated boots.

He started to systematically select the skulls of the defeated kiande amedha, only retrieving those that had wounded him.

Those were the trophies that would have brought him more honor. Those white bones that were now hanging in his trophy room were the indisputable truth that he had bested dangerous prey in combat.

The hunter began to understand how come his ex mentor was so invested in the thrill of danger.

It caused his blood to pump, adrenaline coursing in his veins, it made him feel alive.

And yet... he still found it lacking... there was not enough.

'Fucking Christ, this is one hell of an addiction.'

He thought before turning around and walking back to the control room.

'Come to think of it, everything is lacking...'

Maybe it was his impression, but he didn't have enough, he had the urge to do more, to rise higher and higher.

'Back home I used to be in the best. It's time I get back into business.'

Mark sat down in the comfortable throne like-chair, absently looking across the endless void that was space.

So many lights, billions of galaxies with hundreds of billions of planetary systems with infinite possibilities.

It was like a game, the points were ripe for the taking. Now it was about strategically picking his targets that would reward him the most.

While Mark Johnson was a human at heart, he had previously become a navy seal, and so he was used to working along and being wary of everything.

The silence was pleasant, coaxing him to a state of near slumber.

His single iris fought to stay awake, and he meditated in peace, wondering away in a trance.

'This is all crazy...

Why are a my fingers so slic- "Ah fuck!" he cursed, standing back up.

He had somehow forgotten that he was still sporting new cuts and he was bathing the floor in his blood.

"God fucking dammit!" he continued to spew venom with his words as he activated the cleaning bots with his computer wrist, making his way to the bathing room.

There, he undressed, chucking the various pieces of awu'asa over his shoulder, uncaring noisy clatters and of where they landed.

'I'll put them back into their proper place later, I fucking stink of shit.' was what he said before entering the warm bath.

The pool offered healing properties, that coupled with his enhanced immune and healing factor assured his quick recovery.

Still, he could afford to be lazy and chill out, and so he took his sweet time with washing the sweat off him.

Mark was partially surprised at the recent event.

He had successfully gone down to the planet and had cleared out a section of a hive. He had not frozen, he did not panic, he reacted and he killed.

The gods were cruel apparently, for he still had a hard time sleeping, constantly plagued with nightmares. But since he was now part yautja, he had more energy than before and used the sleepless hours to train with the equipment that he had stored.

While he did have his favorites, that still didn't excuse the fact that he had to be well versed in forms of combat.

He knew that no matter how good or perfect his plan was, there would always be the possibility of deviation from said plan.

And the soldier didn't want to get caught unprepared.

Of course, life wasn't filled with rainbows and magic wands, so he did not expect nor succeed in mastering a certain weapon overnight.

It all came back to the same formula of hard work and determination to constantly better one's self.

For all he knew, that was the only thing that would remain eternal.

That's how it was in his days as a marine, this is how it was in his present.

This whole thing with his ptsd puzzled him, and so he came up with the theory that his body entered a flight or fight mode.

That was the only logical explanation.

He made his way out of the water, wrapping himself with a large fur towel. Mark approached his bedroom and placed the cloth aside.

He stood in front of a mirror, and looked at his body.

The past few days only added to his set of scars. It almost seemed as if his skin had become a canvas for a painting with all the white jagged lines that littered him.

And they all culminated to the set of clawed marking that run across his missing organ. Here they a dark, angry red instead, forever a remainder of that night.

While Mark did not necessarily hate Mhei for her reaction, he was still lucid enough to know that it was way to extreme. But he too had been asking for it, and he wasn't going to pretend that it only her fault.

He did admit that he was saddened by their mutual breakup, if there even had been a relationship to begin with that is.

In the end though he understood that while they both shared some values, they were ultimately at the opposites ends of the spectrum.

The clans were numerous, and Mark hoped that he could one day finally find a person that had caused him to go head over heals like he had with the primal huntress.

Part of him doubted it, and he didn't favor his chances of becoming lifemates with a female.

He had to make peace with himself, and that require lots of effort but he had decades to look forward too.

As decided earlier, he placed the armor back on a stand that resembled a mannequin. He also invested the remaining energies that he still had to clean and sharpen the weapons that he had utilized.

In a way this reminded him of when he used to clean his guns. While disassembling and reassembling could get tedious, there was a certain charm to it.

'Bet I can fire a heavy sniper one handed now.' he chuckled as the ridiculous image appeared in his mind.

The joy soon died down though, as it made him recall his previous life.

Mark sometimes did imagine what if scenarios: what if he had bled out on the night he was apprehended, what if he never met Mhei, what if the clanship never appeared near the planet he was stranded on.

What was done, was done and it was not time to dwell on the past.

Finishing his work, he placed himself under the covers and turned down the lights in the room.

Decapitating the last droid, the blooded hybrid rolled away, moving his arms and legs to diminish the tension present in them.

Another near sleepless night had once again brought him back to the kehrite. This time around, he used a sword. Mark decided that he quite liked it, but he couldn't help but compare it to the combistick, which was the weapon he had most experience with.

The blade offered more decisive and powerful cuts, whereas the spear gave maneuverability and speed.

If there could only be a way to combine them together...

Another thing that he noticed were the complete lack of gauntlets for hand to hand combat, those could prove to be devastating weapons if used correctly.

Rolling his shoulders, he gathered the scraps into the repair bay. Luckily, they were made to last in time and had a self reparation feature. They were everlasting, technically so speaking.

After setting up the controls and commands, he made his way to the mess hall. He was sweaty and hot so he stripped down to his loincloth. Mark would've never done such a thing, but since he was alone it didn't really matter.

He gathered different foods and following the instructions of a recipe he had downloaded into the ship's memory banks, he cooked a healthy meal.

High protein, which meant lots and lots of meat. The human was quite surprised at the pleasant taste, even more so because of his severely lacking skills in the kitchen department.

Concluding his meal, he placed his plate and utensils in a specifically crafted dish washer (there was no way in hell that he was going to start eating with his hands, no matter how much Kyiv would tease him) and was off to the bathing chamber.

Sitting in the cleaned command chair, Mark accessed the displays of the ship and noticed that he had a few messages.

He opened the first which was from Kyiv.

"Mark,

I write to you in the hopes that you shall quell your fervent need to prove yourself. Diving headfirst into a serpent infested planet is a quick way to reach the walls of the dark hunter. Please do not act so impulsively, I tell you this because wish the best in your interests."

Letting out an annoyed breath out of his nostrils, Mark tried to contact the elite arbitrator for a meeting.

Soon, he appeared as a holographic torso, tinged in red because of the display colors.

"Good morning, any idea on how you know of my location?" "Straight to the point as always. Your ship, as does every other ship, possess a tracker. This is so we can make sure that no hunter goes into restricted areas." "The planet where I went hunting was not."

"You are right, but it is still a risk to go on such a hunt." Mark leaned back, a hand to his chest, feigning being hurt "I did not expect you to have so little trust in me."

The arbitrator turned his head to the side, but he could make out the smile present on his mandibles, "Your eagerness will get you killed." "Old age will."

This time Kyiv didn't stop the laugh that boomed out of his chest. "Keep yourself safe, I have a meeting to attend to in a bit." "You as well."

'Fuck, can't even get near Earth in the range of a light year before being detained.'

An idea crept into his head.

He tried to contact Yurli, and silently exclaimed in victory once she initiated a call.

"I see you in good health, my friend." "As I see you Mark. How are things going?" the female arbitrator kindly asked him.

"Good, I did collect a few more kiande amedha skulls, two praetorians and four warriors to be exact." he did notice her stand up straighter.

She complimented him, but her tone had changed just a tiny bit, it was more sensual...

He quickly ejected the notion out of his mind.

"I require help with my ship." "Very well, I am prepared to provide you aid with anything."

It had took a lot of convincing, but in the end the huntress had relented and gave him the code to deactivate the tracker. She only passed it to him once she was accessing a databank in the tribunal and he had swore on his honor to only use it if absolutely necessary.

'This will be very helpful indeed in the future...'

Fuck, I pushed myself really hard to get this done before the end of the day. Please do tell me if it was all too rushed, I'm trying to convey the type of lifestyle Mark is adopting, so hope I did that well. For any further questions I'm available in the comments.