First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Ethan stumbled through the front door, the weight of his own panic dragging him down. The house felt too quiet, too empty, and every shadow seemed to whisper the chaos of the last few days. He moved slowly, almost mechanically, toward his room, each step heavier than the last.

He sank onto his bed and stared at the ceiling, the memories pressing in. His life had been perfect—or at least he had thought it was. Everything was smooth, everyone bowed, everything was under his control. But now? Everything had flipped. Money, power, respect—gone. And there was only one name he could blame: Xavier.

Ethan’s anger built, coiling in his chest. First it was a low growl, then it erupted. He yelled, threw his pillow across the room, kicked a chair, anything in reach. ”Xavier! I’ll kill him! He can’t get away with this!”

His hands trembled, grabbing objects at random, tossing them like weapons, as if the sheer force of his rage could reach Xavier across the miles. ”I can’t pay five hundred billion! I won’t spend the rest of my life repaying a debt! And my father... my father will kill me! But I’ll... I’ll get Xavier first!”

Fueled by pure fury, he stormed out of his room, his mind fixed on the plan, on vengeance, on the destruction he wanted to unleash.

And then—Alexander Sterling stepped out from the shadows of the hallway, his face hard and cold. Ethan opened his mouth to speak, to argue, to plead... but a sharp slap cut him off. Pain radiated across his cheek.

Alexander’s voice was a low growl, sharp and final. ”Go to your room. Now. Think about your place in this world before you act like a fool.”

Ethan’s fury twisted into fear for a brief second. He stumbled backward, his chest heaving, and obeyed. The door slammed behind him, but the fire in his eyes didn’t die. It only burned hotter.

Alexander closed the door behind him and flicked the lock into place. The room went dark for a moment before the walls lit up with the soft glow of the holo panels. Every screen hummed with status updates, maps, and the blinking icons of personnel and operations.

He tapped a series of commands, pulling up the secure comms interface. The name he needed flashed at the top: Captain of the Spade Hounds. A deep breath, a precise gesture, and the call was sent.

The connection flickered, and chaos poured through the feed. Background noise filled the line—shouts, alarms, the distant clanging of metal. A sharp voice yelled orders, then another sounded in reply, frustration cutting through.

Alexander’s eyes narrowed. ”Captain. What is going on? Why haven’t I received updates on my request?” His tone was low, sharp, demanding.

The chaos didn’t immediately subside, but the captain’s face eventually appeared, sweat streaking his face, a hand pressed to the side of his headset. ”... the men... they failed. I’ll be closing the request. Nothing more can be done.”

Alexander’s expression hardened. ”This is the second time now. First it was Beastland, and now... some random village. How many times do I have to remind you? This incompetence—” He cut himself off, swallowing, voice dropping into a dangerous growl. ”You’ve embarrassed yourself. Insulted my command. Pathetic.”

The captain flinched under the verbal assault but straightened. ”I’ve suffered significant losses. Two commanders and their teams, wiped out. The responsibility lies partially with your... orders. Even if the request isn’t fulfilled, I will ensure the person responsible is eliminated.”

He tapped the console, and a single image flickered into existence, sharp and clear. The face was familiar.

Alexander’s hand froze mid-air, eyes narrowing at the figure. Recognition struck immediately. The man in the image... was Xavier.

Alexander stared at the image, his mind racing. ”Tell me everything you know,” he demanded, voice tight.

The captain’s expression was grim. ”This... individual is unlike anything we’ve dealt with. Extremely powerful. There are reports he might possess Nova-level abilities. Highly dangerous. He will do whatever it takes to survive or eliminate his enemies. It’s... a shame I can’t come to Earth myself. If I could, Xavier would already be dead.”

The line went dead after that, leaving Alexander staring at the screens in stunned silence.

Alexander sat back in his chair, eyes locked on the image of Xavier that still glowed faintly on the holo screen. Every failed strike, every botched mission, every humiliating setback that Xavier had caused now screamed at him like a warning.

His fingers drummed against the armrest as the captain’s words replayed in his mind. Nova powers... dangerous... unstoppable.

He blinked slowly, trying to process it all, the weight of his own failures pressing down. His son’s reckless actions, the Red Casino fiasco, the village attack—all of it had played into Xavier’s hands. Every move Ethan made had just strengthened this enemy.

A low growl escaped Alexander, his hand jerking toward his phone. Fingers moving almost of their own accord, he scrolled through contacts, stopped at one name—trusted, lethal, underground.

”I don’t care how, or who—Xavier must be dealt with. Twenty-four hours. Fifty million credits. I want him dead, and I want proof he’s gone.”

The figure on the other end paused, a faint smirk audible even through the comms. ”Understood. He won’t see the sun set tomorrow, sir. Send his details.”

He tapped a sequence into the holo, sending the instructions directly to the underworld network. Names, coordinates, and a full dossier on Xavier were attached. Every bounty hunter, assassin, and merc in the network would know exactly what—and who—they were hunting.

Alexander stared at the ceiling, his mind racing. His son, Ethan, had already meddled, and now Xavier was officially on his radar. Every misstep, every insult to his authority—it all pointed to one truth: Xavier was no ordinary obstacle. He was a threat. A dangerous, unpredictable, untouchable threat.

For the first time in a long while, Alexander felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years: fear. Not for himself, but for the plan, the empire he had built, and the fragile order that Xavier could unravel if left unchecked.

He exhaled, cold and steady, then reached for another holo pad. ”Prepare the contracts. Inform the top hunters. This ends in twenty-four hours.”

The room went silent except for the faint hum of the holo lights, and Alexander’s eyes stayed locked on the figure of Xavier. Every moment that passed was a countdown, and now, the hunt had officially begun.

”Hehe. You are dead, Xavier.”