First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Small bodies lay slumped inside them, chains wrapped around wrists and ankles, some skeletal, some barely recognizable. Different species, different sizes. All children. Most of them long dead.

One of the crew swore under his breath. Another turned away and retched.

Bull didn’t move for a long moment. His jaw tightened, and his hand curled slowly into a fist.

”Sir,” someone said quietly, pointing toward the far end, ”there’s one still breathing.”

Bull walked over and crouched in front of the cage. Inside, a tiny wolf-eared girl huddled in the corner, ribs visible, eyes wide and unfocused. She couldn’t have been more than three years old.

”Wolfkin,” the crewman murmured.

Bull shook his head. ”Lykaios,” he corrected, voice rough. ”Get that right.”

He reached for the lock himself and snapped it open, careful with his strength. The girl flinched but didn’t scream. She was too weak for that.

Bull stood and turned back to the room. ”Get every living one out of here. Now. Medical bay priority, no exceptions.” His gaze swept over the cages again. ”The dead get proper burial. Mark their names if you find them. No mass pits.”

”Yes, sir,” several voices answered at once, sharp and angry.

As the crew moved fast and efficient, Bull stayed behind for a moment longer, looking at the empty cages, the chains, the stains on the floor. Whatever rage he’d been carrying before had settled into something colder now.

When he finally stepped back onto the ship and felt the engines power up beneath his feet, he gave one last order.

”Erase this place,” Bull said. ”Every wall, every record, every trace. I don’t want anything left that says Piolet was ever here.”

The cruiser lifted off as the base below began to collapse in on itself, fire and debris swallowed by the void.

A few months later, the ship was docked on Jupiter’s lower trade ring, far from the polished stations tourists liked to brag about. This part of the city was all narrow walkways, stacked markets, and old pressure walls patched so many times no one remembered the original metal. Business happened here because it had to, not because anyone trusted anyone else.

Bull moved through the crowd with three of his crew flanking him, weapons concealed but close. At his side walked the two survivors. The Lykaios girl stayed near his leg, one small hand gripping his coat, her ears twitching at every loud sound. She answered to Lyra now, a name Bull had given her because she needed something of her own that wasn’t tied to a cage or a number.

The other child walked a step behind. He looked human at first glance—same limbs, same face structure—but the skin had a faint opalescent tone, like light caught under ice, and his pupils were ringed with a thin silver halo. His species called themselves the Aurelian, though most humans just called them ”Silvers.” His name was Kylus. He didn’t cling the way Lyra did.

While Lyra was merely three years old, Kylus was six.

A merchant leaned out from a stall piled with power couplings and outdated nav-chips. ”Bull,” he called, nervous smile stretching too wide. ”Didn’t expect to see you planetside.”

Bull stopped and looked at the man. ”You never do. That’s why I’m still breathing.”

The merchant laughed weakly. ”Fair point. You here to trade, or—”

”Trade,” Bull cut in. ”Medical supplies, ship-grade capacitors, and anything you’ve got that doesn’t ask questions.”

The man nodded fast. ”Of course. Of course. Credits or exchange?”

Bull gestured to one of his crew, who set a sealed crate on the counter and popped it open just enough to show pristine military-grade parts. The merchant’s eyes widened.

”Exchange,” he said quickly. ”Definitely exchange.”

While the deal was handled, Lyra tugged lightly on Bull’s coat. ”Too many people,” she murmured, voice still soft, still unsure.

”I know,” Bull said without looking down. ”Stay close. No one’s touching you.”

Kylus glanced toward a group of uniformed dock enforcers on the far side of the ring. ”They’re watching,” he said quietly. ”Not us. The crate.”

”They always watch the crate,” Bull replied. ”Means they’re doing their job, or pretending to.”

Kylus nodded, absorbing that like a lesson instead of reassurance.

The trade finished without trouble, which meant trouble was probably just waiting somewhere else. Bull signaled his crew, and they started back toward the ship, moving with purpose but not haste. Lyra’s grip loosened a little once the crowd thinned. Kylus fell into step beside Bull.

”Why Jupiter?” Kylus asked. ”You could sell this anywhere.”

Bull glanced at him. ”Because Piolet hated this place. Confirmed sightings are rare, and his people don’t linger. That makes it useful.”

They hadn’t made it far down the ring when Lyra tugged at Bull’s coat again, this time more insistently. Her ears were perked, nose twitching as she scanned the stalls lining the walkway.

”I’m hungry,” she said, matter-of-fact. ”That one smells good.”

Bull glanced where she was looking. Grilled protein skewers, sizzling oil, spices thick enough to cling to the air. He snorted. ”You ate less than an hour ago.”

Lyra turned her face up to him and put on that look. Wide eyes. Slight pout. Tail curling just enough to sell it.

Bull held her stare for a second, then clicked his tongue. ”You’re learning bad habits fast.”

She grinned, sharp little teeth flashing.

He walked over to the stall, ordered two skewers stacked heavy with meat, and another plate wrapped for travel. When he handed the second plate to Kylus, the boy hesitated.

”I’m not hungry,” Kylus said. ”And I’m not a glutton like her.”

Lyra shot him an offended look around a mouthful of food. ”You’re just slow.”

Bull pushed the plate into Kylus’ hands anyway. ”Eat. You don’t skip meals on my ship, whether you feel like it or not.”

Kylus frowned but didn’t argue further. He picked at the food at first, then ate properly once he realized no one was watching him too closely.

After that, Bull keyed his comm and motioned to two of his crew who’d been keeping a loose perimeter. ”Take Lyra back to the ship,” he said. ”Get her cleaned up and fed again if she pretends she’s starving.”

Lyra’s ears flattened. ”You’re not coming?”

”I’ll be right back,” Bull replied, crouching so he was eye level with her. ”Got something to check. You stay put.”

She studied his face, then nodded slowly, though her grip tightened around her food. ”Don’t be long.”

”I won’t.”

As the crew guided Lyra away, Bull straightened and nodded to Kylus. ”You’re with me.”

As they walked deeper into the ring, Kylus kept glancing up at Bull, clearly trying to read his mood.

”Where are we going?” he asked after a while, breaking the silence. When Bull didn’t answer, Kylus frowned and tried again. ”Did I do something wrong?”

Bull kept walking, boots steady against the metal flooring, ignoring the question. The crowd thinned as the buildings grew taller and more uniform, until the noise of the market faded behind them. They stopped in front of a squat, reinforced structure with a sigil carved above the door—an old guild house, the kind that didn’t advertise what it did inside.

Bull motioned Kylus toward a bench outside the entrance and sat him down. He handed him the plate he had bought earlier. ”Eat.”

Kylus took a bite out of habit, chewed slowly, then stopped. He looked up at Bull, confusion written all over his face. ”Why are we here?”

Bull rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. ”Because you’re not meant to stay where you are forever,” he said. ”You’ve got a long road ahead of you. Longer than you think.”

Kylus blinked. ”What does that mean?” His voice wavered. ”Are you leaving me here?”

Bull didn’t answer immediately, and that pause was enough.

Kylus slid off the bench and grabbed the front of Bull’s coat. ”Don’t,” he said, panic rising fast. ”Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone again. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll train harder, I won’t complain, I swear.”

Bull closed his eyes for a second, then opened them again, jaw tight. ”This isn’t punishment,” he said. ”And it’s not abandonment. It’s timing.”

Kylus shook his head, tears spilling over. ”I don’t care about timing. I want to stay with you.”

Bull crouched down so they were face to face. ”You’re meant to meet someone else,” he said quietly. ”Someone who hasn’t arrived yet. When you do, you’ll understand why I didn’t keep you by my side.”

Kylus wiped his face with his sleeve. ”I don’t want to serve anyone. I don’t want to save anyone. I just want—”

Bull cut him off gently. ”One day, that person will need a sword and a shield more than anything in the universe,” he said. ”And you’ll be both. Not because you’re forced to be, but because you choose to be. That person will one day become the greatest of the greatest, destined to rule over everything.”

Kylus opened his mouth to argue again, but the words came out slow, slurred. His grip loosened on Bull’s coat, knees buckling as the sedative took hold.

Bull caught him before he hit the ground and lowered him carefully onto the bench. Kylus was already unconscious, breathing steady, face peaceful in a way it hadn’t been in a long time.

Bull stood there for a moment, looking down at him. His hand trembled as he reached into his coat and drew a blade, simple but well-balanced, its edge kept immaculate. He placed it beside Kylus’ hand.

”When you wake up,” Bull murmured, voice rough, ”You will hate me, and that’s okay. If that will become the reason you will remember me, that’s fine.”

He straightened, turned away, and walked toward the guild house without looking back.

A/N- With this, we have completed 400 Chapters.

[Next Volume: THE PURPLE EYED KING.]