First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Xavier’s pulse slammed in his ears. He tried to move, but his body felt heavy, like the space itself had latched onto him.

’This... this isn’t right. This is just a memory. I shouldn’t be seen. I shouldn’t even exist here.’

Those eyes—those impossible, star-forged eyes—locked on Xavier, dissecting him without a word. Not studying him like a man might study an insect. More like an astronomer staring at a celestial body that shouldn’t exist. Something out of alignment. Something wrong.

Xavier’s chest rose and fell sharply. He tried to rationalize, to convince himself this was still some kind of vision. Maybe the rock was tricking him, feeding his mind illusions. Maybe this was still scripted, some fragment of the past his presence was twisting without meaning to.

’Yeah. That’s it. That has to be it.’

But the longer the silence stretched, the more that explanation withered. This wasn’t a script. This wasn’t a hollow reenactment.

Then, the king spoke.

”...You do not belong here.”

The words cracked through Xavier like lightning. His throat tightened, but before he could respond, the king took a step closer, and the void itself bent beneath it.

”A parasite. A wandering soul clinging to my time. How dare you?”

Xavier’s breath caught. His instincts screamed danger—not the ordinary kind, not the type he’d fought through before, but a danger that pressed down on the very core of his existence.

The king’s towering frame loomed over him now, eyes burning brighter, hostility radiating like a furnace.

Xavier’s lips sealed tight, but the silence didn’t save him.

The king’s massive hand shot forward, engulfing him like he was nothing more than a doll. The grip wasn’t crushing, but the pressure was unbearable—like gravity itself had been wrapped around Xavier’s body.

”No one enters this dimension but me and those I allow,” the king growled, voice reverberating through the void. ”So how is this possible? Who are you?”

The instant his skin touched Xavier, something inside him cracked open. His hair shimmered silver-white, strands glowing like threads of starlight, and in his reflection across the void, Xavier saw his own pupils ignite—burning with constellations that didn’t belong to him.

The king froze. For the first time, his eternal calm bent. His fingers twitched as if unsure whether to crush or release. ”You...” His tone lowered, sharp with recognition. ”You don’t belong in this time. You’re... from the future. My... descendant.”

Xavier’s heart thudded like thunder in his ears. He wanted to deny it, shout, What the hell are you talking about?—but before he could, the king’s lips curved into a sharp grin.

”Then I will claim your vessel,” he declared, his voice swelling with hunger. ”Through your body, I will step into the future, and reign again.”

Power surged into Xavier like fire being forced down his veins. He gasped and thrashed, instinct screaming, muscles refusing to obey. He tried to push the hand away, but the king only frowned.

”This shell is weak,” he muttered, disdain dripping in every syllable. ”So thin. So... impure. Is this what my bloodline has fallen to? Pathetic.”

The colossal frame shrank, the divine weight collapsing into a form closer to Xavier’s size, although still taller, still heavy with authority, but almost... human. His eyes narrowed with cruel disappointment.

Finally, Xavier found his voice, ragged and hoarse. ”Who... the hell are you? How can I even talk to you... inside a memory?”

The king blinked once. Then, a booming laugh erupted from his chest, echoing through the galaxies painted in the void.

”Memory?” he echoed, almost amused. ”Boy, in this dimension, time and memory are rivers of the same sea. Here, eternity breathes.”

A servant’s voice echoed faintly, breaking the moment. ”My Lord? Who do you speak with? What presence do you sense?”

The king didn’t look back. His star-forged gaze stayed locked on Xavier as he thundered, ”To my blood. To my future. My bloodline... Astraeus will rise again. The Legion will march once more, and the galaxies will kneel.”

Xavier’s stomach twisted. His mouth opened to spit a retort, but the king had already moved.

Then, without ceremony, he drew a blade across his palm. Shining liquid spilled forth—not red, not mortal blood, but molten light that shimmered with stars inside it, glowing like molten suns, dripping in slow, heavy drops that each carried the weight of creation. Every drop pulsed like a living heartbeat.

”You disappoint me, descendant. But perhaps... this will help. Drink,” the king ordered, extending his hand. ”Perhaps you will yet become worthy.”

The glow bathed Xavier’s face. His stomach turned, every instinct rejecting it, but his body trembled forward anyway. He cupped his hands and caught a few drops as they fell. The liquid seared his palms, and when he raised it to his lips, it burned like swallowing lightning.

The king’s eyes narrowed, studying him like a craftsman staring at flawed steel. ”Fulfill the legacy. Do not shame the blood again.”

The words still rang when the air itself cracked. A sound like a thousand mirrors breaking at once ripped across the sky. From the fracture poured light. It was too sharp to be starlight, and too violent to be holy. Jagged lines tore open the void, and through them came riders on winged beasts, armored knights with burning wings, figures on horned horses, monstrous creatures with blazing eyes, riders astride serpents and horned beasts, blades glinting with war.

Their war cries shook the endless expanse as they poured in.

The servant gasped in terror.

”They’ve broken through!”

The king barely spared them a glance. He turned back to Xavier, almost bored now.

”You shouldn’t linger here.”

A finger flicked against Xavier’s forehead. It was gentle, almost playful. Yet it tore him from the dimension like his soul had been hooked and yanked. The last thing he saw was the king’s silhouette rising, golden blood dripping from his hand, as the invading army thundered down upon him.

That sight... the frame alone envisioned Xavier of the legacy he had inherited.