First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Eamon stood, buttoning his coat with slow precision, as if the contract wasn’t the execution it had just been. Angel followed, gathering the documents, her sharp gaze sweeping over Ethan one last time.

Ethan didn’t look at them. He couldn’t. His body was frozen in that chair, shoulders slumped, his face slack with defeat. Only when the heavy doors of the auction room closed behind Eamon and Angel did he move, his hands trembling as he dug his nails into the table’s edge.

The silence pressed in, choking, broken only by his own ragged breath. Then, in a low, venomous mutter, the words slipped free.

”This company... it was never what mattered.” His lips curled into a twisted grin, though his eyes were glassy. ”All that matters is Xavier. Dead and erased.”

He let out a weak laugh, the sound jagged. ”And a hundred billion... yeah. That’s more than enough to buy his grave.”

His legs carried him forward, unsteady but determined. He left the dead weight of the auction hall behind and stalked through the empty corridors until he reached Alexander’s office.

The massive door slid open with a hiss. Inside, the place was pristine, orderly—his father’s shadow still lingered in the polished desk, the lined shelves of records, the quiet hum of the terminal waiting to be used.

Ethan sat, fingers flying across the console, his mind narrowing to a single obsession. The database flared to life: Space Mercenary Registry – Authorized Access Only.

He didn’t hesitate. He bypassed through the interface, eyes scanning the endless profiles. Names, statistics, histories of blood and violence filled the screen. And then he filtered: High Rank. Top Success Rate. Available for contract.

His lips parted, a manic gleam flickering back into his hollow stare.

”Let’s see,” he whispered. ”Who wants to make a fortune killing Xavier?”

The office lights flickered against Ethan’s sharp eyes as he scrolled through mercenary profiles. Every page he flipped felt like a lash across his back, but he kept going, searching, hunting.

Top mercenaries. Elite killers. Veterans of wars that never made the news. His chest burned as he muttered under his breath, ”With 100 billion, I can hire anyone I want. But I want the best!”

And then, her profile slid onto the screen.

Viola.

The dossier was slick, cold, clinical. Rank: High. Specialization: assassination, infiltration, survival in hostile zones. Past records blurred, most of it redacted—like the system itself was shielding her history. Her photo popped up, sharp eyes that carried a quiet danger, a presence that cut through the holographic haze. Ethan’s lips curled into something between a smirk and a growl.

”This one...” He leaned closer. ”She’ll do.”

He clicked, sealed the hiring form, signed the digital contract without hesitation. His hand trembled—not from fear, but from rage—because this wasn’t just business anymore. It was war.

What he didn’t realize, though, was that the choice he made wasn’t his at all. Every scroll, every step, every signature had been guided—thread by thread—by Xavier’s hand long before Ethan even sat in that chair.

Ethan thought he had found his weapon. In truth, he had walked straight into Xavier’s design.

Viola was lounging in her apartment, one leg crossed over the other, glass of wine in hand, when the encrypted ping lit up her wristband. She tapped it open, expecting another corporate client or some backwater faction looking for muscle. But when she saw the sender, her brow arched.

Ethan Sterling.

Her eyes skimmed the contract—assassination request, high payout, the target spelled out in three sharp letters: Xavier. A soft laugh slipped past her lips, low and sharp. ”Well, well. Fate really does have a sense of humor.”

She didn’t hesitate. Viola pulled up a separate secure line, the one only one person had access to, and began typing.

Viola: Guess who just tried to hire me to kill you?

Viola: Your plan worked like a charm. It’s Ethan. Big payout too. Hundred billion.

Viola: Should I act surprised or just send him a thank-you note?

She smirked as she hit send, swirling the wine in her glass, waiting for Xavier’s inevitable reply. The game had just gotten interesting.

Xavier was in his penthouse, leaning back on the sofa, when Viola’s messages came through. He read them once, smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and typed back without missing a beat.

Xavier: Knew the rat would crawl out sooner or later. But didn’t expect him to act so soon.

Xavier: Ask for 50% upfront. Fifty billion. Make him bleed before he even thinks he’s in control.

Viola’s reply came fast.

Viola: And it’s safe to accept this? I don’t want to end up looking like I played both sides if he digs.

Xavier’s next message was sharp and cocky, like he was savoring every word.

Xavier: Don’t worry about him. He’s blind, desperate, and thinks money solves everything.

Xavier: Just keep the act clean. Make sure he doesn’t smell anything off. That’s all I need from you.

Viola stared at the screen for a moment, smirked, and then slid over to Ethan’s thread. Her fingers tapped quickly as she crafted the message.

Viola: Your request is accepted. Send fifty percent advance. Fifty billion.

Ethan sat in Alexander’s office, the glow of the monitor washing over his pale face. Viola’s reply blinked on the screen, each word hammering against his skull.

Fifty billion.

For a moment, his breath hitched. His hands clenched into fists on the desk, nails digging into his skin. Fifty billion was a big number, and he was realizing it now that he was losing the only money he had left.

With the 100 billion he had, he could live a good life if he spent the money wisely.

But then Xavier’s smirk flashed in his mind when Ethan lost virtual and social status. The humiliation at that meeting. The way Eamon had gutted him, leaving him broken, and worthless.

Fifty billion suddenly didn’t feel like a price. It felt like a ticket.

He muttered under his breath, almost laughing at himself, ”Fuck it... what’s fifty billion when it buys me Xavier’s corpse?”

His fingers trembled as he typed back:

Ethan: Deal. Fifty billion upfront. Another fifty after the job is done. Just make sure he’s dead.

The cursor blinked for a moment before the message sent. He leaned back in the chair, chest rising and falling fast, sweat clinging to his temple. He looked like a man who’d just signed away his soul and didn’t care anymore.

Because in his head, Xavier was already dead.

The payment pinged through like a small explosion in the quiet of Viola’s apartment. She watched the notification, thumb hovering, and then the number flashed—fifty billion. Her lips tipped up in a slow and satisfied smile.

She took the screenshot of the transaction and sent it to Xavier without ceremony before calling him.

Xavier picked uip instantly.

”He actually sent it.” Her voice was flat, a little amused, a little hungry. ”That clown actually paid me fifty billion. You were right. He’s gone mad.”

Xavier looked at the picture, glanced at the confirmation, then smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. The smirk was the same one that’d cut through Ethan in that VR game; it fit him like armor. ”Good,” he said.

Viola’s grin faded a touch, a practical edge returning. ”Alright. What now? If I don’t finish the job, I don’t get the other fifty. You understand that, right? You better have a plan, because I’m not the one eating the loss if this blows up, it would be you losing the other 50 billion. ”

Xavier rolled his shoulders, towel still draped around his neck, eyes cool. ”Relax. You don’t have to worry. I’ve got it all planned.” He meant it when he said it; the way he said it made her believe him.

”How do you want me to play it? If I vanish, he’ll shove a dozen mercs after me. If I move wrong, Ethan’s people will poke holes. I need to know the angle.”

Xavier kept it blunt, careful to stay away from anything that would sound like a how-to. ”Act like you’re already on it,” he told her. ”Make noise for him. Send him the things he wants to see—updates, photos that don’t show anything incriminating, little proofs that look real enough to keep his hope alive. Make him feel like his money’s buying progress.”

Viola snorted. ”So lie to the bastard and make him pay again for the pleasure of believing.” She liked it.

”Exactly.” Xavier gave a short nod. ”Keep it clean. Don’t give him anything that can be traced back to us. Keep the show going long enough for us to move the pieces where they need to be.” He didn’t spell out the pieces. He didn’t need to. His tone said everything: ”Play it, stall him, let him bleed money and faith both.”

Viola tapped the screen, fingers already moving. ”Fine. I’ll start the act. I’ll send him the first update tonight. Make it juicy enough to shut him up and keep him paying.”

Xavier watched her, the faint glow of the city in the window painting his face in silver. ”Do it. And don’t get sloppy. Keep Ethan believing he’s in charge. That’s the whole point. Make him look like an idiot who bought himself a ghost. I’ll handle the rest.”

She pocketed the device, eyes bright. ”Whatever you say, boss. This is going to be fun.”

Xavier let the word hang between them, a promise and a threat. He already had the next moves in his head. Viola would feed the lie, and Ethan would keep paying. The trap was set. Now it was only a matter of time.