First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

Xavier didn’t even think about it—he shoved the glass aside and was on his feet in one motion. Jason followed right after, his larger frame cutting through the booth’s drapes as they pushed toward the stairwell. The music hadn’t stopped, but the lower floor was buzzing with the sound of chairs scraping, men shouting, and one voice—Lyra’s—that cut sharp enough to send a chill through anyone within earshot.

They stormed down the stairs, Jason’s hand instinctively brushing his coat where he kept steel, while Xavier’s eyes scanned every angle like a predator zeroing in. The crowd was parting down below, creating a messy circle near the washroom hallway. Some guests were craning their necks to watch, others keeping distance, but the air was heavy with tension.

At the heart of it—Lyra stood with her claws half-bared, her hair wild, teeth gritted. Viola was right behind her, staff out but not raised, more wary than wild. Angel stood in front of both, calm but firm, one hand lifted as if warning the men on the other side not to take another step.

And across from them were four underworld thugs, clearly drunk on arrogance, masks discarded, faces flushed. One was clutching his arm where deep claw marks bled through his sleeve, while the other three looked ready to escalate despite the warning growl still rumbling from Lyra’s throat.

The second Xavier’s boots hit the lower floor, people noticed. The murmurs shifted—he’s here. Heads turned as the tension doubled.

One of the thugs spat blood to the side, glaring at Lyra. ”Fucking beast thinks she can scratch whoever she wants—”

Xavier cut across the room before the man could finish. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried. ”Say another word.”

The thug froze. The entire circle tensed.

Xavier stopped just short of the invisible boundary of the fight, hands loose at his sides, his mask catching the glow of the chandeliers. The room fell quiet for a moment, only the throb of music in the background.

Jason, ever the shadow at his shoulder, scanned the men like he was already calculating which one to drop first if things broke loose.

Xavier tilted his head slightly, his tone low but sharp. ”Now... someone better explain why the fuck I hear my girl’s roar in the middle of this party.”

Angel was the first to open her mouth, eyes flicking to Xavier instead of the crowd. ”We were just heading to the washroom. They started following. We ignored it. Came out, they were still there. On the way back, same shit.”

Lyra snarled, still tense, claws half-out. ”They weren’t just following. They kept whispering crap, staring at us like they were picking pieces. I warned them. They didn’t stop. So I did.”

Viola nodded, calm but sharp in tone. ”She didn’t start anything. They pushed. Lyra finished.”

The thug with the slashed arm spat blood on the floor and barked, ”That psycho came at me for no reason—”

Angel cut him down with her voice before Xavier could even blink. ”For no reason? You put your hand on her shoulder, and she let it slide once. You don’t get to cry now.”

The floor buzzed with whispers, some amused, some waiting for blood.

Jason leaned close to Xavier, muttering low. ”That’s how it goes here. Wrong move, wrong word—it’s a fight.”

Xavier’s eyes stayed on the thugs, his face blank but his stare enough to pin them where they stood. They shifted, clearly knowing who they’d messed with, but pride kept them from backing off completely.

Lyra growled again, about to spring until Viola pulled her back slightly. Angel stayed still, cool as ice, but her eyes slid toward Xavier, seemingly waiting for him to decide.

Xavier leaned back against the railing, hands in his pockets like he was bored of the whole thing. ”Jason,” he said flat, almost lazy, ”clean it up.”

Jason didn’t need a second order. He stepped forward and before anyone could blink, his blade tore through the first thug’s chest. The guy dropped like trash. The second didn’t even get to scream—one snap of Jason’s wrist and his throat was gone. Blood sprayed, people gasped, but no one moved. This was the underworld.

Jason grabbed the third by the collar, blade pressing right under his chin. Xavier finally lifted his eyes, voice calm but sharp enough to cut. ”Wait. Let him talk.”

The thug’s face went pale. Jason’s grip tightened. Xavier tilted his head slightly, watching him like a bored teacher waiting for a student to answer. ”So? Who sent you? Or do you want to join your friends?”

The guy clenched his teeth, trying to look tough. Xavier’s smirk grew. ”Silence, huh? That’s a choice.”

Jason slit his throat clean. The body hit the floor.

Xavier turned to the fourth one, who was already trembling. Jason’s blade hovered at his neck, and Xavier stepped closer, eyes narrowing just enough. ”Last chance. I’m getting tired of this game.”

The man broke instantly. ”I-it was some fat bastard! He paid us—told us to harass your women, stir shit up, maybe drag you into a corner. Said he’d handle the rest!”

Jason pushed harder. ”Name.”

The thug’s lips quivered. ”We don’t know his real name, but there he was wearing a chain spelled... Victor.”

Xavier chuckled low, shaking his head like he’d just solved an easy riddle. ”Of course.”

Jason looked ready to finish him, but Xavier raised a hand. ”Nah. Let him crawl. Word spreads faster from a survivor. Sometimes one rat is more useful alive.”

The thug looked like he’d just been spared by God himself, his chest heaving as he realized he might live through this. Xavier stepped in, close enough that the guy could see the calm in his eyes. ”Go. Run.”

The thug didn’t need to be told twice. He stumbled to his feet and bolted, legs shaking, desperate to get away. For a second, everyone thought Xavier had actually let him go.

But Xavier didn’t move. He just watched. And the moment the guy thought he was safe—just before he reached the door—he grabbed Jason’s gun and shott he thug in the back of the head.

His body collapsed face-first onto the floor, twitching once before going still.

Xavier let out a chuckle, brushing his coat like nothing had happened. ”Never mistake mercy for weakness.” His voice carried across the stunned silence. ”If you come at me, you don’t walk away. Simple as that.”

Jason glanced at the corpse, then back at Xavier, and smirked like he approved.

Xavier slid his hands back into his pockets, stepping over the body like it was just trash in his way. ”Let’s get back upstairs. I’ve wasted enough time on rats.”