First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

”What’s his apartment number again?”

”F-Fifty-fifth floor, Block PP... Apartment sixty-nine.”

Lucian nodded once.

The rest of the council waited in stiff silence as Lucian resumed the meeting—no hesitation, no pause, as if the previous topic had been nothing more than dust on his coat.

They discussed orbital routes, new energy taxation proposals, complaints from the Astraeus Chamber of Commerce, negotiations with the military branches, a scandal involving one of the Red Family’s cousins—every matter laid out neatly on the holo-table.

Lucian solved problems like stacking bricks.

Cold decisions.

Precise orders.

Zero delays.

When one of the council heads stuttered during a briefing, Lucian didn’t allow him to restart.

”Next.”

A single word erased the man’s career.

When the energy director questioned the feasibility of reallocating power grids to outlying colonies, Lucian didn’t argue.

”You’ll do it,” he said. ”Motion passed.”

There was no vote.

His word was the vote.

People nodded, bowed, scribbled notes with trembling hands.

Lucian had a strict policy of doing everything in physical notes and then later turning them into digital to add to the database.

This was how the Blackwood patriarch handled business.

When the final matter ended, Lucian checked the time, closed the holo-screen, and said only:

”Meeting’s over.”

Everyone scattered like prey released from a cage.

Lucian didn’t waste a second after the meeting. He left the hall the moment he dismissed everyone and took the private elevator down.

Two guards tried to follow him, but one glare from him was enough. They froze and stepped back on their own.

The lift took him to the fifty-fifth floor.

He walked through the empty hallway and stopped in front of the door. Nothing special about it. Nothing flashy. Just another apartment door... yet this was the one tied to the boy who dared to make trouble for his son and somehow walked away with fame.

Lucian pressed the doorbell and waited.

No answer.

He pressed it again.

Still nothing.

His jaw twitched.

He pressed it the third time, slower than before, but with far more irritation behind it.

Silence.

Lucian lifted his hand and tapped the side panel. He went for the override, the same override he could use on any door in the building since the entire tower’s security was built by the Blackwood firm.

The panel scanned him.

And then showed something he had never seen here in his entire life.

Access denied.

Lucian stared at it for a moment, not angry—confused. Someone had replaced the building’s entire security lock on this single apartment. And it wasn’t Blackwood tech anymore.

”Interesting...” He rubbed his jaw with an amused look on his face.

Before he could push a deeper bypass, the lock clicked.

The door cracked open.

It was Lilia. Half-asleep. Wearing an oversized shirt. Messy hair. Dark circles under her eyes. Probably tired from staying up all night. She blinked a few times, trying to see who was at the door.

”...yeah?” she whispered.

Lucian didn’t answer. He just looked at her, and when she understood who he was, her sleepy expression vanished.

”You’re... Lucian Blackwood...” she mumbled.

She stepped back without thinking.

Lucian didn’t need introductions. He didn’t move, didn’t bow, didn’t smile.

”Where is Xavier?” he asked, voice low and calm.

She hesitated.

”He’s... not here right now.”

Lucian took one slow step forward. She flinched.

”Open the door,” he said.

Her fingers tightened on the handle.

She didn’t move.

Lucian leaned just a little closer, enough that she felt cornered even though he hadn’t touched her.

”I said open it.”

Her hand shook. Then she opened it wider, just enough for him to walk through.

Lucian entered the apartment like it belonged to him.

He didn’t look at her anymore.

He scanned the place—quiet rooms, faint marks on the walls, strange tech lines running through the panels that didn’t match the tower’s systems. Someone had rebuilt the internal security from scratch.

Lilia shut the door softly behind him, nervous as hell.

Lucian kept walking, looking around with sharp eyes.

”This place isn’t under Blackwood protocols,” he said. ”Who changed it?”

Lilia hesitated. ”Xavier... has people who help him.”

Lucian turned his head slightly.

”Names. I am interested in hiring them. I want every talent to be mine. Can you give me their details?”

She froze.

Lucian didn’t wait for her answer. He looked deeper into the apartment, as if he could sense something out of place. Something wrong. Something dangerous.

And then he said, without raising his voice,

”Get me a glass of water.”

She blinked.

”Huh?”

He finally looked at her again.

”I’m not repeating myself.”

Lilia hurried to the kitchen immediately.

And Lucian kept staring down the hallway. Something in this place didn’t feel normal. And he always trusted his instincts.

Lyra walked out of the hallway, rubbing one eye with the back of her hand, tail dragging behind her. Her hair was a mess, her clothes were half-aligned, and she looked like she’d just rolled out of Xavier’s bed—which she pretty much had.

She wasn’t even fully conscious yet, but the second her eyes landed on Lucian Blackwood standing inside their living room, her drowsiness vanished. Her posture tightened. Her claws came out a little. And her stance shifted into something she usually used when she was one breath away from mauling someone’s head off.

Lucian didn’t seem to care. He just turned toward her with the same calm expression he’d worn since entering the apartment.

”I’m not here to cause trouble,” he said, not raising his voice, not acting like he was talking to a child or a pet. ”I want to meet Xavier.”

”Xavier isn’t here,” she answered, her voice rough and still half-asleep, but steady enough to show she meant it.

Lucian nodded once. It wasn’t irritation or disappointment—just a simple acknowledgment, like he expected that answer.

”Do you know where he went?”

”No,” Lyra said. ”Xavier never tells us anything.”

Lucian actually spoke to her politely. No threat. No arrogance. Just calm respect like he knew exactly what she was capable of, and how she deserved to be treated. As if he understood something about beastfolk that most humans never bothered to learn. Maybe that’s why Lyra didn’t immediately attack him.

He didn’t seem to be scared of Lyra. No matter how strong and modified a human could be, they would be able to match the strength and power of a predator species.

There was another reason he treated Lyra with respect, which only he knew.