First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 398: Sixteen Years Ago

Sixteen years ago, on a backwater planet, where people only came ‌when they had nowhere else to go.

It had cities, laws, cops, and courts on paper. In reality, money decided everything. If you paid enough, you could kill someone in the open street and buy your way out before the body cooled.

A muscular man walked through the main market street with steady steps, his boots crunching over grit and broken glass.

At forty-one, he still looked human enough, though not yet the monster people would fear years later. His left eye was natural, though scarred at the edge. The right one was cybernetic, but old tech, dimmer than the one he would have years later. His right arm had been replaced from the elbow down, matte alloy with blunt industrial joints instead of blades. The back of his skull showed thin metal seams where plating met flesh, the wiring hidden under synth-skin. His legs were reinforced, not monstrous yet, hydraulic assists humming softly when he walked.

Two people followed him without question.

The man on his left carried a compact rifle, finger resting near the trigger without tension. The woman on his right scanned reflections in shop glass and metal stalls, already anticipating trouble.

The street was crowded with vendors yelling prices, mechanics arguing over parts, mercs flashing creds at dealers. The noise dipped as he passed. People recognized him, even if they pretended not to. The market noise thinned. Vendors lowered their voices. A few people slipped away into side alleys.

The man pushed open the door to a bar wedged between a pawn shop and a weapons stall.

The place smelled like cheap alcohol, burnt oil, and old blood soaked into wood. Conversations died mid-sentence as soon as the man stepped in.

Someone even dropped a glass.

An alligator-featured man near the counter leaned forward, squinting. "Bull? Didn’t expect you back—"

Gunfire tore through the room.

The two behind Bull didn’t hesitate. Tables splintered. Bottles exploded. Anyone who moved the wrong way dropped. Anyone slow enough to hesitate went down where they stood. A few tried to crawl, but they didn’t get far. They were chased down. Outside, the street erupted as people fled in every direction.

Bull stepped back into the daylight, unfazed.

"Not here either," he muttered.

When Bull stepped back onto the street, alarms were already starting to scream in the distance.

He glanced around once. "Not here either."

They moved on.

The next location was a guild hall squatting between two half-collapsed towers, guards posted out front with mismatched armor and cheap weapons. One of them recognized Bull and reached for his sidearm.

The woman behind Bull fired first.

The entrance turned into a slaughter. Inside, mercs scrambled, some fighting back, most running. Bull walked through it like he was inspecting inventory.

He grabbed a wounded man by the collar and lifted him until their faces were level.

"Where’s Piolet?" Bull asked.

"I don’t know," the man gasped, blood bubbling at his mouth. "He’s not—"

Bull crushed his skull with his bare hand and let the body drop.

He exhaled, slow and annoyed, then turned to his crew. "We’re done wasting time."

The man nodded. "You want the gunship?"

Bull tapped his wrist device. "Call it in."

Minutes later, the sky screamed.

A spare ship punched through cloud cover, cannons lighting up entire blocks. Warehouses vanished. Hideouts collapsed inward. Checkpoints burned. The city’s defenses barely reacted before they were erased.

Someone yelled from a burning balcony, voice cracking with panic, "You’re making a mistake! This is Piolet’s territory!"

Bull looked up and laughed, the sound harsh and humorless. "That’s why I’m here."

When the area was reduced to rubble and fire, Bull boarded the ship. The ramp sealed behind them, cutting off the screams.

As the vessel lifted, the woman finally asked, "What’s next?"

Bull stared at the star map, jaw tight. "Every territory Piolet touches. We erase them all."

The man hesitated. "Why now?"

Bull didn’t answer. His gaze drifted to a sealed room deeper in the ship. Inside, something pulsed faintly, a fragment of something old and dangerous, like a heartbeat that didn’t belong to anything alive.

Bull clenched his alloy fingers and turned back to the controls.

"Set course," he said. "We’re not stopping."

Meanwhile, somewhere else.

Piolet felt it before the reports reached him.

He was sitting in the observation ring of his flagship, boots propped against the reinforced glass, watching a binary star system grind around itself in slow, violent arcs. The ship drifted just beyond regulated lanes, hidden behind a mesh of signal dampeners and false transponder codes. It was the kind of place only someone with deep connections and deeper pockets could afford to linger.

A junior officer hurried in, breathing hard. "Boss. We just lost three territories."

Piolet didn’t turn. "Names."

"Market Strip Gamma. Iron Guild Hall. South Dock warehouses." The officer swallowed. "All wiped out. Survivors say it was Bull."

That finally got Piolet’s attention. He lowered his boots and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Bull doesn’t move like this," he said slowly. "Not without a reason. Hmm~ Interesting. Is he trying to take revenge on me after all these years? How did he suddenly grow the guts to do that?"

Another voice cut in over the bridge channel. "We’re picking up residual signatures. Heavy orbital fire. Old-model gunship, but modified beyond factory limits."

Piolet stood and walked toward the command console, running a hand through his hair. "Pull fleet logs. I want every base I’ve used in the last six months."

The screen filled with red markers, many of them already blinking out one by one as delayed destruction reports came in. Piolet’s jaw tightened. Bull wasn’t hunting randomly. He was erasing history.

"Prep jump," Piolet ordered. "We’re leaving this sector."

The officer hesitated. "What about the Blackreach cache?"

"Already gone," Piolet said. "Bull hit it an hour ago. He’s not chasing me. He’s burning the map so I can’t stand anywhere."

As the ship’s engines charged, Piolet allowed himself a thin smile. "Fine. Let him chase smoke."