First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 428: Unlucky Syndicate

The balcony sat high enough that the noise from the bar below softened into something pleasant instead of annoying.

Blue skin, heavy and bloated, body sunk deep into a chair that had clearly been custom-built to hold his weight. Cybernetic lines ran across his neck and jaw, chrome plates peeking through skin that had been cut and rebuilt more times than anyone bothered counting. His green hair was slicked back, threaded with pearls that matched the diamonds hanging off his ears, fingers, and wrists. Nothing about him was subtle. Everything about him was expensive.

Music drifted up. Smoke curled lazily from whatever he was holding. Girls laughed nearby, elites pretending not to stare while still staring. He enjoyed the view, the attention, the noise, the feeling that nothing in this city moved without passing under his shadow first.

A man in a dark suit stepped closer, careful with his footing, posture already apologetic. He leaned in and whispered.

The smile dropped immediately. It dropped clean off his face like it had never been there to begin with.

He stood, chair groaning under the sudden absence of his weight. "Excuse me," he said flatly, not waiting for anyone to respond. He walked away from the balcony, past velvet curtains and sound-dampened walls, until the noise of the bar disappeared completely.

In the private room, his secretary was already waiting, standing still, holding a phone out in both hands.

He snatched it from her hand.

"What the fuck is going on?" he shouted.

Something was said on the other end.

"What do you mean you don’t know?" he snapped. "Three bases! Three! Destroyed, looted, and then raided by cops within five hours."

He started pacing, heavy steps echoing in the room. "Do you understand how impossible that sounds?"

The voice tried again.

"No," he cut in. "Don’t explain it like this is bad luck. This is someone walking straight through our operations."

He paced as he spoke, heavy footsteps thudding against the floor. "You’re telling me you lost territory, assets, personnel, and heat all at once and you don’t know how."

The voice from the other end responded something.

He laughed once, sharp and humorless. "No. Don’t explain it to me like I’m stupid. I pay people specifically so this doesn’t happen."

"Someone walked through you," he said. "Clean enough that everyone else is scrambling and you’re standing there empty-handed."

He stopped pacing and leaned one cybernetic hand against the wall hard enough to dent it. "Find out who did this. I don’t care how. I don’t care who you have to lean on. If this was a warning, I want to know from whom."

The voice hesitated.

"That’s not optional," he said coldly. "And if I find out you’re the reason this blew up in my face, I’ll make sure you don’t survive the apology."

He cut the call without waiting for a reply and handed the phone back to his secretary.

"Cancel everything," he said. "And get me names."

She nodded once and moved immediately.

He stood there alone for a moment, breathing hard, then let out a slow exhale. Somewhere out there, someone had made noise loud enough to reach him.

Meanwhile, where the man had just yelled on the phone.

The bunker was loud even before he started yelling.

Nearly fifty people stood lined up in uneven rows, armor half-fastened, weapons slung low, some still smelling like sleep or panic. The ceiling lights flickered faintly, casting sharp shadows across concrete walls layered with old blast marks and newer patches. The air felt heavy, stale, recycled too many times.

The man at the front paced slowly, boots striking the floor with loud clicks.

"Three bases," he said, voice carrying without effort. "Three! Gone in hours!" He imitated his boss who had just yelled at him on the phone.

He let the words hang there before continuing. "Gone! Stripped clean, then handed to the cops like a gift."

Murmurs tried to start and died immediately when he lifted his hand.

"Someone talked," he went on, voice tightening. "Someone leaked routes, schedules, access points. That doesn’t happen by accident."

He moved closer to the first row, eyes dragging over faces. "So here’s how this works. If you step forward now and tell me what you know, I’ll spare you. You won’t walk free, but you’ll walk away breathing."

No one moved. One could hear the ventilation struggling above them.

His jaw clenched. "Fine."

He straightened and raised his voice just enough. "New deal. Whoever brings me information—real information—about who did this gets promoted. New command, full protection. You answer to me directly."

That got a reaction. Not words, but glances, and shifts.

Before he could press further, the floor trembled.

A deep impact rolled through the bunker, followed by another, closer this time. Dust shook loose from the ceiling seams and drifted down in thin sheets. Heads snapped toward the entrance.

He turned sharply. "What the hell was that?"

A guard burst in, helmet crooked, breath coming fast. "Sir— we’re under attack."

"What do you mean under attack," he barked. "From where?"

The guard hesitated. "Unknown. They’re already inside the perimeter."

The alarms answered for him, screaming to life a heartbeat later as red lights flooded the room. Systems lagged, displays flickering like they were embarrassed to be this late.

He cursed loudly. "Of course. Radars blind, alarms asleep. Every fucking time."

He spun back toward the group. "Weapons out. Now! Everyone moves."

The line broke apart instantly. Rifles were yanked free, helmets snapped down, people running for exits while trying not to look like they were running. He drew his own weapon, checked the charge by muscle memory alone, and stormed toward the door.

The bunker didn’t get time to react.

Doors failed. Corridors collapsed. People screamed orders that never reached anyone.

They hit the entrance hard.

Arlen moved first, guns barking, clearing angles without slowing. Rin followed close, blades flashing as bodies dropped. Klatos came behind them, hauling heavy weapons and charges like it was nothing. Xavier walked through the middle, Serpent’s Fang tearing steel and flesh apart.

"This," he muttered, "is the fourth stop."