First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 432: Royals of Jupiter

Arlen drove while Xavier watched the city pass, glass and alloy towers packed so close they felt like they were leaning in to listen. Hotels advertised themselves openly here, not with subtle signs but with massive projections that promised privacy, luxury, silence, or indulgence, sometimes all at once.

"We need a place to stay," Xavier said after a while. "Best of the best."

Arlen shot him a look. "You realize what that costs here, right?"

He didn’t even glance back at her. "Doesn’t matter. I’ve got money."

"Yeah, but you should save them. It’s not unlimited, you now? That’s not the same thing as—"

"I said it doesn’t matter."

She sighed and turned into a higher traffic lane, letting the system reroute them toward the upper districts. The difference was immediate. Less noise. Fewer people. Security drones that looked expensive instead of aggressive. They pulled up in front of a tower that didn’t bother advertising itself, the kind of place that assumed anyone who mattered already knew it existed.

Inside, everything was polished and quiet. Staff from different species moved with trained precision: tall, thin avians with metallic feathers along their necks, broad-shouldered reptilian staff in tailored uniforms, humans who looked like they’d been selected for their ability to disappear into the background. No one smiled too much or asked unnecessary questions.

Xavier booked two rooms without hesitation. One for him and Arlen, and another paired with Rin and Klatos.

As they moved through the lobby, Xavier caught the looks.

They weren’t curious or impressed. They were the kind of looks that paused a fraction too long, the kind that carried judgment without needing words. Some glanced at his bandaged face and looked away quickly. Others stared outright. He couldn’t tell if it was because he didn’t belong here, or because he looked like something that shouldn’t still be breathing.

He noticed something else too.

The looks aimed at Klatos were worse.

They lingered sharper, more than one person shifted aside to avoid brushing past him, like proximity alone was offensive. Klatos noticed, of course. He always did. But he didn’t comment.

They split up to clean up, showers washing the road and dust off their skin. When they regrouped later, it was downstairs, in a restaurant that looked like it could serve royalty or criminals without changing a thing. Even at this hour, tables were occupied by mixed company: humans, scaled species with glowing eyes, tall figures wrapped in layered fabrics that hid more than they showed. Conversations hummed in dozens of languages.

The food was expensive. And ridiculously so, Xavier liked that.

Plates came out fast, perfectly arranged, flavors close enough to Earth to feel familiar without pretending to be the same. He ate without rushing, enjoying the convenience, the ease, the fact that cities like this existed at all.

And again, he caught the looks.

This time, they weren’t aimed at him.

People watched Klatos with open disdain now that he was seated, feathers folded neatly, posture calm. Some whispered. Some didn’t bother hiding it. A pair of well-dressed offworlders stared openly until Rin met their eyes and smiled in a way that made them look away.

Xavier set his fork down slowly.

He didn’t like that feeling crawling up his spine. The staring hadn’t crossed into action, hadn’t broken any rules, but it still pressed in on him from all sides. He knew he was allowed to ignore it. He knew he could sit there, eat, and let it slide. That was the privilege of power—choosing when something mattered.

And right now, it did.

He leaned back in his chair and raised his voice just enough to cut through the ambience of the restaurant. "Is there something wrong,?" he asked, eyes moving across the tables that had been watching them. "Because you’re staring like there is."

Silence rippled outward.

"If I offended someone," he continued, tone calm but sharp underneath, "then say it. Don’t sit there pretending you’re better while burning holes through us with your eyes. And if you’ve got something to say, say it now, so I can shove it back up your ass where it belongs."

The chairs shifted. Forks paused mid-air. Most people looked away immediately, suddenly very interested in their plates or their companions.

But not everyone.

A man stood from one of the inner tables. He looked like Klatos’ kind at first glance, same general frame, same avian structure, but the similarities ended there. His feathers were paler, almost polished. Metallic filigree traced along his neck and arms, embedded cleanly into his flesh. Jewelry wasn’t worn on him; it was part of him.

His eyes fixed on Xavier, then slid to Klatos with open disgust.

"If creatures like that," the man said, voice loud enough for nearby tables to hear, "low-blooded, gutter-born worms, are allowed to sit freely in places like this, then yes. I have every right to be offended."

Klatos didn’t look up.

He kept his head down, wings folded tight, hands resting neatly in his lap as if he’d learned long ago that stillness made things pass faster.

The tension spiked, sharp enough that Xavier felt it before he saw movement.

Staff stepped in quickly. Not guards, but senior employees, their expressions smooth and practiced. They apologized—to Xavier first, then briefly to Klatos. The man was ushered away without resistance, guided toward a more private, more luxurious dining section as if nothing had happened at all.

The room slowly exhaled and went back to pretending it hadn’t just watched something ugly unfold.

Xavier waited until the noise settled before turning to Klatos. "What was that?"

Klatos hesitated, then answered quietly. "Royal bloodline. Jupiter-born aristocracy. Same species, but different rank."

He lifted his gaze just enough to meet the table, not Xavier. "You can see it. The natural distinction. The colors. They make sure no one mistakes them for us."

"So you’re... lower?" Xavier muttered, not liking the word as it came out.

Klatos nodded once. "By blood and history."

Xavier leaned back, irritation simmering. "Didn’t think racism like that would be this open here. I thought that was mostly a vampire thing. Bloodlines. Rankings. Acting like nobility is a personality."

His mind drifted, uninvited, to Reva. To her sharp tongue, her pride, the way she carried centuries of bullshit like armor. He imagined her reaction if she’d been here.

She’d be furious.

And when they meet again, she might actually kill him first and ask questions later.

’I wonder how much sexy blood sucker and glutton wolfie are doing...’

Xavier picked up his fork again, appetite dulled but not gone. "Guess every planet has its garbage," he muttered. "They just decorate it differently."