First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 448: The Man Behind the Voice

The man stepped closer into the light, close enough now that the details stopped hiding.

He was old, but not worn out. The kind of age that came from surviving long enough to know when to stop running. His body was lean, dense, built like someone who still trained because stopping would mean decay. Subtle augmentations traced along his neck and collarbone, clean work, not flashy. One eye had been replaced entirely, the synthetic iris adjusting focus as it studied Xavier, while the other carried the dull patience of someone who had seen too much to be impressed.

"Name’s Veyr," he said. The words landed without weight, like he didn’t care whether they were remembered or not. "This place answers to me."

He gestured toward the seating arranged along the edge of the chamber. No restraints. No guards hovering close. That, more than anything, made Arlen uneasy.

"Sit," Veyr added. "Relax. You’re not here to die."

Xavier took a seat without hesitation, leaning back like this was a meeting he’d scheduled himself. "Before we talk," he said, "get me something to eat and drink. I’m starving."

Veyr exhaled slowly through his nose, a sound halfway between irritation and disbelief. "I haven’t eaten either," he replied, eyes still on Xavier. "Because of you. Because of your timing, your noise, and that habit you have of walking into things like consequences don’t apply."

He waved a hand. One of his people moved immediately, signaling others. Panels slid open along the chamber wall, machinery unfolding as a table extended from the floor, already being set with food and containers that steamed faintly.

Veyr turned his attention back to Xavier and didn’t bother hiding his stare this time. "Even though I’ve seen you on feeds," he said. "You look worse in person."

Xavier smirked. "You should see me without the bandages."

Veyr snorted quietly. "Hard to believe Bull threw everything away for this. His work. His reputation. Decades of effort. All of it handed to someone who can’t go five minutes without lighting half a sector on fire."

Xavier leaned forward slightly. "If Bull was half as smart as you’re pretending he was, then him choosing me says more about you than it does about me."

That earned him a look.

"Or," Xavier continued, "you’re just pissed he didn’t pick you."

The table finished assembling. Dishes were placed. Drinks followed. Veyr didn’t sit yet.

Xavier picked up a piece of food without waiting. "So," he said around the first bite, "what’s your story? How do you fit into Bull’s mess, and why do you care so much about what he left behind."

Veyr watched him chew, watched him swallow, then finally took his own seat.

"You really don’t know?" he said.

"No," Xavier replied. "And judging by how emotional you’re getting, I think it’s time you tell me."

Veyr leaned back slightly, one hand resting on the edge of the table, eyes drifting somewhere past Xavier as if he was looking at something that wasn’t there anymore.

"We met in a mining camp," he said. "Slave pit. No names. No records. Just numbers and quotas. We were kids. Too young to understand why the world had already decided we were expendable."

He paused, then continued without looking at anyone. "One day Bull came back from a shift holding a piece of rock. It didn’t look special. It looked just like a shard pulled from a collapsed vein. But it was different. He said he could hear something. A voice that called itself a goddess."

Veyr shook his head slightly. "I didn’t believe a word of it at first. Thought he’d cracked under the pressure, like everyone else in that pit. But then I saw it. Walls breaking where he touched them. Men twice his size thrown aside like tools. Guards who had ruled that camp for years suddenly afraid of a kid holding a rock. After that, belief wasn’t a choice anymore. You don’t argue with things you watch happen right in front of you."

Xavier clicked his tongue and cut in. "I didn’t ask for your life story. I asked how you were connected to him."

Veyr let out a slow sigh, irritation flashing briefly across his face before it faded. "You were impatient back then too, you know?" he said, then corrected himself. "No. That’s not right. Bull was impatient. You’re... careless."

He picked up his drink, took a small sip, then set it back down. "I was his right hand. For years. I handled logistics, contacts, and crews. When Bull started chasing bigger things, I kept the ground stable. Until we fought."

Rin glanced between them but stayed silent.

"He stopped listening," Veyr went on. "Stopped sharing information. Started talking about fate and preparation and worthiness. We disagreed. It wasn’t pretty. I left."

Xavier leaned back in his chair. "And after that you decided to hunt him down and steal whatever he hid."

Veyr didn’t deny it. He didn’t confirm it either. He just muttered, "Doesn’t matter now."

They ate in silence for a bit after that. The food was good, better than anything they’d had since Helior Prime, but no one commented on it.

Xavier wiped his hands and looked straight at Veyr. "You know Bull’s dead, right?"

The words landed heavily like a bomb.

Veyr froze for half a second, fork hovering over his plate. Then he lowered it and continued eating, slower this time. He nodded once. "He talked about it. Said he wouldn’t survive forever. Said someone on Earth was meant to kill him."

Veyr finally looked up, his synthetic eye focusing sharply on Xavier. "Did you do it?"

Xavier didn’t hesitate. He nodded.

Veyr didn’t look away this time. His voice dropped, rougher than before. "How did it end for him? How were his last moments?"

Xavier didn’t even think about it. "It doesn’t matter."

Veyr’s jaw tightened. "I knew him longer than you."

"And you still don’t deserve it," Xavier shot back. "Whatever Bull’s last moments were, they’re not for you to pick apart and feel something about. You walked away. You don’t get the ending."