First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 479: Death Contract

A group of bike racers had taken over a roadside stall, helmets stacked on tables, jackets half open, voices loud and overlapping. Their bikes were lined up with care, angled just enough to be admired, engines still ticking faintly as they cooled. Low frames, aggressive builds, tuned for speed instead of comfort.

Xavier walked straight up to them.

"Which one’s the fastest?" he asked, nodding toward the row.

The group went quiet for half a second, then lit up.

That question was bait. They thought Xavier was part of the bike and racing community, or was planning to get into it.

They started talking over each other immediately, pointing, arguing, listing mods, bragging about upgrades and runs they’d supposedly won. One guy slapped the tank of a matte-black bike like it was a living thing. Another scoffed and claimed his was faster if you knew how to ride it properly.

Xavier waited until they burned themselves out.

Then, he pointed at one of the bikes, a low-slung black machine with a stripped rear and an engine that still ticked like it was impatient.

"That one," he said. "Sell it to me."

The guy leaned back in his chair like he’d been insulted personally. "The fuck did you just say?"

"I said sell it."

The table went quiet. A couple of the others snorted. One of them shook his head like Xavier had just outed himself as a tourist.

"This isn’t some rental," the guy said, hand dropping onto the tank. "You don’t buy bikes like this off the street."

Xavier looked at him for a second, then said, "Three hundred thousand USC."

The guy froze.

His hand stayed on the bike, but everything else about him changed. His shoulders loosened. His jaw unclenched. His eyes flicked once toward his friends, then back to Xavier, already smiling like they shared a history.

The man blinked once. "Are you serious? Just so you know, a new one costs around 30k USC and the build would cost you around 15k."

Xavier nodded. "I want that one."

The racer glanced at his friends, then back at the bike, then back at Xavier. His posture shifted completely, offense melting into calculation. "I mean," he said slowly, "it’s got sentimental value."

"I’ll add another thirty if you stop talking," Xavier replied.

"Bro," he said warmly, standing up. "Why didn’t you say so?"

Xavier raised an eyebrow.

The guy laughed, slapped Xavier’s shoulder like they’d grown up in the same block, same mess, same dirt. "You know what, take it. Seriously. You got good instincts. Reminds me of my cousin."

One of the others muttered, "You don’t have a cousin."

The guy waved him off without looking. "I do now."

He leaned in closer to Xavier, voice low and friendly. "You ride safe, yeah. Or don’t. Either way, she’s yours. Hell, if you crash it, I’ll still remember you fondly. Long lost brother type shit."

Xavier transferred the credits.

The racer’s device chimed.

The grin turned feral. "You know what," he said, spreading his arms wide, "if you ever come back around here, drinks on me. You could knock up my girlfriends and my daughters and I’d still tell people you’re family."

Someone choked on their drink.

Xavier didn’t react. He just took the keys, swung onto the bike, and brought the engine to life while the guy stood there beaming like he’d just reunited with blood.

The engine roared alive and cut clean through the night noise as he pulled away, the bike snapping forward with eager violence.

A few seconds later, he was gone, Helior Prime blurring into lines of light as he aimed straight for the Aurex Club and the end of Velkhar’s clock.

The biker leaned back like he’d just pulled off the cleanest hustle of his life, while his friends stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.

"What?" he asked, honestly confused by the looks.

One of them pointed at him with disgust. "Forget daughters, you don’t even have a girlfriend, you son of a bitch. Have you lost your mind or something?"

The biker shrugged and checked his account again, grin stretching wider. "Eh, who cares. I made enough to get one now."

Another leaned over his shoulder, eyes widening at the number. "Hey, you’re sharing that money among all of us, right?"

The biker didn’t even look up. "Only if you guys suck my dick."

They burst into shouting, half laughing, and half offended.

Meanwhile, at the Aurex club, Velkhar was fidgeting a gold coin of his name.

His private floor sat quiet around him, the club’s sound kept outside like it belonged to another world. He watched the tracker panel on his console, waiting for the next update from the teams shadowing Zyrex.

Nothing came.

A minute passed, then another.

Velkhar’s fingers tapped once against the armrest of his chair. He didn’t raise his voice, but the irritation showed in the way his jaw tightened.

"Where are my reports?" he asked.

A guard stepped closer. "We’re still monitoring, sir."

Velkhar turned his head slowly. "Then why am I hearing silence?"

"Umm... it’s almost midnight. Maybe the target is sleeping and there is nothing to report?" The guard hesitated, then raised his wrist comm. "I’ll ping the teams."

Velkhar watched the man do it. One request. Then a second. Then a third. Each one unanswered.

His expression shifted from annoyance into something more alert, as if the room itself had changed temperature.

"Again," Velkhar ordered.

The guard tried once more.But no response still.

Velkhar’s eyes narrowed. "Get me a live confirmation. I want voices."

The guard nodded fast and moved away. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

Velkhar leaned back slightly, rings catching the light as he flexed his fingers. His gaze stayed fixed on the dead quiet of the screen, the lack of movement too clean to be comforting.

Then his personal device chimed.

Velkhar looked down at the caller ID and paused.

Saereth Kyn.

He picked up immediately.

The holo flared to life in front of him, and the chairman of AIL appeared with the same calm presence as if Velkhar had called him, not the other way around. He looked rested, expensive, and completely detached from the chaos that other people lived inside.

"Chairman," Velkhar said.

"Commander Drome," Kyn replied.

The greeting was polite on the surface and cold underneath, the kind of respect that existed only because both of them had influence they could weaponize.

Kyn didn’t waste time. "I have a small job for you."

Velkhar’s mouth tightened. "Before we talk about jobs, I’d like my remaining payment."

Kyn’s expression didn’t change. "It’s already in process."

Velkhar scoffed. "Convenient."

"It’s deliberate," Kyn replied. "You know how it works. Converting funds into clean channels takes time. The last thing either of us needs is a trace leading back to AIL. That money can’t arrive like it came from me, because it didn’t."

Velkhar exhaled, then nodded once, annoyed but forced to accept it. "Fine. What’s the job."

Kyn’s eyes held steady. "The bounty targets. Lyra and her group."

Velkhar’s posture stiffened slightly. "That’s not my concern."

"It is now," Kyn said. "They are moving toward Helior Prime. Stop them before they enter the city’s inspection layers."

Velkhar leaned forward a fraction. "I’m already busy handling another matter."

Kyn didn’t react to that. "Handle both."

Velkhar pondered for a few seconds. It was an easy task for him where he didn’t even need to move from his chair. What mattered was if he was in the mood to do it or not.

Velkhar’s jaw flexed as he stared at the holo. "I’ll handle it."

Kyn gave a small nod, more acknowledgement than thanks. "Good."

Velkhar ended the call without ceremony.

The holo vanished.

He sat still for a moment, staring at the empty space it had occupied, then looked back at his dead screen with the missing reports.

"Looks like the city is forgetting who I am." He got up from his chair. "I will have to take care of this personally."