CHAPTER ONE: THE DEATH BREEDER
Cantaniaa's throat tightened as he met the King's gaze. Those yellow eyes—cold, reptilian—bore into him from a face that nightmares couldn't conjure. A thick scar carved across King Agaganeeyaa's forehead, the flesh puckered and twisted like melted wax. His hands, massive as a gorilla's, were covered in dark scales that clicked softly when his clawed fingers drummed against the armrest. The tail—thick as a tree trunk—coiled and uncoiled behind him with a slow, hypnotic rhythm.
Seven meters of raw power. Half-human, half-monster. All terror.
"My lord," Cantaniaa said, his voice steady despite the sweat trickling down his spine. "One week. Maybe less if we maintain speed."
The throne room fell silent. Cantaniaa could hear his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. Ten seconds stretched into eternity. The King's breathing—deep, rumbling—filled the space like distant thunder.
"You're certain we won't face much resistance?"
Before Cantaniaa could answer, the King's tail whipped forward, the tip hovering inches from Cantaniaa's chest. "What is the probability of our victory?"
Cantaniaa didn't flinch. Couldn't afford to. "Ninety percent, my lord. Casualties will be minimal—if we have any at all." He paused, letting the weight of his next words sink in. "Our new weapons are ready. We'll burn that land to ash."
The tail retreated. King Agaganeeyaa leaned back, his massive frame creaking against the bone-carved throne. When he spoke, his voice was almost gentle—which somehow made it worse. "Plagatoscal City is the weak spot of planet Earth. But also its backbone. We must be certain."
"Yes, sir." Cantaniaa stepped forward, his boots echoing on the stone floor. "The people there are brilliant. Their technology advances faster than any other settlement. They build, they innovate, they adapt." His hands clenched at his sides. "If we don't destroy them now, Earth will rise again. Stronger than before."
A low growl rumbled from the King's chest. "I, King Agaganeeyaa the Death Breeder, will not allow that." His claws scraped against the armrest, leaving deep grooves in the metal. "If I'm to subdue the other superpowers in this universe, I must become a god."
He leaned forward suddenly, and Cantaniaa felt the heat radiating from his body—like standing too close to a furnace.
"Are you sure the promised female is in Plagatoscal City?"
"We're positive, sire." Cantaniaa kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Looking directly at the King for too long invited death. "We've been tracking her energy signature."
King Agaganeeyaa rose from his throne. The ground trembled. "Good. After we take the Milky Way, we invade the Loobblonda Galaxy. It's the nearest to this pathetic solar system." He began to pace, each footstep a small earthquake. "But first, I need total control here."
Two human slaves shuffled forward, their chains rattling. Their hands shook as they poured dark liquid into the King's goblet. One of them—a young woman with hollow eyes—spilled a drop. She froze, terror washing over her face.
The King didn't notice. Or didn't care.
He took the goblet and drank deeply, then turned back to Cantaniaa. "What strategy is best suited to attack this isolated, weakling city?"
Cantaniaa straightened. This was his domain. Two hundred and fifty battles. Not a single loss. He'd served King Cophanya before this one—the undefeated war lord, Agaganeeyaa's father. He knew war like other men knew breathing.
"My lord, I have a plan that will—"
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BACK ON EARTH - PLAGATOSCAL CITY
"Darling?"
Victoria Martins looked up from her book, a soft smile playing at her lips. The evening light filtered through the curtains, casting warm shadows across their living room. "Yes, darling?"
General Martins stood in the doorway, still in his uniform, but his shoulders were relaxed. His eyes sparkled—actually sparkled—in a way she hadn't seen in months. Maybe years.
"I had an exciting day." He crossed the room and sat beside her, the couch cushions sighing under his weight.
Victoria set her book down, her interest piqued. She studied his face—the slight flush in his cheeks, the way he couldn't quite suppress his grin. "Enlighten me."
He took her hand, his thumb tracing circles on her palm. "I met someone extraordinary today. A young man—twenty years old. Just joined Zoom Multi Corporation Base One."
"And?" She leaned closer, catching the scent of his cologne mixed with the metallic tang of the lab.
"He's an electrical and electronics engineer. Refused to join the craft engineers. Insisted on starting at the ninth level instead."
Victoria's eyebrows shot up. "The ninth level? That's—"
"Insane. I know." General Martins laughed, the sound rich and genuine. "I thought he was out of his mind. No one starts there. Ever. But I gave him a chance, and Victoria..." He squeezed her hand. "He blew us away. Completely. His ideas, his approach—the kid's a genius. A real genius."
Warmth bloomed in Victoria's chest. She hadn't seen her husband this animated about work in so long. The weight he usually carried—the stress lines around his eyes—had softened.
"Where's he from?" she asked.
"Here. Plagatoscal City. He's an orphan—grew up in the community schools. Went to Apex University, got his electrical engineering degree, then went back for electronics." He shook his head in wonder. "Self-made. Brilliant. This is exactly the kind of person Earth needs right now."
Victoria reached up and touched his face, feeling the slight stubble on his jaw. "He sounds remarkable. We should invite him for dinner. Get to know him better."
"I was hoping you'd say that." General Martins pulled her close, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I'll bring him by soon. I can't wait to see what he does next."
She rested her head on his shoulder, breathing in the moment. Outside, the city hummed with life—unaware of the darkness approaching from the stars.
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DEATH DRIVEN VALLEY - LATE EVENING
Delvin's muscles burned as he finished his last set of exercises. Sweat soaked through his shirt, cold against his skin in the evening breeze. Death Driven Valley—the only place in the city where he could train without questions, without eyes watching.
The sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of purple and orange. His breath came in steady clouds in the cooling air.
He grabbed his jacket and started toward the main road, his footsteps crunching on gravel.
Then they appeared.
Thirteen figures materialized from the shadows between buildings, spreading out to block his path. The streetlight behind them cast their faces in darkness, but Delvin could see their silhouettes—tall, broad, armed.
His heart kicked up a notch. Not fear. Anticipation.
"Wow, wow, wow!" The youngest one—couldn't be more than sixteen—stepped forward with a cocky swagger. "Who do we have here?"
Delvin stopped walking. A slow smile spread across his face. "Your worst nightmare?"
Several of them laughed. One—a wiry guy with a scar down his cheek—spat on the ground. "Ha! Listen to this guy. You got balls, I'll give you that." He cracked his knuckles, the sound sharp in the quiet street. "Since we're in a good mood, here's the deal: Give us your Vcard, your shoes, and that watch. We walk away. You walk away. Nobody gets hurt."
Delvin's smile widened. His pulse thrummed steady and strong. "Let me get this straight. You mighty warriors want a Vcard, a watch, and shoes from a fly?" He laughed—a genuine, delighted sound. "I think you've got it backwards. You're the mosquitoes. Buzzing around, disturbing people's peace with your pathetic noise."
The temperature dropped. The gangsters' postures shifted—shoulders tensing, hands moving toward weapons.
A massive man—easily six-foot-five, arms like tree trunks—stepped forward. His voice was a low growl. "Boss, let me break his bones. This disrespectful little shit needs to learn."
Their leader stood at the back, arms crossed, face hidden in shadow. He hadn't moved. Hadn't spoken. Just watched.
Delvin felt the familiar tingle in his fingertips—energy building, waiting. He rolled his shoulders, loosening up. "You know what your problem is? You're all useless. Pathetic. Can't find anything decent to do with your lives, so you prey on people walking home."
The leader finally moved. One step forward into the light.
His face was scarred, weathered. Cold eyes that had seen too much death. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. Deadly quiet.
"Boy, you've got a big mouth. And a lot of bad breath coming out of it." He tilted his head slightly. "You asked for it."
A pause. The world held its breath.
"Modefaya," the leader said softly. "Teach him a lesson."
The massive man grinned, cracking his neck. He pulled a metal pipe from his belt—thick, heavy, stained with rust. Or blood.
Delvin's heartbeat slowed. His breathing deepened. The world sharpened into crystal clarity—every shadow, every sound, every movement.
He flexed his fingers.
"Come on then," he whispered.
Modefaya charged.