First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess

The lizards, bruised and battered, dragged themselves back up. Some leaned on each other, blood running down their scales, but their eyes still burned with rage. Their leader, the one Xavier first decked, spat a mix of saliva and blood onto the cracked dance floor.

"You fucked with the wrong brood, human. This isn't over. We'll get our revenge."

Xavier dusted his sleeves, acting like he hadn't just reduced half a dozen aliens into meat bags. His smirk widened. "Revenge? Don't flatter yourselves. I was drunk, my body slipped everywhere, and my fists and feet just… accidentally landed on all your ugly faces. Nothing personal."

The brood hissed, but before they could lunge again, the club's bouncers stormed in—massive cyber-enhanced men in black suits, their eyes glowing faint red as their implants scanned the scene. Behind them, the club manager, a sharp-looking alien with translucent skin that shimmered under the neon, walked in, glaring at the wreckage.

The music had finally cut. The place was silent except for the groans of the fallen.

"What the hell happened here!?" the floor manager barked. His voice carried authority sharp enough to slice through the tension.

The bouncers spread out, their bulk making even the lizards hesitate. One of them pointed at Xavier. "This man wrecked the entire floor."

Xavier raised both hands casually. "Me? Look around. I'm just one guy. They're a dozen. You really think I did all this by myself? Be logical, man. Clearly they started it."

The leader lizard growled, pointing a claw straight at Xavier. "He's lying! He punched me first!"

Xavier tilted his head, pretending to think. "Correction—your drunk ass bumped into me first. I was holding a drink. My fist just… bumped into your face. Equal exchange. Simple physics."

A ripple of laughter came from a few drunk bystanders who hadn't fled yet. Even some of the bouncers tried to hide their smirks.

The floor manager, however, wasn't amused. His eyes scanned the broken tables, shattered bottles, and flickering light fixtures. "This mess costs money. And someone has to pay."

The lizard squad nodded furiously, backing him. "Yes, make him pay! And we also need medical expenses and compensation. We will spare you if you do that and beg for our forgiveness. Otherwise, you are dead."

The manager, however, wasn't amused. His eyes scanned the broken tables, shattered bottles, and flickering light fixtures. "This mess costs money. And someone has to pay."

The lizard squad nodded furiously, backing him. "Yes, make him pay!"

Xavier jabbed a finger at them. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. Don't put this on me. They're a dozen, I'm one. If anything, they should cover the bill for ganging up on an innocent drunk. I was just defending myself." He spread his arms, as if he was the victim in the middle of the chaos. "Besides, look at me—I don't have a single scratch. You really think I'd walk away spotless if I started this?"

The crowd murmured, some nodding. Logic—or Xavier's manipulation—was working.

The floor manager rubbed his temples, frustrated. "Enough. Compensation will be paid, or nobody leaves."

Xavier's smirk deepened. He slid a black card onto the counter, the kind that screamed "unlimited funds,"

But it was just a fake card he had gotten from the black market as a gift from Jason.

Xavier leaned closer, his voice smooth but sharp. "Fine. Charge it to me. But…" He flicked his eyes toward the brood, then back at the manager. "Double it to them. Triple, even. Because they're the ones who dragged this club into chaos. While I came here to drink."

The brood hissed, some stepping forward, but the bouncers blocked them. The manager glanced at the card, then at Xavier's calm posture, and weighed the situation.

The floor was silent again.

The brood leader slammed his clawed hand on a broken table, splintering what was left of it. His voice cut through the manager's attempts to settle things.

"No! We're not paying a single credit. This piece of shit human humiliated us. He's gonna bleed for it."

The other lizards snarled, hissing like wild animals ready to rip Xavier apart. Some of them picked up chairs, others pulled out concealed blades that glowed faintly with energy.

Xavier just sighed and loosened his shoulders, rolling his neck like he was warming up. "Here we go again."

The first lizard lunged, and Xavier's fist met his jaw mid-air, sending the alien flying across the floor and crashing into a neon pillar that shattered in sparks. Another swung a bottle at his head, but Xavier ducked, twisted his body, and slammed his elbow into the bastard's ribs.

CRACK!

The alien wheezed and folded.

The dance floor became a warzone again—tables smashed, glass scattered, drinks spilled everywhere. Shouts and screams from bystanders filled the club as they ran toward the exits. But the doors suddenly slid shut with a metallic clang.

LOCKDOWN ACTIVATED.

Red lights flared across the walls. Sirens wailed.

The bouncers had sealed the place, blocking the exits, forcing everyone inside. Some guests panicked, banging on the glass walls, but there was no escape.

The floor manager raised his hands, shouting over the chaos. "Enough! The lockdown stays until this is settled. Nobody leaves until higher authority decides!"

The lizards weren't listening. They swarmed Xavier again, but he fought like a professional martial artist. A spin kick shattered two of their jaws at once, and a follow-up knee sent another crumpling. His movements were brutal and sharp, every strike sending bodies flying into furniture.

Still, their numbers kept coming. Drinks spilled, tables flipped, the whole dance floor was turning into a riot. Angel, still at the bar, sat watching with her chin on her palm, her flushed face smirking faintly as if she was both annoyed and entertained.

Finally, the floor manager, realizing he was way out of his depth, pressed a device on his wrist. "Call the top."

The sirens cut off, but the red glow stayed. A voice boomed over the speakers.

"This is enough."

Everyone froze as the doors at the top of the staircase slid open. Heavy footsteps echoed.

It was the club manager—the man who ran the Galaxy Club's core. He wore a sleek obsidian suit that shimmered under the red glow, his eyes glowing faint amber. His presence alone made even the lizards hesitate.

He walked down the stairs.

The floor manager bowed his head slightly. "Sir, the guest has caused… considerable damage."

The top manager's gaze locked onto Xavier, ignoring the bloody, bruised lizards whining behind him. He studied him, almost curious.

"Now…" His voice carried like a judge's verdict. "Who's going to explain to me why my club looks like a battlefield?"