My Infinite System.

The starfield ahead wasn't empty anymore. It was clogged.

One moment, there was the clear black of the transit lane. The next, a wall of ships flickered into existence, their running lights painting the void in hostile reds and oranges. A full Omni-Stellar blockade fleet, flanked by the jagged, patchwork silhouettes of hired mercenary vessels. Their combined mass blocked the path forward, weapons ports already glowing with charge.

Lucian let out a long, tired sigh. It was the sound of a man who'd seen this coming.

"We should have taken the void jump," he said, his voice flat.

From the co-pilot's seat, Reia didn't look up from her screens. "The dimensional shift would have scrambled Lira and her uncle's neural chemistry. It was too risky with civilians on board."

Another sigh. This one was heavier. "Right." Lucian unclipped his harness. "Evelyn, plot a direct lightspeed jump to the Citadel's coordinates. The second I'm clear, you go. Don't wait for a signal."

Marc cracked his knuckles, a slow, deliberate sound. "I'll handle the fleet. You get the ship ready."

Lucian stopped beside his brother's chair. He placed a hand on Marc's shoulder. "I need to do this one myself." His voice was quiet, but firm. "Alone. It'll... help me think. I'll meet you there."

Marc looked up, searching his brother's face. He saw the tension around his eyes, the weight of decisions that went beyond this single fight. After a moment, he gave a single, sharp nod. "Don't take too long."

Lucian offered a faint, grim smile. Then, he was gone. There was no flash, no sound. One moment he was in the cockpit, the next, he was just... out there. A solitary figure in a standard-issue flight suit, floating in the immense dark before the armada.

Inside the Star-Jumper, Evelyn's hands flew across the console. "Jump locked. Punching it on your mark, Reia."

Reia watched the sensor feed. "He's clear."

The ship's engines whined, building to a crescendo. Then, with a silent, reality-stretching lurch, the Star-Jumper vanished into a streak of light, leaving Lucian alone.

He floated, the air from his suit's recycler a soft hiss in his helmet. He scanned the fleet. Omni-Stellar destroyers, their sleek lines meant to inspire fear. Mercenary corvettes, ugly and practical. He could feel their target-locks painting his suit.

A comm channel crackled open in his helmet, a sneering voice. "This is Captain Vorlag of the mercenary vessel Iron Price. You have five seconds to surrender whatever tech you used to make your ship run before we turn you into spacedust."

Lucian ignored him. He closed his eyes. He didn't need to see the ships. He needed to understand them. Not as metal and weapons, but as an idea. The idea of a barrier. The concept of a threat. The absolute declaration of "you shall not pass."

He rarely touched this part of himself. It felt like reaching for a star with his bare hands—a power so vast and fundamental it was less an ability and more a force of nature. It had evolved since its early classification. It was no longer just about influence. It was about authority.

ABILITY: CONCEPTUAL SOVEREIGNTY (Ω)

The authority to enact conceptual law within a sovereign domain. The user does not manipulate reality, but defines it, declaring a foundational truth that all things within the domain must obey.

Governance: The declared concept becomes absolute law. Its strength is tied to the user's depth of understanding and conviction regarding the concept. Energy cost is negligible; the toll is existential comprehension.

Limitation: The concept must be singular, clearly defined, and understood by the user on a philosophical level. Contradictory concepts cannot coexist within the same domain.

He opened his eyes. The vacuum around him began to… still. Not the absence of sound, but the absence of possibility. The very starlight seemed to dim, as if paying respect.

His voice, when he spoke, was calm. It wasn't broadcast. It was simply… declared. A new law written into the fabric of space itself.

"Within my sight, there is no vessel."

The effect was not an explosion. It was an unraveling.

The closest Omni-Stellar destroyer, the one directly ahead of him, simply ceased to be a ship. Its complex systems, its alloys, its power cores—all of it forgot its purpose, its very identity as a vessel. It became just… a collection of parts. A disorganized cloud of metal, wiring, and frozen atmosphere, silently expanding where a warship had been.

On the bridge of the Iron Price, Captain Vorlag stared at his screen, his jaw slack. "What… what was that? A new weapon? Scan him!"

Lucian turned his head, his gaze sweeping across the line of ships. He understood the concept of a fleet. A group acting as one. A collective will.

"There is no fleet."

The connection between them shattered. Coordinated targeting systems went dead. Comm channels between ships filled with screaming static. The organized wall of war became a scattered, confused mob of individual ships, each suddenly alone and blind.

Panic erupted. Ships veered off course, crashing into one another in the sudden chaos. A mercenary corvette, its pilot desperate, opened fire. Plasma bolts streaked toward the small, floating figure.

Lucian watched them come. He understood the concept of an attack. A directed intention to harm.

"No attack may reach me."

The plasma bolts didn't hit a shield. They simply… stopped existing a kilometer from him, winking out of reality without a sound.

The Omni-Stellar command ship, larger than the others, began a slow turn, its massive primary cannon powering up. A weapon designed to crack moons.

Lucian focused on it. He understood the concept of a threat. Something that poses danger.

"You are not a threat."

The command ship's power readings flatlined. Its weapon systems shut down completely, their complex firing mechanisms becoming inert, useless hunks of metal. The ship was now just a floating, unarmed habitat.

Silence returned to the void. The remaining ships hung in space, dead in the water. Their weapons were useless. Their coordination was broken. Their very purpose as a military force had been legally invalidated by a man who had declared a new truth.

Lucian took a slow breath, the sound loud in his helmet. He looked at the bewildered, helpless armada. The source of the problem wasn't here. It was back on some corporate world, in a boardroom where men like Vellor gave orders.

He had uprooted the weed here, but the roots were deep and spread across the galaxy.

Turning his back on the paralyzed fleet, he focused on a single, clear concept: a place of safety. A place called home.

"I am at the Citadel."

Space folded around him. He didn't move. The universe adjusted. The endless starfield, the disabled ships, all of it vanished.

He was standing on the familiar, polished floor of the Citadel's hangar bay. The air smelled of ozone and clean metal. The Star-Jumper was just settling onto its landing struts a short distance away.

Evelyn was the first one down the ramp, her face tight with worry. It smoothed into relieved shock when she saw him. "Lucian! How did you—?"

"Later," he said quietly, his shoulders slumping slightly now that the immense focus had left him. The Conceptual Dominion was never draining in a physical sense, but the mental toll, the weight of holding absolute truth, was profound.

Marc came down the ramp next, giving his brother a long, appraising look. He didn't ask for details. He just clapped a hand on Lucian's back. "Took you long enough."

Lucian managed a weak smile. Behind them, Lira and her uncle Midas stepped onto the hangar floor, their eyes wide as they took in the sheer scale of their new, hidden sanctuary.