For ten long years, the ship had been silent.
Drifting through the void like a tomb, Helios Prime was once the crown jewel of the richest empire in the galaxy—a floating fortress built by the godly merchant pair, the most powerful beings to ever live. Their reach had extended across star systems. Their wealth had bought entire planets. Their will had shaped civilizations.
And in the heart of their empire, they created one final masterpiece.
A weapon. A son. An heir.
Now, he slept in silence.
Until today.
Alarms triggered deep in the lower decks, activating systems untouched for a decade. A single cryo-pod hissed and lit with faint, flickering blue light. Steam billowed from its edges, and a voice—cold, mechanical—echoed in the chamber.
"Containment seal releasing. Project Nova reinitializing."
Inside the pod, the hybrid stirred.
He opened his eyes slowly. For a moment, there was nothing—only haze and darkness. Then the memories flooded in. Sharp. Heavy. Endless.
He remembered the laboratory where he had been created—grown in a chamber of alien crystal and human steel.
He remembered his creators. The godly merchants. They had taught him, tested him, called him their heir.
And he remembered their deaths.
The betrayal had been swift. Silent. Perfect. Executed by those closest to them—advisors, generals, even kin. The merchant pair had been murdered, their fleets hijacked, and their empire swallowed whole.
Nova had been the last secret. The final project. They hadn't dared kill him. Instead, they sealed him away.
Buried in the dark. Forgotten.
Now, ten years later, he was awake again.
He stepped from the pod, bare feet meeting cold metal. His body adjusted in seconds, enhanced cells rapidly syncing with the ship's long-dead systems. Lights flickered on across the vault. Security protocols lit his neural HUD in a ghostly glow.
He scanned the environment. Most of Helios Prime was inactive. Power minimal. All auxiliary ships—gone.
The empire he had been meant to inherit was dust.
And yet… something stirred above. Movement. Life.
Uninvited guests.
---
Elsewhere on the ship, a small crew crept through the decaying corridors
"You're sure this is the right ship?" one of them muttered.
Their captain, a tall woman with red braids and a scar across her cheek, didn't answer right away. Her eyes scanned the hall, fingers tight around her blaster.
"This is Helios Prime," she said. "The last known location of merchant-class tech. Untouched for ten years. If even one chamber is intact, we walk out rich."
Her name was Anna. A scavenger. A survivor. Not a fool.
She had heard the rumors—of ghosts, of curses, of wrathful AI. But she didn't believe in fairy tales.
She believed in profit.
But as they moved deeper into the ship, something changed. The lights shifted from dead red to cold white. The temperature dropped. And the hum of dormant systems rose like a slow exhale.
"Captain..." one crewman whispered. "Something's waking up."
He was right.
---
Nova moved through the ship like a shadow, eyes glowing faintly, muscles coiled like a predator. Every step was silent, every breath controlled.
He reached the intruders in moments.
Four of them. Human. Lightly armed. Scavengers.
His lip curled in disgust.
They were looting his grave.
The scavengers turned as one when he stepped into the corridor, weapons half-raised in fear. Nova said nothing.
One of them panicked and fired.
The shot never landed.
Nova moved before the flash ended. In a blur of speed, he crossed the space, grabbed the shooter by the throat, and slammed him into the wall. The metal bent. Bones snapped. The man crumpled without a sound.
Another raised a weapon. Nova twisted his wrist, and a pulse of kinetic force knocked him off his feet.
Two down.
The remaining pair froze. The third trembled, backing away. The fourth—Anna—stood still.
She looked into Nova's eyes and saw no pity. No humanity. Only fire and judgment.
She dropped her blaster.
"I don't want to die," she said quickly. "I didn't know this place was—occupied."
He didn't move. Didn't blink.
"I'm useful," she added. Her voice shook, but she kept talking. "I have access to outer-sector trade rings. I know black-market routes. I can get you resources—ships, fuel, tech. Whatever you need."
Nova stared at her in silence. Her heartbeat was loud to him—too fast. Afraid. Desperate.
Good.
"Let me live," she whispered. "Let me serve you."
A shimmering panel appeared beside him, hovering in the air. Anna flinched at the sight of it.
The display was alien and old, pulsing with a strange golden script.
"Oath of Binding Service – Heir Class."
Nova's voice was calm and cold.
"Swear your allegiance. Sign the contract. Serve me, and live."
Anna hesitated only a moment. Then she stepped forward, hand trembling, and pressed her finger to the screen. Her name burned into the light—seared into something older than any database.
The contract vanished.
The room was silent.
Nova turned from her, cloak of bio-fiber trailing behind him. The ship pulsed under his command, systems beginning to wake after a decade of silence.
His gaze lifted to the stars beyond the viewport.
So much had been stolen.
So much had been lost.
But it wasn't over.
Not yet.
The silence between them stretched long and heavy.
The air inside Helios Prime was cold—cold enough to bite through flesh, metal, and reason. Dim overhead lights flickered along the corridor, casting ghostly glows on the wreckage of Anna's crew. They lay sprawled across the floor, motionless and broken. Only one still groaned faintly.
Anna stood frozen, her back straight but her heart pounding. Her eyes remained locked on the man—the being—before her.
Nova.
He stood perfectly still. No rise in breath, no tension in his limbs, and yet… the pressure he radiated was suffocating. Not just power, but ownership. Authority. As if this ship, this corridor, even the air she breathed—all belonged to him.
And maybe they did.
Nova's voice broke the silence. Calm. Measured. Utterly unreadable.
"Where are we?"
Anna blinked. "W-what?"
"You boarded this ship. You woke me. You clearly know where we are. Tell me."
She swallowed hard. "We're on the edge of the Known Galaxy," she said slowly. "Uncharted zone. Dead space. Nobody comes out here."
He said nothing, so she continued, more quietly now.
"I came here because I knew the Galactic Patrol wouldn't follow. This sector isn't worth the fuel. There's nothing but junk out here—and this ship."
Nova turned his gaze to the metal wall beside them. He traced a finger across it. The material was alien and ancient—beyond anything still used in modern ships. The lights dimmed where he touched them, recognizing his signature.
So this was what his empire had been reduced to: myth, scrap, and shadows.
And yet… the bones were still strong.
"We will leave," Nova said.
Anna blinked. "Leave? In this?"
Nova turned back to her, head tilting slightly. "Yes."
She stared at him for a moment, then actually let out a short, breathless laugh. "This ship's dead. Barely any power, zero external propulsion. People have tried to move it. Scavenger crews, blacksite engineers, even mercenaries with stolen tech. No one's succeeded. The energy cores are burned out. The ship is finished."
Nova remained still for a long moment.
Then he took one slow step forward.
Anna stepped back instinctively, her heel brushing the limp arm of one of her crew.
"You're wrong," Nova said simply. "This ship sleeps. It doesn't die."
She frowned. "You don't get it. We barely got into the lower decks. Most of the systems are locked behind tech no one can even understand. The main AI is fused. Every power conduit is fried. You'd need a miracle to reboot it."
"No," Nova replied. "I only need obedience."
Anna's spine stiffened. "Excuse me?"
He stepped forward again, and she stopped retreating only because the cold bulkhead hit her back. His face was inches from hers now, and his eyes—those shimmering, alien eyes—were endless voids of glowing silver.
"You have two options," he said.
His tone never changed. It wasn't a threat. It was law.
"Help me move this ship… or join your companions on the cold floor."
For a heartbeat, Anna couldn't breathe.
He didn't look angry. Didn't look cruel. He didn't even raise his voice.
And that was worse.
She looked past him, to the nearest crew member. Eyes open, blank. Chest unmoving.
Dead.
Her fingers clenched. Her pride screamed at her to say something—to push back, to show she wasn't afraid.
But fear was the only rational thing in her bones right now.
Her eyes dropped.
"…Then we find a way to move the ship," she whispered.
Nova stepped back.
"Good," he said.
The lights around them pulsed faintly in response, as if the ship itself approved.
Anna exhaled shakily, struggling to gather what fragments of composure she had left.
"This… this thing is massive," she muttered, scanning the hallway. "I don't even know where to start. We'll need a core, and there's no chance the original one still works—"
"It does."
She blinked at him. "That's not possible. It doesn't even register on scanners—"
"It's sealed," Nova interrupted. "Hidden beneath ten layers of sub-decks. Built to survive planetary extinction. It only responds to me."
Anna stared. "You're saying you can access the power core right now?"
"I'm saying I will."
Her mind spun.
If that was true—if this ship could be moved—it wasn't just a relic.
It was a god-tier warship.
A myth made real.
And she'd just sworn herself to the one thing in the universe that could bring it back.
Something cold curled in her stomach.
She didn't know if that made her lucky… or cursed.m
Nova turned, heading deeper into the ship without another word. Doors slid open at his approach—systems coming alive one by o
ne, reacting to his presence like a king returning to his throne.
Anna followed, saying nothing.
She had made her choice.
And now, she'd have to live with it.
------
The vault had opened. The heir had returned.
And the galaxy would learn to fear his name.