First Intergalactic Emperor: Starting With The Ancient Goddess-Chapter 476: Tracking Down

Kylus sat in the cockpit with his hands on the controls, eyes locked on the forward displays while the ship cut through its route. Data streamed across layered panels, navigation feeds and tactical overlays shifting as crew moved around him without speaking unless spoken to.

Then his breathing changed.

It came shallow at first, uneven, chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with exertion. His fingers flexed against the controls as if pressure alone could steady it, but the sensation didn’t ease. It crept upward instead, heavier, sharper, dragging heat into his throat.

"Readings," Kylus said, voice strained. "Take over."

A crew member stepped in immediately, hands replacing his with efficiency that didn’t require explanation. Another leaned toward a diagnostic panel, eyes scanning metrics as Kylus pushed back from the seat and stood.

He left the cockpit without waiting for confirmation.

The corridor outside felt longer than it should have. He walked at first, boots striking the deck in controlled steps, shoulders tight, jaw clenched. The pressure behind his eyes built instead of fading, his breathing hitching again as he pushed himself forward faster, then faster still.

By the time he broke into a run, it was no longer about getting somewhere. It was about not stopping.

He skidded at an intersection, cursed under his breath, then reversed direction abruptly as if the destination had changed mid-thought. His pace didn’t slow. He cut down another corridor and shouldered into the washroom entrance hard enough to make the door snap fully open.

He reached the cubicle and slammed it shut behind him.

Kylus leaned forward over the basin instead of sitting, gripping the edge with both hands as his body convulsed. Thick blood spilled from his mouth in violent bursts, splashing against the metal surface and dripping down in dark streaks. He gagged again, breath tearing in and out of his chest until the wave finally passed.

He stayed there for a moment, bent over, breathing through clenched teeth.

When he straightened, his legs felt unsteady but he forced them to hold. He turned on the sink and rinsed his mouth repeatedly, spitting until the water ran clear. He scrubbed his hands clean, then leaned closer and splashed his face.

Blood traced from his nose.

He wiped it away with the back of his hand and stared into the mirror, eyes bloodshot, skin drawn tight with something that looked too close to panic to be anger. His reflection didn’t blink back at him kindly. It looked brittle. It looked cornered.

Kylus set his palms against the sink and held himself there.

"I need to find Lyra," he muttered. "Now."

His jaw tightened as he met his own gaze again, the urgency settling deeper instead of fading.

"Before it’s too late."

Kylus’s device vibrated against the counter before the ache in his chest had fully settled.

He straightened, wiped his mouth one last time, and answered immediately as if nothing had happened. A voice came through immediately, telling him to report to the operations center because there were updates.

He moved before the voice even stopped speaking.

The center was already active when he arrived, displays lit with route maps and live feeds. His assistant was there ahead of him, standing near the main console, posture composed, red skin catching the glow of the screens. Kylus didn’t look at her when he spoke.

"Bring me something to drink," he said. "The stabilizing mix. And make sure it’s cold."

She nodded and turned without comment, boots carrying her out of the room at a pace that said she knew better than to hurry or delay.

Kylus shifted his attention to the crew member waiting near the primary display. "What’s the update?"

The man tapped a control and brought up a live channel. "We’ve got new information on Lyra and the others."

The call connected a second later.

A woman appeared on the screen, late twenties by the look of her, hair tied back poorly, clothes worn thin and torn in places that suggested travel rather than fashion. She stood near a railing, and behind her the ocean stretched out under open sky, waves breaking against a hull somewhere out of frame.

She swallowed and spoke quickly. "My name’s Maris. I saw the people from the bounty posters on a ship."

Kylus leaned forward slightly. "Proof."

She nodded and flicked her wrist. "I took pictures."

A moment later, another display lit up beside the call. Candid images scrolled into place, grainy but clear enough. Faces caught mid-step. Lyra unmistakable. Reva’s posture familiar even through distortion. Viola and Requiem visible in the background of one frame, half turned.

Kylus’s breathing steadied.

"Where was this?" he asked.

"On the sea route," Maris said. "I haven’t seen them for two days. They must’ve gotten off somewhere along the way. I don’t know where."

Kylus’s eyes stayed on the images. "Where is the ship now?"

She glanced off-screen, checking something. "It’s registered near the Breakwater Coil."

Kylus turned his head slightly. "Trace its route. Every stop. Every slow point. I want to know where it docked and where it lingered."

The crew member moved immediately, fingers flying across the console as route data began populating the display.

Maris hesitated, then spoke again. "There’s something else."

Kylus didn’t look back at her. "Speak."

"I don’t have any money," she said. "The man I was with got me pregnant. We ran away together and then he left me on the ship. I don’t have a family to go back to. I don’t have anywhere to go. I just need help."

The room stayed quiet.

Kylus studied her through the screen for several seconds, expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was even.

"Get off at Redwake Terminal," he said. "Someone will be there. They’ll arrange housing and work."

Her face lit up with relief. "Thank you, I—"

Kylus cut the connection.

The screen went dark.

His assistant returned a moment later and placed the chilled container in his hand. He took a long drink, then set it aside without comment.

"Plot a course to Badlands," Kylus said, already turning away. "Then reroute toward the ship’s last confirmed stop."

The pilots acknowledged and began adjusting the trajectory.

Kylus stood there watching the route lines shift.

"Finally."