Interstellar Beast World: All My Husbands Are Powerful and Rich!-Chapter 112: Guests

"So," Matt Slade drawled slowly, his tone edged with unmistakable amusement, "he’s planning to gather a few extra males to help Paros secure his footing."

No one present needed the implications spelled out. Everyone in the room was centuries old—ancient enough to have watched dynasties rise, fracture, and rot from the inside. Among therians who had lived that long, secrets rarely stayed buried for long.

Matt knew exactly what Ethan Gabriel was scheming.

Without missing a beat, he turned his sharp, calculating gaze toward Rory. "Female Master Rory," he said smoothly, "if you’re truly considering taking on followers—or potential mates—you’d be wise to look to our Noble Clan."

There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

"Our mixed species males are broad-shouldered, long-limbed, and striking to look at," he continued unabashedly. "Strength comes naturally to us. But more importantly, we understand how to care for a female." His lips curved faintly. "Choose from our kind, and I guarantee you’ll never regret it."

Ethan bristled instantly, fury flashing across his weathered features. He shot Matt a venomous glare sharp enough to cut.

"You senile bastard," Ethan snapped. "You accuse me of helping Paros secure his position—but aren’t you just trying to stack the board in favor of the Slade line?"

The air between them crackled with old resentment and naked ambition.

They were both guilty—and both knew it.

Neither man held the moral high ground. This wasn’t about principle or fairness. It was about bloodlines, legacy, and the instinct to protect one’s own at any cost.

Matt snorted, the sound sharp with disdain. "Nix isn’t Paros," he said bluntly. "When Female Master Rory was in danger, Nix didn’t hesitate for a second. He stayed by her side through every threat, every battle, every moment that mattered."

His eyes narrowed, hardening as he turned the question into an accusation.

"And Paros?" Matt demanded. "Where was he then?"

Ethan’s mouth opened—then closed again. He had no answer.

As the tension between the two elders simmered, unresolved and heavy, Nix leaned closer to Rory. His fingers threaded gently around hers, squeezing her hand with quiet reassurance. When he spoke, his voice dropped to a low murmur meant for her alone.

"Female Master, don’t listen to them," he said softly. "Neither of them has pure intentions."

His grip tightened just slightly—not possessive, but grounding.

"Jasper, Yuel, and I will protect you," he continued, eyes steady. "You’ll never have to fear for your safety." His voice gained quiet intensity. "Once this is over, I’ll devote myself entirely to strengthening the Interstellar Hunter Alliance—mechs, warships, defenses so strong that nothing will ever touch you again."

Beneath the calm promise, sharp jealousy stirred. With Jasper and Yuel already at her side, Nix could feel the competition closing in, tightening like a noose. If more males entered the picture... would there even be space left for him?

Rory nodded, meeting his gaze with earnest sincerity.

"I have all of you," she said softly. "That’s enough for me."

As for Paros?

The silence that followed spoke volumes.

In her mind, he had already faded into little more than a flashy supplier of star coins.

Truthfully, she barely glanced at the currency he sent anymore.

If not for the black crystal he’d given her—the one that had saved her life—and her continued reliance on his clan’s Second Elder, she would have severed ties long ago.

Paros’s presence felt oppressive. Too domineering. Too heavy. Too suffocating.

Perhaps after this visit, she would return the crystal, offer him one final session of mental comfort—free of charge—and cut the cord entirely. Their bond had already been dissolved.

The Gravicar sped between towering spires of metal and glass, weaving through Central District’s endless skyline.

At the helm, Jasper spoke calmly. "Rory, we’ve entered Violet Obsidian Clan airspace."

Nix tapped the glowing map projected on the Gravicar’s console, highlighting a massive stretch of territory.

"This entire region belongs to the Violet Obsidian Clan. The central zone—that’s where their leadership resides."

Rory’s eyes widened.

"No wonder they’re considered nobles of Central District. Their holdings are enormous."

The scale rivaled that of a small planet.

Nix shook his head.

"It only looks impressive. The Violet Obsidian Clan is a fallen noble house. Their land is vast because their population is excessive—not because their power is."

He spoke without hesitation; he knew Jasper had long since cut ties with the clan.

"In Central District, size doesn’t equal status. Wait until you see Ravaryn territory—that’s true nobility."

Among cold-blooded Dragon Kind, especially Ophidian lines, reproduction came in overwhelming numbers. While other species produced one or two offspring at a time, Violet Obsidian litters could number in the dozens—sometimes even approaching a hundred.

But quantity had never translated into quality.

The clan hadn’t produced a Rank 11 powerhouse in generations. Their glory had faded into history.

"I understand," Rory said quietly, absorbing the lesson.

As the Gravicar neared the clan’s inner perimeter, a smaller patrol ship suddenly darted forward, blocking their path.

"Identify yourselves! State your purpose immediately!"

Rory didn’t even glance at the vessel. She turned calmly to Matt and Ethan.

"This is where the two of you come in."

Ethan rose to his feet, rolling his shoulders as a dangerous grin spread across his face.

"Female Master Rory, just watch. It’s time to teach these little worms their place."

There would be no polite greetings. No restraint.

When you came for revenge—and you had the strength to crush your enemies—brutality was efficiency.

Ethan leapt from the Gravicar mid-flight, his body erupting into a colossal black Dragon Kind form. His roar thundered across the skies, shaking the Violet Obsidian grounds to their foundations.

With a single sweep of his massive tail, the patrol ship was hurled aside like scrap.

A heartbeat later, Matt followed.

His Ravaryn form burst forth in a flash of icy blue, claws carving the air as a storm of crystalline ice spikes rained down like frozen death.

The message was clear.

The Violet Obsidian Clan had guests—and mercy was not on the itinerary.