After every slaughter, when the demons fell quiet, his madness turned inward.

He began dragging their corpses into the fortress.

Bathing in their blood.

Veythar knelt in the pooling ichor, his essence swirling through the viscous fluid, and chanted in the Viridian tongue, the forbidden hymns of his race’s ancestors.

“Kael’thar vess uin, mar’thul sen vora…“

The words echoed through empty halls, syllables that predated the Empire itself.

No one knew the meaning of the words. Not even him.

They were fragments from a time before his clan had joined the galactic fold, before civilization had tamed the Viridian homeworld.

It was said he once prayed to the stars. Now, he mocked them.

He would scream at the heavens, blood dripping from his mouth, fists raised toward the void beyond the fortress walls.

“Give me my son back… or give me a world to burn!”

His voice cracked, raw from days of battle and rage.

Yet none dared stop him.

Not even warriors from imperial clans.

Because Veythar was rare.

Dual-essence Stellars were too valuable. There were barely only a few hundred across the galaxy, each one commanding entire sectors of the frontlines.

Space alone was devastating. Corrosion alone was deadly. Together, they were apocalyptic.

Mad or not, Veythar’s insanity held the line.

The sector that should have fallen times over still stood, defended by a broken monster who killed demons the way others breathed.

And so everyone watched from afar… and did nothing.

They filed reports. Sent concerned transmissions to their superiors. Requested his replacement.

But no replacement came.

Days passed.

Veythar sat alone in his chambers, surrounded by demon corpses and the stench of decay.

One day, his node blinked again, and he read the message.

“By decree of His Majesty, Patriarch Veythar is relieved from frontline command. You are free to return.”

For a long, terrible moment, he stared.

Then he began to laugh.

He understood perfectly. Even through the madness, he wasn’t a fool.

He had watched the transmissions. He had heard Adrian’s speech, his proclamation before the galaxy.

The human who had murdered his son, standing before the galaxy, declaring that knowledge belonged to all.

He knew he still had a month left on his duty. No one in the empire was released early.

Unless someone wanted something.

Unless someone wanted him.

He sat in silence for a few seconds, piecing together fragments of recent news. The human, Adrian. The so-called Patriarch of the Origin Clan and their knowledge spheres.

The timing was too perfect.

Then another ping on his node. A short, encrypted transmission.

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No sender. No signature. Just coordinates.

He opened it.

“Your son’s killer’s coordinates.”

Coordinates of a ship leaving the Aethelian capital.

Current trajectory, projected route, detailed path through nexus gates.

He threw back his head and laughed until blood dripped from his teeth.

“The galaxy itself delivers him to me.”

He stood, his body shimmered, dual essences spiraling together.

“Clan laws,” he whispered, “Empire laws… all meaningless. My son’s blood cries louder than all of them.”

His warriors heard the words through the fortress walls and fled.

Without hesitation, he cloaked himself in his space essence, and corrosive essence hissed across his limbs, melting the stone beneath his feet.

He blinked and stepped into a Nexus Gate directly, without even a ship, just using his body to travel.

Space bent violently, and he was sucked into the portal.

And thus, a new terror slipped free of the frontlines, a Dual-Essence Stellar, drunk on vengeance, his madness aimed at one name and his entire race.

Adrian Blackwood.

…

Adrian was following the Duskbane fleet, unaware that across the endless dark, a storm was hunting him.

They crossed multiple Nexus Gates, the familiar lurch and fold of space becoming routine, until finally, the final gate opened to reveal a quiet space.

Then Hours passed in warp before Kaelith’s calm voice came through the comms. “We’ve arrived.”

Adrian moved to the viewport. Varik joined him, curiosity on his face.

Before them hung a small, blue and green planet, peaceful, untouched, unaware of the chaos that devoured the galaxy beyond its skies.

Its continents shimmered under soft light, rivers threading through forests. No orbital stations, no defense grids, no scars of war.

A fragment of peace in a galaxy that had forgotten the meaning of the word.

Adrian stared at it, a faint ache stirring in his chest. It reminded him of Earth, the cradle he had left behind, and the human world he had saved weeks ago.

Two fragile sparks surviving in an uncaring galaxy.

So much had changed since then. He founded a clan, stood before the galaxy. Yet this quiet world turned untouched, innocent of the blood spilled in its name.

He turned to Varik. “When we return, purchase the planetary rights for this planet under the Origin clan. And also another planet, I will pass the coordinates later.”

Varik blinked. “Both will cost millions of crystals. Worlds like these don’t generate revenue for centuries.”

“I know.”

Varik smiled faintly, seeing for the first time what kind of leader Adrian truly was. “You’d spend millions of crystals for a world that doesn’t even know you exist?”

Adrian’s gaze lingered on the planet. “If we don’t, no one will.”

For a fleeting moment, he smiled, realizing that beneath all the chaos, all the power and blood, the galaxy still hid gentle places. Worlds that hadn’t yet learned fear.

Worlds that didn’t need war.

And then, a voice tore through the void. “Adrian Blackwood!“

It resonated through essence itself, bypassing comms, bypassing hull and shield. The shout shook space itself.

Adrian’s ship shuddered violently, alarms screaming as panels flickered. The artificial gravity wavered, and Varik grabbed a support rail.

Kaelith’s warships reacted instantly, their formations flaring to life, shields blooming around each vessel.

Adrian’s ship trembled again, its hull wasn’t built for battle. The scout vessel groaned under pressure it was never designed to withstand.

Adrian turned toward the sound. Through the wide viewport, he saw him.

A single figure standing upon the void, no ship, no armor, just a presence that twisted the void around him.

Veythar. Patriarch of the Emerald Serpent Clan.

Adrian recognized him instantly, the same face from the Galactic Net archives, though the real one was far worse. Blood stained his robes. His eyes burned with unnatural light.

His eyes were wide, unfocused, burning with something beyond fury. Madness.

Veythar spread his arms, and the void screamed.

Space fractured around him as two domains erupted simultaneously, Space and Corrosion, folding together into a monstrous domain, unnatural.

The vacuum hissed and bubbled as if existence itself were melting.

Adrian’s Source pulsed instinctively. He felt it, two distinct essences. Not merged. Not unified. Coexisting in violent harmony.

Varik stammered, “He wields two essences like you, my lord, how?”

He had seen Adrian comprehend the fire concept and create a domain, but he thought it was unique to Adrian.

Adrian didn’t answer. He didn’t know.

Until this moment, he thought only the Source allowed such things. That his affinity alone broke the rule of one essence.

And yet, here stood a man who shattered that rule.

Most believed no being could wield more than one essence. But in truth, the few who could mostly spent their time on the frontlines or in positions so high that most beings in the galaxy would never reach them.

Only commanders and veterans who had spent their entire lives at the edge of the demon war knew about dual essence wielders.

Veythar’s grin widened, madness seething in every line of his face.

Before Adrian could even react, before Varik could raise the defense protocols, Veythar moved.

Veythar raised one hand. A black-green vortex gathered in his palm, essence folding tighter, burning hotter, until the void itself ignited.

Space collapsed inward. Corrosion ate at the collapsed space, creating something that shouldn’t exist. A singularity of decay.

And then he unleashed it.

A single blast, a spear of space and decay intertwined, struck Adrian’s ship head-on.

The hull split apart in a heartbeat.

The scout vessel tore in half, its interior exposed to the merciless void.

Adrian’s essence flared instinctively, a barrier of Source wrapping around himself and Varik as the ship disintegrated around them.

They floated in open space. The planet hung serene below them, untouched by the violence above.

Kaelith’s voice crackled through Adrian’s node. “Adrian! We’re coming—”

“No.” Adrian’s voice cut through, “Protect the planet. Don’t let him near it.”

Veythar stood across the void, his dual domain writhing around him, studying Adrian with eyes that had forgotten sanity.

“You survived.” Veythar’s grin widened. “Good. I want you to feel every second.”

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