Building Interstellar Empire With Universal Synthesis

Neo and his group arrived at a secret underground facility under Leon’s lead.

​It was a secret hideout of the Aizenberge House, so they had no problem entering.

​Once inside, Neo threw Marcus’s limp body like a ragdoll.

Bam! Marcus hit the wall and groaned in pain.

​Neo looked at Elena and Clark, saying, "Elena, Clark, go tie him to a chair and peel his skin. Then, rub salt into his wounds. I want to see how long he can remain so loyal to the Byzon Company."

​"Will do, Your Highness," they replied unanimously before attending to the task.

​Marcus felt his heart sink deeper into despair.

​"Cough... bastard... I told you... I don’t know anything," he muttered with great difficulty while the two Hypermechas tied him up.

​Neo’s cold face loomed dangerously close.

​"I can see through your lies, Marcus. You want to be loyal to the end; you want to earn some vain recognition, but I will not let that happen. I want to see you break. I want to see you cry tears of despair after you finally spit it all out from your gutter. And make no mistake, there is no one who can save you now."

​Marcus swallowed a mouthful of his own blood, mentally and physically bracing for the torture to come. But he couldn’t stop his body from trembling.

​His hands and legs were shaking.

​Elena and Clark did not possess human empathy. They were Hypermechas, completely devoid of mercy, existing only to execute the absolute will of their master.

Clark began first, his synthetic fingers morphed into a series of razor-sharp scalpels.

​Then, as if expert surgeon, Clark cut through the fabric of Marcus’s ruined suit, exposing the trembling, bruised flesh of his chest and arms.

​"Please... wait—arghhhhh!"

​Marcus’s plea was instantly stopeed by a blood-curdling shriek.

Clark’s scalpel dragged slowly across the executive’s forearm, peeling back a long, thin strip of skin.

Naturally, blood oozed out and spilled over the metal restraints of the chair.

"Ahhh, pain pain pain..."

Marcus thrashed wildly, as if he had gone mad.

​But it was only the beginning.

​Elena held a large container of coarse, unrefined synthetic salt.

Without a single change in her expression, she plunged a handful of the abrasive crystals directly into the raw, exposed muscle of Marcus’s arm.

​"GAAAHHHHHH!"

​Marcus screamed so violently that his vocal cords tore. He choked on his own blood and saliva, while his body convulsed in the chair like a dying fish.

The salt burned the flesh like sizzling fire.

Elena stated near his ear,

​"Your current pain index is at seventy percent. We can sustain your consciousness up to ninety-nine percent before your brain permanently ruptures. Speak now. My lord demands the truth."

Marcus could speak. White foam oozed out like venom inflicted.

​Leon stood near the doorway, watching everything with calm.

As a veteran Type-6 Beyonder, he was no stranger to violence, torture, or death.

But still, the effortless dominance Neo exerted over his subordinates, and the terrifying power of that demonic woman named Noir, left a lingering chill in his bones.

To be able to control a demon of that caliber.

Just what was Neo’s identity?

​He was unable to contain his curiosity any longer.

​"Boy, I have fought in the stellar wars. I also seen warlords, planetary governors, and Ascenders. But none of them commanded the kind of suffocating aura you do. None of them could make an ancient shadow demon bow, or the person summoning it.’"

​Leon’s gaze turned intense, as if trying to seeing through Neo.

​"Who are you, Neo? Really? Why is a massive, intergalactic mega-corporation like Byzon risking the wrath of the Central Federation just to target your family? What do they want from you?"

​Neo stood arms in his pockets, while the agonizing screams of Marcus Hutchin served as a grim background track.

Zestia knew a part of his ambition, and Noir knew everything. Still, they waited to hear the clarification from his own mouth.

Next thing Neo did was shocking.

​He reached for the collar of his blood-stained shirt. Then with a smooth motion, he unbuttoned it and let the fabric slip from his broad shoulders, exposing his bare back to the dim light of the facility.

​Leon’s heard instantly skipped a beat..

The reason:

​Engraved directly onto the flesh of Neo’s back was a massive, intricate crest. 𝒻𝓇𝑒𝘦𝘸𝑒𝒷𝓃ℴ𝑣𝘦𝑙.𝒸ℴ𝘮

It was not a tattoo, that’s for sure.

​It was the crest of a Flying White Dragon.

​The moment the mark was exposed, the environment in the room turned cold.

The crest of Eragon felt almost alive.

It was almost as if a Godly entity exposed themself.

Under its pressure, even the shadows in the room seemed to pay homage.

​Leon’s eyes widened as saucers. He knew what these kind of crests signifies. They couldn’t be replicated.

​"By the damned...You... you are a Dominator..."

​Dominators were the natural Rulers of the Universe. They were entities born not from genetic mutation or technological enhancement, but from the concentrated will of the cosmos itself.

A single Dominator possessed the inherent right and power to subjugate entire star systems, their very existence a threat to the established hierarchy of the modern galaxy.

​If Byzon had discovered that a dormant Dominator was residing on Earth, they wouldn’t just want him dead, they would want to harvest his cosmic lineage, to dissect him and steal the absolute power of creation and destruction for themselves.

Taking his mother and sister was the only way they could force a god to his knees.

​Neo gracefully pulled his shirt back over his shoulders, hiding the glowing dragon once more.

​"Now you understand," Neo said coldly, "Byzon did not just kidnap a human’s family. They stole from an Emperor. And for that, I will wipe their entire existence from the face of this universe."

Leon gulped and nodded. Despite being 10 years older than Neo, he felt insignificantly small.

Suddenly—

"Arghhh! I... give.. up. They are in the middle-east."