Building Interstellar Empire With Universal Synthesis

Meanwhile, deeply hidden within the most exclusive sector of Earth, the Rothschild Family’s Grand Mansion basked in the warm glow of artificial sunlight.

​The vast estate was a flawless paradise, completely isolated from the pollution and overcrowding of the lower cities. It was a monument to the absolute wealth and untouchable power of the Federation’s ruling elite.

​Patriarch Olegen Rothschild was an old man with neatly slicked-back grey hair and piercing, and calculating eyes.

He sat at the pristine crystal table on the grand terrace. He took a slow, deliberate sip of incredibly rare star-leaf tea. His gaze was fixed on the massive, perfectly trimmer yard stretching out before him, quietly watching his teenage grandson play golf.

​"Dang! Too far to the left again!" the young boy complained loudly, throwing his expensive gravity-calibrated golf club onto the bright green grass.

"Grandfather, these new clubs are completely defective. I want the crafters who made them fired immediately."

​Olegen set his delicate teacup down on the saucer with a soft clink.

​"A true ruler never blames his tools, Julian. If the club is defective, you need to adjust your swing to compensate. You need tk bend the flaws of the world to your absolute advantage. Complaining is a pathetic trait reserved only for those poor bastards."

​Julian lowered his head shame, looking completely terrified of his grandfather’s piercing gaze.

"Yes, Grandfather. I understand."

​Just as the boy picked up his club to try again, a tall man in a flawless black suit walked rapidly onto the terrace.

He was the Rothschild family’s chief intelligence officer. His face was all pale, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he approached the crystal table and bowed deeply.

​"My Lord, forgive the interruption, but we have just received an encrypted, Omega-level emergency transmission from the Gardion Solar Sector."

​Olegen did not even bother looking at the man. He kept his eyes on his grandson’s golf swing as he said:

"Speak. Did Commander Erdogan secure the Dominator Core yet?"

The officer swallowed hard.

​"No, My Lord.... Commander Erdogan is dead. The entire 17th Fleet has been completely eradicated. Only the ground forces survived, and they unconditionally surrendered to the enemy."

​For the very first time in years, Patriarch Olegen’s hand trembled. .

​"Eradicated??" Olegen repeated in a tone as if he found it unbelievable.

"Erdogan commanded a Titan Class warship and 10 Giant Class dreadnoughts. Are you trying to tell me a slum rat with a newly awakened core destroyed a planetary siege fleet?"

​"Ah yes, that would be correct sir. The boy possesses a Ghost Ship equipped with magically synthesized nuclear cannons.

But that is not the worst part, My Lord. Our final orbital scans confirmed the enemy numbers before the flagship was destroyed. Neo Godson has somehow amassed a personal army. He has one hundred thousand fully awakened Beyonders standing under his command."

Clatter!

​Julian dropped his golf club in absolute shock.

Even a pampered teenager knew exactly what 100,000 Beyonders meant. It was an apocalyptic force.

​Patriarch Olegen stared at the scrolling red text on the hologram. The absolute calm he had maintained for decades began to fade.

Fury and greed took over.

​He had initially assumed Neo Godson was just a lucky peasant holding a lottery ticket. He thought the boy could be easily stepped on and harvested. But the reality was far more terrifying.

This boy possessed the power to mass-produce Beyonders.

If they could somehow obtain this power, the Rothschilds family would be unstoppable. They wouldn’t be just rich, they could have a interstellar army of their own.

At that time, they would surpass the Federation.

The old man stood up immediately, his cold and clouded with greed.

​"Summon the Arcane Assassin. If There’s a person who could bring Neo Godson to us, it’s only her."

The officer understood his master’s intention very well.

"But what about the Federation, my lord? The Supreme Council is planning to mobilise full force." the officer stated.

The old man smiled creepily.

"Let them do their job, we will do ours. We must get our hands on that Supreme power before the Browns, Lancasters, and the Billiards. Once we acquure it, the whole unuverse will bow the Rothschilds.."

[ Vesper — The Arcane Assassin POV ]

​Acid rain lashed against the shattered glass of the high-rise penthouse in Sector 4 of the Alpha Centauri colony.

​I slowly wiped the glowing purple blood off my Arcane Dagger. At my feet laid the lifeless body of a rogue Federation warlord. He had a private army of five thousand mechs guarding this heavily fortified building, completely layered with anti-magic fields and thermal sensors.

​It took me exactly four minutes to bypass all of them and slit his throat.

​Armies are for arrogant generals who want to make a lot of noise. I am an artist, and my canvas is the absolute silence in between their heartbeats.

​Suddenly, the encrypted comms embedded beneath my ear buzzed with a high-frequency tone.

​"Vesper," the trembling voice of the Rothschild’s Chief Intelligence Officer echoed through the channel.

​"The job is done," I replied coldly, smoothly sheathing my dagger. "Transfer the 30,000 credits to my shadow account."

​"Keep it. The Patriarch is offering you 500,000 credits, plus an entire Class-3 solar system of your choosing. But only if you accept an immediate, Omega-tier contract."

​I stopped walking.

​Fifty hundred thousands credits? An entire solar system? The Rothschilds were undeniably wealthy, but even they did not throw that kind of apocalyptic wealth around unless they were absolutely desperate.

​"Who is the target?" I asked, my interest finally piqued.

​"A young man. His name is Neo Godson. He is a newly awakened Dominator currently residing on Planet Zenith. The Patriarch demands him brought to Earth, completely alive and intact."

​I let out a soft, mocking laugh. "Heh heh, you are offering me a solar system to kidnap a slum kid who just awakened his core? Are your own Federation lapdogs really that incompetent?"

​"Vesper, listen to me carefully. This ’slum kid’ just wiped out the entire 17th Federation Fleet. He possesses a Ghost Ship. And worse... he is currently guarded by 100,000 fully awakened Beyonders. It is a suicide mission for a military force. We need a ghost."

​For a long moment, the only sound in the penthouse was the howling wind blowing through the shattered window.

​100,000 Beyonders?

​A normal assassin would have severed the connection immediately, terrified out of their mind. An army of that unimaginable scale could crush entire planets simply by marching. If even a single one of them detected an intruder, the sheer concentration of cosmic magic would vaporize the trespasser instantly.

​But I am not a normal assassin. I manipulate the very fabric of space and shadows. To me, a fortress guarded by a hundred thousand pairs of eyes just meant there were a hundred thousand blind spots waiting to be exploited.

​"Fufu, one hundred thousand Beyonders. Now that is a challenge worthy of my time." I stated, my voice chilly.

​"Can you do it, Vesper? The Patriarch’s patience is thin."

​"Yes! An army can protect a king from another army. But they cannot protect him from his own shadow. Tell Patriarch Olegen to prepare my payment."

​Without waiting for a reply, I cut the connection.

​Neo Godson... Let us see if a so-called God can bleed.