Deep within the endless folds of hyperspace, where starlight was stretched into razor-thin ribbons and causality itself lagged a heartbeat behind motion, a stealth spacecraft cut through the space in absolute silence.
The spacecraft had no banners or factional insignia, as its hull was layered with overlapping runic plates that swallowed light rather than reflect it, and every fluctuation of energy around it was smothered the instant it appeared.
Even Legendary Kings, if they happened to glance this way, would perceive nothing but empty transit lanes.
Inside the vessel, the atmosphere was dense with pressure because of the two figures standing within the central command hall, their presence alone bending the surrounding space.
The first was a handsome man, tall and refined, draped in treasure-laden robes that shimmered with restrained brilliance. Each fold of cloth was embroidered with ancient sigils that pulsed faintly, as if breathing.
