"What should we do now, Mr. Salamar? Do you know what the Ghost is planning?" a scavenger asked fearfully, looking toward the old man with a white beard and a weathered, rough face.

​"Yes, Mr. Salamar, is the Ghost abandoning us? I feel uneasy. If the ship leaves now, our enemies will hunt us down in the open."

​"Please do something, Mr. Salamar. Only you can go and talk to the Ghost. We don’t want to lose our sanctuary!"

​A man with a black beard and a jagged knife scar clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Tsk. Look at this pitiful bunch. Scared out of their wits already. You weaklings should just die."

​"Shut up, Iron Fang!" another person from Salamar’s side shot back. "You don’t have the right to mock us when you’ve been living like a rat yourself."

​"Damn bastard, do you want to fight?" Iron Fang cursed, leveling a heavy-duty machine gun at the crowd.

​Mr. Salamar calmly raised his hand, silencing the room.

"Iron Fang, instead of fighting, I think we should think of ways to communicate with the Ghost again. He may provide us with an explanation of the current situation."

​Iron Fang cracked his knuckles, though he lowered the muzzle of his gun.

"He better, old man. We’ve been collecting tributes for this ship for years. How can he just abandon us like this?"

Zzzz!

​Suddenly, the flickering monitors throughout the market stabilized, turning a deep, authoritative crimson.

Soon, every speaker in the Market crackled to life, but it wasn’t the usual synthesized drone of the Ghost.

It sounded cold and authoritative.

​"The Ghost hasn’t abandoned you. But its purpose has changed. And so has your management." the voice announced, projected from the Main Core.

​On the largest screen in the square, the image of a dark haired young man sitting upon a throne of obsidian and chrome appeared.

The way he crossed his legs over the other spoke volume of the power shift happened in silence.

The young man continued,

​"My name is Neo Godson. From today, the Ghost is no longer a sanctuary for the aimless. It is now the vanguard of my legion. You have two choices: continue your petty squabbles and be left behind in the dust, or swear fealty to the new Emperor of this vessel."

​The market fell into a deathly silence, broken only by Salamar’s audible gasp.

​"An Emperor? But you look so young," he whispered.

​Iron Fang spat on the floor in disgust. "Exactly. Do you think we’re fools? I don’t know how you took control of the Ghost, but I’m not falling for your lies. I’ll leave if I have to, but I won’t follow a kid’s stupid delusion."

​Neo remained completely unmoved by the rejection. "I am not forcing anyone. Those who want to leave, I will not stop you. But remember: do not force others to follow you. Otherwise, you will learn a very hard lesson."

​Iron Fang said nothing more. When the main hull lifted, revealing the night sky of the Blue Slime Planet, he and his nine companions departed. Soon, more followed. 10... 30... 100... 300.

​The count eventually reached 500. Out of the 1,200 people living within the ship, 500 did not believe in Neo. Of the 700 who stayed, some were drawn in by his charisma and confidence, while others followed simply because they felt they had no other choice.

​"700 people... That is more than I expected," Neo said coolly.

​Mr. Salamar, the current leader of the scavengers, lowered his head.

"I don’t know why, Your Majesty, but I want to follow you, even if I won’t live long enough to understand my choice."

​Neo smirked, his eyes narrowing into slits. "Oh, you will, Salamar. The subordinates of this Emperor will not die of natural causes. Come, meet me in the control room."

​"Go, Mr. Salamar. As our representative, talk to him about our demands," a young woman whispered.

​Salamar exhaled a long sigh and began making his way forward.

​Meanwhile, the Titan-class ship, spanning roughly 5,000 square kilometers. finally ignited its thrusters at full capacity.

​BUZZZZ!

​The ignition and vibration alone shook the mountains and rivers. The thruster wash turned nearby jungles and the surrounding land into scorching embers.

The departing scavengers ran as fast as they could, fleeing the wake of the rising behemoth.

​"The G-forces are stabilizing. Trajectory set for the Eastern Continent. Estimated time of arrival at Grey City: 2 hours at cruise speed."

​Neo watched the curve of the planet through the viewscreen, his fingers drumming on the obsidian armrest.

"Good. And Clark, I want a full inventory of the 700 residents. Filter them by skills: mechanics, combatants, and laborers. If we are building an empire, I need more than just scavengers. I need specialists."

​Dr. Clark bowed low. "By your command, My Lord. I shall begin the ’refining’ process immediately."

​Elena stood by the throne, "And what of the 500 who left? They know too much about your takeover."

​Neo’s expression turned cold. "Let them talk. By the time their words reach the wrong ears, I’ll be far more than just a boy on a stolen ship."

Riiing~

​Followed by a chime, Mr. Salamar stepped in, looking small and fragile against the backdrop of the star-faring bridge.

He looked at Neo, then at the monstrous Abyssal Hounds, and finally at the mechanical lifeforms of Elena and Clark.

He immediately deleted all prior doubts about the young man’s capabilities. If he could tame so many incredible figures, he is surely not ordinary.

Upon arriving before the Iron throne, he gave a respectful bow.

​"Your Majesty, we are a simple people. We want safety and food. What is it that you truly want from us?"

​Neo stood up with effortless movement, almost as if riding air, exactly how an higher lifeform would have.

"Safety is a lie, Salamar. I offer you something better: Power. But in exchange, your lives belong to me."

Salamar’s eyelids trembled.

"Power? How far do you want to go, your majesty?" he asked.

Neo’s gaze turned to the stars, "To The End!"