The Solari Nexus Starport pulsed with interstellar life. Ships of every shape and origin docked and launched in perfect synchrony, guided by invisible AI traffic matrices. The air carried the scent of ozone, fuel, and spice from twenty systems. Neon billboards in hundreds of languages advertised everything from fusion-fried noodles to Aether-backed quantum stocks.
At Docking Bay 17A, Leon Drayven stood silently, his gaze fixed on the Cradle of Wealth. The ship's hull gleamed with its newest upgrade—an Aether-infused alloy, rare and notoriously hard to synthesize. Its subtle iridescence shimmered like oil over silver, reflecting not only light but fragments of the surrounding space-time itself.
Zerath approached, his cloak rippling behind him like water. "You know, even the Black Sun Cartel doesn't use that alloy."
Leon replied without looking at him, "That's because they don't think like traders. They think like warlords."
"You're spending money like you're immortal."