The twin suns of Herculio Prime had just risen above the horizon, spilling molten gold across the spires and terraces of the Ducal estate. The palace gleamed like a living jewel, its towers carved from stone older than most dynasties, terraces cascading into perfectly manicured gardens, fountains glinting in the early light. From orbit, the planet shimmered like a beacon, a warning, and a promise.
On the highest balcony, Aurelien Kaelion Herculio stood motionless, a figure of pure majesty. He was six-foot-five, broad-shouldered yet elegantly proportioned, bronze-toned skin glowing faintly under the twin suns. Golden hair flowed like liquid sunlight, catching the light with every subtle movement, and his golden eyes burned softly, almost luminescent, catching the gaze of anyone who dared look for more than a heartbeat. Every line of his chiseled face was perfect, symmetrical, impossibly beautiful, a living sculpture carved by some divine hand. The kind of beauty that drew attention without him trying — commanding it effortlessly.
(Yes , I'm describing my dream man. Deal with it!)
He had returned after seven years in Tartarus, after surviving trials that would have obliterated even some of the most seasoned SSS-ranked awakeners. Now, at twenty-two, he was fully SS-ranked, a prodigy whose growth should have taken decades. Yet he moved as if he were merely a man enjoying the morning breeze. The true extent of his power — the EX-rank talent buried deep within — belonged only to him, a secret he carried with quiet, terrifying pride.
Behind him, the door opened quietly. Valemir Vonrath Herculio, his father, stepped out with measured precision. Bronze-toned and commanding, he radiated Dominant Alpha authority, but like his son, he kept his aura furled. The difference was subtle: Valemir's aura was honed, disciplined, restrained by decades of governing, while Aurelien's simmered beneath the surface, raw and dangerous, barely restrained by conscious will.
"You are home," Valemir said, voice low but carrying the weight of the Herculio name. "And yet, you return without explanation, without obedience."
Aurelien's expression remained unreadable. He turned slowly, letting the sun ignite his golden hair, his unique eyes catching the light and glowing faintly. "I returned because I chose to," he said evenly, each word deliberate, measured. "Not because the Empire demands it, not because you do."
Valemir's dark eyes flickered. He had seen his son fight — even on the surface, Aurelien's exploits were legendary. But he had no idea how far his power had grown in Tartarus, the permanent rift where the heir had disappeared seven years prior. Only Aurelien knew the depth of his strength. And yet, the laws of the empire, the academy, the Imperial Family — they demanded appearances.
"You were meant to attend the Academy when you were fifteen," Valemir reminded him. "The first and greatest institution for awakeners under thirty. Attendance is not a request. It is imperial law, and the Ducal houses exist under the scrutiny of the Empire."
Aurelien's jaw didn't move. He didn't flinch. "I have no need for a school meant for children. I walked Tartarus for seven cycles, faced threats that would make armies falter, and returned alive. Do you truly believe I need lessons in control?"
Valemir's fingers flexed, not in anger, but in taut calculation. Even furled, the bloodline dominance between them created subtle tremors in the air. Courtiers froze mid-step, maids stiffened, and the garden fountains stilled, though no one dared notice. Both father and son could end lives without raising their voices, yet each contained the storm with iron will.
"You underestimate the importance of the Academy," Valemir said carefully. "It is not your strength that I question, but the perception of it. Alliances are forged, politics are learned, influence is extended. The Academy is the surface upon which the Empire measures you — whether you like it or not."
Aurelien's golden eyes narrowed slightly. A spark of electricity danced faintly in the air around his fingertips, a reminder of the Solarion Bloodline's unique power — controlled, yes, but still capable of incinerating anything in an instant. "I am already feared, Father," he said quietly. "Even the Imperial Family whispers about us in the shadows. Do you think they do not know my name? Do you think the fleets, the governors, the very sectors of our house wait for lessons from a school to teach me to command?"
Valemir's eyes darkened. The man was a Dominant Alpha, but Aurelien was different, a Super Dominant, a secondary gender whose very aura could bend wills and test limits of the strongest awakeners. "Foolish arrogance," Valemir murmured, though his tone betrayed no fear. "The Empire makes its rules to control houses such as ours. You may have walked Tartarus, but laws bind all, Kaelion. Even you."
Aurelien's gaze drifted outward, over the spires of the estate, the fleets glinting in orbit like constellations, the governors' messages arriving as if by instinct. Seven years away had changed him, shaped him, perfected him. And yet he remained perfectly unreadable, the apex predator hiding among sheep. "Then let them try," he said softly. "I have returned. They will see what the Herculio heir truly is — whether they like it or not."
Valemir's jaw tightened. He understood what the boy did not say: the empire fears them. Even the Royals relied on laws and Academy decrees to claim a semblance of control over the Herculio house. But Aurelien had grown beyond what even the most ambitious emperor could predict. He could feel the power lurking just beneath that calm exterior, the intensity in his eyes, the dominance that demanded submission without a word.
"You will attend the Academy," Valemir said at last. "Not because of your strength, but because it is expected of you. Because appearances matter more than power when dealing with fools in gold and robes. Your absence will be noticed, and the Empire will interpret it. Do you understand?"
Aurelien's lips barely moved. "I understand," he said, tone void of emotion. "But understand this, Father: I will attend only on my terms."
The wind shifted across the balcony, carrying sparks of golden electricity across the carved stone. Even restrained, the aura between father and son radiated dominance, an invisible forcefield of authority and latent power. Anyone with lesser blood would have collapsed under the weight of it. Yet the Herculio estate and its courtiers remained untouched — a testament to the control mastered by both generations.
Valemir turned away, the conversation concluded yet unresolved, the tension still vibrating in the air. "So be it," he said softly. "Kaelion. The Empire does not make exceptions. Neither do I."
Aurelien returned his gaze to the horizon. Tartarus had taught him patience, patience in addition to strength. The Academy could wait. The Empire could wait. But the galaxy would soon understand that the Herculio heir was no longer a boy, and the Solarion bloodline had just begun to shine.
And somewhere in the farthest reaches of the Ducal sectors, as reports arrived from governors and fleets, the name Aurelien Kaelion Herculio whispered across communications like a storm warning: the sun has returned.
...
...
Across the Aethorian Empire, news traveled faster than light. Or perhaps it was not news so much as a pulse felt across sectors, a vibration of dominance and power that could not be ignored.
In the Imperial Council Chambers, high above the glittering spires of the central galaxy, the advisors gathered in uneasy silence. Crystal screens floated midair, projecting the golden light of Herculio Prime, now stirring with activity after years of dormancy.
"Is it true?" whispered Councilor Veyris, fingers tapping nervously against the armrest of his levitating chair. "The Solarion heir… he has returned?"
A sharp glance from the Imperial Regent silenced him. Her eyes were pale silver, reflecting the holographic projection of Herculio Prime. "He has," she said coldly. "And no one can yet say the extent of his power."
Murmurs spread through the chamber, but no one dared speak louder than a whisper. Even the high councilors, the Emperor's most trusted advisors, felt the subtle gravity of the Ducal heir. The Solarion legacy was legendary , whispered in the same breath as the Imperial Founder himself. And yet, the heir had remained hidden for seven years, vanishing into Tartarus, a place no ordinary mortal or prodigy could endure.
Across the fifteenth galaxy, in the sector controlled by House Varrion, the news arrived differently. Governors and nobles paused mid-step, hands tightening around ceremonial daggers or datapads. A faint hum lingered, like the echo of lightning trapped in bronze. The aura of Herculio Prime had always been formidable, but now it was alive with a returning heir, a prodigy whose presence could be felt across light-years.
"My lord," a subordinate stammered, "they say the heir returned… and he does not intend to attend the Academy?"
Varrion's eyes narrowed, calculating. "If that is true… the Empire may find their control fragile." He rose from his chair, pacing with deliberate weight. Even his loyal aides felt the tremor in his confidence. Seven years in Tartarus… and yet he survived. That alone speaks volumes.
Meanwhile, on the Arcana Academy, the finest institution for awakeners under thirty, instructors and administrators convened hastily. The news arrived as both a challenge and a threat: the heir of House Herculio, long considered a prodigy, was back — and he was not just any prodigy.
Director Altheon, a tall man with hair like obsidian and a demeanor sharper than any blade, spoke first. "He is more than a student," he said. "The Empire underestimated the Herculios. The Academy exists partly to control prodigies like him… but can we? Will we?"
A younger instructor, trembling slightly, whispered, "I… I heard he survived Tartarus. Alone. Seven years. They say he is already SS-ranked at twenty-two. He could surpass even the SSS masters before he turns thirty."
Altheon's eyes narrowed. "That is exactly why we must act. The Empire cannot risk a Solarion heir roaming free, unmeasured. He will be enrolled, under supervision if necessary, but the scales of power have shifted."
Far below Herculio Prime, the people of the fiefs felt it too. Farmers paused in their fields as a strange warmth brushed the air. Governors noticed minor distortions in atmospheric energy — subtle, almost imperceptible — but instinctively stepped back, lowering their voices when speaking of the heir. Even without knowing the full truth, all acknowledged: this was not a man to cross lightly.
In rival Ducal houses, whispers carried like wildfire. The Varrions, the Malverns, and the Drachans — each powerful in their own right — began to recalibrate their politics. Alliances would need adjustment; threats were no longer speculative. The Solarion heir is back. He does not bow to protocol. He may not even recognize our laws.
In the Imperial Fleet Command, captains and admirals debated in hushed tones. Reports had come of orbital disturbances, minor energy fluctuations traced to Herculio Prime's upper spires — faint, almost imperceptible. Some argued it was natural; others, more perceptive, knew the truth: the heir's power reached beyond the visible.
"And the Emperor?" one officer asked nervously.
"He will be watching," replied his superior, voice low. "Herculio is the only Ducal house the Imperial family is ever wary of… secretly. And now, the heir returns. Especially from that place. There is no precedent for this."
Back on Herculio Prime, the heir walked through his estate, silent, regal, aware of every ripple his presence caused. Maids froze subtly as he passed, courtiers straightened, even guards shifted instinctively. He did not raise his aura; he did not issue commands. Yet the weight of his presence was enough to bend the world subtly around him.
From a distance, Aurelien could sense the reactions, not through knowledge, but through instinct honed in Tartarus. Every ripple in space-time, every faint quiver of energy, every instinctive bow or pause — it all fed into his awareness. He moved through it with ease, a living signal of dominance and latent power.
"Let them watch," he murmured to himself, voice calm, a golden flicker tracing along his hair and fingertips. "Let them realize… too late, as always."
Even his father could sense the subtle disturbances as he stood on the balcony watching the heir, but he interpreted it as extreme poise, mastery of SS-level aura. He could not know that his son had already surpassed decades of experience in mere years. All he saw was cold control, unmatched composure, and deadly competence.
And so, across fifteen galaxies, in seventy-five sectors, Herculio Prime's heir had returned. The galaxy did not yet know the storm to come. Allies and rivals alike, the Imperial family, the Academy, and even distant merchants and governors — all felt a ripple of something bigger, sharper, more alive than they had imagined.
In hushed tones, in subtle gestures, in instinctive deference, the entire Empire acknowledged it: the heir had returned, and nothing would ever be the same.
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Mini Theatre:
Aurelien: (looks at the author in disdain) " Took you long enough!".. And couldn't you think of a better name ?
Author: ( cowers in fear behind Jade's throne) " I really did my best , I promise"... "Took three people to think of that name sire"
Aurelien: (pins the author down with his gaze) " incompetent m—"
Jade: ( glares at Aurelien) "Stop it, she's tried her best!"
Author: ( looks at Jade with grateful eyes) " my hero....🥺"
Aurelien: ( glares at the author even more fiercely, then makes puppy eyes at Jade. Grabbing him from his seat and placing him on his lap).. "Baby, how can you take someone else's side against me ?" He said feigning hurt with fake tears . " You wound me my love 🥺"
Goddess Astratea & Author: ( looks at him in disdain) "shameless " x2
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Anyways guys our ML has finally been introduced... Yay!!!! 🎉🎉🎉
I hope I presented him well ..
Anyways thanks for the love and continual support 😘. Bye for now 👋🏽