Rejected by My Family, Claimed by the Galactic Commander

A sharp scraping of metal on metal sliced through the fog in her mind.

Pain followed. A blinding headache-someone else's dying scream still rattling inside her skull.

Then memories. Not hers. Flooding in like poison.

The Bennett estate. Marble floors. A ceiling so high it could swallow the sky.

"From today, you are no longer a Bennett."

Her father-Preston-sat on the highest seat. He didn't look at her. Like she was a defective product he was finally discarding.

"Father-"

"I can prove myself."

"It's too late."

Camilla was there. Leaning against the sofa, smiling. The smile she always wore when she had already won.

"Sister, you still don't understand, do you?"

"Your ability rank determines your value."

"D-Class."

"Even being my sister is embarrassing now."

The memory shifted. A colder one.

Donnell. Her fiancé. The man she had given everything to.

"So... the engagement?"

He didn't hesitate.

"Canceled."

"Why?"

"Because I can't marry a failure."

He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I need a mate who can awaken her beast-soul, Janae. Not someone who barely flickers."

He threw the betrothal token at her feet. It shattered against the marble.

"Don't beg. It's pathetic."

The memory broke apart.

Janae opened her eyes.

The sky was wrong. Not the high, clear sky of the Bennett estate. A bruised, festering gray, choked with smog. The air was thick with rust and oil and something rotting.

She was lying on a pile of debris. Broken metal. Corroded wiring. The ground beneath her was soft, gray-black dust that smelled of sulfur.

She tried to sit up. Pain lanced through her ribs. Her hands were scraped raw. Her clothes-what was she wearing? Rags. Someone else's clothes.

She looked inward. The vast, forest-like dimension of her personal storage space-

Gone.

A dead, silent void.

She tried to summon the life-giving energy that had once made emperors kneel-

A pathetic trickle. Weak as a dying ember.

Cold panic seized her.

She was nothing. Less than nothing.

A shadow fell over her.

She looked up.

A man stood there. Skeletal. Ragged. His eyes gleamed with a hungry, knowing light. In his hand, a rusted metal pipe.

He grinned. Yellowed teeth. Filthy fangs.

"Fresh meat," he rasped. "I know your type the moment I see you."

He circled her slowly, pipe tapping against his palm.

"Soft skin. Clean neck. No scar on your face." He laughed. "A noble. Clan-born. Some little princess who got flushed down the Imperium's toilet."

She said nothing.

"Let me guess," he continued. "Daddy kicked you out? Or was it a fiancé who couldn't wait to trade you in for a better model?"

The words hit like a physical blow. Janae's jaw tightened.

He leaned closer. "I've seen that look before. The 'I used to matter' look. You know what happens to people like you here? Nothing. You just die slower than the rest."

"You're wrong," she said. Her voice came out rough, unfamiliar.

"Am I?" He laughed. "This place doesn't care whose daughter you were. On the Ashfall Peninsula, there's only one law: you're either holding the pipe, or you're getting your skull caved in."

The Ashfall Peninsula. The name triggered something. A memory from the original host.

The Imperium's dumping ground. Where they sent the broken. The disgraced. The unwanted.

She was here because of them. Because of Camilla. Because of Donnell. Because of every person who had decided she was worthless and thrown her away.

Jed crouched down, bringing his face close to hers. "You can scream if you want. No one's coming. The Imperium doesn't patrol here. Doesn't send rescue. They dump their garbage, and we-" he tapped his chest, "-we clean up the scraps."

Something inside her snapped.

Not fear. Not despair.

Anger.

She remembered Donnell's cold voice. "I can't marry a failure."

She remembered Camilla's smile. "Even being my sister is embarrassing now."

She remembered her father's face. Like she was nothing. Like she had always been nothing.

"You don't know anything about me," she whispered.

Jed chuckled. "I know enough. I know you're going to die here. I know you're going to cry. I know-"

She moved.

Not away. Not to run.

Forward.

She saw a piece of sheet metal. Sharp. Jagged. She grabbed it as she rolled, the edge biting into her palm.

Jed raised the pipe. It whistled down toward her skull.

She threw herself sideways. The pipe slammed into the ground where her head had been. Gray dust exploded.

"Still fighting?" He lunged. Kicked her in the ribs.

Pain. White-hot. Her organs felt like they were rearranging themselves. The copper taste of blood filled her mouth.

But she didn't fall. She didn't cry.

She thought of Donnell. She thought of Camilla. She thought of every moment they had made her feel small.

A D-Class failure.

Even being my sister is embarrassing now.

Don't beg. It's pathetic.

Jed bent down. Grabbed her by the hair. Yanked her up.

"See?" he said. "In the end, you're all the same. Just meat for the grinder."

His face was inches from hers. She could smell his rotten breath. See the veins in his bloodshot eyes.

"No," she said.

Then she struck.

The metal shard drove deep into his throat.

He froze.

Blood-dark, hot, arterial-gushed over her hands. His eyes widened. He made a sound, a wet gurgle.

She pulled the shard out. He collapsed, clutching his neck. His mouth opened and closed. Like a fish gasping for air.

"Not meat," she said, her voice steady. "Never meat."

She watched him die. His eyes stayed open. Staring up at the gray, festering sky.

Janae fell back against a pile of old tires. She was gasping. Her ribs screamed. Her hands were slick with blood.

She looked at the corpse beside her. She didn't feel triumph. She didn't feel horror.

She felt something else.

Cold.

She was alive. That was all that mattered.

She forced herself up. Checked her injuries. Bruised ribs. Scraped hands. Nothing broken. She would survive.

A howl echoed in the distance. Some unseen beast, maybe miles away. But it reminded her: danger was everywhere.

She needed shelter. Food. Information.

She needed to find the Reclamation Center. The only settlement on the Peninsula. The only place where she could trade, barter, survive.

She looked at Jed's corpse. A cold, practical thought formed.

Even the dead were resources here.

She started searching his body.

She moved quickly. Methodically.

Her hands still shaking from the fight, but her mind already detached.

Like she was processing an experiment, not pawing through a dead man's pockets.

First: a datapad. Screen cracked, but alive. Still functional.

Second: a small pouch of nutrient paste. Military Surplus, faded label.

She tore one open and squeezed the gritty, rust-flavored paste into her mouth.

The energy hit fast-a small heat spreading through her chest. Not enough. But better than nothing.

She dragged Jed's body behind a rusted shipping container. Hid it from view.

The Peninsula scavengers would find it eventually, but by then she'd be far away.

She leaned against the cold metal wall. Breathed. Let the memories surface.

The original Janae Clark. An offshoot of the Bennett family. Minor. Weak. A D-Class "failure."

Her beast-soul barely flickered. The elders called it a shame.

Her father couldn't look at her.

Her step-sister Camilla took every opportunity to remind her how worthless she was.

And then Donnell.

The engagement had been arranged since childhood.

She had loved him. Truly, stupidly loved him. The way a drowning person loves the shore.

But when her rank was confirmed, when the test results came back-D-Class-he stopped pretending.

"I can't be seen with you."

"I need a mate who can awaken her beast-soul."

"This is for the best, Janae. You'll understand someday."

He had thrown the betrothal token at her feet. Shattered.

She had picked up the pieces. Hands trembling. And he had laughed.

Camilla had been there too. Waiting. Ready to take her place.

Three days later, the exile order arrived.

The Ashfall Peninsula. The Imperium's dumping ground. A place where beast-kin went to die.

And the original Janae had died. Starvation. Despair. A broken heart in a broken body.

Only to make room for someone else.

Janae let out a slow breath.

"Your family," she whispered to the ghost of the girl, "is a nest of vipers. Your fiancé is a coward. And the people who threw you away-" she paused, "-they will never know peace."

It wasn't a wish. It was a promise.

She examined the faint life energy inside her. Plant affinity. Earth-Blessed, some called it. Low-ranked, barely worth mentioning.

But Janae knew better.

She had once mastered this power to its highest degree.

If she could find seeds and soil, she could turn this wasteland into an oasis. That certainty was unshakeable.

But first: shelter. Money. Seeds.

She powered on Jed's datapad.

A prompt flashed: Automatic Genetic Registration – Mandatory for Exiles.

Some Imperium tracking program. The original's memories confirmed it. A way to monitor the outcasts.

She dismissed the prompt with a swipe.

She didn't notice the small icon flickering in the corner. Background Sync. The Imperium's genetic database already had her sequence.

She found the map. The nearest settlement: the Reclamation Center. A hub for scavengers. A place to trade, buy, survive.

Scrolling through cached files, she glimpsed another headline: Genetic Registry Updates – New Match Protocols Approved.

She scrolled past. Irrelevant. What mattered was the path ahead.

There was more on the datapad. Cached messages. She opened them.

From Camilla. Three days ago.

"Sister, I hope you're doing well. Father said you wouldn't be left stranded."

She opened the next. From Donnell. Two days ago.

"We're done. Don't contact me again."

And then-one more. A message that had never been sent. From the original Janae. Drafted but never delivered.

"Father."

"I really am sorry."

"I know I failed you."

"I know I'm not what you wanted."

"But I promise-I won't cause any more trouble."

"Please. I just want to come home."

Janae stared at the screen. The words burned.

She begged them. Even after everything. Even after the betrayal. Even after they threw her away.

She deleted the draft.

"Your apologies," she said quietly, "are wasted on them."

Then she added, to the ghost of the girl, "Your home is gone. But I'll build you a new one. And when I do, they will be the ones begging."

She shoved the datapad into her pocket and dragged Jed's body to the chemical pit-a bubbling pool of corrosive sludge nearby.

She pushed him in. The body sank. Vanished without a trace.

She stood at the edge, watching the bubbles rise.

Jed's voice echoed in her head. "You're either holding the pipe, or you're getting your skull caved in."

He was wrong about one thing. She wasn't getting her skull caved in.

She was going to hold the pipe. And then the sword. And then an army.

And when she was done, Donnell Anthony, Camilla Bennett, the entire Imperium-they would all remember the name Janae Clark.

She started walking.

The ground was soft gray-black dust. It puffed up with every step.

The air tasted like sulfur and metal. Every breath burned.

After half an hour, she saw it: crude outlines on the horizon. A graveyard of steel giants. The Reclamation Center.

Her energy was almost gone. But her will kept her moving.

She solidified her goals. One: find shelter. Two: sell scrap for credits. Three: find seeds.

Her power was gone. But she carried something more valuable. Knowledge. The kind of knowledge no one in this galaxy possessed. That was her true capital.

She clenched her fists, her eyes burning with a fierce light.

She hadn't come here to die. She had come to build an empire.

From the ruins they had thrown her into. From the ashes of the girl they had discarded.

She would grow something from nothing. And they would all watch.

Janae finally reached the Reclamation Center. It was less a center and more a sprawling slum built from shipping containers and scrap metal lean-tos.

The air hung heavy with the smell of sweat, cheap alcohol, and burning fuel. People shuffled through the makeshift streets, their faces etched with the same desperation she'd seen in Jed's eyes.

She pulled her collar up, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, and walked into the chaotic settlement.

A memory surfaced. Today was the original Janae's twentieth birthday. According to Imperium law, her personal citizen account would be activated today.

The original girl had clung to the hope of receiving an adulthood stipend from the Bennett family. A final, desperate wish.

Janae found a public information terminal. With a sliver of hope she didn't know she had, she logged in using the original's credentials.

A line of cold, hard text appeared on the screen.

Account Balance: 0 Credits.

No stipend. Not even the basic citizen's welfare payment. The Bennett family had been thorough. They had erased her completely.

Janae looked at the zero and let out a dry, humorless laugh. She should have known better than to expect anything from anyone.

She logged out, severing the last thread of connection to her past.

Hope was a luxury she couldn't afford. Self-reliance was the only way. Her gaze shifted to the vast junkyards surrounding the Center. They were dangerous, but they were also full of opportunity.

She needed money. Resources.

Ignoring the stench, she walked into the scrap fields and began her search, her expert eyes scanning for anything of value.

For hours, she dug through twisted metal and discarded machinery, her hands becoming scratched and raw.

Just as exhaustion was about to claim her, she spotted an unusual green glimmer beneath the charred remains of a ship's engine.

Her heart skipped a beat. She carefully moved the heavy debris, digging out three fist-sized crystals that pulsed with a soft, green light.

The moment she saw them, her breath caught in her throat. She knew what they were.

In her world, they were called Life Source Crystals, treasures containing the purest form of life energy. A single one could revitalize a dying planet.

She couldn't believe it. Her hands trembled as she picked one up, feeling the immense, pure power humming within.

Here, they might be called Energon Crystals, but their essence was the same. This was the key to restoring her strength.

A wave of pure joy washed over her. She almost laughed out loud but forced herself to stay quiet.

She quickly wrapped the crystals in a rag and hid them inside her shirt, her heart pounding against her ribs.

With these, she could do more than just grow plants on this wasteland. She could rebuild her entire dimension.

Calming herself, she knew she couldn't reveal her treasure. She gathered a few other pieces of valuable-looking scrap as a cover for her find and headed back.

She found a recycling shop and sold the ordinary scrap for a handful of credits.

It was enough to rent the cheapest available dwelling-a derelict capsule pod-and buy a few days' worth of water and nutrient solution.

As she passed through the trading hall, she couldn't help noticing: there was no green anywhere. Not a single potted plant, not even a dried leaf on display. The absence struck her as strange, but she filed it away for later.

Once inside the relative safety of the pod, she took out the crystals again, her mind racing with plans.

Direct absorption was wasteful. She needed tools to refine and catalyze their power.

She stepped out of the pod and looked at the mountains of junk with new eyes.

To others, this was a graveyard of trash. To her, it was a storeroom of raw materials for building the alchemical equipment she needed.

She wasn't just going to survive. She was going to use this trash to rebuild her power.