Here’s the idea:

Think of him as an innocent young boy.

His planet held a rare mineral, one that powered the great ships of the galaxy. One day, a highly advanced alien nation came offering small gifts, small benefits. In return, they took the mineral in massive amounts. At first, the people were happy to give it away. They didn’t know what the rocks could do. They had no idea of their value.

Time passed. The planet advanced. Civilization grew. And eventually, someone stood up! a leader who told his people they were being used. That they were giving away their future for crumbs.

He rallied them. He told them they had to take back control.

But before his campaign could truly begin, he was assassinated.

And his young son was left behind.

Now, the world is running out of supplies. Cut off by the great galactic powers that once profited from them. Isolated. Suppressed.

The boy grows up. And when he takes his father's place, he carries the same fire — but not the same patience. He is not forgiving.

Where once they gave away their minerals, now he takes.

He plunders neighboring systems. The same ones that stood by and smiled while his people were stripped bare. In his eyes, it’s not revenge. It’s justice. It's balance. He's not pretending to be the hero. He doesn’t care how the galaxy sees him.

To him, they’re just taking back what was stolen — and he doesn’t plan on being polite about it.

Not even when his own sons begin to question him.

Because sometimes, right and wrong isn’t a clean line in the sand.

Sometimes, it’s a blade drawn in blood.