Sobek stood at the apex of the pyramid steps, his teal eyes gleaming as they traced the shimmering surface of the Stargate below. The great stone ring flared to life, its event horizon undulating like liquid mercury as wave after wave of slaves emerged, their chains clinking in a discordant melody. A haze of dust rose from the ground where their hesitant footsteps met the ancient stone floor. Hathor had fulfilled her promise. The new influx of laborers and warriors was precisely what he needed to accelerate his grand design.

  Moments later, a massive containment vessel followed through the gate, its edges pulsating with faint blue light as it hovered above the ground. Sobek’s lips curled into a satisfied smile. The beta Goa’uld had arrived. These larval symbiotes were deemed inferior by the System Lords, overlooked in favor of more refined breeds. But Sobek saw potential where others saw waste. He had no interest in petty conflicts over dominion; he sought something far greater—understanding. The intricate dance between symbiote and host had long been treated as mere possession, but Sobek knew better. The perfect host was not simply a vessel—it was a carefully cultivated instrument of control.

  “Bring the children safely to the ritual chambers,” he commanded, his voice a deep resonance against the high stone walls.

  Two serpent-helmed guards bowed low, their armor catching the dim torchlight. “As you command, my lord,” they intoned in unison, their voices distorted by their helmets.

  The massive container drifted forward, guided by precise movements of the guards. Sobek’s gaze lingered on it briefly before he turned to his attendants.

  “Hana. Karri.”

  The two women stepped forward instantly, sinking to their knees before him in perfect synchronization. The flickering light caught the gold accents of their garments, making them shimmer like molten metal.

  “Return to my quarters,” Sobek said, his voice softer but no less authoritative. “Select a batch of attendants from the new arrivals. Train them personally.”

  Their foreheads nearly touched the stone floor as they bowed deeper. “It will be done, my lord,” Hana affirmed, her voice steady.

  “Good.” Sobek dismissed them with a flick of his hand and turned, his robes whispering against the polished stone as he followed the procession leading the container deeper into the pyramid complex. The corridors stretched ahead in labyrinthine elegance, their walls inscribed with ancient hieroglyphs recounting forgotten conquests. The air was thick with the mingling scents of exotic incense and the sharp metallic tang of advanced technology—a reminder of the dual nature of their civilization, where the past and future converged.

  As he neared the ritual chambers, the ambient hum of energy fields grew more pronounced. The doors slid open with a hushed sigh, revealing a cavernous space bathed in the eerie glow of containment fields. In the center of the room, hunched over a control panel, was Jayaar. The frail Goa’uld scientist practically quivered with enthusiasm, his bioluminescent eyes flickering with barely restrained excitement.

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Sobek regarded him with measured detachment. “Jayaar.”

  The scientist froze mid-motion, his elongated fingers hovering above the controls. “Yes, my lord?” he asked, his voice trembling with anticipation.

  Sobek stepped forward, his tone slow and deliberate. “Using what genetic knowledge we possess, I want you to experiment on the weakest symbiotes. Manipulate their genetic code. Push the boundaries of what they are.” He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. “I wish to understand how much of the symbiote’s traits influence the host—physically, mentally. We will create something superior.”

  Jayaar’s eyes widened, his mouth stretching into a wicked grin. “As you command, Lord Sobek! The possibilities are endless. It is a project worthy of your greatness!”

  Sobek nodded, satisfied. Jayaar was a tool, one easily wielded. This endeavor was not mere science; it was the foundation of something far greater. If he could refine the relationship between host and symbiote, he would unlock the means to construct an empire that no System Lord could rival.

  “Report to me in three days with your initial findings,” Sobek ordered. “Document the personalities of the hosts—before and after implantation. Note every change.”

  Jayaar bowed so deeply his forehead nearly brushed the control panel. “It will be done, my lord. The galaxy will speak of your wisdom for eons to come!”

  Sobek turned on his heel, his mind already moving to the next phase of his plans. As he strode through the dimly lit halls, the ceremonial nature of the ritual chamber faded from his thoughts. To many, that space was sacred, but to him, it was merely a laboratory. The Goa’uld deluded themselves into believing their own divinity, a folly he refused to indulge in. Sobek would use their arrogance against them.

  His path led him to the armory, where the scent of scorched metal and oil permeated the air. Here, among racks of weapons and experimental devices, he found Haakja, his chief engineer. The one-eyed Goa’uld was hunched over a workbench, disassembling a Ma’tok staff with meticulous precision.

  Sobek watched for a moment before speaking. “Haakja.”

  The engineer straightened, his glowing eye locking onto Sobek’s. “My lord,” he said, inclining his head slightly.

  “The Ma’tok,” Sobek said, picking up one of the weapons. He ran his fingers over the cool, naquadah-infused metal. “A symbol of our power. And yet, a limitation. Naquadah is our greatest resource—and our greatest weakness.”

  Haakja frowned. “It has always been so, my lord. The cost of power.”

  Sobek’s eyes narrowed. “Then we must change the equation. What happens when we face an enemy who matches our firepower but outnumbers us tenfold?”

  Haakja hesitated. “We have always relied on superior technology and warriors.”

  Sobek exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “And that is why the Goa’uld will fall. Complacency is our true enemy.” He set the Ma’tok back down and turned to the engineer fully. “I want you to develop a new weapon. Simple. Efficient. Inexpensive. Something that will allow us to arm vast forces without draining our resources.”

  Haakja’s single eye gleamed with interest. “A bold idea, my lord. I will begin immediately.”

  “Good,” Sobek said. “I expect five proposals within a week. Use any resources necessary, but the workforce is not to be harmed.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Sobek turned to leave but stopped at the threshold. “One more thing, Haakja. Select a team of human engineers from the workforce. Allow them to contribute.”

  Haakja stiffened. “Humans? My lord, do you trust them with such knowledge?”

  Sobek smirked. “Trust is earned, Haakja. But loyalty can be cultivated. Reward ingenuity, and they will serve with devotion.” His tone turned almost playful. “Perhaps they will surprise you.”

  Haakja bowed once more. “As you command.”

  Sobek left the armory, his mind burning with possibilities. If he could foster innovation while maintaining loyalty, he would hold an unassailable advantage. The System Lords were trapped in an endless cycle of conquest and stagnation. But he would be different.

  He would evolve.

  And he would rule.