Galatea was already there when they entered the lab, standing near one of the observation windows that looked down into the medical chamber below. She had changed, dressed in a Viltrumite uniform nearly identical to Kara's. She stood stiffly, arms crossed, but her eyes softened when she saw Mark.
Mark moved to her first. "Galatea," he said.
She inclined her head slightly. "He's here. They moved him as soon as the equipment was ready. I stayed with him. I didn't want them doing anything without us knowing."
Mark's eyes lingered on her for a moment, then shifted past her shoulder to the sight of the medical crib suspended at the center of the lab. Dante lay inside, thin beams of blue light passing over him. The machines surrounding the cradle hummed and ticked, streams of alien script flickering across floating displays. For a long moment Mark couldn't move closer; the rise and fall of his son's chest looked shallow, as if each breath was a fight.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself forward. His hand brushed Galatea's shoulder briefly in wordless gratitude before moving on. Kara followed him closely, her fists clenched tightly at her sides. Raven's eyes locked on Dante immediately, her expression carefully neutral but her aura darker than usual, betraying the churn underneath. Harley muttered under her breath as she carried Lucy, "Christ, looks like somethin' straight outta one of them mad scientist horror flicks."
The lead scientist stepped forward then. He was lean, almost gaunt, with elongated eyes that moved quickly between instruments. Two insectoid assistants hovered at his side, their carapaces clattering as they shifted datapads and racks of vials into place.
"The child's condition is critical but not irreversible," the scientist said. "His genetic structure is unstable. The Viltrumite strain is trying to assert dominance, but it is opposed by the foreign blood within him. The two are tearing at each other. If left untreated, his body will collapse within days."
Mark's jaw tightened, but he forced his voice to remain calm. "What's the treatment?"
The scientist gestured to a case one of the assistants carried. Inside were rows of sealed vials filled with a faintly glowing amber fluid. "A serum. Once injected, it will bind to his cells and stabilize the competing bloodlines. Afterward, he will be placed into a regenerative tank. There, the serum will take hold over several months and restructure his DNA until balance is achieved."
Mark's eyes narrowed. "What's in the serum?"
The scientist hesitated. His lips parted, but before he could speak, a new voice filled the chamber.
"It is a compound made with the blood of our King."
Every head turned. Thragg entered through one of the tall doors at the far side of the lab, flanked by no guards. He wore no ceremonial armor now, only the simple white and crimson uniform, yet his presence filled the room.
Mark's brow furrowed. "King?"
Thragg stopped beside the observation platform and looked directly at him. "Before I was Regent, before the Council, there was Argyll. The first and l last true king of Viltrum." He explained. "When the Guardians of the Universe turned us into what we are, it was Argyll who endured the first and most brutal changes. His blood was... different. Hundreds of years ago it was discovered that it could as stabilizing agent when introduced into a Hybrids bloodstream. We used it rarely at the time as a a had not yet perfected the formula."
Mark blinked, thrown. "You're saying my son's life depends on a king who's been dead for... what, thousands of years?"
Thragg inclined his head. "Yes. Argyll's DNA remains viable. We keep it safeguarded, and only I authorize its use. Your son will survive because of it."
Kara's hand tightened around Mark's forearm. "So you're putting alien king's blood into him."
Thragg's gaze turned on her, his tone unchanging. "Not alien, he is a Viltrumite himself. The foundation of us all. If not for Argyll, there would be no Viltrumites."
Harley scoffed loudly from the back. "So let me get this straight. You're sayin' you got some creepy king-blood juice sittin' in a fridge somewhere, and now you're gonna turn the kid into, what, Royal Viltrum Jr.? Christ, even Gotham's villains don't run rackets this weird."
Thragg's eyes shifted to her, and for a moment Mark thought he would snap. But instead the Grand Regent gave the faintest of smiles. "You have fire. I see why he keeps you."
Harley muttered, "Yeah well, you ain't seen nothin' yet," and pressed a kiss against Lucy's cheek.
Mark's shoulders were tight. The explanation made sense in its own way, but it didn't ease the weight in his chest. Dante's life resting on some ancient king's bloodline... it was not a comfort, and yet there was no choice. He nodded slowly. "Then do it. Just make sure he lives."
Thragg regarded him with an intensity that felt like a test. Then, after a pause, he nodded once. "It will be done." He lingered another beat, then his expression shifted, the faintest grin curling his mouth. "But before that, how about we circle around to our conversation from before. ."
Mark knew what was coming.
"Our spar," Thragg said.
Mark looked at Kara, at Galatea, at Harley holding Lucy, at Raven rocking Waylon quietly at her side. He exhaled hard through his nose, then turned back. "Fine, let's do it."
Raven stepped forward before anyone else could move. "I'm coming with you," she said simply.
Mark hesitated only a moment before nodding. "Alright." He kissed her, then turned back to Thragg.
Thragg gestured toward the side corridors, his tone almost amused. "Then let us see, Mark Grayson, what kind of warrior you truly are."
Kara stepped in close before Mark could follow Thragg. Her hands came up to his chest, fingers pressing lightly into the Viltrumite uniform he now wore. "Be careful," she said. Her blue eyes searched his,. "He's not like the others. Don't underestimate him."
Mark nodded. He put a hand to the side of her face, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. "I'll be back," he said simply.
Harley butted in next, shifting Lucy against her hip. "Yeah, well you better be," she snapped, though her voice wavered just enough that it betrayed her nerves. She jabbed a finger at him with her free hand. "Don't you go doin' somethin' stupid like gettin' yourself torn in half, got it? 'Cause if you do, I'm marchin' right up to Viltrum Heaven or wherever the hell you'd end up, and I'm draggin' your ass back down, there is no way in hell I'm being a single mother again."
Mark couldn't help the small huff of a laugh that escaped him. He leaned forward, kissed Lucy's dark hair, then pressed a quick kiss to Harley's lips. "Don't worry. It's just a spar."
Galatea stood a little apart, her posture more rigid than the others. When Mark turned his eyes to her, she let out a sharp breath through her nose. "Don't get reckless," she said flatly. "I'd rather not have to explain to your children that their father was an idiot."
Mark smiled faintly. She wasn't as good at hiding the emotion as she thought. He stepped over, placed a hand briefly against her upper arm, and leaned closer. "I'll be fine. Watch the kids for me."
She gave the smallest nod.
Mark straightened, looking at all of them in turn—Kara, Harley, Galatea with Waylon, Lucy reaching a little hand toward himl. "Stay here. Look after them. I'll see you soon."
Then he turned and followed Thragg out, Raven stepping to his side as the heavy doors slid shut behind them. Thragg walked with his hands clasped behind his back. After a few moments of silence he spoke. "You are not human," he said to Raven without turning his head. "Your aura feels... darker. Your parentage is not of earth are they?"
Raven's steps didn't falter. "It doesn't matter," she said flatly. "My origins aren't important."
Thragg glanced at her sidelong, eyes narrowing in faint amusement. "I once encountered someone who felt similar. Long ago, in another system a far away place." He paused. "He was powerful. Unstable. His presence burned like a wound in reality."
Mark's stomach tightened at that. Another child of Trigon? Had Thragg seen one of Raven's half-siblings in the past? He didn't voice it, as he knew Raven wouldn't want to talk about it.
Thragg continued as if the silence didn't matter. "Your son Waylon, is it?" His eyes flicked briefly to Raven, then back forward. "I am eager to see whether he will display any aptitude for your energy manipulation. Such an ability, combined with his Viltrumite heritage, would create a weapon the galaxy has never known."
Raven's face remained still, but Mark caught the faint flare of her aura at the mention of her son as a weapon.
Thragg went on. "In fact, all of your children display potential. The Kryptonian. The Earthling. And you." He looked back at Mark then, his smile faint. "I am curious whether your daughter will inherit the same hybrid powers you wield."
Mark frowned. "She isn't a hybrid and even if she was...," he said firmly. "Her mother's human."
Thragg chuckled. "And yet bloodlines have a way of revealing themselves, sometimes in ways that defy expectation. Time will tell." He waved a hand, as though brushing the thought aside, though his eyes lingered a little too long on Mark's face.
They left the secret base and headed to the spire, and the sound of distant voices began to filter in, they were quiet at first, then growing louder, echoing through the halls. Thragg smiled. "Word has already spread. All Viltrumites currently on-world will be in attendance. They are eager to see a hybrid clash with me."
Mark's jaw tightened. He didn't care for the spectacle, didn't care about the audience. "I'm not here to put on a show."
"No," Thragg said smoothly. "You are here to show the rest of our race why they should not question your presence."
The doors at the end of the corridor parted, and the roar of the gathered crowd washed over them like a wave. The arena was not separate from the spire. It was built into it, a massive chamber hollowed out from the core. The walls were smooth white metal that climbed high, tier after tier, forming rows where Viltrumites stood shoulder to shoulder. The ceiling was open to the blue sky, light from the star flooding the chamber.
Over a hundred Viltrumites had gathered. Mark's eyes swept across the crowd. He saw his father standing near the front, Anissa stood beside him,, following every step Mark took. Lucan was further back, his hands clenched into fists as if he was eager to see Mark fall. The rest were strangers, but every gaze on him was the same, each one eager for the fight.
The noise was constan as people talked and shouted. But when Thragg raised one hand, silence dropped through the chamber like a stone.
Mark walked forward into the center, Raven behind him until she stopped at the edge. The floor was plain metal, no markings, no rings. Just space. His boots echoed as he stopped across from Thragg.
Thragg looked at him, his smile faint. "This is where strength is measured. Nothing else matters here."
"The shields should be enough to contain the fight, but in the event they do not I suggest we take to the skies lest we level the city," Thragg suggested.
Mark nodded, he then got himself ready. He rolled his shoulders m, squared his stance, and lifted his fists.
Thragg's eyes lit faintly blue. "Good," he said. "Then let us begin."
The arena quieted as Mark and Thragg drifted into the center, their bodies suspended in the air. The crowd pressed close to the edges, hundreds of eyes fixed on them, the weight of Viltrum itself watching. Mark clenched his fists, keeping his eyes locked on Thragg. Thragg gave him a faint smile, as if he were humoring him.
"Don't hold back," Thragg said.
Mark didn't. He shot forward with his fist leading. His knuckles cracked against Thragg's forearm as the Regent blocked it casually. Mark followed with a straight punch toward the ribs, then a snapping kick to the chest, but Thragg shifted his weight midair and deflected both, the force scattering out into the walls. Thragg struck back instantly. His jab snapped against Mark's cheek, then a reverse punch landed in his his other, knocking him back through the air. Before Mark could recover, Thragg's knee shot upward, colliding with his torso, folding him briefly.
Thragg went for another punch, but Mark caught Thragg's wrist, twisted, and shoved it aside. He lashed out with a hook that caught Thragg across the jaw, sending him sliding backward through the air. The crowd let out a collective roar as Thragg steadied himself, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand.
"Good," Thragg said, grinning faintly. "You hit harder than Nolan did at your age."
Mark growled and surged forward again. He fell into a roundhouse kick that Thragg leaned back from, the heel just grazing his face. Mark used the spin to bring his leg down in a hammering stomp from above, but Thragg caught his ankle with one hand, twisted, and flung him sideways. Mark spun through the air, righted himself, and shot back at him. They clashed midair, fists striking against fists, shockwaves rumbling across the chamber. Mark pressed forward with a flurry; a jab to the chin, a cross to the chest, then another fist aimed for the temple. Thragg blocked each, then slipped inside his guard. His elbow snapped into Mark's nose, making his head whip back, and before Mark could breathe, Thragg slammed his knee up into his stomach and spun him around by the shoulder.
Mark snarled and countered by wrapping his arm around Thragg's and yanking him down, trying to drag him into a lock. Thragg let it happen, then pivoted in the air, slipped out, and swept Mark's legs with a sharp kick and with one hand slapped downward that sent him flipping forward before he landed hard on the metal floor, cracks spidering beneath him.
He pushed himself up quickly, glaring up at Thragg. "You aren't taking this seriously..."
Thragg floated down a little closer, smiling thinly. "It is hard to when you fight like one of those ground based life forms. Flying is not a tool you turn on and off, a Viltrumites heritage is the sky."
Mark launched himself upward with both fists raised. He smashed one into Thragg's chest, the other into his shoulder, then tried to drive him down. Thragg let the hits land, then shoved forward with his forehead, cracking it against Mark's nose. Mark reeled, but Thragg grabbed him by the arm, spun, and hurled him across the chamber. Mark crashed into the wall, the metal crumpling under the impact.
He tore free and rocketed back, throwing a series of rapid kicks; one to the chest, one to the side of the head, then spinning into a back kick that clipped Thragg's chin and forced him back slightly.
Thragg steadied himself again, his grin widening. "Better. But still too slow, you have not been training your speed have you?"
Before Mark could follow, Thragg blitzed him, his hands a blur. He slammed a fist into Mark's ribs, then an uppercut that snapped his head back, then drove a straight punch into his chest. Mark coughed but grabbed at Thragg's arm. "Unlike our strength which grows with every battle, our speed does not increase to the same degree, no it must be trained." Thragg didn't resist, he twisted with the grip, flipped Mark upside down, and dropped him like a hammer into the floor again.
Mark rolled and sprang back to his feet, his breathing hard but steady. "You're enjoying this."
Thragg chuckled. "I am, you are the only other like me, I'm excited to see how strong you are at your juvenile age."
"I'll show you then!" Mark snarled and shot forward again. He jabbed twice at Thragg's face, then cracked him in the jaw with a heavy right hand. As Thragg drifted back slightly, Mark lunged, wrapping both arms around him in a bear hug. He twisted, flipping Thragg over, and drove him down toward the floor in a crushing suplex. The arena shook when Thragg hit.
The crowd gasped, but Thragg was already laughing. He shoved Mark off, rolled smoothly to his feet in the air, and darted forward. His fist slammed into Mark's gut, folding him, then another crushed against his back as he spun him around. He caught Mark by the throat, lifted him high, and then flung him upward.
Mark righted himself mid-flight, wiping blood from his lip. He shot downward with a diving punch. Thragg caught it with his palm, absorbing the full force without budging, then shoved him away with a kick to the stomach.
"You're strong," Thragg said calmly. "But strength is not enough against me, you'll need to be smarter than that."
Mark bared his teeth and surged forward again, throwing a hook to the jaw and then a rising uppercut. Thragg blocked both, slammed his elbow into Mark's temple, then grabbed his arm and wrenched it behind his back midair. With a twist, he hurled Mark across the chamber again, his body skipping along the metal like a stone across water. Mark rolled back to his feet. Thragg floated effortlessly in front of him, his posture perfect.
"Is that all?" Thragg asked mockingly. "Or will you show me something worth my time?"
Mark wiped his mouth and reset his stance. He drew a slow breath and tightened his hands. The air around him bent and seemed to warp slightly. Dust lifted from the floor and hung in place.
Thragg's eyes narrowed. "There it is."
Mark moved. The space between them collapsed. He didn't push off like before; he folded the air and let it pull him. He was on Thragg in an instant, faster than his body alone should allow. His fist crashed into Thragg's forearm guard and the impact rattled the tiers. He chained a straight punch into Thragg's sternum, the force doubled by his gravity manipulation.
The spire shook under the power.
Thragg slid back a hand's breadth and smiled. "Yes..."
Mark stepped in again, gravity dragging his hips through the line of each strike. His fist snapped to Thragg's face, the cross hammered centerline, and the floor shook each time his knuckles landed. Thragg blocked and parried, but the weight behind each blow kept stacking.
Mark's heel whipped up in a tight spin and clipped Thragg's temple. As Thragg drifted, Mark grabbed his wrist mid-rotation, rolled his shoulder, and slung him in an arc. Thragg flew end-over-end toward the wall.
"Good," Thragg laughed as he tumbled.
Mark didn't let him settle. He folded the air again, dove under Thragg's fall, caught him by the waist, and dragged him down in a steep plunge. He released a hand-span above the floor and let Thragg bounce in a hard ricochet. Mark met the rebound with an elbow across the ribs, then locked a hand behind Thragg's neck and drove a rising knee under the chin. The blow lifted Thragg higher.
Thragg grinned through it, eyes bright. "More! Give me more!"
Mark twisted with the lift and spun Thragg into a descending corkscrew. As Thragg tried to square his shoulders, Mark shot up under him and drove an uppercut through the centerline, sending him vertical. Mark pivoted on the plane of his own field and snapped a back kick into Thragg's ribs, sending him skidding sideways across the air.
Mark chased. He circled at a speed amplified by his subtle use of hravity. He caught an arm, turned the circle into an outward fling, and hurled Thragg across the span. Before Thragg could steady himself, Mark rose above him, seized his shoulder on the upswing, and dragged him down in a straight dive. They dropped fast. At the last instant, Mark released, rose a body length, and slammed both hands down between Thragg's shoulder blades. The floor cratered. Shockwaves rolled up the tiers.
Silence held for a beat.
Thragg floated up through the dust, face lit with open delight. "Yes! Yes! This is it! Show me what makes you special!"
Mark didn't answer. He yanked the air again. The pull around his arms tightened. He fired a probing jab at Thragg's eye. Thragg slipped outside, but Mark's cross chased him and smashed chest. Mark's hip turned through and snapped a round kick into Thragg's neck. As Thragg drifted, Mark latched the forearm and spun, slinging him away while Mark slingshotted after.
Mark hooked an arm through Thragg's, and wrenched him into a tight spiral. Thragg tried to square, but Mark got there first and drove an uppercut through the middle. Thragg rose. Mark pivoted and smashed a spinning back kick across the ribs, sending Thragg sliding across the aire.
Mark bent the air. He shot forward along the slip. He latched a grip at Thragg's shoulder and wrist, rotated around him at speed, and built force in a tight circle. He flung Thragg outward on the peak of the arc. Thragg streaked away. Mark climbed, cut across the fall, grabbed the forearm mid-arc, and drove him straight down from above. At the last instant, Mark let go, clapped both hands together on Thragg's back, and hammered him into the floor. The chamber boomed. Dust plumed. Cracks ran from the impact in long lines.
Thragg floated out of the crater without a mark on him. He rolled his shoulders once and laughed from his gut. "Now the fight has started."
"Enough warm-up," he said.
(AN: So a pretty long chapter, I'm gonna try do more long chapters though tbh idk if you guys like it I might do a poll. Longer chapters take more time, so you'll have to wait longer. Anyway hope you enjoy.)
(AN 2: Doesn't apply here short chapters will be normal)
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