(Deep in the Multiverse)
A figure shrouded in shadow moved slowly, methodically, through thick alien foliage. Each step was deliberate, predatory.
In the distance, sounds of violence tore through the air—thunderous impacts, shockwaves rattling the trees, and the sickening smack of flesh colliding with flesh.
Then came a voice. A furious, anguished scream:
"GAH! WHY, DAD?! WHY?! I THOUGHT YOU ABANDONED THE EMPIRE! I THOUGHT YOU CHANGED!"
The man paused. He knew that voice instantly. Vergil.
A cold smirk crept across his face as he reached a clearing, finally laying eyes on the chaos.
In this timeline, Conquest had abandoned the Viltrum Empire. He'd raised Vergil as his son, even becoming king of the pathetic blue insect people after marrying the queen. For a time, he had been a father. But when the queen died, Conquest's resolve cracked. His love faded. Now, duty called him back to the empire.
Despite Thragg's hatred for traitors, the Viltrumites' dwindling numbers—reduced to fewer than a hundred after the War of Light—meant even Conquest and his halfbreed son would be welcomed back into the fold.
That led to this moment: father and son tearing each other apart.
The two Viltrumites moved so quickly that to lesser eyes they would appear as blurs. Each clash unleashed shockwaves that split the ground and shredded the forest around them.
At last, the storm slowed.
Vergil, older here than in the main timeline, hovered above the battlefield. His body was thicker with muscle, his once-wild hair now cropped short and neat. Across from him floated Conquest, bloodied and swollen—one eye swollen shut, nose broken.
Despite the centuries that should have given Conquest the edge, Vergil stood dominant. Aside from a bloodied nose and a few bruises, he was barely scratched.
The man in the shadows chuckled. Annoyingly competent as always. But no matter. He will do.
The fight raged on, father and son trading blows at speeds beyond comprehension.
At one moment, Vergil drove his fist into Conquest's jaw, spinning him mid-air. Conquest retaliated with a backhand that cracked against Vergil's ribs, but his son caught his arm and twisted, hurling him into the mountainside. Rock exploded outward in a storm of rubble.
They moved again—flashes of red and white streaking across the sky, colliding in bursts that shattered the clouds themselves.
After nearly an hour of brutal combat, Conquest faltered. Vergil slammed his fist deep into his father's solar plexus, knocking the air from his lungs. Without pause, he tackled him downward.
The impact shook the land as Vergil pinned Conquest to the ground, his hand crushing his father's throat. Rage twisted his face.
"WHAT DID YOU SAY?! MOTHER WAS NOT A HINDRANCE! I'LL KILL YOU!"
The struggle dragged on, Conquest's immense strength fighting against the inevitable. But finally, his body went slack. The battle was over.
The shadowed man turned to his companions—two beady-eyed Gorlaxn aliens. They exchanged a silent look as Vergil collapsed from exhaustion.
"Kill him," the man ordered coldly. "The body must die for me to take over."
The aliens obeyed without hesitation. A lance of energy burst from their weapon, striking Vergil's forehead. His skull cracked open, brain matter vaporized. The young Viltrumite was no more.
-
-
The process of transplanting one's brain into another's body was delicate—tedious, even. But with the expertise of the Gorlaxns, it was done.
The man opened his new eyes. Gone was his old, disfigured body. Now, he commanded the body of a semi-matured Viltrumite warrior.
Flexing Vergils hands—no, His hands—he marveled at the raw power thrumming through his veins. He clenched a fist and swung casually at a nearby machine.
Instead of resistance, the alien alloy folded under his strike. The machine exploded backward, smashing through a wall in a storm of sparks and twisted metal.
A smirk stretched across his new face.
"This will do."
(Back With the True Vergil)
After hurling Thokk into deep space, we didn't linger. With the Coalition of Planets closing in and rescuing him, staying behind would've been suicide. Even Thragg, though furious, didn't argue. Avoiding a fight with an unknown powerhouse and a Coalition fleet was the smart move.
Now, I was back on my mother's planet. For the first time in what felt like years, I was home.
I lay sprawled across my old bed, staring up at the ceiling of my childhood room. Nostalgia pressed down on me, warm and heavy. For a fleeting moment, peace outweighed all the horrors I had committed for Viltrum.
Mother was nearing the end of her days, yet I felt no dread—only calm acceptance. Mezeek had already stepped up as queen, allowing Mother to retire in peace.
A rare smile touched my lips. I closed my eyes, letting myself drift into a nap—until the door burst open.
Mezeek stood there, her face pale with fear.
"Brother! A Coalition ambassador ship is coming—fast!"
I was on my feet in an instant.
The Coalition might preach "justice," but I knew their true nature. If they discovered that Mother's people had traded with Viltrumites, the entire race would be slaughtered as traitors. Their world stripped for resources.
I launched into the upper atmosphere, scanning the void until I found it—an orange blur cutting across the blackness, closing fast.
I narrowed my eyes and accelerated, closing the gap at near-light speeds. If I could frame this as a random encounter, maybe the Coalition wouldn't learn the truth.
As I neared, I struck. My fist shot forward—only to be caught in a three-fingered palm, stopping me cold.
A telepathic voice rang in my mind.
(A Viltrumite? Here?)
I answered not with words, but with an uppercut. My fist cracked against his chin, hurling the alien backward through space. He righted himself quickly, his shock fading into grim focus.
Then he was on me, fists blurring. We exchanged blows at impossible speeds, every strike unleashing bursts of force that sent asteroids drifting apart like dust.
And he was strong. Strong enough that if this fight had happened last year, he might have killed me. That realization snapped me into seriousness.
I let his fist sink into my gut, trading the blow for a vicious jab to his single eye. He roared telepathically.
(OW! WHAT THE—)
I didn't let him finish. Tackling him at full speed, I dragged him through the void, steering us toward the blazing sun. He clutched at his eye, distracted, unable to resist.
Why the sun? Because I wanted insurance. A power boost—just in case.