The spires that dominated the skyline grew denser as Mark and Anissa ascended higher through the atmosphere, their trajectories aligning toward a colossal structure that loomed in the distance above the city. They approached a massive ship which extended nearly three times the expanse of Gotham in its entirety, its hull curving outward in sections that accommodated docking bays along the sides. Smaller vessels nestled within those bays, each one matching the dimensions of the transport that had carried Mark to Viltrum, and that particular ship had rivaled the height of a skyscraper on Earth.
Anissa slowed her pace slightly as they drew nearer, her arm extending to point toward the vessel ahead of them. "This ship is called the Conqueror," she informed Mark. "It belongs to the Warlord Conquest, who commands it as his primary domain."
Mark widened his eyes in astonishment at the sheer magnitude of the ship, his body hovering momentarily as he absorbed the view that unfolded before him. He had anticipated that a figure like Thragg, with his position of authority among the Viltrumites, would possess a vessel of this scale, yet the reality surpassed what he had imagined in his mind.
"How does someone below the Grand Regent have a ship of this size...' Mark said in awe.
Anissa glanced at him while they resumed their approach. "All warlords maintain their own ships of this caliber," she explained, her hand gesturing toward the docking areas where the smaller crafts attached securely. "The enforcers who serve under them, in contrast, utilize vessels similar to the one on which we traveled to reach this planet."
Mark tilted his head in curiosity as they closed the distance to the entry point, his thoughts racing to comprehend the implications of such engineering. "Why do they reach such immense proportions?" he asked, his words directed at her while he scanned the exterior details that became clearer with proximity.
Anissa responded without hesitation, her flight path guiding them toward a massive hangar that opened on the ship's flank. "They function as mobile operating bases," she detailed. "Each one requires full equipping with resources that ensure self-sustainability over extended periods, allowing them to operate independently in remote sectors of space. They must possess the capacity to conquer territories through offensive capabilities, defend against counterattacks from hostile forces, and maintain supply lines that connect back to Viltrum or other planets under our control."
Mark nodded in acknowledgment at her explanation. The interior lighting activated around them upon entry, illuminating corridors that stretched far into the depths of the ship. Anissa then turned her head toward him again, her speed adjusting to a more leisurely pace within the confines of the vessel. "Whatever conflicts humanity has endured throughout its history pale in comparison to the galactic war that engulfs us at this moment," she remarked, her gaze meeting his for emphasis as they proceeded deeper.
Mark reflected on her statement internally, and it aligned with the broader context he had begun to understand since his arrival on Viltrum. The scale of interstellar battles demanded infrastructure on this level, where entire fleets could mobilize from a single command center like the one they occupied now. He shuddered to think what the front lines must look like.
They ventured further into the ship, with Mark still marveling at the intricacies that revealed themselves around every turn. One of the mounted weapons on the outer hull, which he glimpsed through a viewport as they passed, matched the size of an entire smaller ship that docked nearby, the proportions of everything challenged his sense of perspective engineering in ways he had not encountered before.
Slave races from various worlds greeted them at the entrance bay, their forms bowing in unison as Mark and Anissa touched down on the floor. The individuals represented a multitude of species, some with multiple limbs that facilitated their tasks while others manipulated controls with appendages suited to their physiologies, and they offered gestures of deference before resuming their duties.
Inside the ship mirrored the grandeur of its exterior, with vast chambers that interconnected through passageways engineered specifically for Viltrumite use. The corridors extended wide enough to accommodate dozens of beings side by side in flight, and their ceilings soared high overhead, providing ample clearance for aerial movement without restriction. Tens of thousands of slave workers populated the lower levels, each one engaged in maintenance or logistical roles, as they transported supplies or monitored systems that kept the vessel functional.
Mark and Anissa lifted off the ground once more, propelling themselves through the expansive hallways. They flew for several minutes, navigating turns that led upward through the ship's structure, until they reached the upper tier, where the environment shifted noticeably. No figures occupied the spaces here, the corridors empty save for the occasional automated drone that patrolled the area.
Mark glanced around in puzzlement as they continued forward, his curiosity prompting him to voice the observation. "Why does this level remain unoccupied?" he inquired, his eyes scanning the vacant halls that extended ahead of them.
Anissa responded while she maintained their course, her posture relaxed in the familiar setting. "Only Viltrumites or their designated guests receive permission to access this tier," she clarified, her hand indicating the sealed doors that lined the walls. "The others lack the prestige that would allow them to enter our presence, and we reserve these spaces for matters of strategy and command."
Mark withheld any verbal response to her explanation, though internally he harbored discomfort.
They proceeded through the upper corridors, their flight uninterrupted until they approached a set of grand doors that parted automatically at their arrivbal. Beyond the threshold lay a massive arena, its expanse rivaling the size of several stadiums combined, where over two dozen Viltrumites gathered in clusters around the perimeter. Among them stood his father, who conversed with a few others near one side, and Lucan positioned himself nearby, his attention shifting toward them as they entered.
At the very center of the arena, elevated on a throne, sat Conquest. His imposing form occupied the seat, his gaze fixed on Mark as he and Anissa descended to the floor below. The throne overlooked the entire gathering, providing a vantage point from which Conquest could address or observe all who assembled, the other Viltrumites turned their heads in unison toward the arrivals.
Mark landed softly beside Anissa, his feet touching the ground as he took in the assembly that surrounded them. Nolan met his son's eyes from across the room, a nod of recognition passing between them, while Lucan offered a brief acknowledgment as well, though it was only so he could scowl at him.
Conquest shifted slightly on his throne, his voice booming out to fill the chamber as he directed his words toward Mark. "You have arrived," he stated.
Conquest propelled himself off the throne with a sudden burst of motion, his body descending through the air until he landed directly in front of Mark, the impact echoing faintly across the arena floor. Mark held his position without any sign of retreat, his stance steady as he met the warlord's gaze head-on.
Conquest leaned in closer, his nostrils flaring while he inhaled deeply. "You carry the scent of a mongrel," he declared, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized Mark from head to toe.
"Let me tell you something boy... I consider you weak in every aspect that matters, you do not deserve the Viltrumite blood that courses through your veins, which your father passed to you despite his own failings. If the Grand Regent had not intervened with his decree, I would have ended your existencel already, just as your weak father should have done when you were born."
Mark listened in silence, his expression unchanging as Conquest halted in front of him once more. "The Grand Regent has proclaimed you as one of us, however, and I will not challenge the judgment of the greatest among our species, whom we all follow without question. It has now been determined that you will command a mission to assault an enemy outpost alongside the Saiyans, and this order comes directly from the Grand Regent himself, who sees potential where others might not."
Conquest paused for a moment, his gaze intensifying as he stepped even nearer to Mark. "As an enforcer under my authority, though, I refuse to allow someone who appears and reeks of frailty to embody our race in any capacity, especially in battles that define our dominance."
Mark responded by crossing his arms over his chest, his demeanor showing no trace of intimidation or concern, while he maintained eye contact with the warlord.
This display of composure irritated Conquest further, his features twisting as he jabbed a finger toward Mark's face. "I do not want to witness any of your human abilities during this trial," he warned, his voice rising in volume. "As a hybrid you may have abilities beyond a Full Blooded Viltrumite, but from what I've heard your education in your Viltrumite abilities is severely lacking."
Conquest narrowed his eyes. "Thragg is the greatest amongst us he could kill us all without even needing his hybrid abilities, the fact that you could be considered the same as him is offensive... making up for weakness with your abilities makes you weak and I won't have it!"
Mark uncrossed his arms briefly, his head tilting slightly as he formulated his reply. "Why should I listen to you?" he aske calmly, which elicited gasps of surprise and murmurs of anger from several Viltrumites who stood around the arena.
Anissa moved forward quickly from her position beside Mark, her hand extending as if to restrain him. "You must cease this immediately," she urged, her eyes darting between Mark and Conquest while she positioned herself partially in between them.
Conquest raised his organic hand toward her. "Hold your tongue, woman," he snapped, his attention remaining fixed on Mark as he dismissed her intervention without a glance.
Conquest then lowered his hand, his lips curling into a sneer while he addressed Mark again. "I hope you disregard my instructions entirely," he said. "I hope you resist with all the fire you can muster, so that I gain the opportunity to shatter your spine in front of everyone here." He elaborated further, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper that still carried across the chamber. "Once you cross the line far enough that even the Grand Regent withdraws his protection, I will eradicate you completely, along with the women who accompany you, though not before I make use of them and see if I can spawn some Hybrids of my own."
Mark felt a surge of rage building within him at the threat, his fists clenching at his sides as he advanced a step closer to Conquest, their faces now inches apart. The warlord's words had struck a nerve, Mark's breathing quickened while he stared into Conquest's eyes.
Conquest responded with a grin spreading across his face, his teeth bared in anticipation. "Go ahead, boy," he taunted, his body tensing as if ready for the clash. "Provide me with the justification I need, and let us settle this now."
Mark raised his fist instinctively, his muscles coiling for the strike, but he halted himself at the last moment, his mind racing with reminders of his purpose here. He recalled that he had come to this place for the sake of his family, and he refused to allow provocation to derail that goal. He lowered his arm slowly, his anger subsiding as he stepped back, though tension lingered in his posture.
Conquest shook his head in evident disappointment, his grin fading as he turned away from Mark. "Take your place," he ordered Anissa, who complied by moving to a designated spot along the arena's edge.
Conquest then ascended back to his throne, his form settling into the seat as he overlooked the assembly. He lifted his hand high, signaling the commencement of the event, and four Viltrumites whom Mark had never encountered before descended onto the central platform.
"Fight until you reach your limits," Conquest announced from his elevated position. "No other rules apply, and the outcome will determine your readiness for the mission ahead."
(AN: Conquest does not like Mark, I wonder if that had anything to do with a certain conversation. Anyway Mark is gonna have to fight against four Viltrumites if he wants to prove himself)
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