A/N: Next chapter coming soon.
The battlefield stretched endlessly, a haze of dust, smoke, and fire. The ground was cracked and broken, scarred by craters from heavy bombardments. Wreckage from fallen ships littered the terrain. The air was filled with the dull rumble of engines overhead and the sharp cries of battle that came from every direction.
A Coalition soldier trudged forward, boots sinking slightly into the loose earth. His uniform was coated in dirt, sweat rolled down the side of his face, leaving streaks in the layer of dust that clung to him. His rifle was heavy in his hands, but he kept moving. The sounds of Viltrumites clashing with the hybrids above mixed with the shouts of other Coalition soldiers and the screams of Thraxans who tried to flee or fight back.
The soldier adjusted his grip on the rifle. He told himself he was just doing his job, that orders were orders, but his stomach tightened each time he saw the Thraxans. They were not warriors like the Viltrumites. They looked like people caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Movement ahead caught his eye. A group of Thraxans broke from cover, running with desperation in their eyes. A man, two women, and a young boy who could barely keep up.
The soldier raised his rifle. "Stop! Surrender and lie on the ground!" he shouted, voice cracking.
The Thraxans kept running. Fear propelled them forward, their eyes darting back at him but their feet refusing to slow.
"Damn it," he muttered under his breath. He pulled the trigger. Four bolts of blue light shot across the ruined street, set to stun, though, not kill.
Before the bolts could reach their targets, a figure dropped from the sky.
He landed between the blasts and the fleeing Thraxans, his cape whipping around him in the hot wind. The bolts splashed harmlessly against his chest, scattering like water against stone.
The soldier froze.
The figure stepped forward with calm assurance, reached out, and gripped the barrel of the soldier's rifle. No matter how the soldier pulled, the weapon refused to move. With almost no effort, the man crushed the rifle in his hand until the metal crumpled like tin foil. He tossed the ruined weapon aside.
Silence hung for a brief moment.
The Thraxans stared. The soldier's heart pounded in his chest. It was not just the strength that stunned him; it was the uniform. Red and white. That color scheme carried meaning.
The Thraxans whispered among themselves. "The Viltrumite leader…" one said under her breath. "Emperor Nolan."
But the soldier saw something different. The man's presence was commanding, his posture like that of a leader who feared nothing. "The banished one, Thragg," the soldier whispered, his grip tightening on nothing, his rifle now a heap of twisted metal.
Confusion spread quickly. The Thraxans looked skyward. The Emperor Nolan was still there, fighting hybrids high above the clouds. If he was up there, then who was this man? Was he perhaps their missing leader?
An older Thraxan woman found her voice first. She stepped forward, pulling the boy protectively behind her. "Who are you?" she asked.
The soldier blinked at her in disbelief. How could they not recognize their own leader?
The figure stood tall. "My name is Mark Grayson," he said firmly. "But most know me as Invincible."
The Thraxans were slightly fearful and confused. The soldier's eyes widened. That name held great meaning to both sides. Stories had traveled of the half-blood Viltrumite who defied his people and essentially started this battle, the one who helped destroy the Viltrumite homeworld, the one who had vanished years ago on a mission no one ever explained.
Mark smirked faintly to himself. Nailed it. Badass superhero entrance line accomplished.
He turned to the soldier. "Make contact with Emperor Nolan and the Great Allen. Tell them I've returned. Tell them the attack must stop and they need to fall back."
The soldier hesitated before doing as he was told. The reactions from the Thraxans proved that he wasn't their leader, Thragg, and only Emperor Nolan would be able to determine if this was his son or not.
Mark shifted his attention to the Thraxans. "Gather your people. Find everyone you can and stay together in one place. I'll keep you safe."
The woman gave a stiff nod. She guided the boy and the others back, her face still uncertain but her movements faster now, more confident. She didn't know why one of the people Thragg labeled as their most hated enemy was helping them, but she'll take the help.
Mark lifted off the ground. He streaked across the battlefield, landing wherever fighting was fiercest. Coalition soldiers raised rifles only for him to snap them in half with casual strength. Viltrumites dove for fleeing Thraxans, only for him to intercept and knock them aside. He shouted the same thing to both sides: the fighting is over, stand down, fall back.
Word spread quickly. Both armies began to hear the same name whispered across the chaos. Invincible.
Mark had just pulled a Coalition pilot out of the cockpit of a burning fighter when something slammed into his back. He thought it'd be an attack, but then realized it was not a strike at all. It was a hug.
"Mark, my boy!"
The voice was booming, familiar, unmistakable.
Mark turned his head and found himself face-to-face with a version of his father. Emperor Nolan, though not exactly the same. This Nolan was wearing the garb of the Viltrumite Emperor that he usually wore himself, and his facial hair was fuller. His handlebar mustache extended down his jawline, thick enough to almost form a beard. Otherwise, he was the same man Mark knew.
Mark chuckled. "Hey, Dad."
Even though this was not his actual father, he was practically the same.
Nolan pulled back, gripping his shoulders with a firm hand. Worry creased his face. "Where have you been? You vanished. We thought you were dead. And why are you calling for a retreat?"
Mark sighed. He knew this part would be annoying to tell multiple times. "There's a lot to explain, and I'll tell you everything. But first, this fighting has to stop. I need representatives from both sides to sit down and talk about what I have to say."
Nolan's brow furrowed, his tone softening in a way that was almost placating. "Mark, I know you've never liked killing. I know war doesn't sit right with you, but..."
Mark raised his hand to cut him off. "This isn't about me being afraid of war. I have a way to end this without more bloodshed. Even for the hybrids."
Before Nolan could answer, a voice came from behind them.
"I'll listen. But only if your people retreat and stop killing mine."
Mark turned.
Ursaal stood there. Her purple skin bore cuts and bruises, her hands were covered in the blood of Coalition soldiers, and her face was marked by fresh wounds from fighting a female Viltrumite. Even so, her stance was strong and her eyes unwavering.
"I am Ursaal," she said, her voice steady. "Eldest daughter of Thragg. His strongest soldier. His second-in-command."
Mark smiled slightly. 'That's good. A representative for their side.'
"Alright," he said. "We'll retreat. You should get treated, then we'll meet aboard the Viltrumite mothership. It'll act as Neutral ground. Meaning there will be no fighting and no traps."
Ursaal studied him, her face stoic as usual, then nodded. She flew back toward her forces, and moments later, the signal went out. The hybrids began to fall back.
Nolan glanced at his son, still skeptical. "I don't know what you're doing, but I'll trust you for now."
XXXX
As they flew back toward the Viltrumite ship, Nolan couldn't help but notice the changes. Mark was taller than before, his shoulders broader, his frame stronger. He was not the same young man Nolan remembered from 3 years ago.
Inside the ship, the cool air was a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. Before Mark could settle in, another hug hit him, this time from the front.
"Mark! You're alive. We thought you were gone!"
Allen's voice was full of relief. This Allen was larger than the one Mark knew, his body hardened by years of battle. He picked up and squeezed Mark in a crushing hug before pulling back with a wide grin.
Mark laughed. "Good to see you too, Allen. But we need to end this fighting. I have information, important information about Thragg and other things. We need to talk."
Allen's smile faded. "Mark, this is the best chance we've had to finish Thragg. Without his army of children and Thraxan breeding camps, he has nothing. We could wipe them out and leave him powerless."
Mark shook his head. "Have you even seen Thragg since this started?"
Allen hesitated, then admitted, "No."
"Exactly," Mark said. He folded his arms, speaking with firm conviction. "You're assuming he needs them. What if he doesn't need them? What if he's found something stronger? Or worse, a weapon that makes him unstoppable even without an army?"
Allen frowned. "That's just speculation."
"True, but it's a risk you can't ignore," Mark countered. "If there's a chance of peace with the hybrids, we should take it. That way, if Thragg did resurface, you'll be stronger together. Though it'll most likely not come to any more fighting with the information I have."
Nolan and Allen exchanged a doubtful glance as they weren't sure the children would be able to fight their father, but neither could dismiss his words completely.
The irony being that Mark fought against his own father.
"You're thinking more... strategically than before," Nolan observed quietly.
'More like I already know Thragg is dead, so there is no need to fight', Mark thought.
An hour later, the meeting was called aboard the Viltrumite mothership.
The council chamber was spacious, its steel walls marked with the Viltrumite crest. At the center sat a large table, built for war councils.
Mark took the head of the table. Nolan and Allen sat on his right. Ursaal, bandaged but already healing, sat across from them with her arms folded. Her expression was stoic, carefully controlled, but her eyes burned with restrained fury.
Mark wasted no time. "To start, I need to tell you that I am not the Mark Grayson you know."
Nolan shot to his feet, anger flashing across his face. "What do you mean? If you're not my son, then who are you?"
He didn't want to believe this, but ever since Mark came back, he was concerned. He found Mark's personality different, and he seemed to carry more authority in his tone. And not only that, but he was wearing the clothing of the VIltrumite Emperor. He hadn't noticed it before in his haste, but seeing that increased his suspicion that this was someone different, even if he didn't want to believe it.
Mark remained calm. "Relax, I am still Mark Grayson, but from another universe. Events played out differently for me. I'm half-Viltrumite, half-human, but I also have an extra powerset from the device of an extinct alien race fusing with my DNA."
He telekinetically lifted a pen. Heat vision burst from his eyes, melting the pen into liquid paste.
Nolan and Allen stared in shock. They had never seen a Viltrumite display these powers.
Mark continued. "I also gained the ability to travel through dimensions from one of my adversaries, Angstrom Levy."
At the mention of the name, Nolan's face darkened. He blurred forward, fist raised for a full power strike. "Angstrom. The one who hurt Debbie and Oliver. The one who nearly killed Eve when she was pregnant. The one who aligned with evil versions of my son."
Mark caught the punch easily, his hand closing around Nolan's fist with no effort. The impact sent a tremor through the room, cracking the table, floor, and walls, but Mark did not move.
"I know you don't trust me," Mark said, sighing. "But listen to the rest before you attack."
Nolan pulled back, unsettled. If he wanted to, he could kill me with ease. He's that much stronger than me.
Mark explained everything he wanted them to know. How he had traveled to many dimensions using Angstrom's abilities.
Ursaal broke her silence. "If this is true, why this dimension? And what does this have to do with my people?"
'Let's get this over with. ' Mark thought, as while Thragg was definitely a bad person who deserved to die, he was still her Father.
"Because it is my fault this war began to begin with. Your missing father… Thragg. I killed him. This universe could be considered a version of the prime timeline, and if I hadn't killed him, this war wouldn't have happened the way it did so far, at least so soon."
The room fell into silence. Ursaal's composure cracked. Shock spread across her face, shifting to grief, and then to tearful fury.
She launched herself at Mark, slamming into him with all her strength. They tore through the ship's wall and out into the void of space.
Mark did not resist. 'Let her rage burn itself out. Better now than later'.
The stars stretched endlessly around them as Ursaal screamed her fury, her fists flying.
And Mark kept letting the hits come his way.