Anger burned under his skin like a live coal. Dragon Man had always been a force to be reckoned with, a fighter who took and gave pain in equal measure. He had never been the one to be humiliated, never the one to be pushed to the edge. Today had felt different, and that wound stung in a way he did not like to admit.
He left Earth behind in a flash, propelled not by aimless flight but by purpose. He needed distance to sort the rage, and he needed to find someone who could match his fury and his intent. He wanted an ally, not a rival. He wanted revenge.
The universe was vast, almost impossibly so. Even in a world crowded with powered beings, its breadth was humbling. There were pockets of life, deserts of silence, and places where power hummed in ways that could sharpen a body or break it. Dragon Man preferred to find answers by moving outward instead of inward—by meeting other strengths with his own.
On a lonely planet that seemed to exist on the very edge of known space, the Wolf God was deep in practice. The world itself was strange, a cold place that gave little life but radiated raw, potent energy. It was the sort of place where power could be ingested and refined, a crucible for anyone who knew how to take advantage of it. The Wolf God had chosen it for that reason; while no intelligent species thrived there, its aura amplified whatever discipline he poured into his body.
When the Wolf God opened his eyes, the intruder's presence made him uneasy. He had expected solitude and the steady rhythm of his training, not the intrusion of another warrior. There was a measured unfriendliness in his gaze. Interruptions were never welcome in a place that demanded focus.
Dragon Man did not bother with small talk. He strode forward, still carrying the heat of his recent bruises, still tasting the copper tang of anger at the back of his throat. He fixed his gaze on the Wolf God, steady and deliberate.
"I want to form an alliance with you," he declared.
The Wolf God's reaction was immediate, not with acceptance but with a demand. He tilted his head, voice cool and unhurried. "Who are you, and why should I trust you?"
The bluntness of the question made Dragon Man bristle. He'd expected a test—perhaps an old challenge—but he had not expected such pointed suspicion. He had come with a purpose, not to be held to rhetorical fire.
"My name isn't important for now," Dragon Man said. "What matters is our enemy.Malrick—stands between us and what we want. He's strong in ways that make him dangerous to face one-on-one. Alone, we lose. Together, we might stand a chance."
Hearing the name, the Wolf God narrowed his eyes. He did not soften, but he did not dismiss the proposal out of hand either. The Wolf God's silence carved out the air between them; it made Dragon Man uneasy, though he kept his posture composed. He was wounded, yes, but not so wounded that he would lose his nerve.
"Perhaps," the Wolf God said finally. His tone was still cold, analytical, as if weighing each syllable like a scale. He did not trust offers that came too easily. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"
Dragon Man had expected this. He moved cautiously, aware that desperation could be read on his face and that would ruin any chance of alliance. He set his jaw and spoke plainly, avoiding theatrics. "I won't force your hand. I'll give you time to investigate. I'll return in a few days for your answer."
He produced an object then, something small and dark that thrummed faintly with his breath and his presence. It was a token imbued with his energy, a link between them if the Wolf God chose to accept it.
"This is a token of my presence," Dragon Man explained. "Touch it, and you'll feel my call. When you're ready, find me. I don't need an answer now, only consideration. I need allies against Malrick, and if you choose to join me, we will plan our next moves together."
The Wolf God studied the token without touching it. He was not easily swayed by trinkets or promises, yet the aura that curled from the object was not something any ordinary being could fake. It carried the mark of someone who had recently bled and fought and had not yet been quelled.
For a long moment the Wolf God said nothing. He remained wary, thinking through the implications, his mind moving through scenarios and contingencies as a hunter tracks wind. The offer was plausible. Two warriors with grievances against the same opponent could combine force, and the Wolf God was not above pragmatism. If Malrick posed a threat that required a coalition, then an investigation was warranted.
Dragon Man watched him weigh the choice. His own injuries ached faintly, a reminder that time was not on his side. He needed to recover, to mend the torn sinew and the bruised pride. He hoped the Wolf God would see sense and accept the possibility that cooperation might be the only path to retribution.
"You don't have to decide now," Dragon Man said quietly. "I will give you time. Heal. Think. If you accept, touch the token and I will come."
Then, with the words hanging between them like a blade, Dragon Man turned away. He could not stay; he needed space to heal and to plan. He had a broader strategy to prepare, enemies to consider, and the body to patch. He left the Wolf God to his thoughts, the token glowing faintly in the other man's handless gaze, a promise and a threat both.
He was resolved to return. He had to be. His aim was clear: eliminate or neutralize any obstacle that would exploit his weakened state when he attempted the path he had chosen. He would not give Malrick the chance to take advantage of him while he was vulnerable. If that required time and coalition-building, then he would take both.
As he departed, the planet's strange energy seemed to wrap around him like a cloak. He felt smaller and larger at once—small in the face of the universe's breadth, larger in the scope of his purpose. The hunt for revenge had only just begun.
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