TON 618 is the largest and most massive black hole in the universe. It sits motionless like a powerful god, sucking in light, time, and anything that comes too close. I am at the border, aching in my bones from gravity so powerful that it can rip a star to shreds like paper.
But I won't quit. I won't even yield.
My Warship rests peacefully just beyond the reach of power, still and quiet. It is patiently being polite, like a faithful dog waiting for its master to cease doing foolish things.
But this is not foolish. That is significant.
Endless Apex. It just keeps giving me more. Each time I press, push, and endure on this razor's edge, I become something new within myself. I can feel it—my muscles ache, my blood burns, and my cells are transforming. Viltrumites do not transform once they are at their cap, but I defied that rule. If the universe is going to grant me an edge, you can bet I will utilize it.
Thragg allowed me to do as I pleased once I had completed my most important task. Nolan's sons? They're dead. Gone. It's irrelevant. And if they're not dead? They will rue the day.
…but I do not think that they are dead. Not in the least for one of them. Mark was extremely stubborn and he persisted to live even when his stomach was leaking guts from the original Conquest. I already know he's out there, clinging to life like a cockroach on the last days of the world. But that's another story. Today, the only one that counts is me. Strength. Growth. Survival.
Every session starts the same. I edge closer to oblivion everyday. I allow the pressure to build. My muscles ache, and my insides contort in odd ways. I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, like a drum. And I cling. I cling to everything until my body aches a great deal, until my vision blurs, until I think I will fall into nothing—and then I release. I step back. I heal. I do it all over again.
Pain is not the enemy. Weakness is.
Before long, nothing in this universe will be capable of surpassing me. Not Thragg. Not Mark. Not even the black hole I'm training on.
It's only a matter of time.
I stand on the deck of my warship now, barely awake. My body vibrates with the hum of the engine as I remain motionless. Thragg doesn't trouble me often, but when he does, it always important. The screen illuminates, and there he stands. Serene and difficult to decipher, he exudes an aura of dominance. Even now, before him—even from far away on the phone—I bow.
Thragg remains stationary on his throne, but he narrows his eyes slightly as if he's gazing at something. Me? My abilities? Perhaps. Perhaps he understands what's going to occur next.
"You've been absent," he states. Not a query. A matter of fact, plain between us. "I let it occur. You've earned a break." A hesitation. "It is over."
I straighten, nod once. No complaints. No hesitation. This was expected.
"You will go to Talescria," he goes on, his voice sweet and firm. "The Coalition has stolen planets from us. Territory. That will end." He glares at me. "I will command this mission myself."
That's new. Thragg rarely wastes his time watching battles unless they require his presence. If he's coming, he expects something worth seeing.
"Kregg and Anissa will precede you," he states. "You have a simple task—eliminate the principal threats. Don't get sidetracked."
I grin. "Understood."
The broadcast ceases, and I exhale, rolling my shoulders and flexing my fingers. I've endured months of agony on the edge of oblivion, stressing my body past what any Viltrumite has ever withstood—and now it's time to find out what I can do.
I don't wait for further orders. The ship responds to me, and as soon as I'm free, I go to Talescria.
When I arrive in Talescria, things have fallen apart. The sky is filled with smoke and rubbish. The earth trembles beneath my feet as blasts rattle the earth. Viltrumite and Coalition troops battle in a planet devastated.
I don't care about the grand scheme. I don't care about the war. I care about one thing.
The blood.
I spot him immediately—Thaedus. He thinks he can bring change, a fleeting glimmer of hope amid the mayhem. He is lecturing Techjacket seriously, most likely about plans or some trivial matter. I have a small, cheerful smile on my face.
I am extremely quick. My body is more powerful now, and before anyone can do anything, I am there. Thaedus does not even have the time to prepare.
I strike him once and slice through him, and I carry his heart with me. His corpse lies on the ground, lifeless. From then on, the world around me is colder and darker.
Then I hear my name, my purpose for existing.
"CONQUEST!"
Invincible. The bastard's here.
I barely glance back as he comes towards me, his fury intense like a large wave that I've come to tune out after all these months training to surpass him. He's genuinely furious—deeply furious, but that is all it is. Just static. He does not have the energy to beat me anymore.
I shove him aside like an insect. My fist slams into his chest, and he drops back into the shattered fragments and garbage. The impact of him hitting the ground is muffled in comparison to a thud.
I'm going to leave when I sense him approaching once more. The idiot doesn't take the hint. He fails to notice that he means nothing to me anymore.
But then Nolan arrives, seething with anger and disappointment. He's got that look on his face—like I'm a stain on the carpet that can't be removed. And perhaps I am. But it's not my fault his child performed poorly.
"I'll take care of him," Nolan growls, straining. He has Mark on the ground, and I can tell the kid is coiled, ready to spring like a spring. "You worry about the mission. We have to reclaim this world."
The Butcher's Voice is quietly instructing me to kill. It is a chilling voice within me telling me to proceed. I don't require the assistance. It is my destiny after all.
Nolan's eyes reveal so much emotion. Betrayal. Anger. Resolve. He is a different man than the one I used to know—he thinks more rationally now and does not wish to kill. It is like staring at a bomb that has not yet exploded. And I am here, the one who can set it off.
Invincible who believes he is always in the right, storms off, kicking up dust. His eyes are blazing with anger—like a child who lost his beloved toy. Good for him. He will have to use that anger to keep up with me. It was hard to resist smiling at the scene. It's like watching a little boy throw a tantrum before nap time. Yes, it's adorable, but it won't make a difference.
Nolan is still here. He is like a person who just continues to talk even when you don't want to hear it anymore. But I get it. This is his opportunity. His opportunity to be a hero. I almost pity him. Almost.
"You are not the challenge you think you are, Nolan," I tell him, my voice firm and icy as space. "Do you think the Coalition can beat us? Can beat me? Do you think your son's tears make you powerful?"
Nolan clamps down on his jaw, and his hands shake. "I understand your strength, Conquest. I see who you are now. You're nothing but an instrument of Thragg!"
I chuckle softly. It has a rough quality, something akin to the noise you would make when angry. "Instrument?" I retort curtly. "You still think in terms of a chessboard, Nolan? I have outgrown that. I am the game now, the one to determine who will remain in the game. And Thragg? Another player, awaiting his loss. Or perhaps... consumed by the instrument that he seeks to command?"
Nolan blinks, and I can sense what he is thinking. He wants to make sense of me, but he cannot. The reason why is that I am not the Conquest that he knew prior to now. I have evolved.
"Are you actually referring to treason?" he inquires, his tone strained.
Ha! "You can't judge me, Nolan. You are the great hero. The man who collaborated with the enemy. You abandoned your own people for some feeble ones who can't even defend their own planet without going to Daddy Universe for assistance. And now you expect to judge me?"
Nolan charges at me like a bull. I can step out of the way, but where's the fun in that? So, I stand still and let him charge into me. And boy, does he collide. But it's like bumping into a mountain with a feather. It hurts but accomplishes nothing. His fists on my chest make me feel it. I can picture his knuckles aching from it. But that is all it is—pain. It does not accomplish anything. It is not sufficient.
When Nolan strikes me, I can detect a faint flicker of optimism in his gaze. He is convinced that he has me on the backfoot. He is convinced that he stands a chance. I offer him the optimism for a short while. But I am being polite. It is respect for the individual who was once the Anakin Skywalker on behalf of the Viltrumites.
"I've already told you, you're not a challenge," I sneer, gripping Nolan by the throat. "But if you feel like you are... try to prove me wrong."
With a huge smile that looks like it could break my face, I toss him away. He soars through the air like a toy tossed away from a child's hand. Buildings around him shatter as he crashes into them, and dust and debris fly everywhere. He hits the ground with so much force that it creates a small crater, and for a brief moment, all that can be heard is him dropping.
But Nolan is not done. He is not going to quit. He is like that annoying pop-up window that keeps popping up, regardless of how many times you close it by clicking the X. He is there, his eyes blazing with fierce determination that has now become as ubiquitous as a knock-knock joke.
I don't wait for him to approach me. I leap—so fast it's as if I vanished and reappeared over him. We're two wrestlers in a crazy dance, but one of us is enjoying it. My fists pound hard, slamming into his face, his chest, his ribs. I hear the cracking of bones and the thud on his body. The Butcher's Voice whispers to me that I'm doing great in terms of brutality. It's a sad game show here, only for Nolan it is.
But I hold back. Nolan's face is severely injured—completely unrecognizable. It appears as if someone placed his face in a meat grinder. But to kill him here? Now? That would be too simple. That's not what he needs. He needs to see me destroy everything that he loves, everything he has worked for, and shatter it right before his eyes. He needs to hurt.
And that's when The Butcher's Voice speaks to me. It has a plan—a sneaky, smart plan. A way to make sure he never forgets this moment. A way to make sure he is afraid, truly afraid, and sad.
"I will make him suffer for you," it laughs, and in a moment, the world around me shifts to obey me.
Nolan's body shifts beneath me, and I can sense his strength altering. His muscles shrink and grow, and his skin softens. His face transforms into a gentler, more feminine appearance. The hair on his head grows longer, becoming a long black mane. His eyes widen in terror as his body shifts into a form he never anticipated.
The Butcher's Voice cackles loudly, and it sounds like a sadistic game show host. "Punishment served!"
Nolan—no, she is no longer Nolan. She's a she. Gorgeous and terrified. She backs away from me, her eyes wide with terror, her hand on her cheek, touching the soft skin where there once was a beard. Her strength and power remain. But the look in her eyes? That is what I live for. Shock, denial, and the growing realization of what she has become. The combat around us ceases as she takes a step back, her legs trembling like a young fawn's.
The Butcher's Voice giggles silly and frightens me. It thinks it's funny. It always laughs whenever I ruined another person's life. And Nolan? Angry and scared beyond belief. This is only the start of her nightmare.
I knock her out cold with my wrist, like a sad lost doll. I pick her up on my shoulder as though she were a bag of potatoes. She is lighter now and easier to bear. I sense the power in her, thrashing about like a fish out of water, struggling to acclimatize to her new boundaries. The female form is weaker than the male form, after all.
The return trip to my warship is uncertain but a blur. The Butcher's Voice is quietly thinking about new ways to make her life actually more terrible then it already is. It's like a nasty fairy godmother, scheming nasty pranks for my amusement. The ship door yawns open, like an open mouth of metal and blackness. I shove her in like a discarded toy, watching her crash onto the floor.
"Seize her!" I cry to my men—aliens subjected to the Viltrum Empire. They move forward, their faces etched with shock and terror. My cock was already at full mast at the ideas I had towards her.
I just couldn't wait to dress her up as Omni-Woman and fuck her.