Dawn broke over the Canadian wilderness, painting the pine forests in hues of gold and pink. Mark Grayson, clad in his battered Invincible suit, hovered above a misty valley, his breath visible in the crisp air. Beside him, Saitama munched on a maple candy, his yellow tracksuit a stark contrast to the rugged landscape.
"You weren't kidding about Canada," Mark said, scanning the horizon. "But a dragon? Really?"
Saitama popped another candy in his mouth. "Yup. Got a tip on X about a giant lizard torching lumber camps. Sounds dragon-y to me."
Mark raised an eyebrow. "You're on X now?"
"Gotta keep up with the deals," Saitama replied. "Found a coupon for this candy. Two bucks off."
Mark sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. Saitama's training had pushed him to new limits—his punches hit harder, his reflexes sharper—but the man's obsession with snacks was a mystery even Viltrumites couldn't crack. After Thragg's attack, Mark knew the stakes were higher. Viltrum was coming, and he needed every edge Saitama could give him. Even if it meant chasing mythical creatures for maple syrup.
A distant roar shattered the calm, deep and guttural, like a volcano clearing its throat. Trees toppled in a cascade of splintered wood, and a massive shape emerged from the fog—a serpentine beast, scales glinting green and gold, with wings that churned the air into a gale. Its eyes burned like molten amber, and flames licked from its jaws.
"Okay," Mark said, cracking his knuckles. "That's definitely a dragon."
Saitama nodded, unfazed. "Cool. You go first."
Mark shot him a look. "You're not helping?"
"Training," Saitama said, leaning against a tree. "Punch the dragon. I'll grade you."
Mark groaned but launched himself at the beast. The dragon spotted him, unleashing a torrent of fire that scorched the valley floor. Mark dodged, weaving through the flames with agility honed by Saitama's brutal drills. He slammed a fist into the dragon's snout, the impact echoing like a thunderclap. The creature roared, snapping at him with jaws that could crush a tank.
"Whoa!" Mark yelped, diving under a swipe of its tail. "This thing's faster than Thragg!"
Saitama yawned. "Less whining, more punching."
Mark gritted his teeth, channeling his frustration. He flew higher, drawing the dragon's attention, then dove, landing a double-fisted slam on its skull. Scales cracked, and the beast staggered, but it retaliated with a wing buffet that sent Mark crashing into a boulder, pain flaring in his shoulder.
"Ow," Mark muttered, shaking off dust. "Okay, dragon, you're asking for it."
He charged again, faster, smarter. Saitama's voice echoed in his mind: Patience. Wait for the moment. Mark ducked a fire blast, grabbed a loose scale, and yanked, exposing softer flesh beneath. With a yell, he drove his fist into the vulnerable spot, sending the dragon crashing to the ground, its wings crumpling like wet paper.
Mark landed, panting, as the beast twitched, unconscious. "Got it!"
Saitama clapped slowly, tossing him a maple candy. "B-minus. Good hustle, but you screamed again."
Mark caught the candy, laughing despite the ache in his bones. "B-minus? I just took down a dragon!"
"Yeah, but you broke three trees. Gotta work on precision."
Before Mark could argue, a new sound cut through the air—a low hum, like a swarm of metallic bees. The fog parted, revealing a sleek, silver craft hovering above the valley. Its hull pulsed with blue light, and a hatch opened, disgorging three figures: Viltrumites, their armor gleaming, each radiating menace.
"Great," Mark groaned. "More of them."
Saitama straightened, popping the last candy in his mouth. "These guys don't quit, huh?"
The lead Viltrumite, a woman with sharp features and a scar across her cheek, stepped forward. "I am Anissa, commander of Viltrum's advance guard. You, anomaly, have interfered long enough."
Saitama scratched his head. "Interfered? I'm just trying to train my buddy and eat some candy."
Anissa's eyes narrowed. "Your power threatens Viltrum's dominion. Surrender, or we reduce this planet to ash."
Mark stepped up, fists clenched. "You're not touching Earth. Not while we're here."
The second Viltrumite, a hulking man with a buzzcut, smirked. "Bold words, half-breed. Let's see if you fight better than your traitor father."
The third, a lean figure with a cruel grin, cracked his knuckles. "I'll take the bald one. He looks soft."
Saitama raised an eyebrow. "Soft? Rude."
The fight erupted like a storm. Anissa charged Mark, her speed a blur as she landed a punch that sent him skidding through the dirt. The buzzcut Viltrumite joined her, their combined assault relentless. Mark dodged and countered, his training keeping him alive, but he was outmatched—each hit felt like a sledgehammer.
Saitama, meanwhile, faced the lean Viltrumite, who unleashed a flurry of blows that would've pulped a mountain. Saitama blocked them with one hand, sipping a soda he'd pulled from nowhere. "You're pretty strong," he said, mid-yawn. "But, like, not that strong."
The Viltrumite snarled, aiming a sonic scream at Saitama's face. Saitama flicked a pebble, and the scream cut off as the Viltrumite crashed into a cliff, out cold.
Mark, struggling under Anissa's onslaught, shouted, "A little help?"
Saitama sighed, tossing his soda can into a bush. "Fine."
He moved—a blur even Mark couldn't track—and tapped Anissa's shoulder. She spun, only to be launched skyward with a flick, vanishing into the clouds. The buzzcut Viltrumite roared, charging Saitama, but a lazy backhand sent him tumbling into the dragon's unconscious bulk, where he stayed.
Mark panted, wiping blood from his nose. "You make it look so easy."
Saitama shrugged. "It is. You're overthinking it."
The Viltrumite ship hummed, its weapons powering up. A voice boomed from within: "This is not over, anomaly. Viltrum will return."
Saitama waved. "Cool. Bring snacks next time."
The ship vanished in a flash of light, leaving the valley silent except for the dragon's snores.
Mark collapsed onto a rock, catching his breath. "They're not gonna stop, are they?"
"Nope," Saitama said, fishing a maple candy from his pocket. "But neither are we."
Back at Teen Team HQ, the mood was grim. The team huddled around a holographic display, replaying drone footage of the Canadian battle. Eve's voice was tight. "Three Viltrumites. And they're not even the main force."
Rexplode slammed a fist on the table. "We're screwed! Baldy's strong, but he can't be everywhere!"
Robot's monitor glowed. "Saitama's power is our greatest asset, but Rexplode is correct. Viltrum's strategy appears to be attrition—overwhelming us with repeated strikes."
Dupli-Kate frowned. "Mark held his own, though. He's getting stronger."
Monster Girl nodded. "Yeah, but he's taking a beating. We need a plan, not just fists."
Mark, nursing a bruise, spoke up. "Saitama's training is working, but we need to hit Viltrum back. Find their base, their weakness—something."
Saitama, sprawled on a couch with a comic book, looked up. "Or just punch 'em all. Works for me."
Eve smirked. "Simple, but effective."
Robot turned to Saitama. "Your strength is unparalleled, but we must understand its limits. Have you ever faced a foe you couldn't defeat?"
Saitama thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Not yet. But I'm hoping."
The team exchanged uneasy glances. Rexplode muttered, "Freak."
Under the Pentagon, Cecil stood before Nolan's cell, the Viltrumite's eyes gleaming in the dim light.
"Your friends paid a visit," Cecil said. "Saitama sent them packing."
Nolan chuckled, blood crusted on his jaw. "You think he's your savior? He's a void, Cecil. No purpose, no loyalty. He'll leave when it suits him."
Cecil's jaw tightened. "Maybe. But he's keeping your kind at bay."
Nolan leaned forward, restraints creaking. "For now. Viltrum doesn't lose. And when we come, your bald anomaly will fall—or he'll break your world trying."
Cecil turned away, hiding his doubt. Nolan's words echoed Thragg's warning: What happens when he gets bored?
On the Grayson roof, Mark and Saitama sat under a starlit sky, sharing a bag of maple candies. Debbie's worried voice lingered in Mark's mind, but Saitama's calm grounded him.
"You ever think about going home?" Mark asked.
Saitama chewed thoughtfully. "Sometimes. But this place… it's got potential. Dragons, aliens, good candy. Plus, you're not half-bad."
Mark smiled. "Thanks. I'm trying."
Saitama tossed him a candy. "Keep trying. Viltrum's tough, but you're tougher. Just don't scream so much."
Mark laughed, the weight of the day easing. "Deal."
Far above, the Viltrumite ship watched, its cloaking field flickering. Inside, Anissa's voice was cold. "The anomaly is a problem. We need a new strategy."
A shadowed figure nodded. "Then we break the boy. Without him, the anomaly has no anchor."
The stars burned, and Earth turned, unaware of the storm gathering beyond its skies.
End of Chapter 8