Chapter 174: What a Solitary and Aloof Stance
Thragg felt as if a violent storm was lashing against his face.
But he was smiling.
His smile grew wider and wilder, until finally—
"Hahahaha!"
He laughed toward the heavens, the sound echoing over the arena, making the air tremble and forcing the Hybridsin the stands to cover their ears.
"Good! Excellent!"
His voice was full of admiration.
"What perfect momentum! What a solitary and aloof stance!"
His eyes were fixed on Mark, his gaze devoid of jealousy or fear, containing only a pure, heartfelt appreciation.
"Simply a walking god in the Universe!"
He took a deep breath, as if savoring something precious.
"The decision to send Nolan to Earth back then was truly the right one!"
His voice suddenly rose, like a declaration of war, a manifesto, the final cry of an era.
Then—he began to run.
His fractured arms hung at his sides, swinging with the rhythm of his stride.
His steps were heavy and powerful, each one leaving a deep footprint on the ground.
His body leaned forward, his center of gravity low, like a beast poised to strike.
He charged at Mark, and then—
He swung a vicious punch!
Mark raised his hand.
As he raised his hand, the gravity and gravitational forces of the surrounding space twisted at his command.
Those invisible forces surged from all directions, gathering in his palm to form an invisible vortex.
Thragg's fist plunged into that vortex, and then—his entire body began to spin.
He wasn't spinning of his own accord; he was being swept away by that irresistible force.
His body tumbled in the air, like a leaf caught in a tornado, like wood chips sucked into a whirlpool.
One rotation, two, three—his consciousness began to blur, his vision spun, and his brain grew dizzy.
Then, Mark pulled back his fist.
Charging power.
Charging more.
And even more.
The Ox Talisman! Increasing his inherent strength!
The Rabbit Talisman! Increasing his inherent speed!
Under the blessing of the two Talisman, the speed of Mark's punch almost seemed to surpass light-years!
The air in front of his fist was compressed into a visible White Shockwave, and space itself slightly distorted under that terrifying power!
In almost the blink of an eye, that punch reached Thragg's face—
And then, it landed heavily on Thragg's chin!
"Bang—!!!"
Thragg's expression distorted, his features scrunched together as if he had been smashed head-on.
His brain vibrated within his skull, his gray matter feeling as if it had been put through a blender, turning into a pulp.
He felt as if his brain was about to be rattled into bean curd!
But he was still smiling!
He jerked his head up, slamming his forehead against Mark's fist!
"Bang—!"
Flesh and blood splattered!
Through the mist of blood, a weak voice drifted out:
"The increased strength and speed have made your fist stronger.
But likewise, for me, the damage I can deal to your fist has also become stronger!"
Thragg's voice was intermittent, but every word was clear.
"What we need to worry about next is which side's matter is harder."
He paused, catching his breath.
"Even Viltrumites have to obey certain biological common sense.
My forehead is much harder than your fist."
The corners of his mouth curled up into a slight smile.
"Though the side effect is a concussion!"
Thragg's forehead was a bloody mess, the skin and flesh torn back to reveal the White frontal bone beneath.
His eyes were a bit glazed, his pupils dilated and his gaze unfocused—yet he was smiling as he explained.
Mark blankly raised his left hand.
His left hand was already a mangled mess of blood and flesh.
The skin was smashed, tendons torn, and even the bones at the joints were exposed.
The bone was a pale gold, shimmering with a faint luster under the sunlight.
He stared for a few seconds, then the corners of his mouth curved up into a gradual grin.
"You really are something, Grand Regent."
solar particles surged from within Mark, illuminating his left hand.
That golden-red light fell upon his bloodied fist like a spring breeze over withered wood, like dew nourishing parched Earth.
The injuries healed in an instant—flesh regenerated, tendons and bones reconnected, and fingernails grew back from nothing.
Within a few breaths, his hand was as good as new.
Then, Mark swung another punch, slamming it hard into Thragg's temple!
"Bang!"
Thragg was knocked to the ground by the punch, his body bouncing once before becoming still.
"If I were in my normal state, saying something like that would be acceptable!"
Mark withdrew his fist, looking down at Thragg.
"But now—let alone two of you, I could kill five of you."
However, as if he didn't have a concussion at all, Thraggspun on the ground like he was breakdancing, his legs kicking out powerfully toward Mark's jaw!
"Bang!"
Mark was kicked into the air, tumbling once before immediately steadying himself.
He looked at Thragg in disbelief.
"Don't be so surprised."
Thragg scrambled up from the ground, swaying as if he might collapse at any moment.
"I really can't tell north from south right now, and my eyes can't see clearly!
But don't you dare look down on me—"
He steadied himself and looked up, his unfocused eyes staring straight at Mark.
"I've only accumulated several thousand years of experience!"
He panted heavily; despite his pathetic state, the smile on his face was incredibly brilliant.
"Fine, I admit it!"
Mark exhaled, and then he too began to smile brilliantly.
That smile was exceptionally dazzling in the sunlight, carrying a warmth of mutual respect and the joy of meeting a worthy opponent.
The next second, he plummeted from the air and stomped hard on Thragg's other hand!
"Crack—!"
Flesh splattered, and bones snapped!
Thragg let out a muffled groan; both of his hands had now been crippled by Mark!
Those hands hung at his sides, bent at unnatural angles like two broken branches.
"Now, surrender, Thragg."
Mark lifted Thragg by one hand, looking at him coldly.
In his eyes, Heat Vision had already condensed, golden-red light burning deep within his pupils, ready to erupt at any moment.
The next second—
Thragg suddenly spat twice, the saliva landing on Mark's eyes!
That was saliva spat by a Viltrumite.
Whether in terms of liquid mass, temperature, or Shockwave force, it was impeccable.
The two globs of saliva were like two bullets, accurately striking Mark's eyeballs!
Mark felt a sting in his eyes and instinctively loosened his grip.
In that instant, Thragg kicked hard against Mark's abdomen!
Chapter 175: Hollow Purple
"Bang!"
Mark was sent flying backward, tumbling several times in the air.
Thragg didn't fly far before coming to a halt.
He stood there; though his arms were bent and his posture looked wretched, he remained upright and proud, his head held high like an unyielding statue.
"What a disgusting move!"
Mark used his Heat Vision to burn away the spit on his eyes.
The golden-red light swept across the surface of his eyeballs, completely evaporating the saliva.
He raised his right hand, pressing his index and middle fingers together.
A transparent vortex condensed between his fingers!
It wasn't an ordinary vortex.
It was the convergence of forward-rotating gravity and reverse-rotating repulsion—the two constantly condensing, compressing, and spinning!
Gravity pulled everything around it toward the center, while repulsion pushed everything from the center outward.
Two diametrically opposed forces clashed within the same space, creating an indescribable, twisted, and destructive energy.
Added to this was the power of the sky—wind and thunder borrowed from Finn's authority; the heaviness of mountains—weight and hardness borrowed from Bao Ngor's authority; water and fire—the softness and hardness borrowed from Bai Sha and Shendu's authorities; and even solar particles—Mark's own particles, hot as a stellar core, which had overcome the fatal weakness of the Viltrumites.
And—the energy of the small world within Mark's body!
Of course, Mark only called upon a portion of it.
If he were to unleash it fully, Thragg would die, or at least there was a high probability he would.
That kind of power was enough to tear the earth apart, evaporate the oceans, and make the entire planet tremble.
Mark looked at Thragg again, wanting to warn him to dodge.
But at this moment, Thragg stood frozen in place, staring intently at Mark.
Thragg was also stunned.
He hadn't expected a Viltrumite to be able to use a long-range technique of this caliber.
The energy spun, compressed, and condensed at Mark's fingertips, forming a fist-sized sphere glowing with iridescent light.
The sphere wasn't large, but the power contained within was enough to strike fear into anyone's heart.
Yet Thragg just stayed there, his gaze even carrying a hint of expectation.
Give it your all, Mark Grayson!
Under the eyes of all those with Viltrumite blood, reflect your strength!
Let them remember you firmly, and let you become the undisputed strongest king of all time!
Mark could read Thragg's thoughts at this moment.
That gaze was so burning and fervent.
Thragg had already decided to use his own aging bones as a stepping stone for Mark!
Haji-Thragg, you guy...
Mark was dazed for a long time; the energy had finished condensing, and more and more was gathering.
The corners of his mouth gradually curled into a gentle smile.
Mark looked at the other with a smile, murmuring:
"Don't let it happen again..."
The next second—the energy finished condensing!
At this moment, the mass of the energy ball in Mark's hand reached its peak!
"Maximum Technique—"
His voice was low and firm.
"Hollow Purple!"
The moment the technique's name was chanted, the energy ball shot out from Mark's fingertips!
Not in a straight line, not in a curve, but in a way that transcended the laws of physics!
It appeared in mid-air, then appeared further away, and then appeared right in front of Thragg.
It was as if it wasn't flying, but jumping, teleporting, erasing the concept of distance between one point and another.
Have you heard of relativity?
It's an extremely interesting viewpoint! It wouldn't even be an exaggeration to call it the truth of the world.
Matter can warp space!
The composition of matter is mass!
Extreme mass can warp space and even time!
Mark's Maximum Technique: Hollow Purple was exactly like this!
The terrifying mass cannon boomed as it flew out.
That light was not gold, not white, nor any known color.
It was an existence that transcended the spectrum, a glow emitted from the ultimate clash between gravity and repulsion, a phenomenon that appeared only when space was distorted to the extreme.
Everywhere the light passed, the air was ionized, the ground was scorched, and space itself slightly distorted, as if an invisible hand were tearing at the canvas of the world.
In the stands, everyone held their breath.
They watched the light shoot from Mark's fingertips, watched it cut through the air, and watched it—
Land on Thragg!
"BOOM—!!!"
It was a deeper, more fundamental roar, like the first sound at the dawn of the Universe.
It didn't travel through the air but exploded within everyone's soul.
All sound was swallowed, all light was absorbed, and all existence was frozen.
The earth shook, the sky changed color, and the air burned.
The light grew brighter and more intense, finally turning into a blinding white that swallowed everything.
Thragg raised his two broken hands to block his front.
His fingers weren't flexible and his tendons were displaced, but he could at least manage to protect his face.
The light fell upon him like a waterfall crashing against a rock, like a wave striking a reef.
His skin began to crack, his muscles began to carbonize, and his blood began to evaporate.
But he did not take a single step back.
In the stands, Nolan's eyes widened.
He had seen many of Mark's techniques—his Heat Vision, his Bio-field, and his solar particles.
But he had never seen this move.
This wasn't any ability Mark had used before.
This was brand new, something Mark had just created during his battle with the Grand Regent.
It was a fusion of the twelve talismans, the authorities of the eight great demons, solar particles, and the energy of his small world—
The ultimate killing move!
Just how far had he mutated?
Nolan didn't know.
But he knew one thing—he was proud.
In the stands, the Hybrids were speechless.
They just stared blankly at that light, at the figure suspended in mid-air surrounded by golden light, and at the Grand Regent being swallowed by the radiance.
Some began to weep.
Not out of sadness, but because of—the sheer awe.
An awe that transcended words, transcended reason, and transcended the limits of the soul's endurance.
Chapter 176: The Noble Horse!
The light gradually faded.
Dust filled the air, blotting out the sky.
A bottomless chasm appeared on the field, stretching from Mark's feet all the way to the base of the stands.
The edges of the chasm were molten rock, still steaming and emitting a pungent smell of sulfur.
A figure stepped out from the dust.
Thragg.
His entire body was almost burnt to a crisp.
His skin was as black as ink, cracked like a dried-up riverbed.
In some places, the muscle beneath was exposed; those muscles were also charred black, having lost all moisture, withered like a mummy.
His hair was burnt away, his eyebrows were burnt away, and even his eyelashes were gone.
But he was still walking.
One step.
One step.
And another.
His steps were slow and steady, each one treading on the charred ground with a rustling sound.
His body swayed as if he might collapse at any moment, but he never did.
He walked up to Mark and stopped.
"Others have no idea what I carry."
His voice was hoarse and weak, like the sound of wind coming from a distant desert.
"I carry the fate of the Viltrumites."
"It was fine at first... until that moment when we were on the brink of extinction..."
His voice began to tremble.
"I truly almost thought the Viltrumites would go extinct under my rule."
There was something shimmering in his eyes.
Not tears—Viltrumites do not cry.
It was something deeper, the torment of a thousand years, an endless loneliness.
It was the relief of someone who had walked alone in the dark for too long and finally saw the light.
"I have been suffering, worrying, and longing for the appearance of someone with the royal bloodline."
His gaze fell on Mark's face.
"So that I could say goodbye to this burden."
He paused.
"But I know very well, it is because—I am a coward."
When those words left his mouth, his body trembled slightly.
Like admitting a secret hidden for a thousand years, like shedding a yoke carried for a millennium.
"I did not have the courage to take on the revival of our race.
I hate my cowardly self.
I hate that deep down, I actually desired to force this burden onto the shoulders of an eighteen-year-old like you."
The corners of his mouth slowly curved upward.
"But—"
He smiled.
That smile looked exceptionally brilliant on his charred face.
"The capable must bear the burden..."
He raised his charred, broken hand and slapped it heavily on Mark's shoulder.
"Who told you to be this strong?"
His voice was very soft, but every word was clear.
Then, he turned around, facing the Hybrids on the stands, the pure-blood Viltrumites, and the thousands of eyes watching him.
He took a deep breath.
"The Late Emperor bears witness! At this day, this hour, this moment!"
"A new King rises!!!"
The voice pierced through the dust, through the wind, and through every beating heart.
Then, Grand Regent Thragg collapsed heavily.
His body hit the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.
His eyes were closed, and a trace of that smile remained on his lips.
His breathing was weak and rapid, his heartbeat slow and erratic.
With injuries of this magnitude, even if he survived, he would need at least several months to recover.
Mark stood beside him, looking down at the stubborn old man, and sighed helplessly.
"Honestly... you old geezer."
The next second, Mark's eyes glowed.
It was the totem of a steed, pure white all over, with a silver mane and hooves treading on fire, nearly leaping out of Mark's eye sockets.
It raised its head and neighed; the sound was silent, yet it carried a power that shook the soul.
The Horse Talisman.
Noble Horse, expel all external forces!
Even Mark's Mass Projectile from just now was entirely an external force!
The energy that landed on him, the destructive power that invaded his body, the parts that did not belong to his body—all could be expelled by the Horse Talisman!
Mark placed his hand on Thragg's shoulder.
The horse leaped out, turning into pure energy and entering Thragg's body!
A golden-white light surged from Mark's palm, like a warm river flowing into Thragg's charred body.
Wherever the light passed, the charred skin began to peel away, revealing the new, pink skin underneath.
The carbonized muscles began to fall off, and new muscle fibers began to grow.
Withered blood vessels began to fill, and dark red blood began to flow again.
Thragg's body was like a withered tree meeting spring.
...
When it came to cloning technology on Earth, no one could surpass the Mauler Twins.
This pair of exceptionally tall twins were through-and-through pure humans, without a trace of mutated blood.
Their 2.5-meter burly frames were covered in a layer of cold blue skin, with a hardness comparable to titanium alloy, which ordinary bullets could not penetrate.
Yet such a strange appearance was actually classified as an ordinary human in this world where the definition of "pure human" was ridiculously broad.
As early as the first episode of the Invincible animation, the two had been captured by the Global Defense Agency for causing trouble and thrown into a high-walled, heavily guarded prison.
Prison life was neither good nor bad; boredom and oppression entwined day after day.
Until one day, a secret authorization quietly activated, and the heavy cell door slid open silently.
The Mauler Twins walked out dazed, and before they could figure out who had come to their rescue, a metallic figure gleaming with cold light slowly landed in front of them.
It was Robot.
The leader of the Global Defense Agency's Teen Team.
One of the Maulers frowned, eyeing the golden mecha in front of him with a wary tone.
"Who are you? Why did you let us out of prison?"
The other Mauler also clenched his fists, ready to act at any moment.
They had just gotten out of jail and didn't want to be pushed around by anyone else.
Robot's synthesized mechanical voice sounded steadily, without a hint of emotion, yet carrying an unquestionable presence.
"I am Robot, the current Captain of the Global Defense Agency's Teen Team."
"You can call me Robot, or you can remember my real name, Rudy."
"I have no ill intent; I simply have a deal I'd like to collaborate on with you."
The Mauler Twins glanced at each other, the wariness in their eyes fading slightly, but they still did not relax.
In this chaotic world, sudden releases and collaborations always hid unknown motives.
"A deal? The two of us are prisoners right now; we have nothing to trade with you."
Robot said no more, slowly extending a metallic arm, and a perfectly sealed test tube landed in his palm.
The test tube contained dark red blood, which shimmered faintly in the dim light.
"I know you are the top cloning experts on Earth, second to none."
"I need you to use this blood to clone a complete, healthy human body."
One Mauler stepped forward, staring at the blood in the test tube, his expression becoming playful.
"Clone a body? We'll take the job, but the pay has to be enough."
"We don't want to stay in a hellhole like prison a second time."
The other Mauler echoed him, his tone full of bargaining.
"That's right, let's talk about the reward first, otherwise we'd rather go back to prison than work for you."
Robot's metallic head nodded slightly, clearly prepared.
"The reward is negotiable; as long as you can perfectly complete the cloning, I can satisfy your requests."
"Do the work first. Once it's done, I definitely won't mistreat you."
Chapter 177: The Twins
The Mauler Twins looked at each other, thought for a moment, and agreed.
They had been in prison for too long and had been looking for a chance to leave for a long time; this was undoubtedly the best opportunity.
The abandoned factory on the outskirts of the city had long been deserted, its rusty steel frames and broken glass silent in the shadows.
Relying on their extraordinary skills, the Mauler Twins set up precision instruments on the spot and assembled a transparent Incubation Pod.
Blood from test tubes was injected into the equipment, countless complex programs ran at high speed, and the culture medium glowed with a faint blue light.
In just a few days, a young body was suspended within—short brown hair, deep brown skin, a typical Mexican face, steady breathing, regular heartbeat, and perfect vital signs.
The Mauler Twins looked at each other, nodded in satisfaction, and then turned to look deep into the factory.
In the shadows, a sealed Incubation Pod drifted slowly forward.
Robot's true body finally appeared.
Rudy.
It was a severely deformed body, shriveled like a dwarf, with limbs so thin they couldn't support movement and skin so fragile it seemed it would break at a touch.
He was trapped for life in nutrient solution and life-support systems; once exposed to the air, he would be instantly burned and die of poisoning.
But all the nutrients were used to nourish his brain, which could be considered one of the top minds on Earth.
Mechanical engineering, weapons development, computer programming, strategic planning, genetic technology, alien linguistics... he excelled in all of them.
Usually, countless golden Robots were his eyes, his ears, his hands, and his feet, walking the world and fighting across the land in his stead.
At this moment, Rudy stared fixedly at that young, healthy clone through the glass of the Incubation Pod.
Intact, upright, and full of vitality, it was a body he hadn't dared to hope for in his entire life.
One of the Maulers stepped forward and tapped on the hard glass of the Incubation Pod, breaking the silence.
"Rudy, is it? Let's get the unpleasantness out of the way first."
"We can clone this perfect body, and we can also help you copy your consciousness into it."
Rudy's electronic voice came through the Incubation Pod, carrying an imperceptible tremor.
"I know there are risks in cloning consciousness; you can speak plainly."
"It's not that there are risks; it's certain death."
The other Mauler spoke bluntly, hiding nothing.
"Your body's congenital genetic defects are too severe; your nerves and organs are fragile to the extreme."
"Consciousness replication can only achieve a copy; it cannot perform a complete transfer."
"Once the program starts, your original brain will instantly overload, and your nerves will completely disintegrate."
"Simply put, the 'you' currently staying in this Incubation Pod will definitely die."
Rudy was silent for a long time, his withered fingers in the nutrient solution moving slightly.
"I understand. That is to say, the new body will inherit all my memories, thoughts, and emotions, becoming a brand new me."
"And this broken original body will completely disappear."
The Mauler Twins nodded simultaneously, confirming his statement.
"That's exactly what it means. It's not too late for you to regret it now."
Rudy's gaze never left the clone, and his electronic voice became exceptionally firm.
"I don't regret it."
"I've been trapped in this Incubation Pod for over a decade, enduring the severe pain brought by my body every day."
"I can't see the sunlight, I can't feel the wind, I can't even speak or walk normally."
"Instead of living like this, I'd rather let the new me live properly for once."
Looking at the deformed body in the Incubation Pod, a hint of complex emotion also rose in the hearts of the Mauler Twins.
They had seen greedy people and crazy people, but they had never seen someone so resolute toward themselves.
"Fine, since you've made up your mind, we'll begin."
"But the payment needs to be clarified again; we don't want anything else."
"We want the exclusive Controller that can precisely control the clones."
"It must be made by your own hands, the top-tier performance model, to ensure we have complete control."
Without any hesitation, Rudy immediately agreed.
"Fine. As long as you successfully complete the consciousness replication, I will give you the Controllerimmediately."
"I guarantee it will be the most advanced model, and there will be no malfunctions."
Only then did the Mauler Twins feel at ease and began preparing the consciousness transfer equipment.
They fixed consciousness transfer headsets onto the clone and Rudy's original body respectively, carefully checking every wire.
"All equipment is calibrated; once started, it cannot be stopped."
"Confirm one last time: do you really want to start?"
Rudy slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, only determination remained.
"Start."
The moment the instruments started, extreme pain swept through Rudy.
The deformed body in the nutrient solution twitched violently, shriveled muscles cramped wildly, and fragile blood vessels burst one after another, rapidly staining the light blue liquid a stinging pink.
His eyes were wide open, his pupils dilated, and his mouth agape, but he couldn't let out even a slight scream—his vocal cords had long since degenerated, leaving him without even the right to vent his pain.
Yet on that distorted, sunken, barely human face, a strange smile slowly curved.
It wasn't relief or release; it was burning anticipation.
Anticipating that when he opened his eyes, he could see the world without looking through glass.
Anticipating that when he raised his hand, he could touch real warmth.
Anticipating that when he breathed, he could feel the heat and vitality of air rushing into his lungs.
The sound of electricity faded, and the transfer ended.
The door of the Incubation Pod opened automatically, and the newborn Rudy stood up naked, looking down at his hands.
His fingers bent and stretched flexibly, the lines on his palms were clear, and his nails glowed with a healthy pale pink.
He clenched his fist and released it several times; his fingertips wouldn't stop trembling, but his eyes were startlingly bright.
He finally had a normal body and finally didn't have to be trapped in a cramped Incubation Pod anymore.
He turned and walked toward the dying original body.
The shriveled, withered body lay in the nutrient solution, rising and falling weakly, its gray-white eyes half-open, quietly watching him.
The newborn Rudy stepped forward slowly, reached out, and firmly grasped the original body's thin neck.
No trembling, no hesitation, no pity.
He knew that the original body had to disappear for him to live on completely with a new identity.
His knuckles exerted force.
A faint sound of bone snapping.
The original body's head tilted to one side, breathing stopped instantly, and the heartbeat hit zero.
Those gray-white eyes closed completely, and that lingering smile of anticipation remained on the corner of the mouth at the moment of death.
The Mauler Twins watched this scene without saying much, then turned and reached out toward the newborn Rudy.
"Where's the stuff? The Controller we wanted."
"According to the agreement, you should give it to us now."
Rudy looked down at his hands, then looked up at the Mauler Twins, a cold smile curling on his lips.
"Controller? Do you think I would really give something like that to you?"
One Mauler's eyes instantly widened in anger, and he shouted sternly.
"You're going back on your word! We clearly had a deal!"
The other Mauler also clenched his fists, burning with rage.
"You're playing us? You liar!"
Rudy let out a light chuckle, his tone indifferent and cruel.
"I am Robot; I have always cared only for interests, not for credit."
"You know all my secrets; keeping you around is a hidden danger for me."
Before his voice finished, a sudden whistling sound broke through the window.
Hundreds of golden Robots descended from the sky, their metallic bodies reflecting cold light in the dim factory.
Dense fists smashed toward the two like a rainstorm!
Chapter 179: I Hope You'll Help Me
"You have no sense of honor!"
"Bastard! You'll die a horrible death!"
The Mauler Twins cursed incessantly, but they couldn't withstand the siege of the swarming Robots. They took a brutal beating, covered in bruises and feeling sharp pains in their ribs, completely unable to fight back.
Finally, the two were locked in cold handcuffs, losing all ability to resist, and were escorted back to prison.
Inside the prison cell, the Mauler Twins lay side by side on the bed, staring blankly at the grayish-white ceiling.
Waves of dull pain radiated from their bodies, and frustration and anger were blocked in their chests with no way to vent.
"Getting our strength leeched for free one after another, and then getting beaten up afterward—this is some really bad luck," one Mauler said irritably.
"Who knows," the other replied gloomily, his tone full of resentment.
"Next time a portal opens in front of me, I'm not going in even if it kills me."
"Me neither. Even if a god comes to invite me, I won't move a step."
Just as he finished speaking, two eerie green lights suddenly lit up beneath them.
It wasn't in front of them; it was right in the center of the bed.
The bedboards dissolved instantly, and the sheets vanished into nothingness. Before the two could even react, they fell straight down, passing through rotating green light gates and plunging into an endless void.
"Ah—!"
"Fuck—!"
Two shrill screams were swallowed by the void in an instant.
The feeling of weightlessness suddenly vanished, and the two slammed heavily onto a patch of white sand.
The fine sand was as soft as flour, sticking to their bodies and falling off in rustling clumps.
They scrambled up awkwardly, brushed the dust off their bodies, and looked around, their hearts sinking suddenly.
This was a deathly silent city ruin—no, it was a void worldwhere all color had been drained away.
There was no sound of wind, no temperature, and no noise whatsoever. Everything in heaven and earth was reduced to grayish-white silhouettes, creating a suffocating pressure.
In the center of the ruins stood a black man, quietly.
He had fluffy curly hair and a physique that wasn't particularly robust, but his eyes were bright and sharp. A gentle smile hung on his lips, making him look very much like a kind and approachable neighborhood uncle.
He bent down to pick up a paper bag at his feet, pulled out beef cheeseburgers, spicy pepperoni pizzas, and a few bottles of ice-cold cola, and tossed them casually to the two.
The Mauler Twins didn't stand on ceremony; they took the food and began devouring it ravenously.
The food was at the perfect temperature and tasted excellent. The chill of the ice-cold cola slid down their throats, slightly dissipating the irritability in their hearts.
Having eaten and drunk their fill, the two wiped their mouths and stood up, their expressions unfriendly.
"Even though you treated us to food, I'm sorry, but we still have to give you a beating," one Mauler said in a deep voice.
"That's right. We're in a very bad mood right now, and you're the perfect person to take it out on," the other echoed.
The two stepped forward simultaneously, their massive fists carrying enough force to punch through steel plates. Accompanied by the sound of breaking wind, they slammed their fists toward the black man.
In the next second, two green portals appeared out of thin air.
One blocked their fists, while the other was perfectly aimed at their respective cheeks.
Their fists passed straight through the first light gate and suddenly emerged from the second, slamming solidly into their own faces.
Bang!
Bang!
With two muffled thuds, the Mauler Twins both fell to the ground, clutching their faces and grimacing in pain, tears forced out of their eyes.
The black man walked forward slowly and crouched down. His voice was gentle and calm, yet it carried an inexplicable sense of pressure.
"I know you've had quite a few bad experiences before, but I can guarantee that I am a fair man."
He looked at the two identical blue faces and spoke slowly, an unspeakable ambition hidden within his smile.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Angstrom Levy."
"And I shall become the creator of the brand-new world to come."
On the white sand, the Mauler Twins clutched their faces and scrambled up from the ground.
They looked at the black man before them, their eyes filled with complex emotions—vigilance, curiosity, and a faint, barely perceptible trace of dread.
The sensation of that punch to the face just now still lingered clearly in their nerve endings.
It wasn't pain in the physical sense, but a deeper, absurd feeling of being taught a lesson by one's own fist.
"What did you say your name was just now?" one Mauler asked.
"Angstrom Levy."
The black man smiled, and that smile seemed exceptionally warm against the grayish-white background of the ruins.
His eyes were very bright, as if they held stars, as if they held the future.
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear, as if he were reciting a poem.
"My superpower is the ability to travel to different parallel worlds."
The Mauler Twins' eyes lit up at the same time.
"Parallel worlds?" one Mauler asked.
"Meaning there are countless versions of you?" the other Mauler asked.
Angstrom nodded.
He reached out his hand, palm up, and a green light condensed and rotated in his palm, forming a miniature portal.
The portal was only the size of a palm, its edges shimmering with a verdant halo, and its center was an endless darkness.
Through that darkness, fragments of another world could be faintly seen—
A purple sky, an inverted city, and a river flowing with magma.
Chapter 180: Why Is It You?!
"I have traveled through thousands of parallel worlds."
Angstrom closed the portal, his gaze becoming distant.
"In every world, I have encountered different versions of myself."
"Some are as smart as I am, some are even smarter."
"Some are kind, some are evil."
"Some are already dead, while others are still struggling."
He paused, a flicker of imperceptible pain flashing through his bright eyes.
"But there is one commonality."
"What is it?" the Mauler Twins asked in unison.
"In those worlds, the Invincible—Mark Grayson—often appears."
"Sometimes, he saves the world."
"Sometimes, he destroys the world."
"But more often than not, he... affects me."
"He even kills me."
His voice grew low, as if recalling a nightmare.
"In one world, I had just finished setting up my equipment when he descended from the sky and smashed my lab with a single punch."
"In another world, he didn't even give me a chance to speak, burning me to ashes directly with his Heat Vision."
"In yet another world, he sat on my portal with his legs crossed and said to me: 'I've seen plenty of villains like you.'"
Angstrom gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
"But I am very fortunate."
He looked up at the Mauler Twins, and a light suddenly appeared in his eyes.
"In this Prime Universe, the Invincible is a kind person."
"He hasn't killed me, hasn't stopped me, and doesn't even know I exist."
"This gives me the chance—to complete my dream."
"Dream?" The Mauler Twins frowned.
"My dream is to transfer the technical knowledge of a thousand versions of myself into my own mind, achieving a fusion of technical knowledge."
"To let this world undergo a leap and become a better place."
Angstrom's voice became high-pitched, like he was giving a speech, like he was preaching.
His eyes grew brighter and brighter, as if burning, as if glowing.
"Think about it—a thousand of me, from a thousand different parallel worlds."
"Each of me possesses different technologies, different knowledge, different skills."
"Some are experts in the field of energy, some are titans in biology, some are geniuses in weaponry."
"If all this knowledge were fused together, what would happen?"
He spread his arms as if embracing the entire world.
"A leap will happen."
"A qualitative leap."
"Human civilization will leap across thousands of years of development overnight, entering a brand new era."
"Diseases will be cured, poverty will be eliminated, wars will stop—a beautiful world is about to be born."
The Mauler Twins remained silent for a long time.
They looked at each other and then simultaneously looked at Angstrom.
"What about our payment?" one Mauler asked.
"You can freely choose any parallel world you like," Angstrom smiled.
"I will take you there."
"In that world, you can live freely, research freely, and clone anything you want to clone freely."
"No one will stop you, no one will arrest you, and no one will lock you in prison."
The Mauler Twins looked at each other again.
Then, they both reached out their hands.
"Deal."
The equipment was set up in deeper ruins.
It was something Angstrom had prepared in advance—a massive metal disk, over ten meters in diameter, its surface covered in dense runes and circuits.
In the center of the disk was a groove, just large enough for a person to lie down in.
Dozens of transparent pillars stood around it, with emerald green light flowing inside them as if they were alive.
The Mauler Twins spent three days helping Angstromcomplete the final adjustments.
They truly were the two people who understood cloning technology best on Earth; even when facing a Parallel World Travel Device, they could grasp the principles and find ways to optimize it in a short time.
"The Energy Circulation System has stabilized," one Mauler said.
"The Consciousness Transmission Channel has been opened," the other Mauler said.
"It can begin."
Angstrom took a deep breath.
He walked to the center of the disk and lay down in that groove.
His body wasn't large, fitting perfectly into it as if it were custom-made.
His eyes stared straight at the greyish-white sky, his pupils reflecting those emerald green lights.
"Begin," he said.
The Mauler Twins pressed the start button.
The disk began to glow.
Those runes and circuits seemed to come alive, starting to flow, rotate, and breathe.
The emerald green light in those pillars grew brighter and more intense, finally turning into a thousand pillars of light that shot straight into the sky.
In the sky, a thousand portals appeared.
From each portal, an Angstrom walked out.
Some were tall, some short, some fat, some thin.
Some wore white lab coats, some wore military uniforms, some wore tattered T-shirts.
But they all had the same face and the same bright eyes.
A thousand Angstroms, coming from a thousand parallel worlds.
They walked to the edge of the disk and reached out, placing their hands on the shoulder of the person in front of them.
One after another, they formed a long line.
Their eyes were closed, and their lips were trembling slightly, as if chanting some ancient incantation.
Then—the Consciousness Transfer began.
That emerald green light surged out from the bodies of the thousand Angstroms, following their arms, their shoulders, and their spines, converging into the groove at the center of the disk.
Then, through those runes and circuits, it surged into the mind of the prime Angstrom.
Chapter 181: I Will Kill Invincible!
At first, it went very smoothly.
Angstrom's body trembled slightly, as if he were receiving a gentle massage.
The corners of his mouth curled up slightly, as if he were having a good dream.
That knowledge—energy, biology, weapons, materials, and computers—flooded into his mind like a tide, being absorbed, digested, and integrated one by one.
But soon, the situation began to change.
Those memories were more than just knowledge.
Within those memories, there was also pain.
In the memories of the first Angstrom, his chest was punched through by Invincible.
That sense of tearing, that burning sensation, and that feeling of emptiness as life drained from his body—all of it flooded into Angstrom's mind.
His body jolted violently.
In the memories of the second Angstrom, he was burned to ashes by Invincible's Heat Vision.
The excruciating pain—starting from the skin burning, the muscles carbonizing, and the bones fracturing—all flooded into Angstrom's mind.
His body began to twitch.
The third.
The fourth.
The fifth.
More and more painful memories flooded into his mind.
Every Angstrom had once been harmed by Invincible.
Some had their limbs broken, some had their skulls crushed, some were thrown into black holes, and some were torn to pieces.
That pain, that fear, and that despair—all superimposed and piled up in Angstrom's mind.
His mind began to expand rapidly.
Not a physical expansion, but an expansion on the levels of Consciousness, spirit, and soul.
There were too many memories, the pain was too heavy, and his brain—even one as incredibly resilient as his, having traversed countless times—began to buckle under the weight.
His body began to distort.
Not a deformation or a malformation, but a deeper, more fundamental distortion.
Cracks began to appear on his skin, and from those cracks, an emerald green light shone through, as if something were about to burst out from within.
His bones began to creak and groan, as if being squeezed, kneaded, and torn by something.
His eyes—those bright eyes that held the stars—began to bloodshot and bulge, turning into two burning Fireballs.
"No..."
He let out a low groan.
"No..."
The memories were still flooding in.
The pain was still compounding.
Figures of Invincible appeared in his mind one after another.
Some were laughing, some were angry, and some were expressionless.
But they were all doing the same thing—killing him.
Killing Angstrom.
Killing every Angstrom in every parallel world.
"Why... why..."
Angstrom's voice was trembling.
"Why does every version of you... have to kill me..."
In the final moment, the painful memories of a thousand consciousnesses all entered his mind.
Those memories were like bombs, detonating simultaneously in the depths of his Consciousness.
Not one loud bang, but a thousand—a thousand screams, a thousand sobs, and a thousand desperate wails—exploding at once.
Then, an explosion.
A massive explosion.
The Mauler Twins were blown away.
Their two-and-a-half-meter-tall bodies were like two fallen leaves in the Shockwave, tumbling and crashing until they slammed into a corner of the ruins, covered in wounds and blood.
They struggled to their feet and looked toward the Disk.
There was no Disk there anymore.
No Runes, no circuits, and no emerald green pillars.
Only a massive crater remained, with smoke rising from the bottom and the smell of char filling the air.
Angstrom was gone.
"Is he dead?" one Mauler asked.
"I don't know," the other Mauler said.
Just as they thought Angstrom had been reduced to ashes, a hand reached out from the edge of the crater.
The hand was charred black like coal, fingers curled, and fingernails peeling.
But it gripped the rocks at the edge of the pit firmly, and with a heave, a body crawled out.
Angstrom.
His hair was burned off, his skin charred, and his clothes in tatters.
His body was shaking, as if enduring immense pain.
But his eyes—those eyes were still glowing.
Not the gentle, star-filled light from before.
But a crazed, burning light, filled with endless hatred.
He stumbled to his feet and raised his hand, and a green Portal opened in front of him.
On the other side of the Portal was another parallel world—a gray sky, a desolate land, and a dead city.
He took a step and walked into the Portal.
At the last moment before the Portal closed, the Mauler Twins heard him mutter a sentence.
The words were very faint, like an echo coming from a very deep place.
"I must... kill Invincible..."
The Portal closed.
Silence returned to the ruins.
Only the Mauler Twins remained, standing on the White sand, staring at the now-empty crater in long silence.
Chapter 182: Invincible Variants
A platform suspended in the void.
No sky, no earth, no stars, no sun or moon.
Only gray-white stone slabs extending from beneath the feet to the edge of vision, then vanishing into the endless void.
The platform was vast, large enough to accommodate over a thousand people standing at once.
But at this moment, only one person stood upon it.
Angstrom Levy.
He wore a dark gray trench coat, its hem fluttering gently in the void's wind.
His hair was a bit messier than before, and his eyes were more sunken.
But the light in those eyes...
That crazed, burning light, filled with endless hatred!
It had never gone out!
He looked up.
Above his head, one hundred and eight figures hovered.
One hundred and eight Invincible Young Heroes.
One hundred and eight conquerors of parallel Universes.
One hundred and eight Mark Graysons.
They floated in mid-air in various poses and with different expressions, but they all shared the same face.
Young, handsome, black hair, black eyes.
Only, those eyes held different things.
Some held arrogance, some held coldness, some held madness, and some held despair.
Angstrom spread his arms as if embracing these one hundred and eight demons.
"You are the most vicious Invincible Young Heroes I have found across countless parallel worlds!"
His voice echoed in the void, without resonance, only pure, naked sound waves.
"Every single one of you has conquered your own Universe!"
His gaze swept across each face, as if taking inventory of his collection.
"Now, I wish to obtain your help!"
No one answered.
One hundred and eight pairs of eyes stared at him, some with interest, some with disgust, and some with murderous intent.
Angstrom did not flinch.
He had seen too much.
The first to speak was Mohawk Mark.
He had a mohawk, the sides of his head shaved clean, with a single tuft in the middle dyed blood-red and standing tall like a rooster's comb or a blade.
His suit was black, but it was splattered with dark red blood—not someone else's, but his own.
He liked to cut his palms before a battle, letting the blood drip through his fingers, feeling the clarity brought by that pain.
"Help?" He sneered, his voice crude and arrogant. "Why the hell should I help you? What the hell are you?"
His gaze swept over the other Marks, a disdainful smile hanging on his lips.
"A bunch of trash, worthy of standing with me?"
Omni-Mark hovered beside him, saying nothing.
His suit was pure white, without a single blemish or scratch, as if he had never been in a battle.
But his eyes—those eyes were cold as ice, sharp as blades, deep as an abyss.
He didn't need to speak; his very presence was a form of oppression.
He never needed a reason to kill, only a thought.
Maskless Mark wore no mask.
There was a scar stretching diagonally from his forehead to his chin, the flesh rolled back to reveal the pink muscle beneath.
He had carved it himself—because he felt so bored, so bored that he needed pain to prove he was still alive.
He licked his lips, a bloodthirsty light flickering in his eyes.
"A fight? Good, good. I haven't fought in a long time."
His voice was shrill and excited, like a man starving for three days who had just smelled the scent of meat.
Masked Mark wore a black mask, revealing only his eyes.
Those eyes were dim and hollow, like two pools of stagnant water.
He hovered at the edge of the crowd, keeping his distance from everyone.
He wasn't there to fight; he was there to vent.
There were no enemies left in his Universe; he had killed everyone he could kill, destroyed everything he could destroy, and then found he was still empty.
Still lonely.
Spectacled Mark wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, the eyes behind the lenses narrow and cunning.
A faint, lingering smile always hung on the corner of his mouth, as if mocking something or enjoying something.
He liked to talk, liked to torture his opponents with words, liked to watch them break under his humiliation.
"Tsk tsk tsk, look at this motley crew." His voice was sharp and venomous. "Mohawk, is that hair a rooster's comb or a hemorrhoid? Omni, are you wearing white because you're afraid people won't know you're a virgin? Maskless, did a dog chew on your face?"
His gaze turned toward Masked Mark, the smile on his lips deepening.
"And you, the one crying behind the mask, do you have to hold a photo of your mommy every night to fall asleep?"
Masked Mark's eyes twitched.
Not with anger, but with pain.
Spectacled Mark had struck a nerve.
His mother, his Debbie, in the moment he killed her with his own hands, still had love for him in her eyes.
Striped Mark wore a black-and-white striped suit, looking like a prison uniform or a zebra.
His eyes were fanatical, as if filled by some sort of faith.
He advocated for Viltrumite supremacy, believing that Viltrumites were the most superior race in the Universeand all other creatures were only fit to be slaves.
"You half-breeds, you dare call yourselves Viltrumites?" His voice was violent and dictatorial. "Earthling blood flows through your veins. You are pollution, you are trash, you are flaws that must be purged!"
Prisoner Mark wore tattered prison clothes, with stubble on his face and dark circles under his eyes.
He looked like he had just escaped from prison—in fact, he had.
He had killed everyone in the prison, including guards, inmates, and family members who came to visit.
He didn't like to talk; he only liked to fight.
He cracked his wrists, the bones popping.
"So noisy." His voice was low and raspy. "If you're going to fight, then fight. If not, get lost."
It was unclear who made the first move.
Perhaps Mohawk Mark couldn't stand the look in Spectacled Mark's eyes.
Perhaps Maskless Mark finally couldn't restrain his bloodthirsty impulse.
Perhaps Striped Mark's nerves were stung by the word "half-breed."
In any case, one hundred and eight Marks moved at the exact same moment.
Fists collided with fists, producing heavy, thunderous booms.
Shockwaves exploded in the void, shaking the gray-white stone slabs into spiderweb-like cracks.
Heat Vision crisscrossed, gold-red beams cutting charred furrows into the platform.
Some were kicked away, some were smashed down, some were trampled underfoot, and some were picked up and used as weapons.
Mohawk Mark punched Spectacled Mark in the face, sending his gold-rimmed glasses flying.
Spectacled Mark's nose broke, blood flowing freely, but he was still laughing.
"Good hit, a good hit indeed!" He licked the blood from the corner of his mouth. "That punch had thirty percent of my power!"
Omni-Mark did not join the brawl.
He hovered outside the battle circle, arms crossed, watching coldly from the sidelines.
His gaze swept across each face, as if evaluating everyone's worth.
He was waiting, waiting for a reason to strike.
Chapter 183: Black-Suited Mark
Maskless Mark charged into the crowd like a hungry wolf into a flock of sheep.
He didn't defend, only attacked.
When others' fists landed on him, he didn't dodge; when others' Heat Vision hit him, he didn't flinch.
He simply threw punch after punch, kick after kick, and slash after slash.
He was covered in wounds, but he was smiling, laughing like a child.
Masked Mark retreated further to the edge.
He didn't want to fight; he just wanted to watch.
Watching these people who looked exactly like him kill each other gave him a twisted sense of comfort—at least he wasn't the loneliest one.
Striped Mark rushed toward Prisoner Mark.
He thought Prisoner Mark was the weakest because he was wearing a prison uniform and looked like he had been locked up for a long time.
He was wrong.
Prisoner Mark broke his nose with a single punch.
Striped Mark's nosebleed gushed out, splashing onto his black-and-white striped suit, a shocking sight.
"Viltrum Above All?" Prisoner Mark's voice was low and cold. "You can't even beat me, yet you talk about supremacy?"
He grabbed Striped Mark by the throat and lifted him into the air.
Striped Mark struggled, his legs kicking wildly and his hands trying to pry open that iron-pincer-like hand, but it didn't budge an inch.
Just as Prisoner Mark was about to snap Striped Mark's neck, a hand rested on his shoulder from behind.
"Hey."
Mohawk Mark's voice came from behind him.
Prisoner Mark turned his head, and Mohawk Mark's fist had already slammed into his face.
"Bang!"
Prisoner Mark was sent flying, and Striped Mark slipped from his grasp, falling to the ground and gasping for air.
Mohawk Mark stood in the center of the battle, spreading his arms and laughing toward the sky.
"A bunch of trash! You think you're worthy of fighting me?"
As soon as he finished speaking, Maskless Mark pounced from behind and bit into his ear.
"Ah—!"
Mohawk Mark let out a blood-curdling scream and punched Maskless Mark in the stomach, sending him flying.
But in Maskless Mark's mouth was a piece of bloody flesh.
He chewed it, swallowed it, and laughed even more maniacally.
"Delicious, delicious!"
The chaotic battle grew more intense.
Some began to use weapons, some used strategy, and some used dirty tricks.
Spectacled Mark picked up a broken lens from the ground and used its edge to slit Striped Mark's throat.
Striped Mark clutched his neck as blood gushed through his fingers, but he didn't fall; instead, he slammed his head into Spectacled Mark's nose.
The two rolled on the ground, tearing at each other like two mad dogs.
Omni-Mark still didn't move.
The corners of his mouth curled up slightly, as if he were watching an entertaining performance.
Masked Mark still hid on the edge, as if watching a tragedy that had nothing to do with him.
Just then, a Mark broke away from the melee and rushed straight at Angstrom.
"I'll just blackmail you and force you to take me to other Universes!"
His voice was filled with greed and madness.
He grabbed Angstrom by the throat and hoisted him into the air.
Angstrom's face turned bright red, but the smile remained on his lips.
"Now, all parallel worlds will become my territory!"
That Mark laughed loudly, his laughter echoing in the void.
The other Marks stopped what they were doing and looked over.
Some showed expressions of disdain, some looked like they were watching a show, and some looked eager to try.
Seeing that all the Invincible Young Heroes were about to join the fray, Angstrom smiled slightly.
In the countless parallel Universes, he had found an unprecedented Invincible.
That Invincible had reached a peak unattainable by human effort, possessing power that transcended even Viltrumites.
But his personality was truly vile, so it was only at this moment that he decided to release him.
Angstrom raised his hand, and a green portal opened behind him.
On the other side of the portal was endless darkness.
Out of the darkness, a figure slowly emerged.
He wore a black suit—not a dull, blood-stained black, but a pure, deep black like a black hole.
The surface of the suit was covered in portable armor with sharp, well-defined lines, looking as if it had been carved with a blade.
On his back hung a matching black cape, without luster or movement, just hanging quietly like a solidified shadow.
He wore a mask on his head that covered the upper half of his face, leaving only his mouth and chin exposed.
The shape of the mask resembled a bat, with two pointed ears sticking up, forming a pair of shadow wings above his forehead.
The lips beneath the mask curled up slightly in a faint smile.
Black-Suited Mark.
He stepped out of the portal, stood on the platform, and looked around.
One hundred and eight Marks hovered in mid-air, in various poses and with various expressions.
His gaze swept across their faces, as if he were looking at a swarm of ants.
"Wow, there are actually so many of you. What a surprise!"
His voice wasn't loud, but every word was crystal clear.
There was amusement in that voice, curiosity, and something indefinable.
Like a hunter seeing prey, or a collector seeing a rare treasure.
His gaze landed on Angstrom.
"And you, you're actually not dead. How strange."
I clearly remember killing every single super-powered person in my Universe."
Angstrom smiled.
There was bitterness, relief, and a hint of pride in that smile.
"I don't even know how many versions of me have been killed by you people."
"But at least I can still travel to that parallel Universe."
Black-Suited Mark's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Oh, how novel."
You're more interesting than the fellow I killed."
He took a step forward, his combat boots clicking softly against the greyish-white stone floor.
"The fact that you can face me without being servile or overbearing makes me quite happy."
I'll study it carefully—"
He tilted his head, the smile on his lips deepening.
"How to make you feel fear."
Angstrom didn't back down.
He stood there, looking directly into Black-Suited Mark's eyes.
"If possible, I really didn't want to meet you."
But you can't kill me."
Through countless travels, my ability has undergone an evolution."
He took a deep breath.
"Furthermore, I want to..."
He didn't finish his sentence.
Black-Suited Mark's hand had already pierced through his skull.
"Bang."
It wasn't an explosion or a shattering, but a dull sound, like a watermelon being smashed.
Angstrom's head instantly disintegrated under Black-Suited Mark's fist, bits of red and white spraying everywhere. The headless corpse swayed and then collapsed with a thud.
"Couldn't you have just maintained that interesting look?"
Black-Suited Mark flicked the blood off his hand, his tone full of helplessness.
"You people... as soon as you start playing the mystery card, it makes me bored."
He looked up at the group of Mark variants still fighting above him, the smile returning to his face.
"Not bad, so many Viltrumites.
Even though they're all just half-bloods and not yet of age, at least the quantity is decent."
He paused.
"After I made Viltrum extinct, it's been a long time since I've seen so much Viltrum blood."