The outpost lay quiet. Its training grounds, once scarred with months of battle, now rested in silence. Inside, the cot in Anissa's quarters was little more than splintered wreckage, the frame bent and broken from the weight of two bodies that had tested its limits as much as they had tested each other.
Chris lay on his back, golden shimmer faint against his skin, one arm draped protectively around the woman curled against him. Anissa nestled there easily, her breath steady, eyes half-lidded with a satisfaction that was rare in her kind. Her fingers traced idle patterns across his chest, running along the hard lines of muscle that had withstood every strike she'd thrown at him.
For the first time since his rebirth, Chris allowed himself to relax. No sparring, no tests, no questions of who he was or what he had become. Just the silence of the void outside and the steady rhythm of another heartbeat against his own.
Anissa's lips curved in a small, knowing smile. She tilted her head, studying him the way a predator studies its equal — with respect, with hunger, and with the quiet certainty that he belonged in her world now.
But Viltrum was never far away. And she knew this was only the beginning.
The outpost was a husk by the time they left it — its training grounds shattered, walls pocked with craters, and its barracks half-collapsed from months of battles that had never truly ended until that final night.
Anissa's ship cut across the stars, sleek and sharp, built for war. She sat at the controls, posture relaxed but eyes alert, a small smile tugging at her lips whenever she glanced at Chris seated beside her. He wore the simple Viltrumite uniform she had given him months ago, though even she had to admit it looked wrong on him. He wasn't Viltrumite, and he never would be.
As the ship neared Viltrum, the planet grew massive in the viewport. Pale blues and silvers gleamed below, cities shining like polished spears thrust into the heavens.
But before Chris could take in the surface, his gaze froze on the sky around it.
The ring.
Not of dust or stone, but of bodies. Millions of them, drifting in eternal orbit. Preserved perfectly by the cold of space and their own flawless biology, each Viltrumite corpse looked untouched by time — faces rigid, armor intact, capes trailing like banners of death.
The sight stretched across the heavens, an unbroken band of fallen warriors encircling their homeworld.
Chris's gut clenched. "They keep their dead… like trophies."
Anissa didn't flinch. "Not trophies. Proof. The Scourge Virus killed ninety-nine out of every hundred of us. The weak died. The strong endured. We cast the bodies into space to purge the disease. They remain as a monument — and as a reminder."
Only after that grim revelation did his eyes drift down to the surface, to the cities of spires and flawless order. Beauty, built beneath a crown of corpses.
The descent was swift. Soldiers in crisp uniforms saluted as Anissa led him through the landing port. They didn't question her — not openly. But Chris caught the way their eyes lingered on him, some curious, some wary, some dismissive.
Everywhere he looked, the same patterns repeated: order, efficiency, strength displayed in architecture and in people alike. There were no weak bodies here, no slouching frames. Even the children in the training yards stood tall, fists clenched, already learning to fight.
It was discipline without mercy. Pride without compassion.
And at the heart of it all waited Thragg.
They found him on a balcony overlooking the capital, hands clasped behind his back, cloak rippling faintly in the planetary winds. His presence was overwhelming — not simply in stature, but in the sheer certainty that radiated from him. Thragg did not need to prove his dominance. He was dominance.
His gaze slid over Chris, assessing, calculating.
"So," Thragg said at last, his voice low and measured, "this is the curiosity you've brought home, Anissa."
Anissa bowed her head, but only slightly. "He is no curiosity, Grand Regent. He survived me. He learned from me. He grew stronger. He is not one of us — but he is not weak."
Thragg's eyes narrowed. He stepped closer, the weight of his stare pressing down like gravity. Chris met it evenly, jaw tight, golden shimmer faint across his skin.
"I see," Thragg murmured. "Stronger than a man should be. But not Viltrumite."
Chris crossed his arms. "Never claimed to be."
Thragg's lips curved into something that might have been a smile — or a warning. "Then you will prove what you are."
Behind him, the shadows shifted as half a dozen Viltrumite warriors stepped forward, armored and ready. Their eyes locked onto Chris like predators scenting prey.
Anissa's smirk returned, fierce and hungry. She leaned close to Chris, her voice low. "This is it. Show them what you've learned."
Chris flexed his hands. The faint glow of gold rippled down his arms.
The trial had begun.