Chris stood at the edge of the archive balcony, the stars burning like a million watchful eyes beyond the glass dome. Behind him, shelves of etched crystal glowed faintly, each one a record of worlds already conquered or yet to fall.
Earth's image still lingered in his mind, sharper than all the others. Oceans, continents, clouds. Home.
For decades he had lived among wolves, fought as they fought, studied as they studied. He had sparred until his fists bled against warriors who respected him for it. He had walked their silent halls, massive and echoing with the absence of billions who had died. He had worn their colors, sat at their tables, spoken their words.
But in that moment, staring into the void, Chris knew he could not stay.
He turned at the sound of soft footsteps. Anissa approached, her presence as steady and sure as it had been the first day she'd found him adrift in space. She wore her uniform, cloak drawn over one shoulder, her dark hair cut sharp to her jaw. To him, she looked as strong as ever — and more human than she would admit.
"You've been distant," she said simply.
Chris met her eyes. "I can't stay here, Anissa."
She tilted her head, unreadable. "Why not? You've proven yourself. Thragg respects you. The others accept you. You have everything here."
"No." He stepped closer, his voice firm. "I have nothing here. This isn't who I am. I can't be one of you."
Her jaw tightened. "You already are."
"Am I?" Chris's golden aura shimmered faintly in the low light. "I've trained with you, fought beside you, lived with you… but I'm not Viltrumite. I never will be."
Anissa's eyes narrowed, a storm flashing in them. For a moment she looked ready to strike him, to drag him back into the cycle of fists and fury where she was strongest. But instead, she turned her gaze to the stars.
"You want to go back," she said at last.
"I have to," Chris answered. He reached for her hand, but she pulled it back before he could touch it. "Come with me. You don't have to be part of this empire. You can be more than what they made you."
Silence stretched between them. For a heartbeat, he saw it — the flicker of longing in her eyes, the smallest crack in the armor of her certainty.
Then she crushed it.
"I am Viltrumite," she said coldly. "Through and through. This is who I am. This is who I will always be."
Chris's throat tightened, but he said nothing. He only held her gaze, searching for something she refused to show.
At last, Anissa turned away. "If you leave, you will not be welcomed back. You know this."
"I'm not coming back," Chris said. His voice was quiet, but the words were final.
The golden shimmer across his skin brightened, faint trails drifting in the air as if the stars themselves were answering him. For decades he had worn Viltrum's colors. Tonight, he would shed them. Tonight, he was his own.
Anissa's fists clenched at her sides. She didn't try to stop him. But when Chris stepped past her toward the stars, she did not follow.
And though she stood tall and unyielding, her heart thundered with something she would never speak aloud.