goodluckthrfirst
Mark Grayson was not born on Earth.
His first breaths were drawn under the high crimson skies of Viltrum, the world where weakness was culled and the strong ruled without question. His father, Nolan - known across the Empire as one of its most feared champions - took personal charge of his upbringing.
From the moment Mark could stand, he trained. There was no gentle encouragement, only the relentless drills of a father who believed survival required perfection. Nolan's lessons were simple and absolute:
A Viltrumite's will is unbreakable.
Mercy is a luxury the weak cannot afford.
The Empire is your blood, your home, your purpose.
Mark excelled. His speed came early, his strength earlier still. By his tenth year, he had flown from Viltrum's surface into orbit and back without gasping for air. His father was proud - but pride on Viltrum came with expectation.
At sixteen, Mark was given his first mission: to put down a rebellion on a distant colony. He crushed it in hours.
It was intoxicating - the speed, the power, the absolute certainty of victory.
But as he stood on the battlefield, surrounded by the ruins of a city and the silence of the dead, something unsettled him.
These weren't warriors - they were farmers, traders, children.
And for the first time, Mark wondered if his father's teachings hid a truth the Empire didn't want him to see.
Nolan noticed the hesitation. A seed of doubt had been planted in his son... and in the Viltrum Empire, doubt was dangerous.