It's been about a week since Nolan and I clashed with the Daxamites. After we returned to Viltrum and delivered the news, Thragg's expression—already grim and humorless—took on a new level of seriousness.
Patrols across the empire have increased tenfold. I've barely had time to breathe, let alone visit my mother. Instead, I've been stuck flying around random solar systems with Nolan and Varnis, running endless recon or enforcement operations.
To make matters worse, my strength growth—once rapid and exhilarating—has started to plateau. Sure, I got stronger after the fight with the Daxamite, but it wasn't the exponential leap I've grown used to. My body's adaptation has slowed.
I think I know why. It seems when my Viltrumite DNA has fully stabilized, and now that my physiology has finished overtaking my mother's genes, the explosive growth is gone. Just a steady climb now—slower, but manageable. I'll just have to work harder. Grind it out like every other Viltrumite.
I've also been avoiding training with Ursall. Not because I'm afraid of her—please, I can handle her especially now—but because of... other reasons. I've used my current workload as an excuse, but the truth is I'm not ready to cross that particular line with her just yet.
It's clear what she wants. And, realistically speaking, any "sparring session" with her would almost definitely result in a child. Viltrumites are notoriously hyper-fertile. Pulling out probably isn't going to cut it, and I doubt she'd appreciate the attempt anyway.
So for now, I'm putting it off. Maybe I'll do some research—find out how long Viltrumite pregnancies last. Yeah, that sounds like a plan. Something for later.
Even if we did have a child, I doubt I'd have any say in how they're raised. Viltrumite customs are clear: children of royalty are raised by the state—by Thragg and Ursall, in this case.
I don't doubt Ursall's capabilities as a parent—on the outside, at least. She's competent, disciplined, and sharp. But deep down? She's still a Viltrumite through and through. Even with her softer tendencies, there's a coldness under the surface.
And let's not forget: Nolan has practically been my mentor for the past two years. That experience alone tells me Viltrumite parenting isn't exactly nurturing... and let's not forget Conquest. My actual father. Add in the fact that Onaan would be the uncle and Thragg the grandfather?
Yeah... that's a recipe for disaster.
Shaking my head to push the thought aside, I continue my flight toward Viltrum's sun. In one of my rare off-duty windows this week, I've decided to do a bit of experimenting.
Maybe it's dumb. Maybe it's suicidal. But I'm curious. What's stopping a Viltrumite from safely absorbing yellow sun radiation?
Ursall rambled on once about how our smart atoms "overfeed" on solar energy and destabilize—blah blah, technobabble. But isn't it true that we subconsciously control our smart atoms? So, theoretically, if I can make that control conscious—if I can will them to regulate their intake—then maybe I can harness that radiation. Even if just temporarily.
Coming to a halt a few clicks from the sun's surface, I stare at it in silence. Golden plasma burns bright in the void. The sheer intensity would blind or vaporize most other aliens instantly.
I mentally brace myself, slap my cheeks, and shout internally like a lunatic. Then I soar forward.
One moment, I'm coasting in the vacuum of space. The next, I'm inside the sun.
The effect is immediate. Every atom in my body starts to eagerly drink in the solar radiation like it's the last meal they'll ever get. The sensation is... uncomfortable. It's not painful—not yet—but I can feel the edge of it. Like an itch beneath my skin that grows hotter with every second.
My clothes begin to disintegrate, reduced to ash in seconds. I fold into a meditative position, floating within the inferno, and try to focus.
Don't eat too much. Don't eat too much. Don't eat too much...
I chant the mantra internally, hoping to override my biology. If our smart atoms adapt to stress, then this repeated instruction—calm, firm, consistent—should start to register.
At first, nothing happens. Just mounting heat and a building urge to escape. I'm nearly ready to call it and leave—
Then something shifts.
It's like... a door closes. Not one I see, but one I feel—and it slams shut across my entire body.
The constant energy absorption halts. My atoms lock down, cutting off the radiation like a dam halting a river.
Success.
I mentally cheer, grin, and start moving again—aiming to drift out of the star slowly, but...
Instead of gently floating out, I rocket through the plasma and back into space at a speed that startles even me.
It's absurd. Even by Viltrumite standards.
I glance down and notice a faint golden glow surrounding my body. The energy boost is real. But... just as quickly as it came, it fades. The glow vanishes, and my speed drops back to normal.
Damn. So it was temporary.
I sigh and glare back at the sun with quiet irritation. Maybe the others were right. Maybe we can't absorb it long-term.
That's when it happens.
A faint red tint flashes across my vision. Just for a split second.
Laser vision?
I blink, rapidly bringing my hands to my eyes. Did I just...?
I shake my head. No time to figure that out now. I need to head back. First order of business: new clothes.
-
-
I smile for the first time in what feels like months.
With a light grunt, I hoist a boulder the size of a three-story building and toss it into the sky. It sails up through the atmosphere and into orbit with a satisfying whoosh.
On the ground below, my mother and sister cheer. I float back down, clapping my hands together to clear the dust.
The moment I touch down, they pull me into a hug.
"Thank you for your help, sweetie. I'm so proud of how strong you've become," my mother whispers, her voice warm and soothing in my ear.
I blush and awkwardly try to pull away as her long tongue moves to groom my hair.
"Mom! I'm not three months old anymore!" I protest, backing away while she giggles.
My sister, Mezeek, joins in on the laughter.
She's grown a lot. She's about the same height as our mom now. Her aging is progressing normally... for a bug alien, but our mother… she's fading.
Her back is hunched now. Her eyes are tired, dulled by the passing time. Her once vibrant green skin is now a muted, worn hue. She's four years old.
Historically, our people only live to about five. A year at most. Maybe less.
So for now, I cling to these peaceful moments.
I don't know how I'll react when she's gone. I tell myself I'll be calm. Reasonable. Accepting.
I totally wont throw a moon or two...
But deep down, I'm not so sure.
Still, I smile and let the sun warm my skin as I sit with them.
That's when it hits me.
"I almost forgot why I came here."
Groaning, I rub the back of my neck. "I was supposed to file a wage report. Damn it, Nolan's gonna chew my head off again..."