"Fight until you reach your limits," Conquest announced from his elevated position. "No other rules apply, and the outcome will determine your readiness for the mission ahead."
The four Viltrumites spread out in a diamond formation around Mark on the platform, their bodies hovering just above the ground while they sized him up with glances that passed between them. The first one, a male with a scar across his cheek, shot forward in a blur, his fist aimed at Mark's jaw, Mark twisted his torso to dodge it, countering with a punch that grazed the attacker's shoulder. Before Mark could follow through, the second Viltrumite, a female with short hair, dove in from above, her knee driving toward his back, which forced him to fly upward and spin away, but the third, another male, intercepted him midair with a tackle that slammed them both into the arena wall.
Mark shoved the third Viltrumite off him, his hands gripping the opponent's uniform as he hurled him downward, yet the fourth Viltrumite, who moved with seamless flight control, looped around from below and caught his comrade, using the momentum to propel both of them back up toward Mark in a synchronized assault. They collided with Mark simultaneously, one punching his ribs while the other kicked at his legs, and Mark grunted as he felt bones crack under the impacts, blood spraying from his mouth when a follow-up elbow connected with his chin. He retaliated by grabbing the fourth Viltrumite's arm and yanking it hard, dislocating the joint with a wet pop, but the injured one twisted in midair, using his flight to reorient upside down relative to Mark and deliver a headbutt that split Mark's forehead open, warm blood trickling into his eyes.
The group pressed their advantage, the first Viltrumite flying in sideways to clip Mark's side with a spinning kick, which sent him tumbling through the air, the second capitalized by rocketing upward to meet him, her fists raining down in rapid succession on his chest and face. Mark blocked some blows, but others landed solidly, bruising his organs and tearing skin where knuckles met flesh, and he coughed up more blood as he finally managed to catch her wrist, twisting it until he heard the snap of breaking bones. She screamed and pulled back, yet her allies swarmed in from all directions, the third flipping horizontally to grab Mark's leg and yank him downward while the first ascended vertically to punch him from above.
Mark crashed to the platform floor, the impact cratering the surface beneath him, he rolled aside just as the fourth stomped down where his head had been, the boot cracking the material further. He sprang up, launching a punch at the nearest foe, but they scattered in perfect unison, two flying left while two went right, then converging again from inverted positions, one attacking from what Mark perceived as below while another came from the side, their flight allowing them to treat the arena as a sphere rather than a flat plane. Punches and kicks connected with his body in a flurry, ribs fracturing, skin splitting across his knuckles when he struck back, and blood from all parties spattered the ground as Mark's superior speed let him land a devastating hook that caved in the second Viltrumite's cheekbone, bone fragments protruding through the torn flesh.
From the sidelines, Anissa leaned toward Nolan, her arms crossed while she watched the battle unfold in the center. "Do you think he can win?" she asked.
Nolan kept his eyes on the fight, his expression stoic as he replied. "He's got the raw power and the speed over each of them, but being human limits him. Until he adapts to fighting freely in three dimensions, like we do, he'll stay on the defensive, and they'll wear him down with their experience."
The battle intensified as Mark flew upward to escape a pincer attack, yet the Viltrumites anticipated it, the first and third flipping their orientations to pursue him headfirst from what seemed like downward trajectories, their fists extended like spears. Mark met the first with a knee to the gut that folded him in half, but the third grazed Mark's side, their nails raking deep gashes that exposed muscle and sinew. The fourth joined from a sideways loop, grabbing Mark's arm and wrenching it while the second, despite her broken wrist, flew in to kick at his exposed back, her boot heel cracking vertebrae.
Mark roared in pain, blood flowing from multiple wounds, and he headbutted the fourth backward, the impact shattering the Viltrumite's nose in a spray of crimson, cartilage crunching audibly. He then spun in place, using his greater strength to fling the third away, but they regrouped instantly, their flight letting them stabilize in any direction without losing momentum, and they charged again, two coming from above while two approached horizontally, fists and feet blurring in coordinated strikes. Mark blocked a punch, countered with an elbow that split the first Viltrumite's lip wide open, teeth scattering across the platform, yet a kick from behind buckled his knee.
Anissa shifted her weight. "If he doesn't adjust soon, they might overwhelm him completely."
Nolan nodded slightly, his fists clenched at his sides as he watched his son endure another barrage. "He will. Mark may be young, but he has been constantly fighting since he gained his Viltrumite abilities, most of those enemies have been stronger than himself, he won't be broken by this."
Mark's mind raced amid the fight, analyzing their patterns as he dodged a dive from the second Viltrumite, who oriented herself upside down to strike at his legs, he noted how they used flight not just for speed but for creating artificial leverage points in open space, just like Anissa and his father did. He feigned a retreat, luring the first closer, then exploded upward with a punch that shattered the Viltrumite's jaw, bone fragments embedding in his own knuckles, blood mixing as the foe spiraled away. The others closed in, but Mark anticipated their coordination this time, dropping suddenly to what felt like below while twisting his body to face the third, whom he grabbed by the throat and slammed into the fourth, their heads colliding with a crack that split skulls open, gray matter leaking from the wounds.
The second Viltrumite recovered and flew at him sideways, her good arm swinging in a haymaker, yet Mark inverted his own orientation midair, treating her approach as if it came from above, and he countered with a knee that punctured her abdomen. He pressed the advantage now, his plan solidifying to isolate them by disrupting their formation, and he rocketed toward the first, who had regained his footing, delivering a series of rapid punches that pulped the Viltrumite's face, eyes bursting under the pressure, blood and vitreous fluid spraying outward.
Anissa raised an eyebrow as she saw Mark's shift in momentum. "When they don't have the advantage they almost look like children to him," she commented, her arms unfolding while she pointed subtly at the arena.
Nolan allowed a faint smirk, his pride evident as he responded. "Told you. He's overcoming that limitation step by step."
The third Viltrumite charged in a desperate loop, flipping to attack, but Mark met him with superior speed, dodging the initial strike and countering with a fist at his chest, ribs shattering inward, blood gushing from the cavity. The fourth, arm still dislocated, attempted a final assault from a horizontal dive, yet Mark grabbed him by the legs, swung him around in a full circle to build speed, and smashed him into the platform, spine snapping in multiple places with audible pops, vertebrae protruding through the skin amid a pool of blood.
The first Viltrumite with the mangled face, rose unsteadily and flew at Mark inverted, but Mark, now fully attuned to the multidirectional combat, intercepted him with a chokehold that crushed the windpipe, cartilage collapsing as the foe gurgled blood. Mark finished him with a punch to the temple that caved the skull inward, and then he turned to the second, who clutched her eviscerated gut, delivering a kick that snapped her neck.
The arena fell silent as the last two lay broken, their forms twitching in pools of their own viscera, Mark stood amid the carnage, his body battered with fractures and lacerations that wept blood, yet he remained upright. Conquest observed from his throne, his expression unreadable as he processed the outcome, while the other Viltrumites murmured in surprise at the turnaround.
Mark wiped blood from his eyes, his breathing ragged as he surveyed the defeated foes. He looked up at Conquest from the center of the arena, his lips curling into a smirk while he wiped more blood from his brow with the back of his hand. This gesture did not sit well with Conquest at all, his features tightening as he gripped the armrests of his throne. He pointed sharply at one of the Viltrumites who stood nearby. "Remove those failures to the healing pods immediately," he ordered, gesturing toward the broken forms of the defeated fighters that littered the platform. "Do it before I decide to end them myself and spare the empire their dishonour."
Conquest then shifted his attention back to Mark, his posture straightening as he delivered the directives he had received from Thragg earlier. "You will assume command of Enforcers Anissa and Lucan for this operation," he stated. "We have allocated a ship to you, one equipped for the demands of the mission ahead, your detailed orders await you aboard it in the command logs." He paused briefly, his eyes narrowing further as he leaned forward. "Now depart from my presence at once, I have no desire to look upon you any longer."
Mark did not linger in the arena, his body lifting off the ground as he flew toward the exit, Anissa along with Nolan trailed closely behind him through the wide corridors of the ship. Nolan caught up to fly alongside his son, his hand clapping Mark on the shoulder once they reached a quieter section. "You handled yourself well in there, Mark," he said. "Winning that fight shows what you're capable of, but listen to me when I say that Conquest isn't a Viltrumite you want to provoke lightly."
Mark glanced at his father, his expression unchanging as they continued forward. "Even among our kind, he inspires fear, and it stems from his nature that thrives on combat and inflicting suffering," he explained, his gaze meeting Mark's directly. "He's like a rabid animal unleashed, one who seeks out pain not just in enemies but in anyone who crosses him."
Mark shrugged off the advice, his focus shifting ahead as they approached the docking area. "I don't care about that," he replied. "One day, I'll end Conquest myself and that'll be that m."
Anissa, who flew on Mark's other side, turned her head toward him at those words. "You should not voice such thoughts so freely," she cautioned as she scanned the surroundings for any listeners. "Words like that could reach the wrong ears, and they might lead to consequences."
Mark ignored their concerns entirely, his mind already moving to the next matter at hand while they proceeded through the ship's upper levels. He slowed his flight slighty. "I need access to a communication terminal," he stated. "I want to inform my wives about my whereabouts before we depart."
Nolan nodded in response, his arm gesturing toward the path ahead where the docking bays connected. "Your ship will have one equipped in the command center," he informed Mark. "Anissa will guide you there directly."
He then placed a hand on Mark's arm to emphasize the point that followed. "This mission holds significant weight, son," Nolan added. "Your performance will shape how the empire perceives you from here on, and it could influence your standing among us."
Mark acknowledged the statement with a simple nod, though internally he held no regard for the empire's opinions or hierarchies. He turned to face his father fully now, extending his hand in farewell. "Goodbye for now, I'll see you when I get back," he said as they clasped hands. Nolan released his son's hand and watched as Mark veered off with Anissa, who led the way toward the designated docking bay.
Mark flew beside her in silence for a moment before curiosity prompted his question. "Tell me about this ship," he inquired, his eyes scanning the massive structure that came into view through the viewports. "Will it just carry the three of us, or does it include more personnel?"
Anissa shook her head as they approached the entrance. "The vessel operates with a standard crew complement of one thousand individuals who manage navigation, maintenance, and systems," she explained, her hand indicating the bays where smaller crafts attached. "It also houses five thousand soldiers prepared for deployment at any command, all trained in ground assaults and support roles." She continued without pause, outlining additional capabilities. "The ship features advanced weapon arrays for orbital strikes, shielding that withstands prolonged engagements, and fabrication units that produce supplies on demand during extended operations."
Mark absorbed the information with nods, though the concept of soldiers drawn from enslaved races churned discomfort within him as they entered the docking area. They landed in the bay where the command crew awaited them, a group of diverse species who bowed deeply at their arrival, their postures reverent as if in the presence of deities. One of them, a tall figure with scaled skin, stepped forward hesitantly. "We welcome you aboard, mighty ones," he proclaimed, his voice trembling slightly while the others echoed similar sentiments. "Your command honors us, and we stand ready to serve in whatever capacity you require, for your will guides our every action."
Mark offered a polite smile in return, his hand raising in acknowledgment. "Thank you for the welcome," he replied with a smile as he addressed the group. This response left them momentarily speechless, their eyes widening in confusion while they exchanged glances among themselves.
Anissa intervened abruptly, her eyebrow arching as she waved them off. "Your prattling irritates me," she stated flatly, her command leaving no room for delay. "Disperse now and return to your stations immediately."
The crew complied without hesitation, scattering to their posts as they hurried away from the bay. Mark turned to her once they departed. "You didn't need to treat them so harshly," he commented, his disapproval evident in his voice.
Anissa met his gaze, her eyebrow lifting higher in response. "Would you view it as rude if you swatted at a bee that buzzed too close to your face?" she asked, while she gestured dismissively toward the empty space where the crew had stood.
Mark sighed and shook his head, choosing not to pursue the argument further. "Just lead me to the communications center," he requested.
Anissa guided him through the ship's corridors to the designated room, where she activated the terminal with a few precise inputs on the console. The screen flickered to life, and Harley's image appeared moments later, her face lighting up with a grin. "Hey, Marky! Where ya been hidin'?" she exclaimed as she leaned into the camera. "I've been bouncin' off the walls here, and lemme tell ya, I'm feelin' a bit frisky if ya know what I mean." She then cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted over her shoulder. "Girls! Get over here, it's Marky on the line!"
Raven and Kara joined her on the screen shortly after, their expressions shifting from curiosity to concern as they crowded into the frame. "Is everything alright, Mark?" Raven asked. "You look like you've been in a fight, and we haven't heard from you in hours."
Kara nodded beside her, her arms folding as she leaned forward. "Yeah, where are you right now?" she added.
Mark explained the situation briefly. "I've been assigned a mission to lead an attack on an enemy installation," he told them, his hand gesturing vaguely to the ship around him. "It means I'll be away for a while, but I'll return as soon as it's done."
The women exchanged glances, their reluctance clear on the screen. "That sounds dangerous," Kara said, her brow furrowing. "Maybe one of us should tag along."
Mark shook his head firmly. "No, I need you all to stay and protect the children," he insisted. "That's the priority above everything else, and I trust you to handle it while I'm gone."
They hesitated for a moment, but eventually nodded in agreement, though their expressions lingered with unease. "Fine, but you better come back in one piece," Harley quipped, her finger pointing at the screen. "I ain't raisin' these kids without ya, so don't go playin' too hard."
Mark smiled at them, his affection evident. "I love you all and I'll see you soon," he said before the connection terminated. He took a deep breath after that and spent a moment composing himself, he didn't like the idea of leaving his family here, but he had little choice at the moment. He turned away from the terminal and flew directly to the command deck, where the captain awaited with the bridge crew.
"Set our course and get us moving."
(AN: Mark is on his first assignment and will be having his first interactions with the Saiyans. Always exciting. Especially since there are some sexy Saiyans that are definitely going to be in this story, though whether they make it as a permanent addition is up in the air. Though I'd say it's unlikely, I'm not too big of a fan of large harems anymore. If it weren't for the fact that the plot doesn't call for it I'd probably kill one of them... anyway hope you enjoyed.)
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