William watched from below, the faint aroma of popcorn wafting in the air as explosions and shockwaves reverberated through the sky. He leaned back in his seat, casually munching on his snack, thoroughly engrossed in the spectacle. Anissa and Mark were locked in combat above, their movements a blur of speed and power. Each strike sent ripples through the atmosphere, reverberating like distant thunderclaps. The ground beneath William trembled with every blow, but he remained unfazed, watching the battle unfold with the calm of someone who had seen it all before.
Anissa moved with the confidence of a warrior who had seen countless battles. Her eyes focused sharply on Mark, whose raw energy and Viltrumite strength were on full display. Despite his power, he lacked the discipline and finesse needed to control it fully. In a flash, Anissa launched herself into the air, spinning like a cyclone. Her leg whipped around, catching Mark off guard as she landed a powerful blow to his chest, sending him flying across the field. Mark's body tumbled through the air, crashing to the ground with a resounding thud.
Before Mark could recover, Anissa was already on top of him. She was like a predator, relentless in her assault. Her fists rained down, each punch faster than the last, weaving through Mark's defenses with ease. Mark did his best to block, his Viltrumite strength giving him some measure of defense, but Anissa's experience made him look clumsy. She darted around him, landing a solid punch that knocked a few of his teeth loose.
"This is bullshit! The suit weighs a fucking planet!" Mark growled, spitting blood and a couple of teeth onto the ground. He rubbed his jaw, glaring at William with a mixture of frustration and disbelief.
William chuckled, unfazed by Mark's outburst. The young hero had strength, but no control. He had seen this before, an overreliance on power, thinking that sheer force could carry him through anything.
"Stop complaining, Mark. You're never gonna get stronger if you keep making excuses," William called out, his voice cutting through the chaos of the fight.
With a casual wave of his hand, William gestured for Anissa to stop. She halted mid-punch, her feet landing lightly on the ground as Mark staggered back, still trying to shake off the pain. William stood up from his seat, stretching his arms over his head as he set the popcorn aside. His movements were smooth and deliberate, a reminder of his own battle-hardened experience. As he walked toward Mark, the air around him seemed to crackle with latent energy, his eyes glowing faintly with the power he held within.
"Let's see if you can handle this," William muttered, unclasping a wrist guard made of will energy from his arm. The wrist guard shimmered with an ethereal glow as he held it out toward Mark.
Mark eyed it warily, his suspicion evident. He didn't know what to make of the strange, glowing object, but his pride pushed him to reach out and take it without asking questions. His fingers wrapped around the guard, but the moment William released it, everything changed.
The full weight of the wrist guard dropped onto Mark's hand like a hammer. It wasn't the weight that was the issue, it was the sudden, overwhelming force. His Viltrumite strength wasn't enough to counter the weight, and his body buckled under the pressure. The suit did nothing to help; instead, it only amplified the strain. With an explosive BOOM, Mark's hands slammed into the ground, forming a hand-shaped crater as the force radiated outward in a series of spiderweb cracks across the earth beneath him.
Mark gritted his teeth, struggling to push himself up. His Viltrumite resilience should have allowed him to fight through the pain, but it wasn't enough. His muscles burned, his body screamed in protest, and he couldn't seem to move. The weight was too much to handle, and his reliance on raw power, without control, left him trapped beneath the guard's crushing force.
"Now that's how you find your limits," William said, his tone calm, almost amused. He stood with his arms crossed, watching Mark's futile attempts with a critical eye.
Mark shot him a glare, frustration bubbling to the surface. "What the hell, man? What is this?"
William didn't flinch. "Reality check," he replied, his voice cool. "Training isn't just about raw power. It's about control. You can't rely solely on your strength. It's why you're struggling. You're used to charging in, thinking your Viltrumite resilience will carry you, but that's not enough. Not anymore."
Anissa stepped forward, crossing her arms. "He's right. You're strong, Mark, but you're too reckless. You're treating this like a fight, not training."
Mark shot them both a defiant look, but there was a flicker of doubt in his eyes. His Viltrumite instincts had served him well in battle, but in moments like this, they were a crutch. He had pushed his body to its limits, but this was different. This was control, and he had none of it.
William gave Mark a long, appraising look. "You're not going to get better if you don't change how you approach training. Now, pick yourself up before I get bored."
Mark let out a frustrated sigh, but something in his eyes had shifted. Determination replaced the anger, and he took a deep breath. Slowly, he began to grip the wrist guard again, straining against the weight. His body was still sore, but his resolve had solidified.
"Alright, alright. I'm not done yet," Mark muttered, pushing himself up from the crater with a groan. His legs wobbled as he stood, but he wasn't going to give up. Not this time.
William watched him for a moment longer before smiling faintly, a flicker of approval in his eyes. "That's what I like to see. Now, let's go again."
Just as Mark was about to push himself further, preparing for the next round of training, a sudden shift in the air caught the group's attention. A shimmering portal materialized in front of them, its edges crackling with energy. The rift expanded in seconds, and from within stepped an older, grizzled man, Cecil, the leader of the Global Defense Agency. He held a tablet in one hand, and his eyes immediately scanned the field, noticing the group's current state of training.
"Well, well, seems like I arrived at just the right time," Cecil said with a smirk. He paused for a moment, his gaze falling on Mark's weary but determined expression. "Those Flaxans are back, and they've upgraded their weapons. I figured Mark might want to blow off some steam."
Cecil's words hung in the air, the casual nature of his statement contrasting sharply with the grimness of the situation. The group's attention shifted to him, and the mood immediately changed from training to tense anticipation. William raised an eyebrow, sensing what was coming.
"Sounds like fun," William said, standing tall and glancing at Mark. "Hey, Mark, want to cut loose for a bit?"
Mark, still on edge from his earlier struggle, turned toward William, his brows furrowed in confusion. Before he could speak, William waved his hand casually. In an instant, the immense weight that had been crushing Mark's body disappeared, and the young Viltrumite was caught off guard. The sudden lack of pressure sent him floating upward several feet. He instinctively hovered, his legs trembling from the abrupt change.
"What the—?" Mark muttered as he stopped himself in midair, his eyes wide. For a moment, he looked as if he might lose control, but he steadied himself with a grunt, his arms crossing in frustration.
William gave him a knowing smile, his expression a mix of amusement and approval. "I figured you might want to take a break from the heavy lifting."
Mark, still shaking off the residual strain of the training, floated toward William, his curiosity piqued. As he approached, William handed him the tablet Cecil had been holding. Mark's fingers brushed against the screen as he took it, his eyes scanning the live feed that was now displayed. The image on the tablet was horrifying. A green portal, pulsating with eerie energy, oozed open above a cityscape. From it poured an army of mechanized Flaxans, their hulking forms towering over the streets, their glowing red eyes scanning for destruction.
Mark's gaze hardened, his expression turning darker as he zoomed in on the scene. A group of the ruthless alien invaders were in the middle of executing a brutal massacre. One of the Flaxans had grabbed a man by the limbs, violently pulling him apart as his panicked wife and daughter screamed in terror. The sight of the innocent family's suffering cut through Mark like a knife. His pupils narrowed into slits as fury welled up within him.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Without a word, he turned toward the sky. His body blurred, and in an instant, he was gone, vanishing into the atmosphere with such speed that the sound barrier shattered in his wake. A deafening boom echoed in the distance, signaling his departure as Mark rocketed toward the scene.
William watched Mark's departure with a mix of respect and mild concern. The kid was powerful—there was no doubt about that. But sometimes, that power came at the cost of control. He hoped this time Mark would find his focus in the heat of battle.
Cecil, standing off to the side, chuckled softly. "Well, that ought to get his blood pumping again."
William's eyes narrowed as he watched the portal. "Let's hope he keeps it together. This isn't just a sparring match, it's a warzone."
Anissa, who had been silent until now, stepped forward. "You think he'll be okay?" she asked, her voice laced with concern.
William didn't answer immediately. He stared at the portal, a faint crackle of energy surrounding him. "Mark has a lot of potential, but he's still learning. And sometimes, it takes something like this to show him what he is really made of."
The streets of Chicago trembled under the assault of mechanized Flaxans, their monstrous bodies and high-tech weaponry crashing against Atom Eve's barrier. The protective shield she formed around the civilians flickered under the relentless barrage, its edges cracking as the barrier groaned under pressure. Eve's brow was beaded with sweat as she pushed her powers to the limit, trying to maintain the fragile defense.
Then, in an instant, the Flaxans attacking her barrier exploded into a cloud of pink mist. The air shimmered as a figure in yellow and black descended from the sky, his silhouette cutting through the chaos like a knife. The newcomer's arrival was so sudden, so overwhelming, that Eve's mind struggled to process the change.
"Mark?" she asked, her voice thick with confusion. The situation had shifted too quickly for her to fully understand, but she recognized him, only this time, something was different.
High above, William watched with a sharp, calculating gaze, his golden eyes tracking Mark's every movement. The Flaxan forces continued to pour out of the portal, but now they had met a force far greater than they had anticipated. Mark, wearing the iconic yellow and black suit, now stained with the blood of those he'd already struck down, hovered effortlessly in the air, exuding a power and confidence that hadn't been there before.
He stopped in mid-flight, surrounded by the mangled bodies of Flaxans he had already ripped through. His suit, a sleek and minimalist design meant to withstand blows that would obliterate a normal being, seemed to hold the weight of the destruction around him. Blood and mechanical parts clung to it like a grim trophy, but Mark showed no sign of slowing down.
The Flaxans regrouped quickly, opening fire on him, but Mark was already a step ahead. The energy blasts that exploded from their weapons missed him entirely, the shots veering off as he weaved between them with a fluidity that only months of intense training could hone. The Flaxans' attacks continued, but Mark had learned to dance around them, every movement calculated and precise.
With each burst of energy that missed him, the Flaxans' own firepower turned against them. Blasts of energy collided with their comrades, disintegrating them in a sizzling wave of smoke and fire. Mark's grin was savage as he closed in on the nearest group of Flaxans, his body a blur of motion as he unleashed his fury.
He struck with brutal force. His fists connected with their mechanical bodies, bending metal and crushing circuitry with each hit. The Flaxans didn't even have time to react before Mark was already moving again, his strikes devastating. But it wasn't just the machines that suffered, Mark's blows carried a deeper, more lethal impact. Under William's guidance, Mark had learned to attack the very fabric of time itself. With each punch, the Flaxans aged rapidly, their bodies crumbling as the technology that once kept their time-looping stabilization systems intact malfunctioned.
The Flaxans tried to retaliate, but their weapons were no match for Mark's speed and precision. Their ranks began to fall apart, the battlefield littered with their smoking, decaying forms. Mark's suit, while heavy, seemed to carry him effortlessly as he moved through the battlefield like a predator among prey.
Eve watched in stunned silence, her mind trying to grasp the magnitude of what she was witnessing. This wasn't the Mark she remembered. The Mark who was unsure, who held back. This Mark was lethal, a force of nature unleashed.
The battlefield fell into a brief, haunting silence after the final Flaxan crumpled to the ground. Mark's heavy breathing echoed in the stillness, the weight of his blows still reverberating through the air. His fists, covered in alien blood and debris, tightened as he surveyed the carnage. The last of the Flaxans were no more, except for the one that had managed to slip away.
Mark's eyes narrowed, instinctively aware that something important had just slipped through his grasp. But the commander was already gone, his escape sealed with the closing of the portal. Mark hesitated for a moment, fists trembling with barely contained energy, before he turned away from the ruins of the battlefield.
He walked back toward the others, his mind racing. They would be back, and next time, they wouldn't be so easily defeated.
Meanwhile, far from the battlefield in another universe with a different timestream, the Flaxan commander stumbled as he reemerged from the portal, his breath ragged and his armor battered. His heart pounded with the knowledge that the war was far from over. The invasion had only just begun.
The commander's eyes gleamed with defiance as he stood, towering over the dark, unfamiliar landscape before him. He wasn't about to let the humiliation of today define the fate of his people. The Flaxans would return, stronger, more prepared. And this time, they would crush the humans and their savior with overwhelming force.
The countdown had begun.