No...

The imperial palace's private gaming room was a study in understated luxury.

Unlike the ostentatious grandeur of the public spaces, here the furnishings were chosen for comfort rather than intimidation –

plush chairs surrounding a polished table, soft lighting that created an atmosphere of casual intimacy, and a well-stocked bar discreetly positioned against one wall.

Emperor Mark shuffled the deck with practiced precision, his fingers manipulating the cards with the same control he exercised over galaxies.

"Standard rules," he announced, dealing with fluid motions. "Five-card draw, nothing wild."

Across the table, Mark examined his cards with a furrowed brow, his expression far too transparent for a game of deception. "I still don't get why we're playing with actual cards when you guys have holographic tables that could do this automatically."

"There's value in tradition," Sukuna replied, arranging his hand with methodical care. "Physical cards cannot be hacked, manipulated remotely, or affected by power fluctuations."

"Plus," Emperor Mark added with a rare smile, "it's harder to cheat when everyone can see your hands."

Beside Sukuna sat Mahoraga, the massive shikigami somehow managing to look both incongruous and perfectly at home at the poker table.

Its wheel spun lazily above its head as it held its cards with surprising dexterity for hands that could crush steel.

"I still don't understand how he's playing," Mark muttered, eyeing the divine general warily. "He doesn't even have a face to make expressions with."

"Mahoraga communicates in his own way," Sukuna replied, a hint of amusement coloring his usually measured tone. "And he's quite adept at understanding human games."

The shikigami's wheel spun slightly faster, as if in agreement.

"Three cards," Emperor Mark declared, discarding and drawing with smooth efficiency.

Mark studied his hand again, his internal debate playing across his features. "Um... two," he finally decided, exchanging cards with a hopeful expression that immediately fell upon seeing his new hand.

Sukuna maintained his perfect composure as he requested a single card, his face revealing nothing as he integrated it into his hand.

Mahoraga simply placed two cards face down and accepted replacements, the wheel above its head maintaining its steady rotation.

"Betting starts with you, Mark," Emperor Mark prompted, his imperial bearing momentarily softened by the casual setting.

Mark grimaced at his cards. "Ten credits," he said reluctantly, pushing forward a small stack of the iridescent chips that served as currency in the imperial palace.

"Call," Emperor Mark replied, matching the bet with casual indifference.

"Raise twenty," Sukuna stated, his tone giving away nothing of his hand's quality.

Mahoraga's wheel spun briefly faster, then slowed as it pushed forward a stack of thirty credits – a raise on Sukuna's raise.

"That's just showing off," Mark muttered, tossing his cards face-down on the table. "Fold."

Emperor Mark studied the shikigami thoughtfully, then shook his head. "Too rich for my blood tonight. Fold."

That left only Sukuna and Mahoraga, master and shikigami, facing each other across the table.

"Call," Sukuna decided, matching Mahoraga's bet. "Show your hand."

The divine general laid down its cards with deliberate precision – a straight flush, diamonds from eight to queen.

A murmur of appreciation came from Mark. "That's... impressive."

Sukuna's expression remained unchanged as he revealed his own hand – a royal flush, spades from ten to ace.

"Impossible," Mark exclaimed, leaning forward to examine the cards. "How did you beat someone who can adapt to any phenomenon? He should have seen your strategy and countered it!"

"Adaptation requires time," Sukuna explained calmly, collecting his winnings. "Mahoraga can eventually counter any technique, any strategy – but only after experiencing it first.

In a game with finite rounds, the advantage lies with the player who can win before adaptation occurs."

Mahoraga's wheel spun in what might have been either acknowledgment or frustration – only Sukuna could truly interpret the divine general's communications.

"He says next time will be different," Sukuna translated, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"This is still bullshit," Mark declared, though his tone was good-natured. "I don't believe it. Seriously, again, how can you beat someone who literally adapts to everything? It's like... it's like you're cheating at the concept of adaptation itself."

"Strategy often trumps raw ability," Emperor Mark observed, gathering the cards for another round. "Something Megumi taught me long before I could beat Thragg."

"Still," Mark insisted, "it doesn't make sense. If Mahoraga adapts to all phenomena, and winning at poker is a phenomenon, then logically he should become unbeatable after losing once."

"Perhaps he's letting me win," Sukuna suggested with the barest hint of a smile. "To maintain harmony within our connection."

Mahoraga's wheel spun rapidly, an unmistakable gesture of disagreement that drew a rare chuckle from Sukuna.

"Or perhaps not," he amended.

Emperor Mark began dealing the next hand, his movements fluid and precise. "Megumi always did have a way of finding loopholes in seemingly absolute rules.

I remember that time with the Thraxian ambassador? When he found that clause in their diplomatic code that let us-"

The door burst open, interrupting the Emperor mid-sentence. Anissa stood in the doorway, her usual composure shattered by evident alarm.

"Your Majesty," she said, her voice tight with urgency. "The Imperial Tomb has been breached."

The cards fell forgotten to the table as all four rose simultaneously, the casual atmosphere evaporating instantly.

"When?" Emperor Mark demanded, his voice shifting from relaxed to imperial command in a heartbeat.

"Minutes ago," Anissa reported. "The security systems were disabled with technology we've never encountered before. By the time the secondary protocols activated, the intruders had already fled."

Sukuna's expression darkened, his thoughts immediately turning to the conversation he'd had with Emperor Mark days earlier.

He had requested access to the Imperial Tomb, curious to examine his own corpse – his previous self's remains – in hopes that Mahoraga might use it to help recover more of his fragmented memories.

"Was anything taken?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.

Anissa's gaze shifted to him, her expression grim. "Yes. The bodies. Both of them."

Without another word, all four (Mahoraga dismissed) moved toward the balcony, abandoning the poker game without a second thought.

They launched into the air simultaneously, Sukuna, Anissa and the two Marks flew together.

The Imperial Tomb lay at the heart of the capital city, a massive structure of gleaming obsidian and silver that rose like a dark mountain amidst the surrounding architecture.

As they approached, the damage became visible – a precise hole cut through the supposedly impenetrable roof, the edges still glowing with residual energy.

They descended through the breach, landing in the central chamber where the most significant figures in imperial history were interred.

The room was vast, its ceiling lost in shadows despite the bright emergency lighting that had activated during the breach.

At the chamber's center stood two empty sarcophagi, their lids shattered, their contents missing. Unlike the other tombs that lined the walls – ornate monuments to past rulers and heroes – these had been simple, elegant in their restraint.

Emperor Mark approached the empty tombs - that were next to each other - slowly, his expression hardening into something terrible to behold.

The temperature in the chamber seemed to drop as rage emanated from him in almost palpable waves.

"Wait," Mark said, looking between the two desecrated resting places. "If one of them is Megumi's, then whose is the other one?"

Emperor Mark's voice, when he answered, was barely recognizable – cold, carrying the weight of seventeen years of contained fury.

"Thragg."

--------------------------

In a hidden facility on the outskirts of the merged Viltrum, another Thragg – this one alive and vibrant with newly acquired power – wiped blood from his chin as he regarded the half-consumed corpse before him.

The remains of his counterpart lay on a surgical table, the once-mighty body of the Viltrumite Grand Regent now partially dismembered as Thragg methodically devoured his own alternate self. 

A second counterpart of his.

"The integration proceeds as expected?" Scarred Levy asked from a respectful distance, his exposed brain pulsing with green energy as he monitored various instruments.

"Yes," Thragg replied, his voice deeper, more resonant than before. "The memories... they flow like rivers into an ocean. I experience his life as if it were my own – every battle, every decision, every defeat."

"And the Emperor?" Mad Levy pressed, his eyes fever-bright with anticipation. "You see his techniques? His weaknesses?"

Thragg's expression darkened. "I see how he killed my counterpart. The precision of his attack, the perfect control of his molecular structure. It was... impressive."

"But not unbeatable," Scarred Levy insisted. "Not now that you're consuming your counterpart's essence, gaining his knowledge and experience."

"Perhaps," Thragg acknowledged, wiping his mouth with a cloth. 

The two Levys exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. They had risked everything to forge this alliance, to steal the bodies from the Imperial Tomb, to create a weapon capable of defeating both Sukuna and the Emperor.

"The Qu'ularians provided the dimensional technology as promised," Mad Levy noted, gesturing to the alien devices that hummed quietly in the corners of the room.

"Their methods of breaching reality barriers are unparalleled across the multiverse."

"And in return, they expect me to share the power I gain," Thragg stated, his tone making it clear how unlikely he found that outcome.

"What you choose to do after defeating the Emperor is entirely your concern," Scarred Levy replied diplomatically. "Our arrangement extends only to ensuring your... enhancement and targeting our mutual enemies."

Thragg's gaze shifted to the second table, where another body lay untouched, perfectly preserved despite the years that had passed since its death.

Megumi Fushiguro's corpse looked as if he might simply be sleeping, unrotten – his features peaceful, his body unmarked save for the single, precise wound that had ended his life.

He was dressed in a black suit, hands folded over his chest, as if prepared for a funeral rather than seventeen years of entombment.

"Leave," Thragg commanded suddenly, his eyes never leaving Megumi's form.

The two Levys hesitated only briefly before complying, recognizing the danger in defying the Viltrumite in his current state. They retreated from the chamber, the door sealing behind them with a pneumatic hiss.

Alone with the two corpses – one partially consumed, the other pristine – Thragg moved to stand beside Megumi's table.

His massive hand, capable of crushing planets, reached out with unexpected gentleness to brush a strand of hair from the dead boy's forehead.

"You look the same," he said quietly, his voice softer than anyone who knew the Grand Regent would have believed possible. "Seventeen years, and you haven't changed at all."

He studied the peaceful features, memories – both his own and his two counterparts – flooding through his mind.

"When I first began to experience the memories, I could not understand what my counterpart saw in you at first," Thragg continued, speaking to the corpse as if it might hear him.

"A human child, presuming to advise the Viltrumite Empire on matters of conquest and governance. The arrogance seemed... typical of your species."

His fingers traced the line of Megumi's jaw, the touch almost tender.

"But he came to respect you. To see in you something rare – a mind that could match a Viltrumite's in strategic brilliance, while bringing fresh perspective unbound by our traditions. You were... unique."

Thragg's expression darkened as newer memories integrated – his counterpart watching as Emperor Mark, guided by Megumi's training, defeated him with a single, perfect strike.

"You made him strong enough to take my throne," he said, a complex mixture of respect and betrayal in his voice.

"You showed him how to control his smart atoms at a level no Viltrumite had ever achieved. You gave him the weapon he needed to kill me."

He moved away from the table, pacing the length of the chamber as he processed the conflicting emotions surging through him – his own and those of the counterpart he was consuming.

"And yet, my counterpart couldn't bring himself to hate you for it - even in his last moments. Even as your student killed him, he felt a strange pride.

Because you had created something... extraordinary. Something worthy of the Viltrumite legacy, even if it meant his own end."

Thragg returned to the table, his expression softening once more as he gazed down at Megumi's face.

"You were the son he never had," he admitted quietly. "Not in blood, not in species, but in spirit. The heir to his strategic mind, his vision of empire. Just as I, in my world, never found such a successor."

To his own surprise, Thragg felt moisture gathering in his eyes – tears, an alien sensation for a being who had not wept in centuries.

The emotional instability was a side effect of the integration process, his counterpart's memories - convoluted and the enhanced mixed feelings temporarily overwhelming his usual iron control.

"You should have been immortal," he whispered, one tear falling to land on Megumi's still cheek. "You should have ruled alongside the Emperor for millennia, guiding the empire's expansion across the universe. Instead, you were cut down by a fool who couldn't see your value beyond his petty prejudices."

He wiped the tear that fell from Megumi's face with gentle precision, his massive finger barely touching the preserved skin.

"In another world, another time," Thragg continued, "I might have been the one to recognize your potential.

To nurture it, to help you become what you were meant to be – the pinnacle of human achievement, just as I represent the pinnacle of Viltrumite potential."

He fell silent for a long moment, contemplating the body before him. Then, with sudden resolve, he lifted Megumi's corpse from the table, holding it with a reverence that would have shocked anyone familiar with the Grand Regent's usual brutality.

"I cannot give you back your life," he said softly. "But I can ensure that a part of you lives on. That your brilliance, your strategic mind, your unique perspective is not lost to the void."

With ceremonial slowness, Thragg brought the body to his mouth. Unlike the methodical, almost clinical way he had consumed his counterpart, this was different – a ritual, a sacrament, a final act of respect for what might have been.

"Join with me," he whispered, "and together, we will reclaim what was taken from us both."

The first bite was gentle, almost hesitant – so unlike the Viltrumite's usual actions that it seemed to belong to another being entirely.

But as the taste of flesh touched his tongue, as the first fragments of whatever essence remained in Megumi's preserved form entered his system, Thragg's hesitation faded.

With increasing urgency, he consumed the body that had once housed the strategic genius who had reshaped an empire.

Each bite seemed to bring with it not memories – for this was not his counterpart, with shared DNA and experiences – but something more ephemeral, more abstract.

Impressions. Insights. Fragments of a brilliant mind that had somehow been preserved in the flesh that contained it.

As the last of Megumi Fushiguro disappeared, Thragg stood motionless in the center of the chamber, his eyes closed, his mind expanding to incorporate what he had taken into himself.

Not just flesh and blood, but something more – a piece of the brilliance that had changed the course of an empire, a fragment of the soul that had guided the Emperor to greatness.

A son, of sorts, forever preserved within the being who might have been his true father in another life.

When Thragg's eyes opened, they held a new light – a calculation, a strategic depth that had not been there before. The integration was complete, the consumption finished.

And the Grand Regent of the Viltrumite Empire, enhanced by his counterpart's power and Megumi's strategic brilliance, was ready to reclaim what he believed was rightfully his.

The universe would tremble before him once more.

----------------------------

(Author note: Hello everyone! Do tell me how you found the chapter!

Yeah... Thragg is... kind of insane right now, having eaten two versions of himself and now Megumi's corpse.

Don't worry, he didn't gain any memories, just more a feel of things, like Megumi had.

Well, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, since I am looking forward to writing more of Thragg in the future and his interactions with Sukuna, hope you guys are as well, and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)