Invincible War: The Prologue

The cold metal of the table reflected the sterile white lights of the room. The scent of antiseptic filled the air. Technicians in dark lab coats hovered around the mutilated body of Mark Grayson. Their faces remained impassive, but their eyes carried an almost reverent curiosity. A Viltrumite on the brink of death would be a fascinating specimen to study. But this Viltrumite was different.

Mark Grayson.

Invincible.

The man Angstrom Levy hated more than any other living being.

And yet, here he was, ordering them to save his life.

"Are you sure you want to waste our resources on this?" One of the technicians looked up, frowning. "The man who has destroyed countless versions of you? Who has interfered with your plans so many times?"

Levy didn't take his eyes off Mark's body. His face remained an unshakable mask of coldness.

"I have learned from my mistakes. I have bigger plans for him."

The technicians exchanged glances before one of them quickly typed on a holographic panel. Robotic cameras adjusted their focus, scanning Mark from head to toe. Small mechanical arms moved into action, stabilizing his body, stopping the bleeding, and reconstructing the damaged tissues. But something in the data caught the lead scientist's attention.

"Interesting…" he murmured, pressing a few commands. "There are traces of a neural surveillance device. A spy eye."

Levy raised an eyebrow.

"Who was monitoring him?"

"Hard to say. But we can reinstall it. This time, you'll be in control."

A cruel smile formed on Levy's face. He could watch Mark's every move. Control what he saw. Shape him.

"Do it," he ordered. "And bring him back. Slowly. I want him to feel every piece of this new reality."

The technicians nodded and began preparations. Tubes connected to Mark's body, surgical drones regenerating his skin. And in the back of the room, amidst the hum of machines, Levy simply watched, his eyes predatory.

Mark Grayson might think he had already been through hell.

But he had barely crossed its gates.

Light. White. Cold.

His lungs expanded abruptly. His breathing was irregular. His vision, blurry at first, gradually became clear. The hum of the machines around him, the muffled whispers of the technicians, footsteps approaching.

"Welcome back, Mark."

Angstrom Levy's deep voice, laced with irony, echoed through the room.

Mark frowned. His eyes moved, focusing on the figure before him.

He blinked a few times. The weight of his own body felt strange, as if he were waking up from a century of unconsciousness. Slowly, he tried to move. His joints creaked in protest, but he forced himself up, feeling the cold metallic floor against his skin.

He looked around. The technicians watched him with a mix of curiosity and fear. He picked up on the details: disconnected tubes, blinking monitors, active records of his vital functions.

That's when he realized.

He had been captured.

His eyes snapped back to Levy, rage growing in his chest. He clenched his fists, feeling the lingering pain spread through his body, but he ignored it. His instincts screamed only one thing:

Run.

He tried to take a step forward—and hit something invisible.

A force field.

A cage.

He refused to be trapped.

And he was going to get out.

His muscles tensed. The air vibrated as he roared and struck the barrier.

The impact echoed.

Nothing.

He hit it again. And again. And again.

The blue glow flickered slightly. The technicians watched, fascinated. Levy remained expressionless.

The skin on Mark's knuckles split, blood dripping onto the metallic floor.

He smiled.

And kept going.

A punch.

Another.

Another.

His bones cracked.

He ignored it.

The technicians whispered among themselves.

"Real-time Viltrumite regeneration… Fascinating."

"The pain doesn't affect him. It almost seems to amuse him."

Mark laughed. A hoarse sound. Unstable. Insane.

"Is that all?" he panted, staring at Levy. "Give me something better, you bastard. This is nothing!"

Levy observed him for a few seconds.

Then he thought: Truly an evil version.

Mark laughed louder. Blood dripped from his hands in small puddles. He didn't care.

Levy clasped his hands behind his back.

"You want to get out of here, Mark?"

The Viltrumite's eyes glowed in the shadow of his face.

"Obviously. Let me out, and I'll show you what I can do."

Levy chuckled.

"I'm gathering versions of you. Invincibles from different realities. We're going to invade one where another Invincible exists and turn it into pure chaos."

Mark's laughter faded. His gaze narrowed.

"And why would I care about that?"

Levy smiled more.

"Because I promise you something in return. A new universe for you. Where you can destroy everything you want. No rules. Just absolute power."

Silence.

The concept resonated within him. An entire universe. For him. To do whatever he wanted.

He licked his lips.

"You swear?"

"I am not a man of empty promises."

Mark lowered his head for a moment. Then, he lifted it again.

And smiled. Wide. Animalistic. Blood-stained.

"I accept."

Levy nodded, satisfied.

Mark leaned against the cold wall of the laboratory, his eyes half-closed. His body still tingled from the constant regeneration, but his mind worked quickly.

He wasn't stupid.

His eyes had returned. His vision, once blurry and nonexistent, was now crystal clear. But nothing came for free. No wound healed without a price.

Levy was watching him too closely. His gaze fixed, attentive, studying his every reaction.

Just like the Empire did.

Mark smiled internally. His chin lowered slightly, disguising his expression.

This man thought he could use him.

But Mark was already thinking about how to betray him first.