3 Grand Regent

After centuries of bloodshed and war, the moment of truth had finally arrived. The two legendary Viltrumites, Qruel and Thragg, stood in opposition, each one fully cognizant of the significance of their impending confrontation. Their tattered and torn attire, stained with the remnants of countless battles, spoke volumes about the long and arduous journey that brought them to this ultimate showdown. With eyes locked and muscles tense, they prepared to engage in a battle that would determine the fate of their entire species.

The onlookers held their breath, their anticipation palpable as they eagerly watched the two warriors. Qruel and Thragg locked eyes, the tension between them almost palpable. Despite Thragg's superior reputation, Qruel had earned the right to challenge him and was determined to not back down.

"It's time, don't you think, Qruel?" Thragg's voice was icily dismissive.

"Yes, Thragg, it is," Qruel replied, his voice steady in the face of such an important moment.

Thragg wasted no time, charging forward with lightning speed and unleashing a deafening blow that echoed throughout the sky. Qruel countered, but Thragg was relentless, their fight sending shockwaves throughout the surrounding area. The two warriors clashed with unparalleled ferocity, each refusing to give in.

For days, the battle raged on, with neither warrior backing down. As the fight wore on, it became evident that Thragg had the upper hand, his movements swift and unwavering. Qruel, on the other hand, was battered and broken, his once steady movements now slow and weakened.

As the sun set on the sky of Viltrum, the final stretch of the epic battle reached its climax. Thragg stood tall, his expression unchanged, while Qruel struggled to remain upright. This was it, the moment they both had been waiting for, the moment of truth. The onlookers watched in awe, unable to look away from the brutal exchange of blows, as the two warriors determined the fate of the Viltrumite race.

…

The sky was filled with a deafening silence as the two warriors locked gazes once again. Qruel was struggling to catch his breath, while Thragg stood still and unyielding, showing no signs of fatigue.

"This was pointless," Thragg spat out, his voice carrying a hint of annoyance. "You know that, don't you?"

"I know," Qruel replied, his voice filled with resignation. "But I had to try."

With a determined breath, Qruel braced himself for one last, valiant attempt to secure victory. He coiled his muscles, poised to strike, but before he could make a move, Thragg lunged forward with relentless force. The surrounding atmosphere trembled as he broke the sonic barrier, releasing a thunderous boom that sent shockwaves through the clouds. In an instant, Thragg drove his hand straight through Qruel's chest with a sickening thud. The sounds of tearing flesh filled the air as Qruel let out a scream of agony. Thragg's fingers clasped around Qruel's heart, slowly tightening their grip with each passing moment. Blood trickled from the corner of Qruel's mouth as he gazed in disbelief at the brutal show of strength that marked his end. Thragg's unrelenting grip reduced Qruel's heart to a mangled pulp, a symbol of the triumphant victor's unyielding power.

Thragg's voice was cold and emotionless as he declared, "I grow tired of these games."

Qruel's last words were a weak, muttered curse, "Shit." Thragg's other hand shot out, and with one swift motion, he bisected Qruel's body. Both halves of his lifeless form plummeted to the ground, marking the end of the battle.

…

Thragg floated, held aloft by an unseen force, staring down at his blood-soaked fist in disbelief. A few hundred years of relentless battle and countless fallen enemies led to this moment. Despite the gravity of the situation, Thragg felt a wave of relief wash over him. For more than a few centuries, he had fought on the front lines of an endless war, bearing witness to countless losses and injuries that would have killed weaker beings. But his unwavering determination to end the conflict fueled his perseverance, and finally, it seemed as though his mission was accomplished.

So he turned to face the elite viltrumites spectating his battle with Qruel, Thragg's deep frown was impossible to miss. The onlookers knew exactly what this meant and, without hesitation, they all dispersed. Thragg, towering and muscular, descended from the sky and took his place on a piece of rubble. Resting his muscular forearms on his thighs, he waited. And he continued to wait, until the first group of viltrumites, led by Conquest, surrounded him. They knelt before him, heads bowed in submission, awaiting his command. Thragg's piercing gaze fell upon them, before settling on a piece of rubble he had been staring at before their arrival.

As if clockwork, the numbers of viltrumites grew. Dozens became hundreds, hundreds became thousands, thousands became hundreds of thousands, and so on. The once small group of warriors had become billions. So many that they were impossible to count. Thragg, seeing that all of them had gathered, reached for a transmitter. It was one of the only functioning devices he had found in this war-torn world. He had been playing with it before his fight with Qruel and found that it was a transmitter. It would display an audio and hologram of his face and voice to the entire world.

Thragg rose majestically into the sky, his powerful gaze surveying the countless warriors stretched out before him. He was a commanding presence, towering and muscular, and the viltrumites looked upon him with reverence. With a swift and confident gesture, Thragg activated the transmitter, sending his voice resounding across the desolate landscape. "It is time to reclaim our war-ravaged world," he declared, his voice deep and sonorous, echoing with power. "And once the rebuilding is done, the council must assemble to forge the future of Viltrum." Thragg's tone was unyielding, filled with determination and strength. The billions of viltrumites listened in awe, ready to follow their leader into a new era of prosperity and greatness. The future of their world was uncertain, but with Thragg at the helm, they knew that anything was possible.

…

And so, the grand rebuilding of Viltrum reached its triumphant conclusion, a testament to the collaboration of expertise and the might of the Viltrumite warriors. Now, the council of elite Viltrumites gathered in curved booths, resembling jury boxes, with Thragg at the head of them. The council was in an uproar, bickering about the future of their world, but Thragg's deep and commanding voice interrupted them. "First things first," he declared, "aren't we forgetting something?" The council members looked at Thragg, puzzled, until one of them finally caught on. "Ohhh, your coronation as Grand Regent," he said. Thragg nodded, a deep frown still etched on his face despite the good news. The council members then rose in unison, officially naming Thragg as Grand Regent of Viltrum. "Congratulations, Sire," they all said in unison, Thragg stood tall and proud as he rose from his seat, his eyes fixed on the door of the council room. With a steady, measured pace, he walked out, his footsteps echoing through the halls of the Viltrum Council building. His destination was clear: the changing room. There, he was met by two female Viltrumites, carrying clothes precisely tailored to his measurements.

The clothes they brought were a sight to behold. A form-fitting, red body stocking hugged his torso and limbs, with a bold symbol emblazoned on his chest. The symbol was circular, with three vertical lines bisecting it, symbolizing his unwavering loyalty to the Viltrumite cause and his high rank and power within the organization. Instead of the typical white accents of the uniform, Thragg had replaced them with a striking shade of crimson, making a bold statement. His lower body was covered by a simple but functional gray skirt, and sturdy grey boots completed the look.

With the help of the female Viltrumites, Thragg donned his new garments and finally exited the council building. He took flight, blitzing through the clouds, feeling a surreal sensation wash over him. Though a hundred years of slaughter had hardened him, it was still hard to not feel a sense of awe at the power he possessed.

Eventually, Thragg stopped his flight, hovering thousands of feet in the air above a platform in the middle of the capital city's square. This was to be the stage for his public coronation. A timer went off, signaling his time to descend. He floated down to the platform, landing in front of a podium. Before him was a sea of hundreds of thousands of Viltrumites, all eagerly awaiting the coronation of their new leader.

With a deep breath, Thragg began his speech. "It brings me joy to see you all gathered here today, to witness this historic moment in our history. We have recently suffered a great travesty, but from the ashes of war, we have emerged stronger. We are a warrior race, led by me. I will not let us down. I will make sure our race is prosperous and reaches all corners of the galaxy and universe. I hope you will be there with me when that time comes."

As he finished speaking, a councilman approached him from behind, draping a red cape with bushy white fur over his back. The councilman approached the podium and bellowed, "All hail Grand Regent Thragg!" The audience erupted in shouts of "ALL HAIL GRAND REGENT THRAGG!" Thragg waved to the crowd, his heart swelling with pride. This was the moment he had worked for, the moment he had earned. And so, he stood tall and proud, basking in the glory of his newfound title. "All hail me," he thought to himself, as the crowd continued to chant his name.