Reborn as a Saiyan in marvel

After a week filled with a relentless series of beatdowns, William and Mark finally took a well-earned break, sitting on a jagged yet surprisingly flat rock surface. Above them, the vast blue Earth loomed, its presence both humbling and distant. Mark, breathing heavily, wiped the sweat and lunar dust from his face, his body aching from the brutal training session. Unlike William, who remained unscathed, Mark's suit had been utterly obliterated, leaving only the most essential pieces clinging to him.

Noticing Mark's tattered state, William smirked and lifted his hand. A ripple of golden energy pulsed through the air, distorting space itself as an armored suit materialized before them. Mark's breath caught in his throat. The suit was unlike anything he had ever seen, sleek yet imposing, its deep metallic sheen reflecting the distant light. He instinctively reached forward, his eyes widening as he traced the ridges and intricate patterns embedded into the armor's surface.

"This is for you," William said, his voice carrying a casual certainty. "I don't use this suit anymore, not since my symbiote armor surpassed it in defense. But you? You could definitely use it. At the very least, it'll stop you from ending up naked after every fight."

Mark's head snapped toward him, his expression a mixture of shock and barely contained excitement. Without hesitation, he moved to put the suit on, but William stopped him with a firm hand.

"Not yet," he said, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Unless you suddenly plan on growing a few feet taller and packing on a ridiculous amount of muscle?" He chuckled, watching as Mark blinked in confusion before realization dawned on him.

William stretched out his hands, and immediately, twin energies surged forth, a luminous green Will-infused aura intertwining with the eerie crimson mist of the Reality Stone. The energies danced and coiled around the armor, seeping into its very core. Mark could only watch in awe as the suit responded, shifting and warping like liquid metal. The once green mechanical structure condensed and reshaped, refining itself with every passing second. When the transformation settled, the suit now bore a striking blue and yellow coloration, perfectly matching the colors of Invincible.

The armor split open from the middle with a smooth, almost mechanical precision. The interior revealed a snug yet resilient vibranium-weave lining, subtly glowing as if welcoming its new owner. Mark hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward, his fingers brushing against the reinforced plating before he slid inside.

As the suit sealed around him, the world momentarily darkened, then burst into life. Inside the helmet, a sophisticated interface flickered to life, displaying external visuals, diagnostics, and real-time combat analytics. Data streamed across his vision, scanning his vitals, analyzing the suit's fit, and optimizing its systems.

Unbeknownst to both William and Mark, their training session was being observed, watched intently from two vastly different vantage points by two vastly different beings.

From the cold void of space, Allen the Alien peered through his advanced telescopic device, his large singular eye widening in curiosity. His gaze locked onto the newly-equipped suit Mark now wore, its design unlike anything he had encountered before. The sleek plating, and the vibrant colors, it bore some resemblance to the Geldarian battle suits, yet was undeniably distinct in its craftsmanship and energy signature.

"Strange… it reminds me of the Geldarians' tech, but it's clearly different. More refined. More advanced in certain ways. I need to observe further."

Allen adjusted his device, carefully analyzing Mark's movements, his focus sharp as he committed every detail to memory.

Meanwhile, far beyond Allen's location, another figure was watching from the shadows of space, his presence far more ominous.

Nolan.

He stood with arms crossed, his crimson Viltrumite cape billowing weightlessly in the void. His sharp eyes were locked onto the scene unfolding below, his gaze laced with a deep, simmering emotion, a dangerous mix of hatred, suspicion… and something else.

Pride.

Against his own expectations, a warmth settled in his gut as he watched his son grow stronger under the relentless guidance of the enigmatic warrior. Mark's movements were sharper, his resilience greater, his strikes more refined. The training had transformed him in ways Nolan had never anticipated.

A small, involuntary smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Not long now… they should be here any day now."

His expression darkened again as his eyes flickered toward William. But what of him? The man was powerful, far too powerful. Strong enough to challenge Omni-Man himself. That alone warranted deeper scrutiny. Nolan's mind raced, calculating, analyzing, gauging the limits of William's strength compared to a true Viltrumite warrior.

One way or another, he would find out.

Back on Earth…

In a heavily fortified government facility, deep beneath concrete and steel, another pair of eyes scrutinized the events on the moon.

Cecil Stedman sat before an array of monitors, the satellite imaging feeding him a direct view of William and Mark's ongoing battle. He leaned forward slightly, his fingers steepled together, his mind turning over the implications of what he was witnessing.

Then the temperature in the room dropped.

The air grew thick, unnaturally so. The unmistakable scent of sulfur slithered through the space, curling into Cecil's nostrils like a silent warning.

His jaw tightened.

"Damien," Cecil acknowledged begrudgingly, already knowing who had arrived before even turning to face him.

Behind him, standing amidst the shadows, was a towering figure cloaked in a long trench coat. His red, leathery skin barely peeked out from beneath it, his yellow, burning eyes cutting through the dim light like smoldering embers.

The demon detective narrowed his gaze. "Cecil," he growled, voice thick with irritation and apathy, as if he had far better things to do than entertain human affairs.

Cecil exhaled through his nose, motioning for Damien Darkblood to speak. "What do you have for me on our latest guest?"

Damien said nothing at first. Instead, he reached into his coat, retrieving a pack of cigarettes. With practiced ease, he pulled one free, placed it between his lips, and snapped his fingers. A sharp spark ignited at his fingertips, and the tip of the cigarette burned bright red.

He inhaled deeply.

Ssssshhhhh…

Then exhaled, filling the room with a thick cloud of cherry-scented smoke. The curling tendrils of vapor twisted unnaturally in the air, as if whispering secrets only he could understand.

"He doesn't appear to be from anywhere," Damien finally muttered. He took another long drag, eyes flicking toward the monitors. "Or, more correctly… he doesn't belong in this universe."

Cecil's expression remained unreadable, but his grip on his desk tightened ever so slightly. "Go on."

Damien exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift toward the ceiling. His voice was gruffer this time. "That being said… he took on Omni-Man. And that alone is a concern. I can't get close enough to observe further."

A half-truth.

Because what Damien didn't say, what he wouldn't say, was that the mere presence of this man sent a deep, unnatural dread clawing at his insides. That when he had tried to probe deeper, to get a better read on William, something inside him recoiled.

A hidden force lurked within William. Something old. Something godlike.

Something demonic.

It had nearly made Damien cough up blood just from being in proximity. And there was no way in hell he was getting any closer.

Cecil studied the demon detective for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, processing. "Interesting…"

And just like that, the game had changed.

Back on the Moon, Mark let loose a flurry of punches, each strike crackling with the kinetic force amplified by his new suit. The reinforced vibranium-weave armor seamlessly adapted to his movements, allowing his strength to translate into devastating bursts of power. With every hit, shockwaves rippled across the barren lunar surface, displacing clouds of dust and leaving deep cracks in the already cratered terrain.

Growing more accustomed to the enhanced output of his blows, Mark shifted into a roundhouse kick. The moment his foot connected with empty space, an invisible blade of force screamed outward, carving a deep gash into the Moon's surface. The impact rumbled like a muted earthquake in the vacuum of space.

Watching from their respective vantage points, Allen the Alien's eyes widened behind his visor. "That suit… It moves like a Geldarian battle frame, but it's something else entirely. The technology is beyond anything I've seen…" He continued observing, his analytical mind racing with theories.

Meanwhile, from a more concealed position, Nolan's gaze remained locked onto his son, though his expression wavered between cold calculation and something almost… wistful. He had seen prodigies before, had trained among the mightiest of the Viltrumite Empire, yet Mark's potential was undeniable. "He's already this fast… this powerful… At his age, I wasn't even close to this level. Once he is inducted, he will be one of the finest warriors in the empire," Nolan mused, though a part of him churned with emotions he refused to acknowledge.

From Earth, Cecil Stedman adjusted his monitor, his usual stoic expression faltering as the satellite footage displayed Mark's devastating new abilities. "Well, shit," he muttered under his breath, rubbing his temples. "Kid's getting dangerous… If he goes rogue, we might have a bigger problem on our hands than Omni-Man himself." He turned to one of his analysts. "Get me some simulations, how much force would that last hit have had if he'd used it on a city?"

A beat of silence. Then: "Sir… That would have wiped Chicago off the map."

Cecil exhaled through gritted teeth, his fingers steepling. "Great. Just what I needed, another walking catastrophe in spandex."

Back on the Moon, William had seen enough. He raised a hand, signaling Mark to stop.

The younger Viltrumite, still high on the thrill of newfound power, performed a controlled landing, or at least, he tried to. The moment his feet touched down, the impact sent tremors through the lunar surface, causing minor quakes across the nearby craters. Dust and rock spiraled into the air, forming momentary halos around him.

William smirked. "Not bad, kid. But you might wanna work on the whole 'not causing natural disasters with every step' thing."

Mark laughed sheepishly, running a gloved hand through his sweat-matted hair. "Yeah, yeah, I'll work on it."

Then, William's expression turned serious as he gazed back at Earth.

"You should go home."

The words hit like a thunderclap.

Mark blinked. "Huh?"

William didn't turn to look at him. "It's been a week."

The younger man's heart nearly stopped.

"A… A week?" Mark stammered. Then realization dawned, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Oh shit, I've missed so much school!"

Before William could say anything else, Mark was already gone.

The moment he kicked off the Moon's surface, he tore through space like a comet, his body sheathed in the faint glow of re-entry as he broke into the atmosphere at speeds that made the air itself scream.

Even Nolan, the man who had spent centuries perfecting flight, found himself taken aback. "He's already faster than I was a thousand years ago. And he's not even eighteen yet…" His fists clenched. "A fine specimen. The Empire will be pleased."

Meanwhile, Mark's descent toward Earth was anything but subtle. From the ground, it looked as though a meteor was hurtling toward the planet at breakneck speeds. But just as it seemed like disaster was imminent, he suddenly slowed, stopping in mid-air just above his front lawn. The force of his abrupt halt sent gusts of wind in all directions, rattling the windows of nearby houses.

Still catching his breath, he exhaled and commanded his suit's helmet to retract, revealing his exhausted but relieved face. "Alright," he muttered. "Mom's gonna be pissed, but at least I'm home."

Or so he thought.

The moment Mark stepped inside the house, something felt… off.

It was dark. Too dark.

Not a single lamp was on. The eerie silence filled the space like an unspoken threat. His muscles tensed, battle instincts flaring up. But just as he reached the staircase—

Click.

The lights flooded the room.

Sitting in a chair, her legs crossed, was Debbie Grayson.

In one hand, she held a lit cigarette, thin wisps of smoke curling toward the ceiling.

In the other, a sandal.

The air crackled with the unspoken rage of a mother who had been worried sick.

Mark gulped. "Uh… Hey, Mom—"

"Sit. Down."

He obeyed. Instantly.

The seconds stretched. Then, with deliberate slowness, Debbie took a deep drag from her cigarette, exhaling through her nose like a dragon preparing to unleash its wrath.

"Mark," she began, her voice deathly calm. "Do you have any idea what I've been through this past week?"

"Mom, I—"

WHAP!

The sandal struck. Divine retribution had arrived.

Neighbors three blocks away were jolted awake by the sound of a young man being verbally and physically annihilated by the world's strongest weapon, a mother's sandal.

Cecil, watching from his monitor, took a sip of his coffee. "Damn. Kid can survive space, but even he can't tank a mom's wrath."

William, back on the Moon, smirked. "Rest in peace, buddy. You had a good run."

And so, as the universe continued its grand cosmic dance, one undeniable truth echoed across the cosmos:

Not even superpowers could save Mark Grayson from his mother's fury.