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The darkness of space shattered with a violent wrenching of reality. Stars stretched, twisted, and flared as a colossal wave of energy tore through the Viltrumite armada. Warships groaned under strain, gravitation fields oscillated, and entire colonies were hurled through dimensions. The fleet’s navigation systems went blank, and alarms screamed across every bridge.
Thragg rose above the chaos. His towering form radiated authority, every Viltrumite within visual range freezing instinctively at his presence. His crimson eyes swept the fleet, cold and calculating.
“This is no ambush,” he said, his voice resonating across the void like rolling thunder. “We are… elsewhere.”
The words did not carry fear. They carried certainty.
Inside him, a new consciousness stirred. A human mind from another world—our world—awakened to find itself in the body of the greatest living Viltrumite. Strength surged through his veins like molten steel, senses flaring beyond mortal comprehension. He had lived on Earth, fragile and weak, dreaming of heroes and villains. Now he was Thragg. All of Thragg. Every muscle, every reflex, every instinct for domination… and yet he was different. He was *human* inside this perfect killer shell.
The first thought that struck him was clear: This universe was far more dangerous than any he had ever faced. The stars themselves seemed alive with the power of unseen forces. He recognized some constellations, or at least the approximate locations of planets he had studied in stolen star charts: Oa, Rann, Tamaran. This was not his own universe. This was the DC Universe.
And it was filled with monsters that could destroy entire fleets with ease.
If I charge in like Thragg would have… I will destroy us all. I need strategy. Patience. Survival first, conquest later.
The fleet quivered as his new consciousness stabilized. Thousands of eyes turned to him, waiting for commands that would decide life or death.
“Emperor!” one general barked, his voice raw with frustration and fear. “The humans… the worlds here! Shall we strike? Shall we demonstrate the might of the Viltrumites?”
Thragg’s crimson gaze swept across him, unflinching. “We will not announce ourselves. We will not rush into a fight we cannot yet control.” His voice carried the weight of an entire empire. “This is a new universe. The rules are different. Patience will grant us victory. Blind conquest will only lead to ruin.”
Murmurs ran through the council. Confusion, outrage, even fear flickered across the Viltrumite faces. To them, this was insanity. The Viltrumite way was simple: crush, conquer, and assert dominance. But Thragg, his mind now tempered by the human soul, saw the wider picture.
“Scatter our fleets,” he commanded. “Small units. Silent colonies. Infiltration. Observe first. Adapt. Build alliances where necessary. We will not be enemies until we are ready. Survival before glory.”
A younger general hesitated. “But, Emperor… this is not how we… we could—”
“You *will obey*,” Thragg said sharply. The authority in his tone froze dissent where it stood. “The galaxy is filled with predators stronger than any I have faced. This universe has its own laws, its own monsters. We adapt—or we die. That is the way.”
The order went out. Viltrumite warships split, disappearing like shadows into uncharted space. Scouts were dispatched to Tamaranean systems, where warrior planets simmered with their own politics. Telepathic probes were sent to the Martians, monitoring the divide between Green and White Martians. Even Thanagarian territories were carefully surveyed, noting fractured fleets and political unrest. Every move was precise, measured, unseen.
Alone on his flagship, Thragg—*the human soul within*—stood before the viewport, staring into the unfamiliar stars. His mind raced, cataloging threats and opportunities. He was no longer simply Thragg the conqueror; he was a strategist, a sleeper king. The Viltrumite instinct for domination hummed beneath his skin, but it would be restrained. He would wield it like a scalpel, not a hammer.
We are predators, yes. But here, the prey is dangerous. Patience now, conquest later. First, survival. Then… the galaxy will bend to us.
Even in his meditation, he could sense the cosmic ripples of their arrival. Lantern scouts had begun to detect anomalies at the edge of explored space. Darkseid, far beyond, felt the vibrations of a new predator in the void, and his gaze narrowed in suspicion. Unseen Tamaranean patrols reported strange ships disappearing into hyperspace. Martian telepaths whispered of alien presences, but no alarm yet. The Viltrumites were ghosts, invisible shadows threading through a universe unprepared for them.
The Emperor smiled—an expression that belonged as much to Thragg as to the man now inhabiting him. Not a smile of joy, not of cruelty, but of resolve. The empire had arrived, silent and patient. The seeds of conquest were sown. The universe did not yet know it had been invaded.
The Viltrumites will rule this universe. Not as conquerors in the open—not yet. We will be its shadow, shaping it until the day we step into the light.
And with that, Thragg turned to his generals. “Prepare the sleeper fleets. Send envoys to Tamaraneans, to Martians. Gather intelligence. Learn their weaknesses, their strengths. Adapt. We survive first. The rest… is inevitable.”
In the void, ships blinked out of sight, like black drops of ink in an infinite canvas. A new empire had arrived. Silent. Patient. Deadly.
The stars themselves seemed to shiver.