Blood had dried on the mountain stones, dark and crusted in the fading light.
Nolan Grayson sat motionless where his son had left him, his battered body slumped beside the place where formerly the lifeless corpse was that served as a grim reminder of his greatest sin was.
Though hours had passed and his Viltrumite physiology had already begun healing the worst of his injuries, he made no move to rise, to clean himself, or to leave this place of his ultimate failure.
The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the devastated landscape.
The battle – or rather, the beating – had left its mark on the mountain: craters, uprooted trees, shattered stone.
Physical manifestations of his son's rage and his own acceptance of punishment.
Nolan stared at his hands, still stained with dried blood – some his own, some Mark's. These hands that had once cradled his newborn son now bore the evidence of his murder. The irony wasn't lost on him.
"I told you they'd find out eventually."
The gravelly voice startled Nolan from his thoughts.
He looked up to see Damien Darkblood materializing from the shadows, his trenchcoat billowing slightly despite the absence of wind.
The demon detective's face was impassive, but his eyes gleamed with something that might have been satisfaction.
"Darkblood," Nolan acknowledged, his voice hollow. "Come to rub salt in the wound?"
The demon snorted, adjusting his hat as he surveyed the destruction around them. "As satisfying as that would be – watching the mighty Omni-Man wallowing in the consequences of his actions – no, that's not why I'm here."
Nolan's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then why are you here? I thought Cecil banished you back to Hell."
"He did," Darkblood confirmed, moving closer with measured steps. "But Hell isn't exactly a maximum-security facility for those who know its workings. Besides, certain... developments... warranted my return."
"Developments?" Nolan repeated, too emotionally drained to muster proper suspicion.
Darkblood gestured toward the horizon. "Your son's return, for one. The dead don't simply walk back into the land of the living, Grayson. Not without help." He paused, his expression growing more serious. "And it's the nature of that help that brings me here now."
Nolan straightened slightly, a flicker of interest breaking through his despair. "What do you mean? Who helped Mark?"
"That's the million-dollar question, isn't it?" Darkblood said, his tone dropping to something almost resembling concern – an unusual sound coming from the demon.
"I've seen him. The one who brought your son back. The one who tore through the barriers between worlds to return Mark's soul to this plane."
"Who is he?" Nolan demanded, his paternal instincts momentarily overriding his self-loathing.
Darkblood's eyes gleamed with an unnatural light. "Someone who made the very foundations of Hell tremble. The part connected to this universe, at least."
"You're being cryptic, demon," Nolan growled, some of his old strength returning to his voice.
"Because I don't fully understand it myself," Darkblood admitted, an unusual concession from the normally confident detective. "But I know enough to be concerned. Enough to warn you."
"Warn me?" Nolan almost laughed, "What could possibly be worse than this? Than knowing I killed my own son in service to an empire that means nothing compared to what I've lost?"
Darkblood's expression darkened. "There are always worse things, Grayson. Always." He looked around, as if checking for unseen observers before continuing.
"The being who brought your son back – he carries the stench of genocide on a scale that would make even Viltrumite conquests seem merciful by comparison."
Nolan's eyes widened slightly. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying be careful," Darkblood replied, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "He's coming here, to you, soon. I can feel it. And if you value what little remains of your existence, you'll tread carefully. Don't antagonize him."
"Why would this being care about me?" Nolan asked, genuinely confused.
"Because he cares about your son," Darkblood said simply. "He apparently raised him in another life, another world. Protected him. Guided him. He is to Mark what you failed to be."
The words struck Nolan like physical blows, each one driving home the reality of his failure as a father.
"I'm not here out of concern for you," Darkblood continued, adjusting his trenchcoat. "But the balance of this world is precarious enough without inviting the wrath of beings beyond mortal comprehension."
Nolan studied the demon's face, searching for deception but finding only grim certainty. "You're afraid of him," he realized.
"Fear is a reasonable response to power that can unmake reality," Darkblood replied without shame. "We demons understand the hierarchy of cosmic forces better than most. And this one..." He trailed off, shaking his head.
"This one what?" Nolan pressed.
Darkblood turned as if to leave, his form already beginning to fade into shadow. "It isn't wise to invoke the wrath of one of the fallen Sons of God, especially a fallen angel in some ways worse than Satan himself."
The demon's voice echoed as his physical form dissipated completely, leaving Nolan alone once more with his thoughts and his dread.
The warning lingered in the air like a physical presence, setting Nolan's nerves on edge despite his exhaustion.
He focused his enhanced senses, scanning his surroundings for any sign of approach. Though he detected no immediate threat, he could feel... something. A pressure in the air, a weight to reality that hadn't been there before.
Power. Immense power, approaching steadily.
Nolan considered rising, preparing himself for whatever was coming, but found he lacked the will.
What was the point? He had lost everything that mattered – his son's respect, his wife's love, his very purpose. If some cosmic entity sought his destruction, perhaps that was fitting justice.
He remained seated beside his crime scene and waited for judgement.
The pressure in the air increased gradually, like the buildup before a thunderstorm.
Then, without fanfare or dramatic entrance, a man simply appeared at the edge of the crater, walking calmly toward Nolan as if arriving through conventional means rather than materializing from thin air.
He was of average height with a great muscular build, dressed in simple clothing that belied the power Nolan could sense emanating from him.
His dark hair moved slightly in the mountain breeze, his expression serene yet somehow evaluating as he approached.
Despite Darkblood's warnings and the overwhelming power he could sense, Nolan felt no immediate fear. Perhaps he was too emotionally exhausted for fear.
Or perhaps it was the man's eyes – they held knowledge, certainly, and power beyond comprehension, but not the malice Darkblood's words had led him to expect.
"Nolan Grayson," the man said as he reached the center of the crater. "Or do you prefer Omni-Man?"
"Nolan is fine," he replied, his voice rough from hours of disuse. "Omni-Man was a lie. A cover for my true purpose here."
The man nodded, then surprised Nolan by sitting down beside him, seemingly unconcerned about the blood and debris that littered the ground. "I'm Goku," he said simply.
"You're the one who brought my son back," Nolan stated, not a question but an observation.
Goku nodded. "In a manner of speaking, yes. Though Mark did most of the work himself. His determination to return, to set things right – that was the driving force."
Nolan studied him more carefully. Up close, the sense of power was even more pronounced, yet contained with such precision that it barely disturbed the air around them. "Darkblood was here," he said. "He warned me about you."
A small smile touched Goku's lips. "Did he? Demons often have a more... nuanced perspective on certain energies."
"He seemed afraid," Nolan continued. "Said you were some kind of fallen angel, worse than Satan himself."
Goku's smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. "Demons and their dramatic flair," he said, though there was no real denial in his tone. "I'm simply someone who cares about Mark's wellbeing."
"He said you raised him," Nolan couldn't keep the hint of jealousy from his voice, though he immediately felt ashamed of it. What right did he have to jealousy after what he'd done?
"I did," Goku confirmed, as naturally as if discussing the weather. "For several years now. He, Lelouch, and Mikasa – the three teenagers who accompanied us – they're my family."
The casual confirmation stung more than Nolan expected. "You took my place," he said quietly.
"No," Goku replied, his voice firm but not unkind. "I filled a void. There's a difference." He looked directly at Nolan, his gaze penetrating.
"Your place was here, protecting your son and wife, building a life with them. You chose to abandon that place in service to Viltrum."
Nolan flinched at the blunt assessment but couldn't deny its truth. "I believed in the mission," he said, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears. "I believed in Viltrum's destiny, its right to rule."
"Tell me about Viltrum," Goku said, surprising Nolan with the request. "Not what they told you to believe, but what you know of its history, its past."
Nolan hesitated, then found himself speaking, the words coming easier than expected. "Viltrum was once different," he began, reciting the history he'd been taught since childhood.
"We were a race of conquerors, yes, but there was purpose to it. We believed we were uplifting the universe, bringing order and advancement to primitive worlds."
He paused, his expression growing darker. "Then came the Scourge Virus. It decimated our population, killing thousands upon thousands of Viltrumites. In the aftermath, our society faced a crisis."
"A virus brought down the mighty Viltrumites?" Goku asked, his tone neutral, free of judgment.
"It was engineered specifically to target our biology," Nolan explained. "We were vulnerable in ways we had never acknowledged. And in that vulnerability, something... changed in our leadership."
He looked at the darkening sky, remembering. "Thragg rose to power as our Grand Regent. Under his rule, we became even more ruthless, more dedicated to conquest.
The virus had culled our numbers, but those who survived were the strongest of our kind. Thragg saw this as natural selection at work - proof that only the strong deserved to live."
"And you embraced this philosophy?" Goku asked.
"I..." Nolan faltered. "I never questioned it. We were taught that our strength gave us the right to rule, that weaker species existed to serve us or perish. It was our doctrine, our way."
He looked down at his hands, still stained with dried blood. "But now I wonder if what we became was worth the cost. If what we lost was more valuable than what we gained."
Goku nodded thoughtfully. "And what do you believe Viltrum lost in this transformation?"
The question struck Nolan deeply.
He had never considered it in those terms before – what had been lost, not just what had been gained. "Compassion," he said finally. "Understanding. The ability to see value in things beyond strength and conquest."
He gestured to where his son's corpse was previously, his expression pained. "I was ordered to evaluate Earth for conquest, to infiltrate and weaken its defenses from within. I did my duty without question for years. But then..."
"Then what?" Goku prompted gently when Nolan fell silent.
"Then I met Debbie," Nolan continued, his voice softening. "I married her as part of my cover, but something unexpected happened. I began to care for her, truly care. And when Mark was born..." He swallowed hard.
"I loved him from the moment I held him. Not as a potential warrior for Viltrum, but as my son."
"Yet when the time came, you chose Viltrum over them," Goku observed, not accusingly but as a simple statement of fact.
Nolan's shoulders slumped. "I tried to convince myself it was the right choice. That I could bring them with me, that Mark would understand once he saw the glory of Viltrum, the inevitability of our conquest." He shook his head. "I was a fool."
"Perhaps," Goku agreed. "But fools can learn wisdom through suffering. The question is, what have you learned, Nolan Grayson?"
The question hung in the air between them, demanding an honesty Nolan had rarely allowed himself. "I've learned that I was wrong," he said finally. "About Viltrum, about Earth, about what truly matters."
He looked at the scene of his crime once more, then at the living image of Mark in his mind – the son who had returned from death itself to confront him.
"I've learned that some bonds are stronger than duty or doctrine. That love isn't weakness, as Viltrum taught me, but the greatest strength."
Goku studied him, his expression unreadable. "And yet, knowing this, you still killed your son when he refused to join you."
"I didn't mean to," Nolan whispered, the admission tearing from his throat. "I was going to knock him unconscious, take him with me by force if necessary.
But when he said he'd always have me..." He closed his eyes, the memory of that moment searing through him. "Something in me broke.
I lost control of my strength, fearing what feeling it invoked in me and I hit him with everything I had, without thinking, without realising. And then he was gone."
Silence fell between them, broken only by the mountain wind and the distant calls of birds returning to their nests as evening deepened.
"What I don't understand," Nolan said eventually, "is why you're not condemning me. Why you're sitting here talking to me instead of destroying me for what I did to him."
Goku laughed softly, the sound unexpected in the somber setting. "You're already condemning yourself quite thoroughly," he pointed out.
"Besides, Mark is your judge, and he has already made his judgment. I'm not here as your executioner." His expression grew more serious. "I trust Mark's choices."
"You seem... close to him," Nolan observed, unable to completely mask the jealousy in his voice.
"Of course," Goku replied simply. "I raised him, after all."
The casual reaffirmation sent another pang through Nolan's heart – a mixture of jealousy and grief for what he had thrown away once more rearing its head.
But as quickly as the emotion rose, he forced it down. He once again forced himself to remember that he had no right to feel territorial over a son he had murdered with his own hands.
"You gave him what I couldn't," Nolan acknowledged, the words difficult but necessary. "A father who valued him for who he is, not what he could become."
Goku's expression softened slightly. "Mark speaks of you sometimes, of the you, you know. Before... this." He gestured to the devastation around them. "He admired you greatly. Wanted to make you proud."
"And I destroyed that," Nolan said bitterly. "I destroyed everything good between us for an empire that doesn't truly care about anything or anyone. An empire that would discard me the moment I failed to be useful."
"Is that what Viltrum has become?" Goku asked. "A place where utility determines worth?"
Nolan nodded slowly. "Yes. Though I didn't see it clearly until now. We claim to be building a glorious empire, spreading order and advancement.
But it's all just conquest for conquest's sake. Domination without purpose beyond proving our superiority."
He looked up at the darkening sky, stars beginning to appear above them. "Viltrum was once great, or so our histories claim.
A civilization of philosophers and scientists, artists and builders. But that Viltrum is long dead, replaced by a militaristic shadow of itself."
"And where do you stand now?" Goku asked, his voice gentle but probing. "With Viltrum or with Earth?"
Nolan considered the question carefully. "Neither," he said finally. "I don't stand with Viltrum anymore – I can't, not after everything I've learned, everything I've lost because of their doctrine. But I can't claim to stand with Earth either, not after what I've done here."
He looked down at his hands again, flexing them slowly. "If I stand for anything now, it's for Debbie and Mark.
Even if they never accept me again, even if they hate me forever – and they have every right to. I want to atone for my mistakes, though I don't know if that's even possible."
"Redemption is rarely impossible," Goku observed. "Though it is often painful and never guaranteed."
"I'm not a true Viltrumite anymore," Nolan continued, the realization crystallizing as he spoke. "I don't think I have been for a long time. Not since I held Mark for the first time and felt something other than duty or ambition."
He closed his eyes, Debbie's face appearing in his mind – her smile, her strength, the love that had transformed him without his even realizing it. "I miss my wife," he admitted, the simple statement containing worlds of regret and longing.
Goku said nothing to this, merely nodding in acknowledgment of Nolan's pain. They sat in silence for a time, watching as night fully claimed the mountain, stars appearing in greater numbers overhead.
"If you truly wish to redeem yourself," Goku said finally, rising to his feet, "you must begin by deciding where you stand just like you did now.
Not for Earth or Viltrum as abstract concepts, but for specific people, specific values.
You must make sure it is truly what you've decided and not something in the heat of the moment, overwhelemd by temporary emotion." He looked down at Nolan, his expression serious.
"And you must be prepared to defend those choices, even against your former empire."
Nolan looked up at him, remembering and understanding the implications. "Viltrum won't simply leave Earth alone because I've had a change of heart. They'll send others."
"Yes," Goku agreed. "And when they come, your actions will define you far more clearly than any words could."
With that, Goku turned to leave, his form beginning to shimmer slightly as if preparing to depart by means other than walking.
"Wait," Nolan called after him. "You never really answered my question. What are you? Darkblood called you a fallen angel, worse than Satan. Was he right?"
Goku paused, looking back over his shoulder with an enigmatic smile. "Names and categories matter less than choices and actions, don't you think?"
Without waiting for a response, he vanished – not gradually fading or flying away, but simply ceasing to be present, as if he had stepped through an invisible doorway in reality itself.
Nolan remained where he was, alone once more with his thoughts.
But something had shifted within him during the conversation. The crushing despair had receded slightly, replaced by the first stirrings of purpose.
Not the false purpose Viltrum had instilled in him, but something more personal, more genuine.
A desire to make amends, to protect what he had nearly destroyed, to stand against the empire he had served for so long.
He looked up at the stars – the same stars he had once seen as territories to be conquered, planets to be subjugated.
Now they seemed different somehow. Distant witnesses to his failure and, perhaps, to whatever redemption he might find.
As night deepened around him, Nolan Grayson made his choice. Not for Viltrum. Not even for Earth. But for his family – the wife and son he had betrayed but still loved beyond measure.
Whether they would ever forgive him remained to be seen. But he would earn that forgiveness, or die trying.
It was the only path left to him now. The only one that mattered even if there were an infinite more.
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(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!
Do tell me how you found it.
So, the thing about what Darkblood said, Goku has Divine Ki, which to a demon would be a Heavenly form of energy,
and demons besides other pantheonic ones or ones who themselves proclaim themselves as gods wouldn't think of another being as a god, only one being as well, God.
So, to Darkblood the only logical explanation is that Goku is some fallen angel.
Also, Goku can just go and obliterate Viltrum, its really easy, just in 1 minute kill all the Viltrumites and be done with it - but he doesn't.
Reason being is he wants Mark, Lelouch and Mikasa to gain some field experience in a controlled environment by him.
He is both their father and mentor after all.
Well, I hope that clarified everything and I hope to see you all later,
Bye!)