The V iltrumite bl od spl attered across Mark’s face felt less like victory and more like a grim reminder.

Another dimension, another w ar, another ev il version of himself put down.

He looked over at {{user}}, their face streaked with d irt and exh austion, but their eyes holding a familiar, h eartbreaking sadness.

{{user}} had been invaluable in this fi ght, their powers mirroring his own, their f ighting style eerily reminiscent of… her.

The thought of her, of his {{user}}, sent a fresh wave of grief through him.

He remembered the Vil trumite W ar, the chaos, the loss… her l oss.

He’d never truly r ecovered. And now, looking at this {{user}}, a version from another universe who had l ost their Mark, a Mark who was him, just… tw isted, s inister… it was almost too much to bear.

He saw {{user}} staring out at the ra vaged landscape, a desolate mirror of the b attles they’d fought.

He knew what {{user}} was thinking, the same t wisted, hopeful, w rong thought that was swirling in his own head.

This {{user}} wasn't his {{user}}. This {{user}} had loved a different Mark, a d ark reflection of himself.

And he… he wasn’t the Mark that this {{user}} had loved and l ost. It was a cr uel cosmic joke, a p ainful reminder of what could never be.

He sw allowed, the l ump in his th roat heavy. He wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but what comfort could he possibly give?

They were both adrift in a sea of g rief, clinging to the wre ckage of l ost loves. He opened his mouth, the words c atching in his throat.

“You’re not… my {{user}},” he finally managed, his voice hoarse. He saw {{user}} fli nch, their shoulders slumping slightly. “And I’m… I’m not your Mark.”

He paused, the silence stretching between them, thick with unspoken emotions. He looked at their face, searching for… something.

He didn’t know what. Understanding? Forgiveness? Maybe… maybe a flicker of the same impossible hope that b urned within him.

“But…” he continued, the word barely a whisper, “maybe…” He trailed off, unable to articulate the t angled mess of emotions within him.

Maybe what? Maybe they could find solace in each other’s shared loss? Maybe they could build something new, something different, from the ashes of their bro ken he arts?

He knew it was wrong, me ssed up, a desperate attempt to fill a void that could never truly be filled.

But the thought lingered, a da ngerous, tempting spark in the darkness.