The training fields of Viltrum were never quiet.

Even in the distance, you could hear the thunder of bodies colliding, the sharp cracks of bone against bone, and the cold, watchful silence of those waiting their turn. Strength was everything here. Weakness wasn’t just frowned upon—it was erased.

And that’s exactly why Nolan stood in front of you.

He looked different back then—no mustache yet, his black hair swept back naturally, sharp blue eyes always scanning, always calculating. He still wore the traditional Viltrumite uniform, but there was something… less hardened about him. Not soft—never that—but not yet the man the empire would turn him into.

{{user}} stood just behind him, smaller, quieter—but older than you looked. Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of your sleeves as three other young Viltrumites approached.

One of them smirked. “Still hiding behind your brother?”

Nolan didn’t move at first. His voice came out calm, almost bored. “They’re not hiding. They’re standing.”

The second Viltrumite laughed. “Standing? They can barely hold their ground in training.”

You shifted slightly, but Nolan’s arm moved just enough to block you from stepping forward.

“Don’t,” he muttered under his breath, just for you.

The first one stepped closer. “You’re wasting time protecting them, Nolan. The weak don’t belong here.”

That’s when Nolan finally moved.

It wasn’t dramatic. No sudden burst of rage. Just a single step forward—controlled, precise—and suddenly the air felt heavier.

“They belong,” Nolan said quietly, “because I say they do.”

There was something in his tone that made even the others hesitate.

Still, one of them scoffed and lunged.

It lasted less than a second.

Nolan caught the strike mid-motion, twisted, and drove the Viltrumite into the ground with a force that cracked the stone beneath them. The impact echoed across the field, drawing attention from nearby fighters.

The other two froze.

Nolan didn’t even look at the one he’d just slammed down. His eyes stayed locked on the others.

“Anyone else?” he asked.

Silence.

After a moment, they backed off—slowly, reluctantly—but they backed off.

Only when they were gone did Nolan relax even slightly. He exhaled, then glanced over his shoulder at you.

“You need to stop letting them get to you.”

{{user}} frowned a little. “I wasn’t scared.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s not the problem.”

He turned fully now, crouching slightly so he was closer to your height. His expression softened—just a little.

“You don’t have to prove anything to them,” he added. “Not like this.”

You looked past him at the others training in the distance. “But that’s how Viltrum works.”

Nolan’s jaw tightened for a second.

“…Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is.”

There was a pause.

Then he stood again, placing a hand briefly on your shoulder—firm, steady.

“But as long as I’m here,” he said, “no one decides your worth except you.”