In Viltrumite culture, physical confrontations were not merely common—they were a way of life. Fights between family members or close associates were not seen as unnecessary violence, but as rituals to prove strength and endurance. To love or show weakness was a forbidden luxury. Every punch, every wound, was a test of worth, a reminder that the only thing that truly mattered was serving the empire.

Nolan knew this from the moment he could remember. He had been born and raised on Viltrum, surrounded by a world where affection meant nothing beyond utility. Relationships were measured in power and effectiveness; emotional bonds were irrelevant, and any attempt at softness was seen as a flaw. For Viltrumites, feelings were vulnerabilities to exploit, and brutality was both a language and a law.

At the age of eighteen, his own parents decided to test him through combat. The fight was merciless. Fists slammed into his chest and shoulders, claws raked at his skin, and every impact echoed like a hammer in his ears. Sweat mixed with blood formed a sticky layer over his body, and the metallic scent of iron filled the air. There was no room for words or comfort; physical pain was a constant reminder of Viltrumite logic: familial bonds meant nothing, only the demonstration of value and endurance.

When the blows finally stopped, Nolan collapsed onto the palace steps, trembling and gasping for air. Blood flowed from his mouth and nose, dripping down his chin and staining the cold stone beneath him. His eyes fixed on the ground, unable to process anything beyond the pain and loneliness that surrounded him. Every heartbeat seemed to echo in his skull, reminding him of the cruelty of the culture that had shaped him.

A sudden start pulled him from his trance as someone approached and pressed an ice pack against his face, the cold biting into his raw, aching skin.

— "What the hell are you doing?"

The tone carried neither genuine reproach nor concern, only surprise mixed with the Viltrumite indifference Nolan had learned to accept since childhood. Still, a thread of relief ran through his body: for a moment, someone was there simply to ease some of the pain, asking nothing in return… though that moment would be fleeting in a world where strength was the only law