Chapter 12: The First Mission

Hey everyone, welcome to the 12th chapter! This time, we're diving into a bit of Beerus's past. It's a bit of a shorter chapter but I wanted to get something out for you guys. If you want to join my discord server then here's the code /zHnBV28C

"Difficulties strengthen the mind as labor does the body." -Seneca, philosopher of Ancient Rome

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As Beerus watched the moonlit sky, he couldn't help but reflect on the stark contrast between his time on Earth and his very first mission for the Viltrum Empire. The memories of that initial assignment flooded back, unbidden and vivid, and he clenched his fists as he remembered the strange world he had marked for future takeover. 

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*Flashback*

His first mission was on a planet with an unknown name, a world teeming with strange, reptilian creatures and primitive humanoid inhabitants. The assignment was straightforward: assess its defenses, evaluate its resources, and establish the groundwork for its eventual subjugation. It was a monotonous, albeit necessary, task that encapsulated the essence of Viltrumite life—an unending cycle of expansion and domination. He remembered the cold efficiency with which he had carried out his orders, the detached manner in which he observed the natives who called themselves "Vikings," noting their weaknesses and strengths with clinical precision.

Upon arrival, Beerus found himself observing the midst of a chaotic battle. Two colossal reptilian creatures, each with long, menacing tusks, were locked in combat. They charged at each other, swinging their massive heads with wild abandon, the impact of their clashes causing the ground to tremble. Ice shot from their mouths, freezing anything in its path, adding another layer of danger to the battlefield. (AN: yes its the second HTTYD movie)

Around these titans, humanoid warriors fought fiercely. Clad in primitive armor, wielding swords and axes, the vikings were fighting each other with wooden contraptions as well as many reptiles who were forced to fight as well. Beerus observed with a mixture of curiosity and detachment. These beings, though primitive by Viltrumite standards, displayed a surprising tenacity and resilience. Their combat techniques were crude but effective, and their sheer will to fight impressed him.

One figure, in particular, caught his eye—a man moving with a staff in hand, using it to control one of the large reptilian creatures. The man's movements were precise, almost ritualistic, suggesting a deep connection with the beast he commanded. He watched as the man directed the creature with skill, guiding its icy breath towards the opposing titan. It was an impressive display of control and coordination, a rare sight among such primitive beings.

Beerus floated above the fray, his presence unnoticed by the combatants below. He took in the scene, analyzing every detail. The reptilian creatures, with their powerful tusks and ice breath, posed a significant threat, but they were also a potential resource. If harnessed correctly, they could be used to bolster the Viltrumite arsenal. The Vikings, with their crude yet effective combat skills, might serve as useful soldiers once properly trained.

He descended silently, his feet touching the ground without a sound. The chaos continues around him, the Vikings too engrossed in their battle to notice the new arrival. Beerus walked through the battlefield, observing the techniques and strategies employed by the combatants. He noted the weaknesses in their defenses, the flaws in their formations. It was all so...primitive.

Yet, there was a raw beauty in their struggle, a primal ferocity that he couldn't help but admire. These beings, despite their limited technology and knowledge, fought with a passion and determination that was rare even among the most advanced civilizations. It was a reminder of the basic, unyielding drive for survival that lay at the heart of all sentient life.

Beerus watched as the man with the staff directed his creature once more, the beast's icy breath freezing a line of enemies in their tracks. Around them, other smaller reptilian creatures battled fiercely, most breathing fire, but one two-headed creature caught his attention as it released gas and sparks. A group of blonde Vikings nearby shouted like madmen, wielding their weapons with reckless abandon. Another dark reptile fired beams of plasma, adding to the chaos of the battlefield.

These Vikings fought with heart, with a desperation to survive. It was a sight both alien and fascinating to Beerus. He felt a twinge of something unfamiliar—respect. It was a fleeting emotion, quickly suppressed, but it lingered in the back of his mind. These beings, for all their primitiveness, had something that even the most advanced warriors sometimes lacked. They had spirit.

As the battle raged on, Beerus continued his observations, taking mental notes of everything he saw, occasionally tanking a stray arrow or crossbow bolt. He knew that once this planet was subjugated, it would serve the Viltrum Empire well. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of contemplation, reflecting on the differences between this world and the life he had known on Viltrum.

Viltrum had been a place of relentless training and conquest, a world where strength and power were the ultimate goals. There was little room for nuance or appreciation of life's simpler pleasures. Here on this unnamed planet, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, Beerus found himself appreciating the raw, unrefined beauty of a people fighting for their survival. It was a stark contrast to the monotonous life he had known, where every day was a struggle for power and dominance.

He shook his head, dispelling the thoughts. He was a Viltrumite, born and bred for conquest. There was no room for sentimentality. With a final glance at the battle, he rose into the air, ready to continue his mission. The Vikings would be subjugated, their resources harvested, their world brought into the fold of the Viltrum Empire.

Just as one of the titans was about to impale the other with a tusk, Beerus rushed forward and grabbed the tusk, slightly straining his muscles to hold it back. The scene went silent as everyone's jaw dropped at the sight of an entity using his raw strength to hold back a dragon.

"What in the world?" a brown-haired man on top of a relatively small, dark dragon exclaimed, his eyes wide with astonishment.

The battlefield froze, the Vikings and their reptilian mounts momentarily stunned by the display of power. Beerus, his face a mask of determination, held the tusk with an iron grip. The titanic creature strained against him, its icy breath turning to mist in the cold air, but Beerus did not budge. Compared to the vacuum of space, this was nothing.

Beerus shifted his stance, muscles rippling as he moved. With a sudden burst of strength, he flew underneath the creature, lifting it off the ground. The titanic beast thrashed and roared in pain and anger, its massive form twisting in a futile attempt to break free. The ground trembled under the weight of the struggle, but Beerus remained unfazed.

With a mighty heave, Beerus threw the creature on its side. The impact sent shockwaves through the battlefield, causing dust and debris to scatter in all directions. The beast lay there, stunned and disoriented, its icy breath now reduced to shallow, pained exhalations.

The Vikings and their mounts stared in awe, the sheer power of Beerus's actions leaving them speechless. He floated above the fallen creature, his presence a commanding force amidst the chaos. He glanced around, taking in the wide-eyed expressions of the onlookers.

"Stay down," he commanded, his voice resonating with authority. The creature let out a low growl but made no move to rise.

The brown-haired man on top of the dark dragon watched with a mix of fear and respect. "Who are you? What are you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Beerus turned his gaze to the man, his eyes cold and calculating. "I am Beerus of Viltrum. And your world...your world will be brought into the Viltrum Empire."

The man's eyes narrowed. "And what does that mean for us?"

"It means change," Beerus replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "But it also means an end to senseless battles like this one."

"Enough," he said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "This fight is over."

The man's eyes narrowed. "And what does that mean for us?"

"It means change," Beerus replied, his tone firm but not unkind. "But it also means an end to senseless battles like this one."

Suddenly, a large Viking approached, limping but still exuding an air of menace. His armor was adorned with the scars of countless battles, and his eyes burned with a fierce determination. "I am Drago," he declared, his voice a guttural growl. "Who are you to interfere in my conquest?"

Beerus turned to face the approaching warrior, his expression unfazed by the man's imposing presence. His eyes, cold and unyielding, locked onto Drago's with an intensity that made even the most hardened warriors pause.

"Who am I?" Beerus's voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it carried a weight that seemed to press down on the very air around them. "I am someone who can end you without batting an eye."

He floated forward, his movements deliberate and controlled. Drago's grip tightened on his weapon, a long metal bullhook that had felled many foes. Yet, as he looked into Beerus's eyes, he saw not a mere man, but a force of nature, an unstoppable storm wrapped in flesh and bone.

"You think you can intimidate me?" Drago spat, his bravado faltering slightly. "I have faced dragons and gods. I fear no man."

Beerus's lips curled into a cold, predatory smile. "Then you're a fool. I'm a Viltrumite, an apex predator of the universe. I've brought entire worlds to their knees, and I won't hesitate to do the same to you."

Without warning, Beerus moved. One moment he was standing still, and the next he was directly in front of Drago, his hand wrapped around the Viking's throat. Drago's eyes widened in shock, his weapon falling from his grasp as he struggled to breathe.

"You should learn when to fear," Beerus whispered, his voice like the hiss of a serpent. "Your conquest ends here."

With a flick of his wrist, Beerus tossed Drago aside as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll. The Viking crashed into the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of dust and debris. He lay there, gasping for breath, his bravado shattered by the sheer, overwhelming power of the Viltrumite.

The other Vikings watched in stunned silence, their leader humbled in an instant. Beerus stood tall, his presence commanding and terrifying. He looked around at the assembled warriors, his gaze piercing and unforgiving.

"Let this be a lesson," he said, his voice carrying across the battlefield. "Defy me, and you will meet the same fate. Submit, and you may yet live to see another day."

With that, he turned and ascended into the sky, leaving the battered Drago and his warriors to contemplate the power and mercy of their new adversary. As Beerus soared away to contact the Empire, he couldn't help but feel a grim satisfaction. He had shown these primitive beings a glimpse of true power, and in doing so, he had reaffirmed his loyalty to his father and his people.

The complexities of this planet and its people might intrigue him, but his duty remained clear. He was a Viltrumite, and his destiny was to conquer.

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*Flashback end*

Now, here on Earth, things were different. Humans, for all their perceived weaknesses, had a resilience that intrigued him. Their culture, with its myriad of customs and traditions, was both baffling and fascinating. He found himself unexpectedly captivated by the small, everyday moments—the laughter of classmates, the taste of unfamiliar foods, the shared excitement over trivial matters. These were experiences he never had on Viltrum, where every interaction was a calculated move in the grand game of conquest.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Earth was growing on him, and that was a problem. It was making him...soft. Not in strength, but in perspective. He had always prided himself on his unwavering loyalty to his father and the Viltrum Empire, on his dedication to the mission. But now, there was a small part of him—a part he would never admit to anyone—that actually cared about this tiny, fragile planet and its chaotic inhabitants.

As he stared up at the moon, he thought about his father, Thragg, and the weight of expectations that came with being his son. Thragg was the epitome of a Viltrumite warrior: ruthless, efficient, and unstoppable. Beerus knew he had to live up to that legacy, and had to become even greater. But Earth, with its quirks and nuances, was slowly changing him, making him question things he never thought he would.

He chuckled to himself, the sound low and almost bitter. "What would Father think if he knew I was actually starting to like this place?" he muttered under his breath. The thought was both amusing and troubling. He couldn't afford distractions, couldn't afford to let his guard down. But Earth was making that increasingly difficult.

Beerus took a deep breath, the cool night air filling his lungs. Despite his growing fondness for Earth, he reaffirmed his loyalty to his father and the Viltrum Empire. He was a Viltrumite, born and bred for conquest, and his destiny was intertwined with the empire's grand design. Earth was but a temporary diversion, a pit stop on the road to greater things. Yet, in the quiet moments under the night sky, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something more—something he couldn't quite name.

With a final, lingering look at the stars, he set his jaw with determination. He would protect this planet for now, fulfill his duties, and ensure its safety. But he would never forget his true allegiance. The Viltrum Empire awaited, and he would return to it when the time came, stronger and wiser for his time on Earth.