Enlistment Notice

He pushed open the door, entered the living room, and dropped onto the sofa.

Sparta opened the documents in his hand and pulled out several reports.

The first report clearly showed what he had looked like after being knocked unconscious, his face covered in blood.

The second report was an X-ray of his skull.

"Is this me? How did I get this badly messed up?"

Even as a layman, Sparta could tell from the X-ray that half his skull had been shattered at the time.

If an ordinary person had suffered such an injury, they would have died several times over.

But him? In less than twenty hours, he had already recovered seven or eight tenths of the way.

Viltrumites truly were a miraculous race, with astonishing regenerative abilities.

"I can really take a beating."

Sparta set the reports on the dining table and could not help sighing.

He got up and entered the bathroom, looking into the mirror as he prepared to remove the bandages wrapped around his entire face.

As the bandages came off bit by bit, a sunny, spirited, rugged face reappeared.

In the mirror, Sparta tilted his head left and touched his right cheek, then tilted his head right and touched his left cheek.

Not bad. He was still as devastatingly handsome as before, with no obvious wounds or scars on his face.

He nodded in satisfaction, took off his clothes, and showered in the bathroom.

Before long, the bathroom door opened again.

Sparta emerged from the bathroom bare-chested in shorts, using a towel to dry his damp hair.

But when he looked up, he met Eric's eyes as Eric sat on the sofa.

Eric wore a serious expression, maintaining his role as a strict father at all times.

"When did you get here?"

"While you were washing up."

"What is it?"

"I came to deliver your enlistment notice. I'll personally come pick you up in ten days."

After speaking, Eric rose from the sofa and walked out of the house without hesitation or a trace of reluctance.

Bang!

The thunderous sound of the door slamming shut vanished from Sparta's sight.

"Fine."

Sparta's voice was filled with helplessness.

Sometimes, he wondered whether he was the only one who lived in this house. This was clearly their home too, so why did they not care about it?

In eighteen years, Eric and Zoe had returned here so few times that he could count them on one hand.

Every time they returned, they never stayed longer than half an hour.

"You'd better never come back, you annoying old bastard."

Bang!

The moment he voiced his complaint, the front door was violently pushed open.

Sparta looked toward the doorway, where Eric stood.

Eric simply stood there, glancing off to the side with a hint of embarrassment.

"Congratulations on becoming... a qualified Viltrumite Warrior today. You're... my proudest... proudest son."

His voice was quiet, as faint as a mosquito's buzz, and he even stuttered.

Though his voice was soft, Sparta heard every word.

He froze on the spot and replied instinctively.

"What?"

Eric took a deep breath and opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no matter what, he could not bring himself to repeat those words.

In the end, he merely stiffly raised his head, his gaze slightly evasive.

"Nothing. See you in ten days."

Eric bent his knees slightly and kicked off the ground, riding the airflow into the sky.

Even long after Eric had left, Sparta had yet to come back to his senses.

He could not believe what he had heard.

My proudest son.

Those words replayed over and over in his mind, lingering there for a long time.

For his cold father to say something like that was truly... unexpected.

"You really aren't cut out for sentimental stuff, you old bastard."

Although he sounded utterly disdainful, the faint curl at the corner of his lips had already exposed his true feelings.

With the towel draped around his neck, Sparta entered the training room.

Years of harsh training had made him enjoy this feeling. If he skipped a day, it felt like ants were crawling all over his body.

Today was a good day. He had to reward himself with a brutal four-hour workout.

After putting on his gravity wristbands and ankle bands, Sparta clapped his hands to encourage himself.

He held two half-meter-tall metal discs in his arms and began doing squats.

Do not underestimate those two metal discs. Though they were only half a meter tall, they were forged from a special metal found in the universe.

Each weighed several hundred tons, and together with the gravity wristbands and ankle bands, they made the training even more effective.

"997... 998... 999... 1000!"

Sweat soaked his entire body, making him sticky again after he had just washed up.

He gently set down the metal discs in his arms, one hand on his waist as the other scratched his head in confusion.

Something was wrong. Very wrong.

Based on his previous training volume, after one thousand squats, he should have been panting like a dog, his arms trembling and his legs weak.

So why was he only sweating and breathing a little heavily today? His arms still had strength left, and his legs remained as steady as ever.

"Could it have been during the Coming-of-Age Trial?"

A flash of inspiration struck Sparta, and he thought of a possibility: perhaps fighting improved physical abilities afterward.

Other than that, he could not think of any other explanation.

It could not be that his strength had been sealed and would automatically unlock when he turned eighteen. That was too fantastical.

"Not bad, not bad. So that's how it works."

Unlike other Viltrumite children, the Coming-of-Age Trial had been his first fight.

Whenever he saw others fighting, he always chose to take a detour.

As for himself, he could not even hurt a chicken and was afraid of Viltrumite violence.

"Then I'll add another two hours."

Sparta chuckled and lowered his head, continuing his training.

After finishing his training, Sparta emerged from the bathroom once more.

He sat on the sofa, eating frozen food while watching the news on television.

It did not taste very good, but at least it filled his stomach.

There were no entertainment activities in the Viltrumite Empire. Even the programs shown on television were national affairs, with no anime or movies.

In the news, Algor appeared in the center of the screen, dressed in a red robe and a red cape.

Interestingly, the top of his cape had a ring of white fur.

Algor was an old man with thinning hair on top of his head, his hair and beard completely white.

All Viltrumites respectfully called him Emperor. He was the supreme ruler of the Viltrumite Empire and possessed absolute authority.

The news broadcast showed Emperor Algor having a "friendly" conversation with the rulers of 108 planets.

The 108 rulers were so moved by Emperor Algor's "sincerity," "respect," and "concern" that they knelt in worship, weeping loudly with joy.

The Viltrumite Empire truly was so peaceful and friendly.

Thus, all 108 leaders surrendered unconditionally, and the Viltrumite Empire's territory expanded once again.

"Simple and brutal."

After turning off the television, Sparta shook his head, tossed the unfinished frozen food into the trash, and used a napkin from the table to wipe it clean.

After finishing all that, he entered his bedroom, lay on the soft bed, gently closed his eyes, and drifted into sleep.