Vorath's white streak had become barely a dot on the horizon when Korr adjusted his trajectory for descent.
Vorath was fast, faster than any device or vehicle Korr could imagine.
As for Korr himself, the mere act of trying not to lose pace with the journey wreaked havoc on his composure. Despite being only a child in body, he had to exert himself so much that the wind whistling annoyingly against his eardrums became dense upon itself.
He also struggled to extract the oxygen he needed, so he did not waste his time trying to curse the general behind his back.
Below him, the central district of the city reflected the view in monolithic order, contrasting with the pillars he had recognized from his window, those buildings that rose above all the ivory skyscrapers.
He often wondered what things were like inside that scholastic, learned during his theoretical instruction, but Vorath had decided to clear up those unanswered questions in a practical, and above all, expected manner. He brought him, not to say guided him, directly to that place.
The three structures rose above the city like ancient monuments, and indeed they were. The first, the lowest of the three, reached 420 meters in height, with a clean, white surface, seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it.
The second rose to 840 meters, and the third, the most imposing, which was lost in the low clouds, did the same as the other two, with the difference being that this one was older. Its 1,260 meters of height made it the finger of the empire pointing toward its annexationist struggle against the stars.
Seen from the angle at which Korr descended, the three pillars reproduced the silhouette of the three bars that symbolized Viltrumite purity, hierarchy, and the glory of the galactic empire.
According to what he had investigated during the first cycles after extraction from the gestation chamber, natos remained under the tutelage of the designated progenitor in their respective family fortresses.
This period, known as the Primary Assimilation Phase, allowed for the consolidation of the fundamental knowledge instilled during gestation through neural pulses.
The duration of this phase varied strictly according to their genetic classification.
According to what Korr had learned from Syra-Vel while she was alive, a nato, for example, of Class 15, required between twenty and thirty cycles to complete assimilation. As for other higher classes, they experienced accelerated maturation. The determining criterion for the transition to a higher one (as if from kinder to basic cycle) was the manifestation of intelligent atoms, as the only biological marker that confirmed the beginning of physiological optimization. Only then, when the body demonstrated its capacity to evolve, was the nato considered fit for boarding school.
This boarding school, of course, was called the Dorymathos.
According to the dead Viltrumite language, Dorymathos meant Forge of Spears.
And he would hate this forge of spears for the rest of his time under its tutelage.
By the time Korr had managed to locate his father, Vorath had already landed on the main platform of the complex with time to spare. His figure, unmistakable even among the multitude of Viltrumites that had begun to gather, remained motionless with his arms crossed over his chest, watching him from his position.
"You took too long to catch up to your father; I feel disappointed." He exclaimed in his direction, averting his gaze. "I barely used any speed in my displacement. When I see you again, I want you to be able to keep up with at least 20% of my strength."
Korr corrected his angle at the last moment, letting his legs absorb the impact with a slight flexion.
The solid metal of the platform rumbled for a moment, showing the crudeness of the boy's control.
"You need more practice. You must improve, master yourself."
"Yes, general," Korr answered him, suppressing his complaints to himself. "I assure you that I am doing my best to improve my..."
"Doing your best is not enough," Vorath corrected him. "Many natos of the same generation are even more skilled than you with less time since awakening their optimization."
Nevertheless, Vorath's words were interrupted by a crash caused by the wild landing of a red-haired nato girl.
The girl was unable to correct the course of her inverted body toward the ground, her point of thrust directed at the surface. She was unable to modify her vectorial direction and consequently, her face crashed directly into the platform.
"Damn," Korr shuddered at the crash. At the same time, a Viltrumite couple landed next to the nato, lifting her by the neck with annoyance.
"This beast, what did I just tell you? What did I just tell you, Vespera? Reverse the thrust, reverse the thrust in the name of Argal, what part of reversing the thrust did you not understand?"
"It was an accident, father, I swear in the name."
The woman of the couple, also red-haired, slapped the girl, who began to shout indignantly.
"Mother, why?"
"How dare you swear in vain?"
"I was not—"
"Silence, Vespera," shouted her father, still grabbing her by the neck. "Control your impulse; I do not want to discipline you."
"Fine, fine."
The girl seemed to back down in the face of her parents' insistent threats.
The interaction between the three individuals seemed disconcerting to Korr. He looked at his father for a moment, causing Vorath to raise an eyebrow.
"Why are you looking at me like that, boy?"
"Nothing, great general," Korr answered back. He looked around him, especially at that family couple, and could not help but wonder if perhaps he was wrong about Viltrumite society.
However, as time passed, he realized that couple seemed to be the exception.
After looking at Vorath once more, he discovered that, indeed, Vorath did not seem so different from what was expected of an average father of the empire.
Observing from his position on the platform, he could not help but feel pity for the children under the hands of these galactic megalomaniacs. Although he knew in advance that his concept of "family" did not mean the same thing for this species, he still found it difficult not to feel anguish over the possible future harm caused by the way they treated their descendants.
It was the living example of what it meant to be a solitary individual who, ironically, moved in unison toward a single objective: the absolute conquest of the entire universe.
He witnessed the arrival of other great generals like his father, recognized by the three bars patched on his chest.
They dropped their children like supply bags onto the platform, inevitably landing badly due to the drastic way of landing.
The children barely staggered before straightening their backs, jaws tense, hands behind their backs, their gazes occasionally drifting toward their progenitors, trying to soak up those postures and immortalize them in their small bodies.
They imitated what they saw.
Other high-ranking Viltrumites also appeared. Some, consistent with the equivalent of officers, who wore two bars, adjusted their children's uniforms as if they were small mannequins.
While others, observing the tears of their children, probably fearful of everything new, threatened to throw them into space if they did not maintain a warrior's posture, and that crying was therefore strictly forbidden.
The soldiers with a single bar, equivalent to junior officers, handed over their natos without a word other than an order, while the little ones nodded according to practice.
Like that family of the impulsive and unruly girl, except for a few other exceptions, they were all the same. Indifferent parents trying to raise and transform their children into equally indifferent warriors of the empire.
Korr did not mistake those acts as part of their physiology. Like any other human, a Viltrumite could also experience emissions considerably identical to known ones. Love, regret, laziness, hatred, lust, and so on.
But these experiences were cataloged by the empire as a sign of weakness, instincts that must be controlled in favor of keeping the empire's glory stable and growing, until the complete conquest of the universe.
Emotions made you weak, just as his father Vorath accused whenever he could.
"Listen well, nato," Vorath directed his gaze toward his son, looking at him with cold calculation, waiting for his son to heed his instructions.
"Yes, general," Korr responded. His body adjusting to take the instructions from his despicable father, hoping that the sooner he left, the better.
"A call has arisen from the imperial high command. I have been assigned as part of an elite army to execute a conquest campaign outside the galaxy's borders, but it is not something you need to know at the moment, so I will not go into details."
Vorath levitated for a few moments before looking in his direction, narrowing his eyes.
"I hope you perform well during my time off the planet. I would not like to have to waste valuable time disciplining you, understood?"
"Understood, great general," Korr nodded firmly, and he was not interested in that matter either, for a change. However, he was interested in something. "Great general," he dared to say, breaking the silence maintained for the last 2 seconds. "How long will you be away?"
Vorath slowly turned his head, and his eyes met his son's. For an instant, Korr thought he saw something in that gaze, a flash of recognition passed before his sight, but he simply dismissed it.
"Six cycles; I will be off the planet for six cycles. But do not think for that reason that I will not be watching you; I will not allow my son to be corrupted by inferior trivialities that are irrelevant. So maintain decorum at all times, that is an order," Vorath replied, as if a general were speaking to a subordinate. "The Third Pacification Wave in the Drakonis sector requires my presence. Reports indicate organized resistance in three systems, so it will be necessary to establish an imperial presence before the insurgency consolidates." He added this last part as a sign of his trust in his son, something Korr was able to interpret but cared little about. He was simply incapable of getting along with this race, this so inhuman race.
However, Korr at least nodded, processing the information to adopt in his father's presence. Obviously, he was not interested in the empire's war affairs, but he was immersed in the six cycles he would have to himself. Almost two Earth years.
He prayed that it would be more than enough time for Vorath to forget he had a son in the Dorymathos, or for an accident in training to erase any trace of his existence.
He was malicious, he knew it, and he lamented it himself for that reason, but he believed it was fair, for all the abuses committed by this ruthless being, although certainly, he was not the only one in this type of behavior.
"I understand, great general. I hope, in the name of Argal, that the campaign yields the expected fruits."
"The expected fruits..." Vorath thought about that phrase. "That phrase seems acceptable to me. In the name of Argal, so be it."
Vorath looked at him for a moment longer, and then his expression changed.
"I will be aware of your progress, my nato." Those words were the closest thing to the meaning of affection from Vorath toward his son. "During these six cycles, your instructors will send me periodic reports on your performance, your discipline, and your progress in doctrine. When I return, I trust that the reports will be exactly what I expect from the first of my lineage, understood?"
"Yes, great general," Korr declared back.
"Good." Vorath was satisfied.
As his father rose, he opened his mouth to say something more, but seemed to think about it for a few moments before continuing.
"Syra-Vel was a warning, Korr. Next time, I will not stop at the pet. Remember that always."