Superman: Starting with Witrum

Chapter 12 Anissa, Think Carefully

Isaac exerted a little force and broke free from Anissa's seven-day bond of unbreakable love.

He grabbed Anissa and turned back to Earth. He flew all the way to the North Pole, making a Witrum time travel.

Isaac pressed down on Anissa's shoulder with one hand and shoved her into the ice sheet, which was tens of meters thick.

Upon impact, the ice layer burst forth with spiderweb-like cracks, and shards of ice shot into the sky like diamond dust.

Anissa was dragged along, carving a three-kilometer-long furrow across the ice field, with ice chips and snow swirling around her.

The final toss was almost eerily gentle. Anissa felt like a feather, precisely tossed onto the snow-capped eaves of Ny-Ålesund.

Isaac hovered three meters in front of her, his clothes remaining perfectly still in the gale.

"Have you calmed down?" he asked.

After a while, Anissa's confusion dissipated, and she looked up at Isaac with a complicated expression.

Anissa remained silent for a moment, looking at Isaac's slightly soiled clothes, before saying, "Your Majesty, I must admit, the gap between us is too great. You could have defeated me from the very beginning, couldn't you?"

She wasn't stupid; how could she not see that Isaac was always holding back? She just didn't understand why he had to fight her for so long when it could have been resolved in a moment.

Is it fun?

It can only be said that Anissa's appearance once gave him hope.

A true Vitrum warrior, a commander who had experienced interstellar wars, was thought to be an excellent sparring partner.

But they forgot that when the difference in strength is too great, all techniques become meaningless.

Isaac brought his thumb and forefinger together in the air: "You're just a tiny bit short of catching up to me."

Anissa raised an eyebrow slightly upon hearing this, then suddenly smiled. She stood up and said, "Your Majesty, if you wish, I can continue fighting with you for the entire day."

"No need," Isaac said regretfully, seeing no fighting spirit in Anissa's eyes.

That would really turn into child's play, and it would be even less fun to actually fight.

When a fight is purely a clash of strength and skill, it is indeed a delightful contest.

However, one of the subordinates had other ideas, and the underlying tone of the entire battle changed.

So that means...

"Your Majesty, I am now completely yours."

Isaac: OvO!

"This is a tradition of the Vixingians: the victor automatically owns everything of the loser, including their life and personal freedom."

Huh? There's such a rule?

Isaac thought for a moment and replied, "This is a backward and outdated culture, and I think it is necessary to abolish it."

Of course, every citizen of the Empire has an obligation to contribute to the survival of the race. But I hope you will not treat this as a job.

The Vitrum people are extremely restrained when it comes to emotions. This is both a racial trait and a survival strategy.

In the bloody years of the rise of empires, too much emotion meant weakness, meant compromises that were detrimental to the race at the negotiating table, and meant missed opportunities on the battlefield due to pity.

The same applies to desires.

Anissa remembered the days at the training camp—not on some planet, but on a mothership that cruised permanently.

Three thousand children from the planet Dimension, ranging in age from eighteen to one hundred (equivalent to five to ten years old by Earth standards), were gathered in that steel hall.

The first lesson they were taught was not combat skills, but control.

Control your hunger until you complete 20 hours of continuous training; control your sleepiness until you pass the 72-hour fatigue test; control your pain response until you can continue fighting even with broken bones.

And physiological desires—those instinctive impulses inherent in carbon-based organisms—needless to say. The instructors' intensive training focused all their energy on two directions: combat and killing.

She was more rational, more analytical, and less driven by instinct than her people.

But in essence, she is still a product of this system. And one of its most qualified products.

Anissa hopes to marry a man who can defeat her in a direct confrontation.

Until today, she had no interest in having children.

However, Isaac changed her mind.

She now has a vague sense of excitement, a strong desire to communicate with the other person further, like a dormant volcano suddenly awakening.

Although she didn't understand what kind of emotion it was, she thought it wasn't bad.

Currently, the vast majority of Vikings still follow the militaristic ideology promoted by the Regent. Their loyalty to Trigg stems more from mandated obligations than from being inspired by his personal charisma.

This is why Isaac, who truly possessed royal blood, held an irreplaceable position in the hearts of his compatriots.

Despite Trigg's achievements during the Empire's decline, the current prestige of the late Emperor Agar is extremely high, and he has never been able to shake the fundamental position of the royal family in the hearts of the Visians.

This situation may change in future generations, but it is absolutely impossible in the current generation.

Therefore, Isaac's appearance is destined to win the hearts and minds of all the people of Witrum.

At this moment, Anissa believed that if she could marry Isaac, their offspring would at least have a chance to ascend to the throne, or at the very least, become the next generation of regents.

A deeper consideration is her desire to optimize the race's genes and create a new race that is more powerful than the current one by uniting with Isaac—a being who is still considered "superhuman" among the superhuman race of Witrum.

The "Catastrophe Virus" incident reveals that the genes of the Vixing people are not perfect, and Anissa feels a mission to make up for this defect.

Isaac lowered his arm and stared into Anissa's eyes, a strong suspicion rising in his mind: if Anissa were not weaker than him, she might have already taken action, committing an act of insubordination and treason.

That being said, given the meritocratic principles of the planet Vision, if he couldn't defeat Anissa, he's unlikely to gain her favor.

In short, Isaac declined the invitation to be used directly as a breeding tool, but Anissa did not give up.

"Annissa, use your brain!! As we get older, the aging process slows down!"

He opened his arms, the movement as casual as if embracing the entire polar sky. "Whether it's conquering the world or living the life you want, there's no need to rush."

We live longer than most creatures on this earth—long enough to watch mountains rise and fall, long enough to witness civilizations rise and fall, long enough to have enough time to make mistakes, to correct them, and to try all the possibilities.

Think about it carefully, two thousand years have passed, what do you still have left? What things are unforgettable for you?

Perhaps you should learn about the culture of the planet we live on; you need time to reflect on the meaning of your life.

After all, I don't want my people to be nothing more than cold weapons.

"Your will, Your Majesty," Anissa said, bewildered.