Gohan thought of Mark. Mark Grayson. Invincible. A name that promised eternity, a declaration of defiance against fate itself.

Yet when weighed against the truth, the word rang hollow. For against Son Gohan, the son of Earth’s greatest champion, even “Invincible” had limits.

Intellect. Mark was clever, yes—tempered by the chaos of alien politics, the harsh crucible of survival, and the tangled webs of interstellar strife. But Gohan’s mind was sharper still. The scholar-warrior had delved into the mysteries of ki, mastered ancient philosophies of combat, and balanced the wisdom of peace with the necessity of battle.

Where Mark adapted, Gohan anticipated. Where Mark learned through blood and fire, Gohan had already charted the path, his intellect not only vast, but honed by the discipline of a strategist and the clarity of a teacher. Mark’s wisdom was reactive; Gohan’s, proactive—precise and unshakable.

And power. Here lay the chasm between them. Mark’s strength grew through scars and broken bones, each battle pushing him forward inch by inch. Admirable, but limited. Gohan’s strength, however, was infinite—a well without bottom, a force that had eclipsed gods and demons alike. His true power was not a storm he carried at all times, but an ocean that could drown entire universes the moment he willed it. Invincible fought with persistence. Gohan fought with inevitability.

Mark was a rising flame, brilliant and determined. But Gohan was the dawn itself, radiant and absolute, a light no shadow could ever hope to eclipse.