The battle stretched across the plains of the dead world, its edges bleeding light and shadow, it was a maelstrom of violence. The heavenly soldiers fought in perfect formation, their wings synchronized, their light-helberds carving silver arcs through the chaos. They were beautiful in a certain way, an order made manifest.
And they were losing.
Not because they were weaker, each heavenly soldier was a match for a dozen mortal warriors, their bodies forged from the World Tree's own essence for one purpose, war. They were losing because the Monarchs' armies had something they didn't.
They had Arthur, the Shadow Monarch.
A phalanx of heavenly soldiers descended on a cluster of ice elves, their light-helberds raised for a coordinated strike. The elves braced, their frost magic gathering at their fingertips, but they were outnumbered, outmatched, and they knew it.
Then the shadows moved.
A dozen Shadow Demons erupted from the ground beneath the heavenly soldiers, their violet eyes blazing, their weapons already swinging. The heavenly soldiers reacted instantly, wheeling to meet the new threa, but that was exactly what the Shadow Demons had planned. They didn't try to kill or try to win. They simply held the heavenly soldiers in place, their dark forms absorbing blow after blow, their regeneration already knitting their wounds closed.
The ice elves didn't waste the opening.
A blizzard erupted from their ranks, not the wild, desperate storms they had thrown before, but something focused, the frost curled around the heavenly soldiers' wings, weighing them down, cracking their armor, slowing their movements to a crawl. The Shadow Soldiers pressed their advantage, driving the soldiers to their knees.
Then the elves finished it.
One by one, the heavenly soldiers fell, their light-helberds shattering, their wings crumpling, their bodies dissolving into pale motes of light. The Shadow Soldiers stood over them, silent, waiting.
And then the light returned.
From the corpses of the fallen heavenly soldiers, new forms rose, not of light, but of shadow. Their wings were dark mirrors of the ones they had possessed in life, their armor was black as pitch, their eyes burned with violet fire. They rose in silence, turned, and joined the Shadow Legion as if they had always been there.
The ice elves stared.
One of them, a young warrior with frost still clinging to her armor, whispered, "What... a terrifying power.."
A Shadow Soldier turned to her, its violet eyes unreadable beneath its helm. Its voice was a low rasp.
"Our Monarch does not waste soldiers. The fallen become the risen. The enemy becomes the ally. Such is his power."
The elf's eyes widened. "Then... then we can't lose."
"No," the Shadow Soldier said, turning back to the battle. "You cannot."
Bellion moved through the chaos like a blade through silk.
His sword carved arcs of violet lightning through the heavenly soldiers, he killed when he needed to kill, and he moved on.
Beside him, Tusk, the orc shaman, his shadow skin marked with ritual scars, his eyes burning, he raised his staff and unleashed a torrent of flame that swallowed an entire phalanx of heavenly soldiers whole.
"Burn," Tusk growled, his voice a low rumble.
The heavenly soldiers screamed, their wings catching fire, their light-helberds melting in their hands. They fell from the sky like burning stars, their bodies dissolving before they hit the ground.
Bellion glanced at Tusk. "You are enjoying this too much."
Tusk's grin was sharp, feral. "And you are not enjoying it enough, Grand Marshal. These bastards judged us. They condemned our Monarch. They sent their soldiers to kill our monarchs." He spat on the ground. "They deserve worse than fire."
Bellion said nothing. He simply raised his sword and cut down another heavenly soldier that had tried to flank them.
"Perhaps," he said quietly. "But we are not here for revenge, we are here for victory, stay focused."
Tusk laughed, a harsh, barking sound. "Same thing, in the end."
A new wave of heavenly soldiers descended on them a hundred strong, their formation perfect, their light-helberds gleaming. Bellion and Tusk stood back to back, their shadows stretching long across the broken ground.
"Ready?" Tusk asked.
Bellion's sword blazed with violet light. "Naturally."
They met the wave together.
In the right flank, Galatea's fists were blurs of violet light, each strike cracking heavenly armor and shattering light-helberds. She moved through the enemy ranks like a storm, her hair whipping behind her, her eyes burning with cold violet fury. She had been created to be a weapon. She had been trained by Igris himself. And now, finally, she was being used for exactly what she had been made for.
Beside her, Ultra, the shadow of the Kryptonian tyrant, tore through the heavenly soldiers like paper. His heat vision carved lines of molten ruin through their formations. His fists shattered wings and armor and bone. He did not speak or taunt them. He simply destroyed.
A heavenly soldier lunged at Galatea from behind in a desperate strike, a last attempt to take down one of the Monarch's Marshals before falling. Galatea didn't even turn. She caught the helberd in her bare hand, crushed it, and drove her fist through the soldier's chest.
"Pathetic," she said coldly.
Ultra glanced at her and smiled.
Superman fought alone in the center of the battlefield, surrounded by heavenly soldiers on all sides.
They came at him in waves, their light-helberds carving silver arcs through the air, their wings beating in perfect synchronization. They were relentless. They were disciplined. They were everything an army should be.
And they could not touch him.
He moved through their ranks like a ghost, his speed incredible and his strength was unmatched on the battlefield. He caught helberds and shattered them. He broke wings and caught falling soldiers before they hit the ground. He disarmed and disabled and never killed.. not once, not even when they gave him every reason to.
The battle kept raging for hours, possibly days, time was a weird notion in this world, and the Monarchs' armies were not being pushed back.
They were winning.
Beast Boy stood at the edge of the plateau, his eyes wide as he watched the chaos below. He had seen the Shadow Soldiers rise from the corpses of the fallen heavenly soldiers, every single time and each time, he felt a chill run down his spine.
"I don't exactly wish it upon anyone to be your enemy," he said quietly. "Because this is just not fair."
Raven smiled at that. "Are you afraid, Gar?"
Gar's head snapped toward her. "What? No! I'm not afraid!" He paused. "I'm just... nevermind."
Raven's smile widened, she enjoyed teasing him.
Frost stood apart from the others, her arms crossed, her pale blue eyes fixed on the battlefield. But her gaze wasn't on the soldiers or the Marshals or even the heavenly host. It was on Arthur.
He stood at the very edge of the plateau, his form silhouetted against the chaos, his violet eyes glowing bright enough to cast shadows across the ground. He wasn't fighting. He wasn't moving. He was simply there, his presence radiating outward, his power flowing through the Monarchs' Domain and into every soldier who fought under his banner.
And every time a heavenly soldier fell, a new Shadow Soldier rose.
Frost's voice was barely a whisper. "So this is his actual power..."
She had seen Arthur fight before, through screens but never in person. She had seen him kill Monarchs in The Gotham Gate incident. But this was different. This was power on a scale she had never witnessed, never even imagined. He wasn't just fighting a battle. He was reshaping it, turning every loss into a gain, every death into a new soldier for his army.
"It's... overwhelming," she said, her voice shaking inside her head. "Seeing it for real, in front of me like this... how could anyone actually fight someone like him?"
Arthur looked at her.
He didn't say anything, he just smiled, a warm smile that somehow made her feel both calmer and more terrified at the same time.
Frost looked away quickly, her cheeks flushing. 'Can he read my mind?' she thought.'Shit.'
'Yes,' said a voice inside Arthur's head. 'But I can see the look on her face. It's not hard to guess what she's thinking.'
Arthur's smile widened. 'Hello, Didi.'
'Arthur,' she said, her voice warm and amused. 'This is enough for a display of your strength, isn't it? These are not soldiers of the Silver City, after all.'
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly. 'You're saying the Silver City angels are far stronger than the heavenly soldiers.'
'You must be jesting, Arthur.' Didi's voice carried a note of genuine surprise. 'You are powerful.. that is certain and I even think your strongest Marshals are on par with the angels there. Though some of them are...'
'I know who you're talking about,' Arthur said quietly. 'You think I'm not wary of the Silver City? None of them have ever made contact with me, despite everything I've done. I'm on their radar, aren't I?'
'Oh, you are,' Didi said. 'And if they wanted to act, we would know.'
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