Above the clouds rose a monumental fortress, a colossus of stone and gold suspended in the sky. It was like a surviving echo of an ancient era—majestic and beautiful: the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
The floating structure gleamed beneath the sun like a reborn myth. Towers sharp as spears split the heavens, suspended corridors coiled like serpents, and waterfalls spilled through the air, turning into luminous dust before ever touching the ground.
At the heart of that fortress stood a throne.
And upon it, seated as if the entire world had been built solely to support him, was Arthur.
His relaxed posture upon the throne radiated an absolute confidence that bordered on insolence. His bearing was regal, predatory, irresistibly dangerous. His short, unruly blond hair seemed to reflect the golden light of the place. His eyes, however, were a deep, brilliant red—no longer carrying any trace of warmth, only coldness.
The contrast between his dark skin and the crimson markings running across his torso made him even more intimidating.
His bare chest revealed a defined abdomen, broad shoulders, and muscles sculpted like a divine weapon. Resting over him was an ornate golden breastplate—heavy, beautiful, and as symbolic as it was threatening. The dark vest lined with black fur gave him the silhouette of a dormant predator—elegant, yet ready to kill.
Bracelets, golden plates, and semi-ritual pieces of armor completed the image.
A war king.
A monarch forged for destruction.
The silence of the fortress was broken by metallic footsteps echoing through the hall.
Arthur lifted his gaze.
A knight approached, clad in black armor with crimson details covering her athletic form. Her aura was wild, untamed.
It was Mordred.
"My king," she said, kneeling and bowing her head with absolute respect.
Arthur tilted his head, assessing her.
"Have you found their base, Mordred?"
She lowered her gaze even further, ashamed.
"Not yet, my king. Please… punish me."
Arthur smiled faintly, but it was a cold, razor-sharp smile.
"That won't be necessary. They will reveal themselves at the proper moment."
"Now," he continued, resting his chin on his hand, "what news do you bring me?"
Mordred took a deep breath.
"Darkseid sent a messenger. He wishes to… negotiate an agreement with us. He even had the audacity to say that, if you agreed to serve him, he would 'allow' you to rule Earth in his name. My father has already gone to meet him and hear his proposal."
Arthur chuckled softly.
"Interesting…" His red eyes gleamed with malice.
"Let's go meet him."
He rose from the throne in a single, fluid motion.
"Yes, my king." Mordred stood and followed him obediently, almost eager for the carnage she knew was coming.
---xXx---
Where eternally gothic city buildings once stood, now there was only sand, rubble, and silence.
The former Gotham City had been transformed into an open grave, a remnant of the massacre Darkseid had brought upon Earth.
In the sky, dozens of Apokolips warships hovered like metallic vultures, surrounding the devastated area.
Atop the main ship, Darkseid observed everything with absolute disdain, his hands clasped behind his back. Behind him, motionless like statues, stood DeSaad, Steppenwolf, and Granny Goodness.
And waiting for him in the desert were two figures clad in black armor.
The leader was Artoria, whose presence was as sharp and relentless as her blade. She stepped forward.
"Darkseid, it seems you still haven't understood our power if you dare try to make my king one of your servants."
Her voice was pure ice.
"Why waste words on this worm?!"
Kara surged forward in a golden blur, her eyes blazing with fury.
"Let's exterminate them NOW!"
"No."
Artoria's gaze cut through Kara like a beheading stroke.
"Do not forget—we do not act without orders. Our king will arrive shortly."
Kara ground her teeth, but stepped back. The murderous intent, however, still burned fiercely in her eyes.
Darkseid watched it all as one might watch ants arguing in the palm of his hand.
A sudden silence fell over the desert.
Arthur approached, followed by Mordred.
Mordred took her place beside Artoria and Kara, like a sentinel sensing blood.
Arthur's eyes met Darkseid's.
He remembered everything that had happened over the last two years.
He remembered the Anti-Life Equation.
He remembered being controlled.
He remembered killing his own friends… his family… his daughter with his own hands…
A silent hatred burned within him—not explosive, but glacial, deep, and eternal.
He took a step forward.
"Darkseid… you invaded Earth. You turned it into this pathetic desert and forced me to commit acts so despicable with that damned Anti-Life Equation that I feel like vomiting just remembering them."
Arthur spread a cold, dangerous smile.
"So tell me… what kind of gift do you think I should give you in return?"
He opened his arms.
Behind him, in the sky, hundreds of thousands of golden portals opened.
They multiplied like constellations, forming an infinite sea of golden light.
"Since you enjoy massacres…"
His smile turned savage.
"Then allow me to inaugurate a new festival."
"Let the Festival of Slaughter begin."
---xXx---
The battle allowed no room for hesitation. At Arthur's words, Artoria, Kara, and Mordred immediately charged into Darkseid's army.
"I gave you a chance," Darkseid declared. "Your choice was simple: submit to me or… die."
As soon as he finished speaking, the tyrant's eyes flared with deep red light, then ignited like twin beacons of pure destruction. The Omega Beams erupted like flaming serpents, curving through the air along impossible trajectories, firing toward Arthur at brutal speed.
Arthur merely raised his hand.
No hurry. No fear. Not even a blink.
The crimson blaze struck his open palm with an impact that should have shattered his body. But… nothing. Not a mark. Not a scratch. Only the unsettling silence of something impossible having just occurred.
Darkseid faltered—for a microsecond, but enough to betray his confusion. And immediately after, that confusion turned into rage. A primordial, savage, limitless rage.
"AAAH!!" he roared, hurling his colossal body forward at a speed absurdly incompatible with his size. He intended to tear Arthur apart with his bare hands, as if that could undo the humiliation he had just suffered.
But before his fist could cleave the air, a metallic sound echoed across the battlefield—CHAK—CHAK—CHAK—chains bursting from the sky through portals like golden serpents.
In the blink of an eye, they coiled around Darkseid's body. Shoulders, chest, legs, wrists, throat—everything was bound by a force no god should have been able to break. The fist poised to strike Arthur froze in midair, exactly three inches from his nose. Trapped. Motionless. Ridiculously powerless.
"What is happening?!" Darkseid roared, his voice thick with disbelief. He tried to turn, but the chains yanked him back, forcing him to face his own helplessness. For the first time in ages, Darkseid felt something he despised even acknowledging: weakness.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Arthur murmured, tilting his head slightly as he regarded the tyrant like a wounded animal. "Look at you. What a pathetic sight."
He gave a half-smile—not of amusement, but of absolute contempt.
"Weak and helpless. Like a lamb waiting for slaughter."
Ignoring the tyrant's snarls of rage, Arthur turned his gaze toward the battlefield's horizon, where chaos burned like hell itself. As expected, Artoria, Kara, and Mordred were turning the army of Apokolips into dust.
"Heh… how about watching while your entire army is erased from existence?"
Arthur clenched his fist and, without warning, smashed Darkseid across the face. The impact snapped the tyrant's head to the side, forcing him to witness the carnage unfolding.
---
On the other front, Artoria advanced like a divine storm, spear in hand. Every thrust, every movement wiped out countless Parademons. Granny Goodness, hardened by millennia of cruelty, did not survive more than a single exchange against the sovereign. She was obliterated—along with hundreds of servants.
DeSaad tried to command the remaining forces from the safety of the mothership, frantically manipulating the weapon controls, growing more desperate by the second. It did not save him. Kara tore through the ship's hull like a living missile, and before he could even scream, he was dead—crushed in a single blow.
And Mordred was fury given human form. She brought Steppenwolf down with raw brutality, planting her boot on his chest to pin him in place. Her sword, Clarent, flared with intense crimson energy before piercing his armor and driving straight through his heart. Steppenwolf didn't even have time to form a final cry.
When Darkseid saw this, his already grotesque face twisted even further. He had lost everything. His generals. His intellects. His monsters. All that remained of his elite after the previous invasion… now vanished before his eyes.
And his fury burned like a dying sun.
"Surprised?" Arthur asked, stepping closer once more. "Want to know something, Darkseid?"
He took a deep breath, and his expression shifted—not taunting now, but burdened with something far darker.
"Every night," Arthur began, his voice lower, "the memories of you forcing me to watch while my body… tore apart Selina, Gwen, Jean, Jeanne, Dinah, Raven… and my daughter…"
His voice faltered for a moment—a microsecond, yet filled with inhuman pain.
"…those memories torment me. They consume me. And every time they return, another piece of me dies with them."
Arthur's eyes darkened like charcoal on the verge of turning to ash.
"You destroyed my life, my family, my friends, and my planet. And I swore you would pay for everything. Do not think, even for a second, that your death will be quick. Or painless."
Darkseid stared at Arthur, feeling real fear for the first time. The kind of fear no being who considers himself a god should ever feel.
Arthur leaned closer and whispered:
"I'm going to enjoy spending my tiWme torturing you in the worst ways imaginable…"
The aura around him trembled—heavy, suffocating.
"…and I will make sure you feel every single microsecond."
---
(End of Chapter)