"True purity is not found in gems but in resolve."
---
The explosion still echoed through the hill of Erice when Black Manta charged forward, blades igniting with molten plasma. The sound of his armor filled the chamber like a mechanical heartbeat.
Arthur drew his trident, stepping in front of Mera.
"You really don't know when to quit, do you?"
Manta's voice rasped through his helmet, filled with venom. "I learned from you, fish. Persistence and revenge."
He lunged.
But before the strike could even begin, a small snap echoed. Not loud, not dramatic. Just the quiet sound of King flicking his finger.
There was no flash, no roar of power. Only stillness.
The air distorted and Manta froze mid-motion. His armor blackened, every system shutting down in total silence. Then the suit and its occupant disintegrated into gray ash, drifting to the ground like snow.
Arthur blinked. "...You just—"
King lowered his hand. "Neutralized a problem."
Mera stared at the ashes, her voice hushed. "That wasn't magic… was it?"
"No. Just precision."
The glow in his eyes dimmed, and he turned toward the tunnel exit. "We still have a trident to find."
The Diamond
Hours later, sunlight kissed the Sicilian harbor. Arthur squinted against it as King approached a small fishing dock, holding something faintly glowing in his hand.
A raw diamond, larger than his palm, shimmering like liquid starlight.
The fisherman at the dock could only stammer when King offered it in trade for a sturdy vessel. The man took one look, dropped to his knees and nearly fainted at the purity of the gem.
Arthur crossed his arms. "You just… carry those around?"
"They form deep within magma veins. I dig them up when I need pocket change." King replied.
Mera, examining another gem King flicked to her, frowned in disbelief. "This is… perfect. Not a single flaw. Even Xebel doesn't have anything this pure."
King gave a faint shrug. "Purity comes from pressure."
The fisherman, still pale, handed them the keys to the boat and backed away like he'd just seen a god. Which, in some ways, he had.
The Sea Journey
The small vessel cut through the blue expanse of the Mediterranean, the sun low on the horizon. Arthur leaned on the railing while Mera steered, and King sat quietly near the bow, eyes fixed on the horizon.
For a while, no one spoke. Only the hum of the engine and the whisper of waves.
Then Mera asked softly, "Who is he, really?"
Arthur looked over, as if he'd been waiting for that question.
"That's King. And you don't ask what he is, you ask what he's done."
She tilted her head, curious. "Then what has he done?"
Arthur chuckled. A low, awed sound. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
He leaned back, gazing at the fading sky.
"He's the reason Gotham's clean again. Vaporized Black Mask like he was dust. Atomised the entire Blood cult by himself. Freed people from Task Force X just by showing up. Helped Harley Quinn build a new life and helped a psychic kid, Ace. Even when the world gave up on her.
Then one day, he jumped into outer space. No ship, no suit. Just because he felt like checking in with the Watchtower."
Mera blinked. "Outer space… without aid?"
Arthur nodded slowly. "He doesn't breathe. Doesn't tire. Doesn't even bend. The man's a mountain in human shape."
Mera glanced toward King, who sat in silent contemplation, watching the sunset as if it were speaking to him.
"And yet," she said softly, "he seems lonely."
Arthur looked away, a shadow crossing his face. "Yeah. Power like that… it isolates you."
The Conversation of Loss
As night fell, the sea turned black and reflective. The stars shimmered above like shards of glass. Mera sat beside Arthur, her voice quieter now.
"You mentioned loss. Who did you lose?"
Arthur's expression softened. "My mom. Atlanna. She was executed for having me — for breaking the sacred bloodline. Dad… never recovered. He hides it behind jokes and beer, but I can see it in his eyes."
He looked at her. "And you?"
Mera's gaze lowered. "My mother died defending Xebel when I was a child. I grew up believing I had to be a weapon, a perfect soldier. Then I met you… and realized maybe I didn't want to be one."
Arthur smiled faintly. "Guess we're both messed up."
She gave a soft laugh. "Maybe that's why we understand each other."
The wind grew gentler, and for a long while, neither spoke.
The silence between them wasn't awkward — it was peaceful, heavy with unspoken understanding.
At the bow, King stood and looked into the horizon his eyes reflecting the stars.
"Loss doesn't vanish," He said, his deep voice breaking the quiet. "It becomes part of the foundation. You build on it… or you sink with it."
Arthur looked at him. "You've lost people too, huh?"
King nodded once. "Everyone worth remembering leaves a scar."
And with that, the night grew still again — the sea calm, the air cool and the three continued toward the endless horizon, where the Trench awaited.
Read 34 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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