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*****
"Then... Battle!"
With Mike's low, authoritative shout, both sides surged into motion.
The first kill for Mike's faction was claimed by a streak of brilliant gold. Minato Namikaze, the Fourth Hokage, moved like a bolt of lightning, plunging into the enemy ranks. He was a blur of refracted golden light, zig-zagging through the crowd with impossible precision. Every time that golden light pivoted, it was followed by a bloom of radiant, lethal crimson.
Direct, efficient, and utterly deadly.
"Still as brutal yet beautiful as ever," Hiruzen Sarutobi, the Third Hokage, murmured. Seeing a cluster of enemies grouped together, he flicked several shuriken into the air, his hands blurring through signs. "Shuriken Shadow Clone Jutsu!"
In an instant, the few blades multiplied into dozens, then hundreds, turning into a lethal black rain that blanketed the opposition.
"Well done," praised Tobirama Senju, the Second Hokage. His silver hair caught the light as he vanished from his spot. Within seconds, massive water dragons erupted amidst the enemy ranks. The serpents of water thrashed through the crowd like mythical beasts churning the sea. Even in the middle of a desert, Tobirama's Water Style was terrifyingly potent.
"Second Granduncle's ninjutsu is as elegant as always," Tsunade remarked with a smile. She didn't move to attack immediately. As a medical ninja, she knew where her value lay in a chaotic theater of war like this. Of course, should the need arise, she wouldn't hesitate to pulverize an enemy with her bare fists.
"Yo! Little Tsunade! I didn't expect to be fighting alongside you again!"
A man with long black hair and a Konoha forehead protector laughed, rubbing the back of his head. He wore a black tactical suit under red-lacquered plated armor, radiating a strange, magnetic charisma. It was the First Hokage, Hashirama Senju.
Tsunade smiled and leaned into a quick, affectionate hug. "Grandpa, you better protect me too."
Hashirama nodded, but his gaze quickly shifted toward the Phoenix. He remained stationary not out of hesitation, but because he had already locked onto his target. He wanted to test the mettle of this world's "strongest."
He wasn't the only one with that thought. Hashirama's eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the four Marine Admirals from the One Piece world and the Captains of the Gotei 13 from the Bleach world. Currently, they held the numerical advantage. Based on individual capabilities and the enemy's performance, they had no intention of losing.
At that moment, the gazes of these powerhouses—titans who ruled their respective worlds—met in a silent, unspoken understanding. Their purpose for existing here was simple: to destroy the Phoenix for their Master. That was their mission.
"Growl, Haineko!" "Roar, Zabimaru!" "Raise your head, Wabisuke!" "Bloom, Tobiume!"
Led by the Vice-Captains of the Gotei 13, the Soul Reapers gripped their uniquely shaped Zanpakutō, leaving a trail of blood and steel in their wake. Anyone Mike could manifest was someone he remembered, and anyone he remembered possessed a unique strength that made them a nightmare on the battlefield.
This held true for the ninjas, the Soul Reapers, and the Marines.
For this specific wave, Mike had manifested a legion of Marine elites. Led by Akainu, Aokiji, Kizaru, and Fujitora, the Marine forces tore into the enemy. While the Admirals themselves hadn't fully committed yet, the Vice-Admirals were already wreaking havoc. Momonga, Smoker, Chaton, Momousagi... even without the legendary Garp, these officers were enough to strike terror into the hearts of the Phoenix's followers.
The majority of the Phoenix's subordinates were "Supers." While their abilities were powerful and often bizarre, they were vastly outmatched by Mike's summons. Mike's warriors were more well-rounded. Most Supers relied on a single gimmick, leaving them riddled with exploitable weaknesses. Mike's summons were experts at identifying those flaws and striking with surgical precision.
Although the Phoenix's forces managed to inflict visible casualties on Mike's front lines, their own losses were staggering. The rate at which her followers were being slaughtered was accelerating. At this pace, her army would be wiped out in minutes.
Watching this, Madelyne Pryor's face turned incredibly unsightly. Mike's power exceeded her wildest expectations. The battlefield was slipping away from her, and control was a luxury she was rapidly losing. She let out a cold, sharp snort. She would not allow this to continue.
With a thought, she established a psychic link with Clark and Fiora, relaying a cold command: "Slaughter them. Now. Use your maximum speed."
She intended to use the two Kryptonians as her ultimate scythes to harvest the lives of Mike's army and seize back control of the narrative.
Black Superman and Fiora nodded. To them, these enemies' abilities were flashy and aesthetically pleasing, but in the face of absolute strength and speed, they were nothing more than glass ornaments. They didn't even need to use complex combat techniques. They simply had to accelerate their indestructible bodies to terminal velocity and crash into their targets.
They took flight, their black capes snapping into straight lines behind them. A thunderous sonic boom echoed across the desert as they vanished from sight, leaving the sound itself struggling to keep up.
The moment they moved, Mike's army suffered. The two Kryptonians were like black arrows of death, piercing through the battlefield. Anyone in their path was instantly pulverized into a bloody mist before dissolving into motes of light. In a heartbeat, a clear "channel" was carved through the chaos, looking like a white scar torn across a black sheet of paper.
The entire battlefield seemed to freeze for a split second in shock, but the Kryptonians didn't stop. Brainwashed into being Madelyne's loyal blades, they wouldn't cease until their mission was complete. At their speed, almost no one could react. Even the Marine Admirals, despite their Haki, couldn't dodge. The gap was too wide. If the Admirals' speed was a 'one,' the Kryptonians were at a hundred, or perhaps three hundred.
They were "Gods among Men" who had discarded their morality.
They looped through the sky in a bloody arc, preparing for a second pass. But this time, before they could breach the ranks, two other silhouettes vanished from behind Gwen.
The four figures collided in mid-air.
BOOM!
The shockwave was titanic. Two massive craters erupted where they met, and the desert sands were forcibly blown away from the point of impact, creating a localized vacuum that slammed into the surrounding fighters.
The battlefield fell silent as every eye turned toward the four combatants.
Kryptonian vs. Kryptonian. Black Superman vs. Superman. Fiora vs. Oren.
Clark had intercepted his darker counterpart, while Oren stood before his mother.
Fiora looked at her son, a flash of genuine pride crossing her eyes. "Oren, you've grown. You're more handsome too... it looks like you've been eating well."
Oren thought of his life at the Kent farm in the other world and gave a small, heart-warmed nod. "I have, Mom."
In the next heartbeat, Fiora's fist slammed into his face, sending him hurtling through the air. Mother or not, praise or not, she was under orders. Under the Phoenix's influence, she was capable of killing him without hesitation.
Oren crashed into the dunes, kicking up a massive wave of sand. I was too careless... he thought bitterly. He couldn't bring himself to kill her, but she had no such reservations. To stop her without hurting her, he would have to be significantly stronger and expend twice the effort.
With a grunt of effort, Oren slammed his palms into the sand, expanding the crater and launching himself back into the air to intercept her again.
On the other side, the two versions of Clark Kent were already in a state of total war. Clark was disgusted by his counterpart's actions, while Black Superman was consumed by a toxic, uncontrollable jealousy. Why did the other Clark get the life he only saw in dreams? Why was his own life a tragedy while this one was a fairy tale?
Their battle was savage. The four Kryptonians moved so fast they essentially vanished from the perception of others, their clashes sounding like continuous thunderclaps that shattered the environment around them. To stand near them was to die. The entire center of the battlefield shifted as everyone scrambled to stay out of the way of the Kryptonian "Dead Zone."
"Don't worry, Big Sister! I'll protect you!" Little Lamb stood in front of Gwen, his face set in a mask of grim seriousness.
Despite the tension, Gwen couldn't help but crack a small smile. Lamb glanced at Mike sitting on his ice mountain, then over at the Phoenix. His eyes flickered with a burgeoning rage. She's the one who caused all this. She's a bad person.
He felt like a genius for bringing his secret weapons along. He had even developed a unique combat style specifically for them. "I'm going to show you something special in a bit!" he muttered, turning his attention back to the sky.
Above, the four Kryptonians were locked in a stalemate. Every collision was like a lightning strike. From heat vision to super-breath, they were perfectly matched.
Mike glanced over and gave Madelyne a thin smile. "It seems your 'game' is heading toward a loss."
"A loss?" Madelyne's expression soured. Since obtaining the Phoenix Force, that word had been erased from her vocabulary. "This is merely a game, and in the end, there is only one winner: Me."
She was growing tired of this planet. If it wasn't for her curiosity regarding Mike, she would have reduced the world to cinders long ago. But looking at Mike now, her pulse quickened. His abilities made her... excited. Even the Phoenix Force within her began to stir restlessly. Although they were both sitting still, their mentalities were locked in a fierce, silent struggle. Without Mike's interference, she would have enslaved everyone on the field minutes ago.
"Only you? I don't think so," Mike chuckled. He hadn't lost a game in a long time, either.
Today, one of them would fall. And today, Mike was prepared to use the full extent of the system's power.
Suddenly, the sounds of combat from the ground below began to fade. Mike looked down, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Look. You've lost."
The Phoenix's army was gone. Only corpses remained.
"I have not lost yet!" Madelyne snarled. She looked at the bodies of her subordinates with contempt. Trash will always be trash. Why did she ever expect them to provide her with entertainment?
She took a deep breath and reached toward Mike, invisible energy beginning to coalesce in her palm.
At that moment, a thunderous voice rang out.
Admiral Fujitora, his eyes closed and his hand gripping the hilt of his gravity blade, made a sudden, vertical slash. An invisible, crushing weight slammed into the Phoenix. Her golden throne creaked, sinking several meters toward the sand.
"Hmph!" Madelyne snorted, her power flaring to stabilize the throne.
But in the next second, fists of molten magma rained down from the heavens, a massive bird of pure ice soared toward her, and golden beams of light converged on her position.
"If you want to lay a finger on our Master," Akainu's voice boomed from the front lines, "then you'll have to step over our corpses first!"
(End of Chapter)