"Depth reveals what height conceals."
---
The ocean floor stretched endlessly below, a cathedral of lightless depth and ancient silence. The faint glow of Mera's hydrokinesis danced across Arthur's armor as they descended into the abyss on Mera's ship— toward Atlantis.
After crossing the bridge of Poseidonis, the capital of the Kingdom of Atlantis Mera led the way, her movements precise, efficient. Arthur followed, adjusting to the crushing pressure as best he could. Behind them, King moved like a specter. No suit, no tech, no air supply.
He simply was.
Even the abyss seemed to part for him.
Arthur glanced over his shoulder. "How are you breathing down here? You don't even have gills."
King's voice was calm, almost amused.
"The ocean does not drown what it recognizes."
Arthur frowned, unsure if that was supposed to be wisdom or a threat.
Mera said nothing but her eyes flicked toward King, measuring, cautious. The way the water stilled around him. Not swirling, not resisting. The phenomenon made even her uneasy. The ocean obeyed him like a subject obeys a sovereign.
The Mentor Beneath the Waves
After crossing the bridge that grants access to Atlantis, the shimmering domes of Atlantis appeared. Spires of coral and metal jutted from the seabed, illuminated by bioluminescent life. The city was alive — a miracle of civilization, silent yet immense.
Guards at the city's gate barely had time to draw their weapons before they recognized Mera, the princess of Xebel. They let her pass, though their gazes lingered nervously on the silent figure walking, not swimming behind her.
Through winding corridors of living coral and crystalline architecture, they came to the Hall of Scholars where Nuidis Vulko, scholar and mentor, awaited.
Vulko looked up from his reading sphere as they entered, relief flashing across his face.
"Arthur! It's been too long. I feared you'd given up on your destiny."
Arthur gave a small grin.
"Destiny keeps knocking. Figured I'd at least answer this time."
Then Vulko's gaze shifted to the figure beside him, King. His voice caught in his throat.
"By the currents… you're standing here. Without armor. Without support…"
The water shimmered faintly around King, pressure waves bending but never touching him. Vulko's instruments beeped erratically — barometers failing, depth gauges collapsing into static.
"That pressure should have crushed any surface dweller! Even Atlantean-borns use adaptive plating at this depth!"
King merely raised a brow.
"The ocean knows its equal."
Vulko could only stare, equal parts reverence and terror.
The Legend of Atlan
Recovering his composure, Vulko gestured toward a glowing hololith of swirling currents that formed an image — the lost trident of King Atlan.
"The Trident was forged before the Fall," Vulko explained. "It commands the sea itself — only the true ruler, in heart and spirit, can wield it. But the message that leads to it—"
He brought forth a relic, a cylinder glowing faintly with golden script. "—is encoded in the oldest Atlantean tongue, pre-split era. No archive can read it."
Mera stepped forward. "There must be someone—"
Vulko shook his head. "Not in Atlantis. Not in Xebel. Only the Deserter Kingdom may still hold the technology capable of deciphering this. Their machines are older than memory."
Arthur crossed his arms. "Deserter Kingdom? That's in the deep desert. Miles from any current. I'm guessing it's not exactly welcoming."
Vulko gave a small, knowing smile.
"No kingdom worth finding ever is."
The King Engine
Before anyone could respond, a muffled rumble echoed through the walls — approaching fast.
Mera turned sharply. "Orm's guards."
Arthur clenched his fists. "Already? Mera, you need to leave."
The chamber doors burst open. A squad of Atlantean Royal Guards swarmed in, brandishing sonic tridents and hydro-rifles.
"By order of King Orm! The surface traitor and his accomplices are to be—"
The lead guard didn't finish his sentence.
Because in the next instant, a low, resonant thrum rippled through the water.
It wasn't sound. It wasn't motion. It was pressure. Pure, contained force radiating from King's very being.
The King Engine had awakened.
Water distorted, twisting like glass under heat. The guards froze mid-lunge, their armor groaning as intent crushed in on them. Not enough to kill but enough to humble.
Weapons cracked. Bubbles turned to steam.
King didn't move a muscle.
"You stand before one who does not kneel." He said with serenity. "Remember that."
One by one, the guards dropped their weapons, floating backward in silent terror.
Arthur blinked. "Okay… yeah, that's one way to say hello."
Vulko swallowed, his voice trembling. "He's not Atlantean… and yet the sea obeys him. What are you?"
King's eyes flickered faintly. The weight of power reflected on his eyes.
"Something the ocean cannot ignore."
He turned back to Arthur and Mera.
"We leave for the Deserter Kingdom. The trident won't reveal itself if we sit here idly."
Arthur gave a half-smirk, already swimming for the exit.
"You heard the man. Time to visit a desert."
Mera lingered for a moment, looking back at Vulko.
"He's not human, is he?"
Vulko's eyes stayed fixed on the fading outline of King's silhouette.
"Human? Yes. But also something much more powerful… and far, far quieter."
As they vanished into the deep, the coral lights flickered in their wake like the ocean itself was holding its breath.
Read 33 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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