[Tokyo Bay Port — Morning]
The black convoy slowly rolled to a halt along the industrial pier. Crow and the members of the Avengers stepped out of the sedans, walking together toward Chisei Gen's staging area.
"Why the hell did these foreign capes tag along?" Yasha barked, crossing his muscular arms. His scarred, intimidating face twisted in open displeasure. The only reason he hadn't drawn his blade was the iron discipline he maintained under the High Patriarch's presence.
"They insisted on joining our little maritime excursion," Crow replied with an easy chuckle, shoving his hands into his pockets. "So I brought them along for the ride."
Yasha and Sakura Yabuki exchanged a wordless, deeply exasperated glance.
'As expected of you, Crow,' Sakura thought, shaking her head. 'Normal people run as far as possible from a dragon breach, yet you actively invite international vigilantes into the kill zone.'
Tony Stark, acting as the team lead, walked straight up to Chisei Gen.
"Mr. Gen," Tony said, offering a casual nod. "Pardon the intrusion last night. My team gets a little overly enthusiastic when chasing stolen tech."
It was as close to a formal apology as Tony Stark ever offered. Of course, had the tactical parameters repeated themselves, Tony would have ordered the exact same stealth infiltration without a second thought.
"So, you're waiting on a deep-sea submersible?" Tony asked, gesturing toward the empty dock.
"A customized mini-sub, yes," Crow chimed in smoothly, casting a pointed glance at Natasha and Hawkeye. "Though, with five extra guests, internal cabin space is going to be remarkably tight. Perhaps a few of your Avengers ought to stay on dry land to provide... emotional support?"
"Space constraints?" Tony smirked, completely ignoring Crow's jab. "A problem easily solved."
Tony raised his wrist and dialed a priority frequency on his holographic comms array.
"Nick, we need naval transport in Tokyo Bay. Deep-sea capable. Send something with legroom."
A gravelly response crackled back through the channel in less than three seconds:
"Ten minutes."
True to Director Fury's word, precisely ten minutes later, the dark waters of Tokyo Bay began to violently churn. A massive, high-spec S.H.I.E.L.D.-modified nuclear submarine broke the surface, its wet black hull gleaming under the morning sun.
In Japan, the weight of the United States military was absolute. There had been no time for bureaucratic paperwork or diplomatic clearances—merely a curt notification to the coast guard before a submarine materialized right off the Japanese coastline.
"Well, well," Crow whistled in genuine amusement. "As expected of the Avengers. Summoning military hardware with a single phone call."
Without hesitation, Crow was the first to stride up the gangway and slip into the hatch. Chisei Gen and the rest of the combined strike team followed closely behind.
Miles beneath the surface, deep within the crushing abyss of the Pacific, two figures stepped calmly out of an Execution Bureau mini-sub onto the ocean floor.
The colossal hydrostatic pressure of the deep sea—enough to flatten steel like a soda can—had zero physical effect on either of them. Standing on the barren seabed silt, they spoke with ease, their voices carrying through the dark water via localized bio-frequencies.
"Is this the exact coordinate?" Chinu Gen asked, his crimson eyes gleaming behind silver bangs. "His Nibelungen?"
"Yes, right here," Dr. Herzog replied, his voice laced with smooth, aristocratic confidence. "Once the Dragon King of Sky and Wind is resurrected, we will launch an absolute, devastating offensive against Cassell College."
Herzog stared into the black water, sighing softly at the shifting cosmic landscape.
"I truly never anticipated that after thousands of years of human mediocrity... so many terrifying anomalies would emerge simultaneously across the globe."
The catastrophic battle involving Meliodas in the West had echoed across every dark network. Even Herzog, possessing the supreme genetic legacy of the White King, had been deeply unsettled by such world-ending destructive power. It had forced him to shelve his original plan of directly assaulting Cassell's headquarters in Chicago.
The waters of this modern world were far too deep; acting alone was a fool's gamble. He needed an allied monarch on the board.
Composing himself, Herzog led Chinu forward two paces into the void.
RIPPLE.
Their silhouettes vanished instantly from the ocean floor, slipping cleanly through an invisible spatial boundary.
Inside the Nibelungen, there was not a single drop of water.
Looking around, endless seas of pure white, luminescent clouds stretched toward the horizon. Massive, shattered fragments of ancient floating islands drifted suspended in the sky, interconnected by narrow bridges forged from solidified mist. In the center of the dimensional pocket hovered the largest floating fortress.
"This is it..." Herzog murmured, his eyes reflecting the pale sky. "...the ancient sanctuary of the King of Sky and Wind."
The two crossed the cloud bridge, arriving at the steps of the central citadel.
Surrounding the courtyard stood hundreds of armored Deathservants, their eyes closed in eternal slumber. They gripped ancient polearms and curved blades, standing as motionless sentinels guarding their sleeping sovereign. Whether their consciousness had rotted away over millennia or they instinctively recognized the royal White King bloodline radiating from Herzog, the Deathservants did not stir.
Herzog walked unhindered into the throne room, placing the Bone Reliquary Jar atop the stone seat.
SLASH!
With a casual sweep of his hand, Herzog severed the necks of dozens of dormant Deathservants. Rich, dragon-tainted blood gushed across the stone floor, drawn like a vortex toward the bronze jar.
From Herzog's throat came the low, ancient, and bone-chilling resonance of a high-tier Draconic chant.
The resurrection ritual had officially begun.
The exact moment Herzog initiated the blood sacrifice inside the Nibelungen, the surrounding tectonic plates beneath the Pacific Ocean began to vibrate violently.
The shockwaves expanded outward at terrifying speeds, ripping across the ocean floor and fracturing underwater ridges.
In the sunken city of Atlantis, Namor, the Sub-Mariner, had just returned from his covert diplomatic sweep of the human surface world. Before he could even rest his trident against the golden throne, a violent tremor shook the entire imperial palace.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Namor roared, his dark eyes flashing with fury.
"My King!" an imperial guard captain shouted, stumbling through the palace gates. "Massive structural tremors are tearing through the lower sectors! Multiple residential spires have collapsed, and our citizens are sustaining severe casualties!"
Namor leaped from the dais, rushing out onto the royal balcony.
Below him, the glorious, millennia-old spires of Atlantis were violently shuddering. For an aquatic civilization that had enjoyed undisturbed peace on the seabed for thousands of years, the citizens had long since forgotten the protocols of mass emergency evacuation. Thousands of Atlanteans were fleeing in blind panic, like ants scattered by a boot.
Namor's jaw clenched in fury, but his strategic mind took immediate command.
"Mobilize every legion!" Namor commanded, his voice booming across the city. "Clear the collapsing sectors! Direct all civilians to the open plazas and bedrock sanctuaries! No one is to remain inside multi-tier structures!"
With the Atlantean military enforcing order, the chaos gradually subsided. Though the seabed continued to rumble, the immediate threat to his people was contained.
Leaving the royal guard to secure the perimeter, Namor marched straight into the Atlantean Oceanic Monitoring Laboratory—the high-tech facility responsible for tracking environmental disturbances across the seven seas.
"Vashti! What is the cause of this disturbance?!" Namor demanded, his tone dripping with imperial wrath. "Why did our hydro-sensors fail to provide an early warning for a tectonic rupture of this magnitude?!"
Minister Vashti reviewed the freshly rendered holographic seismic logs before looking up at his sovereign.
"The analysis is complete, My King," Vashti reported somberly. "This is not a natural tectonic earthquake."
Vashti manipulated the holo-projector, displaying a glowing, radioactive red epicenter in the Northern Pacific.
"A catastrophic, unnatural energy fluctuation has erupted at this precise trench coordinate. The underlying crust remains geologically stable—the ocean itself is being violently warped by an external force."
"An external force?" Namor sneered, his eyes narrowing as he read the navigation markers.
The epicenter was situated less than a hundred nautical miles off the coast of Japan.
"Are you telling me the surface-dwellers have launched an unprovoked assault on my domain?"
"We cannot confirm human military involvement, sire," Vashti replied cautiously. "However, the energy signature is alien, ancient, and expanding rapidly. We must investigate."
A cruel, lethal smirk spread across Namor's face as he gripped his golden trident.
"Of course we will investigate, Vashti," Namor said, his voice echoing with absolute authority. "Mobilize the vanguard legions! Let us pay a personal visit to our surface neighbors... and see what insolent worms dared to bring ruin to the Kingdom of Atlantis!"
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Give me powerstones.
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