DC: A Cop in Gotham

Chapter 35: He returned, but at what cost?

————————————————————

"Report to King Orm! Those strange humans can't hold on—they're retreating!"

As the king of the sea, Orm observed Zatanna and the heroes retreating through the blast tunnel. However, he did not let his guard down.

"Why would they retreat now, when it's clear they still have strength left to fight?"

Orm raised his head, squinting against the sudden brilliance of the sunlight that now shone down. The light was unnaturally bright, and it filled him with unease.

Ever since the earlier beam of light, Orm had lost control over the weather. If this strange occurrence was a trick by the humans, then Atlantis must prevail—there could be no room for failure, or the consequences would be catastrophic.

"Boom!"

The tide surged forward alongside the Atlantean forces, swallowing more of Gotham's streets. Yet, despite its unnatural ferocity, the floodwaters could only reach the height of a three-story building. Sinking Gotham entirely beneath the sea was proving more challenging than expected.

Orm had factored this into his plans. To fully submerge the city, he had decided on a critical step: planting a bomb at a specific geological fault line. The detonation would cause an explosion powerful enough to break the strata and separate the submerged city from the continent.

Now, Orm's trusted team of stalkers, led by his closest subordinates, were working to install the bomb. Once the task was complete, Gotham would no longer exist on the surface world.

"Victory belongs to Atlantis!"

The thought surged through Orm's mind just as a blazing red meteor plummeted into the midst of the Atlantean army.

The impact sent waves rippling outward, towering tens of meters into the air. Orm raised his trident to calm the sea, scattering the water in a cascade of droplets that glimmered in the unnatural light.

But behind the shimmering curtain of water, Orm saw a pair of immense golden eyes staring back at him.

In that moment, Orm's heart seemed to stop. The gills on either side of his neck clenched shut—a natural Atlantean response to fear, much like how humans often hold their breath when startled.

Cold water slapped his face, jolting Orm back to his senses. His gills began working frantically, pulling in oxygen as he instinctively sought the safety of deeper water.

But to his people, his actions appeared cowardly, as if their king was retreating before the battle had even begun.

"Who are you?! How dare you insult the King of Atlantis!"

Realizing the mistake he had made, Orm was consumed by a mix of fury and embarrassment. With a roar of defiance, he swung his trident and summoned a massive waterspout, aiming it directly at the colossal figure before him.

The figure—Groudon—stood motionless, allowing the swirling waterspout to approach him. The sensation of the water washing over him triggered a flood of memories.

Groudon, once confined in a green liquid prison, had endured immense physical and psychological torment. Though his mind occasionally surfaced from the haze, the oppressive mental control of the black mask would always suppress him once more. Each time, he grew more disappointed in humans, who seemed incapable of learning from their mistakes.

But now, Groudon had broken free from his captors. Using the radiant sunlight he summoned, he declared his regained freedom to the world. The ensuing earthquake was not an intentional act of aggression but a response from the earth itself, resonating with Groudon's reawakening.

The ground had rejoiced, vibrating with joy as it finally found its own voice. Natural energy, accumulated over countless ages, converged toward Groudon like an offering.

But Groudon paid it no mind. His gaze was not on the energy but on the pitiful figure before him—the one who dared wield the ocean's power.

He had hoped, perhaps, for a rival as formidable as Kyogre. Yet, Orm's manipulation of the seas fell far short of Kyogre's might. This realization left Groudon disappointed and disillusioned.

As the waterspout closed in, Groudon's right arm began to glow with an intense white light. With one devastating swing, he unleashed his "Arm Hammer" attack, shattering the massive waterspout with raw, overwhelming power.

The magical backlash of the attack struck Orm directly, sending him reeling. Blood spurted from his mouth as he fell back toward the ocean.

Amid the panicked cries of "King Orm!" the Atlantean ruler sank slowly toward the ocean floor, blood clouding the water around him. He struggled to stay conscious, extending a trembling hand toward the towering form of Groudon.

"No… You are not allowed to leave!"

With a desperate roar, Orm thrust his trident downward, summoning a powerful current that spiraled around Groudon. The vortex grew rapidly, creating a massive whirlpool that pulled the mountain-like figure deeper beneath the waves.

Had this been the deep ocean, Orm's attack might have inflicted significant damage. But here, in the shallow waters covering Gotham's streets, the depth was no greater than twenty meters. The whirlpool succeeded only in dragging Groudon down, causing him to crash through several submerged buildings.

As Groudon's massive frame collided with the ground, the earth beneath him seemed to awaken. A surge of natural energy coursed through his body, drawn directly from the planet itself.

Groudon's form began to transform. His already-imposing frame expanded, his crimson skin glowing with an intensity that rivaled molten lava. The black lines that once ran across his body now radiated with golden light, pulsating with the fiery energy of magma. His golden eyes blazed with an ancient and unyielding power.

This was Groudon's true form—the primal embodiment of the Earth itself.

Steam billowed upward as magma flowed from Groudon's body, hissing and boiling upon contact with the seawater. The Atlanteans, unprepared for the sudden rise in temperature, recoiled from the scorching heat. The injured Orm was dragged away from the battlefield by his soldiers, who scrambled to retreat to safer waters.

As the magma cooled, it solidified into massive rock formations, lifting Groudon high above the waves. Standing atop this newly-formed landmass, Groudon raised his head, his gaze locking onto something—or someone—in the distance.

With deliberate, powerful steps, he began moving in the direction of Dean. Each step created a tremor, and with every step, the earth beneath him seemed to stretch outward, forming new land where there had only been water moments before.

Watching from a distance, Orm's eyes widened in horror. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth as he forced himself upright, clutching his trident with trembling hands.

"For the sake of the seas we depend on for survival… attack!"

His voice, though strained and weak, carried the full weight of his desperation. His soldiers, emboldened by his words, rallied together.

The Atlantean air battleships hovering above released squadrons of smaller aircraft, all of which launched a relentless barrage of energy blasts and missiles at Groudon. Below, the remaining Atlantean forces unleashed volleys of spears, harpoons, and magical attacks.

The combined assault lit up the battlefield in a cacophony of explosions and flashes of light.

Groudon, unfazed by the initial attacks, slowly turned his gaze toward the sky. For the first time, he felt pain as some of the missiles struck his molten skin. The strikes left faint marks, though they quickly disappeared as magma flowed over the wounds, healing them.

But Groudon's patience had its limits.

He raised one massive foot and brought it down with immense force. The resulting shockwave rippled through the ground, triggering a massive seismic reaction. Four colossal, sword-shaped peaks of rock erupted from the earth, skewering the two air battleships in midair.

The sound of the ships exploding echoed across the battlefield as debris rained down. The soldiers inside screamed as their vessels collapsed, crashing into the water below.

The sight of his people suffering filled Orm with a burning rage. His vision blurred as he coughed up more blood, yet he gritted his teeth and summoned the last reserves of his strength. Raising his trident once more, he called out:

"Storm, heed my call!"

Lightning crackled across the sky as white bolts struck the water. The sea churned violently, currents surging with raw, unrestrained power. The Atlanteans watched with a mixture of awe and hope as their king unleashed his divine authority.

Yet, Groudon stood unscathed.

The original Groudon, with its dual attributes of ground and fire, was immune to electricity. Orm's storm, while impressive, could not harm him.

Still, Groudon had his own vulnerabilities. His primal form was four times weaker to water-based attacks. If Orm could summon another "maelstrom" or a similarly devastating technique, Groudon might not be able to withstand it.

Orm's breathing grew ragged as he struggled to maintain his grip on the trident. The strain of wielding such immense power was too much for his battered body. Blood dripped from his lips as he whispered the words of his next spell:

"The sea… stir the waves…"

His voice faltered. His vision darkened. The trident slipped from his grasp.

Orm collapsed, his strength finally giving out.

Meanwhile, Groudon had already turned his attention elsewhere. He stepped forward once more, magma spilling from his body and solidifying into rock with every movement.

Somewhere, deep within him, Groudon felt a familiar presence.

(Are you there, Manaphy?)

Even as the Atlanteans regrouped, trying to understand their king's condition, Groudon's enormous figure continued its steady march. His destination was clear.

Watching Groudon leave, Orm was about to risk his life to activate the divine power on the trident again, but was snatched away by a familiar figure.

"That's enough, brother."

Arthur picked up Orm like a princess and swam all the way to the water. Behind him were Superman and Wonder Woman who had been taken away before.

"They've kidnapped King Orm!" the soldiers cried out, surrounding Arthur and his companions as they swam toward the surface. Panic spread through their ranks. Their king, their leader, was no longer in control.

Orm, still unconscious in his brother's arms, struggled to regain himself. His head lolled, his gills taking in air in shallow gasps. As soon as his vision cleared, his defiance reemerged. He gritted his teeth, shaking off the last vestiges of unconsciousness.

"Do you want a second round?" Orm grumbled, his voice weak and hoarse, though the fire still burned in his eyes. "Atlantis is fearless... ahem!" He coughed painfully, the effort leaving him trembling.

Wonder Woman, still drenched from the sea battle, gazed at Orm with a look that was part admiration, part exasperation. She adjusted her wet hair, glancing over at Arthur before giving the Atlantean king an approving nod.

"You know, I'm starting to like the Atlanteans a little bit," she remarked, though her voice held a hint of sarcasm. "Even though I was almost fed to the Trench tribe as fish food by you."

Orm rolled his eyes but said nothing, aware of his misdeeds but too proud to offer any real apology.

Arthur, however, couldn't help but let out a dry chuckle at the situation. His usual serious demeanor softened just slightly as he responded with his own characteristic warmth. "I wouldn't be so hard on them, Wonder Woman. They don't have a long history of working well with surface-dwellers."

Orm grumbled again, his body still sagging from the pain of their earlier conflict. The weight of his mistakes pressed heavily on his mind, but he was determined not to show weakness.

"There's been a misunderstanding between us," Arthur explained, trying to steady his brother's hand. "We found records about the Trench Clan on the ocean floor. They obeyed a golden scepter, and before the war even started, someone took it from me." He looked down at Orm, searching his face for any hint of recognition. "That shouldn't have been you, right?"

Orm shook his head weakly, the effort almost too much. Despite his earlier bravado, his energy was all but spent. "I swear, I never knew about this," Orm rasped, his voice filled with a mix of regret and resignation. "But I understand what you mean. Someone used the scepter to manipulate the Trench Clan into attacking Gotham. That's what caused the suspicion between us and the surface world… and led to the war."

Arthur nodded slowly, understanding the full weight of the situation. "In that case, the missile fired at Atlantis was also…" he trailed off, letting the words hang in the air. He didn't need to finish the sentence for Orm to understand.

"I'm sorry, brother," Orm whispered, closing his eyes in pain.

Arthur held up the Lasso of Truth, wrapping it around Orm's wrist. "I'm sure that was definitely not intentional. Humans didn't even know where Atlantis was located. We had no idea you were being used, Orm."

Orm let out a shaky breath, his eyes filled with the weight of his mistakes. "Ahem," he muttered. "I… I was used by someone. A traitor manipulated me. It made me see enemies where there were none. I started the war, and now... I've caused irreparable damage."

There was a long silence as Orm's words sank in. The soldiers around them seemed to hold their breath, waiting for their king's next move. Orm struggled to sit up, though his body felt weak and uncooperative. His eyes were filled with a sense of guilt, and for the first time in a long while, Orm seemed humbled.

"I am not worthy to be your king," Orm declared, his voice trembling but resolute. He looked up at Arthur, his gaze unwavering. "Here, I declare... I give up the throne. I return it to you, my brother. Atlantis needs a king."

Arthur's heart sank. He had not expected this. The weight of the trident in his hands felt heavier than ever before, as if it carried the burden of not just his kingdom but his brother's future as well.

"Orm, you…" Arthur began, but he was cut off by Orm's firm grip.

"Please, brother," Orm whispered, his eyes full of sincerity. "Promise me you'll protect Atlantis. Protect our people. Atlantis needs a king—our people need a king. And it must be you."

Arthur hesitated, the heavy responsibility weighing down on him. But when he looked into his brother's eyes, he saw the honesty in them—the burden Orm carried. He knew then what must be done.

"Okay," Arthur replied softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I promise."

With a heavy heart, Arthur stood up, the Lasso of Truth still around his right hand, the trident firmly in his left. He could feel the weight of his brother's sacrifice, the gravity of the decision that had been made.

The sea around them surged in response, as if answering the call.

"I'm Aquaman again," Arthur declared, his voice strong. The waves obeyed his call, rising higher as the sea itself seemed to acknowledge the new king.

---

As the final words of the declaration hung in the air, Groudon's body continued to shift, the glowing magma flowing from his form as he regained the power to create the earth. The land beneath him began to respond, just as the very earth had responded to his movements before.

But even as Groudon's strength surged, his movements were deliberate, slow, and steady. With each step, the earth below him cracked and shifted, reshaping the very terrain itself. He was a force of nature, unstoppable and unyielding.

In this world, no one truly understands Groudon's purpose or why it continues to press forward. Yet, perhaps it is this very mystery that drives Groudon onward, step by step.

[Route updated. Target recalculated… the destination is now the current location.]

Dean heard the prompt pop-up from the Bat Computer and looked at Manaphy, whose body was glowing with fluorescence.

"Batman, ask Cyborg to open the blast channel."

"It's time to end this."

————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

If you like the story please support me by giving powerstones, comments and reviews. Your support will be very much appreciated!