Judgment of the Endless (MarvelxDC)

The ocean currents still carried the blood of fallen warriors as Steppenwolf vanished in a flash of molten light, the Mother Box clutched tightly in his grasp. The Parademons that remained in the deep waters, now leaderless, let out shrill screeches before retreating into the abyss, leaving behind a battlefield littered with the broken bodies of kings and soldiers.

And far above, beyond the raging storms and war-torn lands, Themyscira stood proud, untouched—its warriors breathing heavily, bloodied and exhausted, but victorious.

The Amazons had held the line.

The Parademons that had dared set foot upon their sacred island lay in pieces, their foul blood soaking the sand. The battle had been grueling, but the daughters of Themyscira had fought like goddesses of war, their blades cutting down wave after wave of invaders.

And now, as the sky returned to its golden hues and the scent of the ocean breeze mixed with the iron tang of blood, the Amazons took a moment to recuperate.

Hippolyta, the Queen of Themyscira, stood at the edge of the battlefield, her sword resting in the sand beside her.

She surveyed the battlefield, taking in the faces of her warriors—some injured, some grieving their fallen sisters, but all standing strong.

She turned toward her second-in-command, General Philippus, and nodded. "Burn the bodies of the fallen. Ours and theirs. Let the flames carry them to their final resting place."

Philippus pressed her fist against her chest in salute and immediately began barking orders. The Amazons moved swiftly, carrying their wounded, gathering the fallen, tending to their weapons—preparing for the next battle.

But then—the sky darkened.

A deep, unnatural hum filled the air, sending chills down every Amazon's spine.

And then—the heavens split open.

A BOOM TUBE erupted into existence at the center of the battlefield, its spiraling vortex of energy illuminating the bloodstained sands.

The sheer force of its presence sent waves rippling across the island, bending trees, shaking the ground, and filling the air with dread.

From the churning portal, he emerged.

Steppenwolf.

His monstrous form stepped onto the battlefield, his axe dripping with the blood of Atlanteans. His armor gleamed in the light, shifting and pulsing like living metal.

And in his grasp, the stolen Mother Box thrummed with dark energy, recognizing the land upon which it had once rested millennia ago.

The Amazons froze, their bodies tensing as they gripped their weapons tighter.

Hippolyta stepped forward, her face unreadable, but her voice was thunder.

"You have no place here, monster."

Steppenwolf chuckled, deep and guttural. Mocking.

"You Amazons," he said, rolling his shoulders, his golden eyes scanning the ranks of warriors before him. "So fierce. So proud. I remember the last time I was here. Your screams—your fear—it was… delightful."

He took a step forward, his axe dragging across the sand, burning the earth beneath it.

"But you were never strong enough then," he continued, his voice thick with arrogance. "And you will not be strong enough now."

Hippolyta raised her sword. "Then come and test that belief, warlord."

And with that, she charged.

The battlefield erupted in motion.

Hippolyta, fast as a hunting lioness, closed the distance between herself and Steppenwolf in mere seconds, her blade flashing toward his throat.

CLANG!

Steppenwolf blocked with his axe, the impact sending a thunderous shockwave across the battlefield. But before he could counter, Philippus and the elite Amazon guard launched forward, their spears thrusting toward the warlord's form from every direction.

Steppenwolf roared and swung his axe in a wide arc, catching two Amazons mid-leap and hurling them across the battlefield, their bodies slamming into stone pillars with sickening cracks.

Another Amazon warrior launched from behind, her sword finding a gap in Steppenwolf's armor—but the blade shattered upon impact.

With a snarl, Steppenwolf seized the warrior by the throat, lifting her effortlessly before hurling her into a burning chariot, her body vanishing in a burst of embers.

"You fight well," he mocked, dodging a spinning strike from Hippolyta and countering with a brutal backhand that sent her skidding across the sand. "But I did not come here for sport."

He lifted the Mother Box, its power beginning to surge.

"I came for what is mine."

Hippolyta, bleeding from her mouth, slammed her sword into the ground and roared, "NO! Sisters, take the box! Protect it at all costs!"

At once, the Amazon forces shifted.

A small squadron of warriors, clad in ceremonial armor, seized the Mother Box from Steppenwolf's grasp with lightning precision, dashing toward the cliffside where their sacred warhorses awaited.

Steppenwolf snarled and moved to pursue—

But Hippolyta tackled him.

With the ferocity of a queen, she slammed her shield against his head, twisting to drive her blade into his side. The blade struck deep.

Steppenwolf grunted, then grinned.

"You have fire," he admitted. Then, with monstrous strength, he grabbed Hippolyta by her breastplate, lifted her off the ground, and hurled her like a comet into the stone walls of the palace.

The impact shattered the ancient stone, sending rubble cascading down upon her.

But the Queen of Themyscira was not done yet.

From beneath the rubble, her voice rose like a war drum:

"NOW, SISTERS! GO!"

Across the cliffs of Themyscira, the Amazons rode like the wind, the stolen Mother Box secured within a sacred chest, bound by divine seals. Their horses, bred from the gods' own stables, galloped with supernatural speed, their hooves thundering against the ground as they raced toward the ancient bridge that led away from the island.

Steppenwolf, still standing amidst the fallen warriors, turned to watch them flee.

A growl rumbled in his throat.

Then he leapt.

His titanic form soared through the air, crashing down in front of the escaping Amazons, the ground splitting beneath his feet.

The warriors pulled their horses to a halt, their eyes wide with horror.

"You cannot run," Steppenwolf murmured. "And you cannot hide."

He raised his axe.

And then—

A golden whip wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back with godly strength.

Hippolyta, battered but unyielding, stood behind him, the Lasso of Hestia wrapped tight around her arm.

Her eyes burned.

"This is Themyscira," she said. "And you are not welcome here."

Then—

She pulled, and the battlefield exploded in fury once more.

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