"Nice trident you've got there," Ethan said, his voice calm despite the tension crackling in the air.
Namor narrowed his eyes, clearly not amused. He stood tall, the ocean behind him surging with power. "You mock the weapon of Atlantis? That trident is not just a weapon—it is a symbol of a king's authority. Are you daring to provoke the Ocean Monarch?"
Ethan didn't flinch. His gaze remained fixed on Namor's weapon, not him. "I'm just saying, looks like it's the trident that's carrying the weight here, not the man holding it."
Namor's expression darkened. "You dare question my strength, surface-dweller? You'll pay the price for your arrogance."
"I said what I said," Ethan replied coolly. "You came in here acting like a god. Someone needs to make you humble."
That was all it took. Namor, already on edge from the capture of his scouts and the perceived insult to his pride, erupted in fury.
With a sharp motion, he lifted his trident toward the sky.
The river, which had been deceptively calm, suddenly turned violent. Water surged upward, flooding onto the road in a split second.
Namor launched himself onto a rising wave, standing atop the crest like a king surveying his battlefield.
"Let's see you withstand the wrath of Atlantis!" he shouted, stabbing the trident forward.
A towering wave—easily ten meters high—roared forward, ready to crash down on Ethan and his allies: Frank Castle, Polaris, and the others. Ethan took one glance at them. That wave could wipe them out.
He stepped forward.
With a sudden push of his hand, the air rippled around him. A concussive blast of force exploded outward—Ethan's meta ability in action.
With a flick of his hand, Ethan adjusted the vectors of the oncoming wave—its direction, speed, even its mass. The water twisted mid-air, collapsing in on itself like it had hit an invisible wall.
The force of Namor's attack reversed with a sharp gust of pressure, blasting him off the wave and sending him hurtling backward.
Namor didn't expect the force behind it.
He was thrown backward like a ragdoll, skipping across the surface of the river until he landed with a splash, spinning across the water like driftwood.
"My king!" shouted two Atlantean guards in unison, their faces frozen in shock.
But Namor wasn't done. He wasn't fragile. Not even close.
He recovered mid-spin, landing hard in the water, and slammed his trident into the surface.
A golden glow burst from its base, spreading fast across the river like veins of light.
The river itself answered his call, thrashing wildly.
A new wave, even more massive than the last, began rising—this one tall enough to swallow half of New York City.
Namor rose with it, eyes glowing. "You may have power, surface-dweller, but can you hold back the ocean?"
Ethan let out a sigh, flexing his fingers. "Man, you're really going to make me clean up your mess."
He raised his hand.
A crackling orb of plasma sparked into existence above his palm—bright, blue-white, five meters wide, humming with lethal voltage. He grinned.
"Ever seen what a torpedo does to fish?"
He hurled the plasma ball straight into the water below Namor.
Realizing the danger too late, Namor dove under in a panic—but the plasma detonated instantly, sending waves of electricity rippling through the water at lightning speed.
"Boom!"
The towering wave collapsed. The current lost control, crashing toward the city with terrifying force. But Ethan wasn't finished.
He launched himself into the torrent, manipulating the water's vector field.
The wave, heavy with momentum, fought back—but Ethan pushed harder, reversing its flow and slamming it back into the riverbed.
When the water finally stilled, the battlefield was silent.
Ethan stepped back onto the road, soaked but standing tall.
In his grasp, he dragged Namor, still twitching from the aftershock of the plasma burst.
He tossed Namor onto the ground like a ragdoll,
"Do you still want to keep playing?" Ethan stood over Namor with a slight smirk, holding up a few glowing plasma orbs, each one the size of a basketball.
Namor, soaked and clearly outmatched, looked up at him with a frown.
The bravado he'd carried before was gone. "We... maybe we can talk this out!" he offered, trying to mask his frustration.
He had arrived on land full of confidence, believing the surface dwellers had long since lost the legacy of power that Atlantis had carefully preserved.
He came expecting to crush resistance, take the X-Crystal, and return beneath the ocean like a victorious king.
But now, flattened and humiliated by someone who bent the laws of physics like it was second nature, Namor knew there was no pride in dragging this out.
"If you want to talk, then answer my question first," Ethan said bluntly. "Otherwise, this whole fight was pointless."
Namor's eyes flicked to the two Atlantean soldiers who were bound nearby, entangled in localized gravitational binds.
Ethan had manipulated the vectors of gravitational pull around them to keep them locked in place—no ropes, just raw, invisible force.
Namor gave in with a sigh. "If you release my people, I'll tell you everything."
Ethan nodded.
With a subtle wave of his hand, the vector fields around the Atlanteans shifted.
The force holding them down unraveled instantly, and they stumbled to their feet, confused but unharmed.
"Start talking," Ethan said. "Why are you here? Did you come because of the distress signal from Apocalypse?"
Namor straightened his posture, trident still loosely gripped in one hand.
"Yes. Long ago, Atlantis made a pact with Apocalypse. When he vanished over five thousand years ago, we assumed the alliance died with him. But the signal that recently activated matched the ancient emergency beacon encoded in our records. I came to investigate it personally."
He hesitated for a moment. "Instead of finding Apocalypse, I heard rumors about the X-Crystal."
Ethan arched a brow. "So the crystal caught your interest?"
"Of course it did," Namor said, his tone firm again. "Even with all the advancements in Atlantis, we've never achieved autonomous meta awakenings. We can enhance potential or raise chances, but we've never created anything like that crystal."
Ethan smirked and tossed one of the plasma balls high into the air before catching it again. "Then you get why I'm curious about your tech too." He reached out and grabbed Namor's trident.
The river behind them responded instantly—its surface rippled unnaturally, forming subtle waves that followed the motion of the weapon.
Ethan studied it carefully, adjusting the kinetic and angular momentum vectors of the trident in his hands. "This thing's more than ceremonial. It amplifies your hydrokinesis by syncing with tidal forces, doesn't it?"
Namor gave a wary nod.
"I think there's something here we can build on," Ethan continued.
He tossed the trident back with a casual flick, reversing its forward momentum just enough for Namor to catch it with ease.
"We're both metas. Maybe it's time we stop treating each other like strangers."
Namor studied him closely. "You're suggesting a trade?"
"A partnership," Ethan said.
"Something deeper than just swapping tech. Atlantis has been underwater and isolated for centuries. Maybe it's time to restore contact. This world has threats coming—bigger than either of us. We can't afford to stay divided. Maybe it's time we honor that old alliance."
Namor looked down at the trident, then back at Ethan. The idea was tempting, but he knew the implications were massive.
"That's... a possibility worth considering."
Ethan's expression shifted, becoming a little more serious. "There's one more thing. What do you know about Apocalypse now?"
Namor frowned slightly. "Not much. I only came because of the signal. I never actually met him."
At that, the smile on Ethan's face faded. "He's still around. Apocalypse gave everything to ensure metas like us would survive. He's stepped out of the spotlight, working from the shadows now—teaching the next generation, passing on what he knows. We owe a lot to him."
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Word count: 1425
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