"Evil cannot be reasoned with but it can be erased."
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The night sky above Jump City churned crimson.
Thunder rolled like the wrath of gods and from deep beneath the earth, the cult of Brother Blood chanted in feverish ecstasy.
The Cathedral of Blood pulsed like a living heart — walls of bone, veins of molten gold and an altar carved from human suffering.
Brother Blood stood at its center, arms wide, his body drenched in runes of living flame.
His followers — hundreds — knelt in worship.
And in the echoing depths of that cavernous temple, his voice carried madness and promise.
"Tonight, we devour the strength of gods! Tonight, we claim the essence of the unbreakable one!"
Descent of the Unmovable
The chanting faltered as the air shifted.
It wasn't sound, nor motion — it was the weight of something immeasurable.
The ground quaked. The torches bent backward as if bowing.
Then King descended through the ceiling, landing on the stone with the sound of a world ending.
Each cultist froze mid-breath.
King stood tall, dust settling around him like mist. His shirt fluttered once, then stilled.
He said nothing.
He didn't need to.
Brother Blood's grin twisted into a sneer.
"Ah… the god who walks among mortals. You come to witness my ascension which I will achieve by devouring you?"
King's eyes glowed faintly — not with rage but with infinite calm.
"You've drawn blood from children. Stolen hope from the desperate. You have lived long enough."
The Ritual of Madness
Blood raised his arms high and the temple responded — sigils ignited, energy coiled into a sphere of corrupted divinity.
"The gods themselves will bow!" He screamed, his voice layered with a thousand whispers. "Their strength is mine! Your strength is mine!!!"
King didn't move as lightning and flame surged toward him.
When the blast struck, it enveloped him whole, swallowing the room in chaos and red light.
The cult roared in triumph — until the light faded.
King stood unharmed.
Smoke drifted from his shoulders like mist in dawnlight. His voice was quiet, almost sorrowful.
"You mistake noise for power."
He took a single step.
The shockwave shattered the floor. Cultists were flung aside like leaves in a storm. The altar cracked in two.
Brother Blood screamed and hurled another spell, crimson fire laced with the strength of stolen souls.
King caught it in his bare hand and gently blew on it, freeing the tortured souls.
"Your divinity is counterfeit." King said. "Let me show you truth."
The Obliteration
In the blink of an eye, King was in front of Blood.
The cult leader tried to speak a curse but the words froze on his lips because King's presence erased sound itself.
He struck once.
It wasn't just a punch.
It was reality itself deciding that Brother Blood's existence no longer belonged in this plane.
The air imploded. A pulse of white force rippled outward, erasing the entire cathedral and the cult within as if history had never written their names.
When silence returned, only a crater remained — glassed, glowing faintly, like a scar the world itself would remember.
King stood alone in the center.
"Power without mercy is rot. Ambition without purpose is ash."
He turned away as the wind carried the last echoes of Brother Blood's name into nothingness.
Watching Eyes
From the Watchtower, the Justice League observed the seismic data with muted disbelief.
Superman's voice was low. "That wasn't destruction. That was erasure and it was more powerful than the last time."
Wonder Woman's tone carried awe. "He didn't simply kill them. He removed their malice from the world."
Batman didn't speak for a long moment. Then finally:
"He's crossed a threshold of power most of us can't define."
The Aftermath
Back in Jump City, the Titans watched the news as reports poured in — the cult of Brother Blood had "vanished," their base reduced to a mirror-smooth crater. No casualties outside the site. No collateral damage.
Nightwing lowered the tablet, exhaling slowly.
"He didn't destroy them for vengeance. He did it because he had to."
Raven's eyes glowed faintly with violet light. "He ended a cycle of corruption older than we are."
Tara whispered, "He really is… unmovable."
King walked into the room then — silent, composed, his shirt carrying faint traces of dust and energy.
He looked at them, and though his expression was unreadable, his presence carried warmth.
"The world's quieter now." He said simply. "Let it stay that way."
Read 28 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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