"History buries its mistakes beneath the sand, but time always exhumes them."
---
The journey from the ocean's crushing depths to the burning horizon of the desert took less than ten seconds.
One moment, the currents parted around them — the next, the air screamed as King propelled them upward with impossible force.
Arthur barely had time to swear before the world blurred into blue and gold.
They broke through the waves like a torpedo and soared into the sky. King holding Arthur Curry and Mera beneath each arm as if they were children, his feet igniting faint blue arcs of pressure.
"Whoa—whoa—WAIT, WHAT—!" Arthur shouted, kicking uselessly against the air.
Mera's red hair whipped wildly in the gale. "You could have WARNED us!"
King said nothing. Two leaps.
That was all it took to cross half the world.
With the first, they cleared the clouds.
With the second, they came down like a meteor — landing on a sand dune in the middle of the Sahara Desert.
The sand rippled for miles, a storm of heat and dust blooming outward from the impact crater.
Arthur collapsed to his knees, clutching his stomach.
"You ever… heard of a plane? People use those!"
King looked across the endless dunes. "Too slow."
The Forgotten Kingdom
They walked for hours under the merciless sun, until the ground began to tremble beneath their feet.
A shifting of sand — not from wind, but from something ancient awakening.
The dunes parted.
Revealed beneath them lay the Deserter Kingdom — a skeletal city of sandstone and coral fossilized in time, preserved under layers of glassed sand. Towers leaned half-buried, arches broken, statues eroded into silent witnesses of extinction.
Arthur whistled softly. "Guess Atlantis isn't the only thing that sank."
Mera's eyes were wide with awe. "This was once one of the Seven Kingdoms… and now, it's nothing but dust."
King descended the steps carved into the hollow of a ruined ziggurat, each footstep echoing like a drumbeat. "Nothing truly dies," He said quietly. "It only waits to be remembered."
The Machine of Atlan
Deep within the ruins, they found a mechanism — ancient yet pulsing faintly with life. A throne of coral intertwined with brass, holding a crystal orb at its center.
Vulko's words echoed in Arthur's mind:
'Only the true king can summon Atlan's message.'
Arthur stepped forward, his hand trembling slightly as he placed the Atlantean relic cylinder into the orb.
The machine stirred — gears grinding, light flooding the chamber.
Then came the voice — King Atlan's voice — spectral, regal, and haunting.
"The time of judgment draws near. Only the one worthy of my power may claim the Trident of Atlan. Journey beyond the tides, to the hidden sea where my throne lies in eternal shadow."
The hologram shifted into a cryptic image — a map encoded within a bottle, and the riddle:
"In the hands of the first king, the path to the hidden sea will reveal itself."
Arthur rubbed his chin, brow furrowed. "The first King… Romulus. The founder of Rome."
King smiled faintly. "You've studied."
Arthur shrugged. "Dad made sure I learned history when I wasn't punching guys in bars."
Mera looked between them, exasperated. "So, what now?"
Arthur cracked a grin. "Now we go to Italy."
Erice, Sicily
The coastal town of Erice glowed in the golden afternoon sun. Narrow cobbled streets twisted through ancient stone houses, their windows filled with flowerpots and the smell of baking bread.
Tourists filled the piazza, completely unaware that two demigods and a cosmic enigma had just stepped out of an alleyway.
Arthur adjusted his soaked shirt. "Remind me again why we didn't just jump here?"
King: "Collateral damage."
Arthur: "…fair."
They entered an old Roman cathedral atop a small hill — the ruined statue of Romulus still standing.
Mera passed Arthur the bottle and he placed it into the hands of the statue holding the chalice. The crystal flared to life.
Light poured through the bottle's glass, refracting into the air, forming a glowing map that stretched from the Mediterranean to the depths of the Mariana Trench.
Arthur's eyes widened. "That's it. The Mariana Trench. That's where the trident is."
King nodded, silent. His expression, however, darkened as if sensing the tremor of something fast approaching.
Ambush
A faint hum echoed through the catacombs — mechanical, steady and rising in pitch.
Then came the first explosion.
The wall beside them erupted in a storm of molten stone and shrapnel. Mera was thrown backward, Arthur barely managing to shield her.
Out of the smoke stepped Black Manta, clad in his obsidian power armor, twin plasma lenses glowing blood-red.
"Aquanman!!!" He roared through his modulated voice. "You took my father. I'll take everything from you."
Arthur's jaw tightened. "You picked a bad day, Manta."
Before he could move, a plasma beam shot toward them but it never reached
King raised his hand and the beam halted on his palm before dissipating into nothing.
Manta turned his gaze toward him. "Who the hell are you supposed to be?"
King stepped forward, calm as ever. "An inconvenience."
Then the air pressure dropped.
Every piece of sand and dust lifted from the floor as the King Engine whirred once — soft, steady, inevitable.
Arthur grinned, cracking his knuckles.
"Oh, you're screwed now."
Read 33 chapters ahead on P.A.T.R.E.O.N
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