Horus's divine power had drained too much. Many of his high-consumption abilities remained sealed. He didn't seem to realize that his last surviving priest—who'd somehow lived four thousand years—had long since been corrupted by the modern world.
Down below, Vandal Savage, his legs stiff and his breath ragged, was cursing his so-called god under his breath.
"Move it! So this is what karma looks like!" Rip Hunter barked, kicking Vandal forward. The old captain's emotions were a mess today—first near tragedy, then triumph. Nearly blown to hell earlier by Thea's makeshift nuke (that was the tragedy), and now finally capturing his lifelong nemesis (that was the ecstasy).
He didn't care that Vandal was now old enough to ride the bus for free. Rip showed no mercy—dragging, shoving, and practically herding him back onto the ship like livestock.
The Waverider shot up into the sky. It had to—staying grounded wasn't an option.
Down below, Horus stood ten meters tall, towering like a living monument. Across from him, Thea hovered at the same height, eyes locked on the god, her aura blazing. One spark, and the world beneath them would be gone.
"Is that… a god?"
Still bruised and battered from fighting the giant robot earlier, Ray Palmer—The Atom—had just recovered enough strength to move. Supported by Hawkgirl Kendra, he hobbled toward the display screen, curiosity written across his face.
He'd seen strange things in 2017's Star City, but nothing like this. His gaze lingered on the towering, majestic form of Horus, half in awe, half in scientific fascination.
Maybe it was bad luck—or maybe his stare was a bit too bold.
Even from kilometers away, through the layers of the ship's reinforced display, Horus's falcon eye flicked toward him. Divine power shimmered faintly in that single glance.
Ray Palmer was, unfortunately, just an ordinary human—handsome and fit, sure, but that meant nothing before divine energy. Even at that distance, that single look hit him like a hammer.
"—Ghkk!" He coughed up blood and collapsed instantly.
"What the hell are you looking at?!"
Thea didn't yet realize her temporary teammate had just taken a divine hit for her, but Horus's brief distraction gave her an opening—and she wasn't one to waste it.
The god's divine body resisted magic too well, and Makankōsappō took too long to charge up again. So Thea did what she did best—she went physical.
Thankfully, this wasn't a video game—no silly restrictions saying a mage couldn't fight in melee.
Gripping the Sword of Kusanagi, nearly two meters long, she lunged forward, striking like lightning.
At first, Horus might have been holding back for the sake of divine dignity, parrying her strikes barehanded.
That lasted all of two seconds. He soon realized arrogance had a cost—two more deep punctures opened across his chest. With a hiss of irritation, he finally summoned a golden staff from the void. Its head was shaped like a falcon spreading its wings.
"The Staff of Horus?" Thea's eyes caught the glint, fascination flickering—but also confusion. The staff was enormous, at least eight meters long, and when Horus swung it, it blurred like a golden tornado.
"Wait—Vandal used this thing before? He's what, one-eighty tall? How the hell did he swing an eight-meter pole?"
It made no sense. Sure, divine artifacts could change size, but would a proud god like Horus really resize his weapon to fit a mortal? Not likely.
Her thoughts vanished as she darted upward again, sword poised overhead, bringing down a strike straight at the god's head.
Horus met her attack head-on, both hands gripping the staff, swinging upward.
"Clang!"
Both weapons shattered on impact—Thea's light sword bursting into shards like fragments of mirrored glass, while Horus's staff cracked in two, falling to the ground and melting into the sand.
"Huh." Thea blinked. "So your staff's fake too. Energy construct, same as my sword. Great—we're both using knockoffs."
She leapt backward immediately, giving herself distance. Reforming a lightsword took a few seconds, while Horus could seemingly manifest his weapon at will. When it came to raw energy control, she was nowhere near these ancient deities.
"Human warrior," Horus's voice thundered across the air, "do you wish to feel the distance between you and the heavens? Do you wish to see how shallow your existence truly is? Then behold the authority of a god!"
He didn't strike—he expanded. Divine power rippled outward like an invisible wave.
Where it passed, skyscrapers crumbled, highways split apart, glass and steel melted into sand.
In seconds, the modern cityscape became an endless desert. Waves of golden dust rolled through the ruins, some rising a hundred meters high.
Within the chaos, most of the city's people froze—blank-eyed, their minds overwritten. Their modern clothes faded into simple linen robes and rough skirts. A few still-conscious survivors looked around in bewilderment, thinking it was some elaborate prank show.
"Foolish mortals… far too many of you remain awake." Horus's voice was a low growl. A pulse of divine energy rippled outward—commands written in light.
Those under his control turned feral, their strength magnified. They grouped in threes and fives, dragging down the still-conscious citizens and beating them to death.
A few who clung to half-awareness were quickly "cleansed" by divine power, their eyes going glassy. Most never got the chance—they were torn apart by their own neighbors.
Oh, you've got to be kidding me! Thea stared in horror. The city below had transformed into a desert; its river now a green oasis. Low huts rose from the shifting sand, and the survivors—half-naked, wrapped in cloth—were kneeling, worshipping Horus.
"Seriously?!" she whispered. "He just turned the city into… ancient Egypt?!"
At the city's heart, something even larger was rising—a massive golden pyramid, emerging from the ground like a mountain reborn.
As it grew, the crowd's worship turned frenzied. Tears streamed down their faces as they screamed the god's name.
"Do you see now?" Horus declared, voice echoing with divine triumph. "This is the power of the gods—change, wrought at the very foundation of existence. A realm beyond your reach."
He was pleased. Deeply, smugly pleased. To him, this was order restored.
Those steel towers and neon lights from before—such chaos. Humans living hundreds of meters above the ground, looking down on a god? Unthinkable.
Thea had to admit—his power was terrifying.
Turning cities into deserts, rivers into oases, minds into worshippers—sure, with enough time and mana she could mimic the terrain part. Maybe even mass mind control through large-scale hypnosis.
But changing living species? That was new.
She literally watched dogs morph into camels, cats into leopards. Not illusions. Real, biological transmutations at the source level.
That… she couldn't do.
And that pyramid—still rising higher, stone by stone, from nothingness.
How was he doing that? Converting energy into matter? Rewriting physical law? The questions piled up faster than she could process them.
Enough. This was beyond her current level.
Thea had already decided to retreat. Whether it meant returning to her own timeline or sticking with the Legends for now—anything was better than fighting a literal god who could rewrite reality.
A quick sweep with her psychic sense located Rip Hunter and the others, still hovering high above in the Waverider.
She prepared to teleport aboard.
Time for a strategic withdrawal.