When the subject of his true form came up, Poseidon's avatar scratched his head awkwardly. He wanted both the benefits and to keep his capabilities hidden—an impossible dilemma.
Seeing him maintain stubborn silence, Thea had to let it go. There were still countless matters waiting outside. She'd located Poseidon's hiding place and could return another time.
The two finalized the troop deployment details. Having completed her mission, Thea hurried back to the surface to resolve the external troubles.
The Atlanteans had five landing points. Thea's group had blocked three, while Aquaman, leveraging his swimming advantage, crossed the ocean and forcibly halted a fourth.
Only at the remaining point did fighting actually break out. Atlanna had restrained Orm and several councilors and sent cease-fire orders to the final landing point, but those stubborn fools were determined to fight.
The Atlantean soldiers were full of doubts but had no choice but to obey the orders of those in power. The humming of energy weapons began.
Upon receiving confirmation that the enemy had attacked first, Earth's side chose to return fire.
The Atlanteans believed they could dominate. The human military—or rather, humanity's leadership—wanted to see if this hostile neighbor was truly as formidable as Thea claimed.
Both sides, as if by agreement, skipped diplomacy and chose to open fire. Both wanted to test their strength first before talking.
Forced by Thea to accelerate its technological development, humanity's weapons had undergone qualitative changes compared to the original timeline.
A giant mech, carrying tremendous momentum, charged directly into the enemy formation. Ten smaller mechs provided support, and human elite forces now also wielded laser weapons—no longer exclusive to Atlantis.
The giant mech swept through the battlefield like a force of nature. The Atlanteans had mechanical war machines similar to tanks, but they were like toys before the thousand-ton mech, sent flying in all directions.
However, the Atlanteans had been planning this for a long time and weren't completely defenseless. Deep-sea behemoths were their trump card. Dozens of meters tall, these creatures were summoned from the ocean depths—ancient beings that could no longer survive on land. Some even struggled to survive in the deep sea, which was why Atlantean scientists had converted them into semi-mechanical organisms.
One sea beast was nearly transparent, resembling a jellyfish enlarged hundreds of times. Its dozen tentacles, each over a hundred meters long, wrapped around the mech. Colorless, transparent gas sprayed from the tentacle tips. The mech's outer shell hissed as if doused in concentrated acid. The pilot urgently activated energy shields, barely preventing core damage.
Another sea beast, dragging its massive body like a nautilus, struggled out of the water. Where its head should be was a gaping maw with three layers of densely packed teeth. Combined with two enormous pincers, it lunged viciously at the giant mech.
Two behemoths besieged the giant mech. The pilot constantly switched between shields and attack weapons, fighting desperately but still forced into a disadvantage.
Both sides turned the sea surface into a churning maelstrom. Waves surged continuously. Mechanical debris and sea beast limbs and blood rained down like a storm.
Humanity encountered these monsters for the first time and was genuinely frightened. They—including various national leaders watching via satellite from the rear—hadn't imagined Earth still harbored such prehistoric creatures.
Human scientists had long suspected the deep sea contained massive beasts far exceeding estimates, citing various examples as proof. After today, paleontology students and professors were in for a treat—the sea beasts' existence was confirmed, leaving countless research topics for the future.
While humanity reeled in shock, the Atlanteans were equally stunned by the giant mech's combat capability. In some ways, this artificial creation was even more terrifying than the sea beasts.
They knew their own situation well. Sea beasts weren't common—the entire deep sea had only a handful. To reduce bodily consumption, many had chosen deep hibernation. Currently, they could only control fewer than five, three of which had undergone semi-mechanical modifications, like the nautilus beast attacking the mech, which had high mechanical integration and had barely survived to the present day.
Their age had severely degraded their combat abilities. Otherwise, the two wouldn't have struggled to take down a single human giant mech.
Ground force exchanges also made both sides frown. Ten small mechs served as the main force, accompanied by numerous human soldiers. They hadn't been crushed by Atlantean technology. Both sides traded blows fairly evenly, with humans at a slight disadvantage—roughly a sixty-forty split.
Failing to win the opening engagement, war-weariness began spreading among ordinary Atlanteans. Half a day ago, they'd been at home, forcibly conscripted for war. If they could win, fine. But the current situation differed fundamentally from the councilors' pre-departure assurances that surface dwellers were pushovers.
Humanity equally regretted opening fire rashly. Our strength still isn't enough! They'd thought Dr. Thea was overreacting. Now they realized her steps hadn't been aggressive enough—humanity still had untapped potential.
Unbeknownst to the Atlanteans, they'd inadvertently helped Thea by suppressing humanity's arrogance once again.
They continued gritting their teeth, persisting. Military conquest of the continent seemed far-fetched now, but winning one battle and extracting concessions while giving their soldiers an explanation remained possible.
Their thinking shifted so quickly because of a blue-and-red figure floating above the battlefield.
Ordinary Atlanteans had no idea whose side this person was on, since he rescued anyone in danger. Humans knew this was Superman and naturally expressed gratitude when rescued. Atlanteans, receiving identical rescue treatment, also assumed this powerful figure was on their side...
Additionally, a yellow lightning bolt streaked across the battlefield saving people—impartial, helping anyone in danger. Ordinary Atlanteans found it rather entertaining. Several high-ranking officials panicked. Are surface dwellers all this terrifying now?! Their vaunted technology couldn't even detect what the yellow lightning was, much less target it. How the hell are we supposed to fight?
They couldn't aim at the Flash, but the Superman in the sky was targetable. After some discussion, they decided to fire a shot at the flying guy to test his mettle.
The result? The glowing blue energy cannon struck Superman's solid pectorals. Superman gave them a puzzled look and continued about his business as if nothing had happened.
Oh my God, is this guy even human?! Several Atlantean councilors exchanged bewildered glances. Their strongest weapon hadn't even scratched his skin. Though they didn't speak Chinese, the thought echoing in their minds was the same: How terrifying!
When Thea arrived, the intensity of exchanges had already declined. Both sides were afraid—like a beggar fighting with sticks, each fearing the other. Especially with Superman in the sky and the Flash on the ground providing deterrence.
The human side was easier. Thea simply called the Secretary of Defense. Unless the commanding general wanted to commit treason, he'd better obey.
The Atlantean side proved slightly trickier. When Thea teleported in, several councilors thought she'd come to kill them.
She had to teleport the former Queen Atlanna in again before both sides had a foundation for dialogue.
Whether the councilors had participated in Atlanna's assassination, whether the queen needed to settle accounts afterward—those were their domestic affairs. She didn't care. She had only one demand: cease fire now, immediately, this instant!
Given a face-saving exit, the councilors reluctantly issued the cease-fire order.
Both sides began tallying casualties. Thanks to Superman and the Flash—those two freaks—the battlefield had raged for over ten minutes, with many wounded carried off by the Flash, lying in heaps at a distance. Yet miraculously, not a single person on either side had died.