Chapter Thirteen: The Death of Namo

Namor had been completely overtaken by his fury, attacking Arthur with reckless abandon, heedless of his own safety. For a time, Arthur was thrown into disarray by Namor’s relentless assault.

Yet Arthur soon spotted a weakness in Namor: he was too easily enraged, his mind bordering on instability. While fending off Namor’s crazed attacks, Arthur discreetly extended his mental energy, probing to see if he might further disrupt Namor’s thoughts.

The effect was immediate. Namor’s eyes grew bloodshot, his features twisted with rage, and his attacks became even more frenzied. Arthur felt a surge of relief—he had finally found a way to deal with him.

Arthur switched to a purely defensive stance, conserving his strength while continually bombarding Namor’s mind with psychic force. He wore Namor down, waiting for the inevitable exhaustion before making his move.

The soldiers on the battlefield watched the duel intently. All they saw was their king pressing the human to the brink, leaving Arthur seemingly powerless to fight back. Their morale soared, and they raised their weapons, shouting, “Long live the King! Long live the King! Long live the King!”

Sartul, too, observed the fight between his king and the human, but rather than being reassured, he frowned. He noticed that although the human was being overwhelmed, he was actually conserving his energy, and Namor’s ferocious attacks were not inflicting real damage. A sense of foreboding crept over Sartul.

…

Namor’s eyes blazed red as he continued his assault, but as time passed, his attacks began to slow, his breath came in ragged gasps, and his body started to tremble. Arthur could see Namor was nearly spent; as the saying goes, the first effort is strong, the third is exhausted. Arthur deliberately challenged Namor in a contest of brute strength.

Now Arthur counterattacked, meeting Namor’s weapon head-on with sweeping, powerful strikes. Namor’s stamina was visibly depleted, and he was forced back repeatedly. At last, after a final clash, Arthur stood firm while Namor fell to one knee.

Namor was in a terrible state—his body shuddered uncontrollably, he panted for breath, his mind was in chaos, his eyes were bloodshot, and he muttered over and over, “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

Suddenly, Namor leapt high into the air, raising his trident above his head and bringing it down on Arthur with all his might.

Arthur seized the moment. He blocked Namor’s strike with his own trident, then drove his foot hard into Namor’s chest, sending him flying straight upward.

As Namor soared helplessly, Arthur spread his arms and summoned his mastery over water, forcing the surrounding sea to part and creating a vast, dry expanse.

Namor, caught off guard midair, crashed heavily to the ground. Arthur pressed in, driving his trident deep into Namor’s abdomen.

Namor let out a heartrending scream. Arthur gripped Namor’s head with his right hand and slammed it into the ground. With a resounding crack, Arthur drove Namor’s skull into the earth, leaving a deep crater.

Arthur wrenched his trident free from Namor’s stomach, and blood spurted forth. He kicked Namor’s body, sending it hurtling into the wall of water. Then, wielding his trident, Arthur unleashed a bolt of blue energy that struck Namor in the chest.

Namor lay motionless on the ground, barely clinging to life. Arthur planted his trident in the earth and clapped his hands together with force.

Instantly, the seawater at the edge of the dry zone crashed inward, pressing down on Namor.

Namor’s anguished cries pierced the air. The Atlantean soldiers nearby rushed to help their king, but were blocked by a massive, shadowy figure—the giant octopus that had already slain Namor’s whale shark.

Arthur strode step by step toward the dying Namor. With each step, the hearts of the Atlanteans pounded, echoing in their chests—thud, thud, thud—until Arthur stood before Namor.

Gazing at Namor’s unmoving, blood-soaked form, Arthur extended his right hand. With a grasping motion in the air, Namor’s blood gushed from his wound, flowing like a stream into Arthur’s palm, where it gathered into a ball of blood.

Namor could only emit guttural growls. The scene was so brutal that even the hardened Atlantean soldiers closed their eyes, unable to watch as Namor’s life ebbed away. Just as Arthur was about to drain him dry, Sartul rushed forward.

“Stop! You can’t kill him!”

“Oh? And why not?” Arthur paused, toying with the sphere of blood.

“Because he is your brother!” Sartul, with no other recourse, revealed Arthur’s heritage. The surrounding soldiers, hearing the truth of Arthur’s parentage, were shocked—never had they imagined such secrets lay within the Atlantean royal family.

“You’re saying my father was his mother’s brother, and you executed my parents?” Arthur demanded, pointing at Namor.

“Yes, so please, spare him!” Sartul pleaded, the words catching in his throat.

Arthur let out a cold laugh. “You killed my parents, tried to kill me, and now you want mercy? Dream on!” He swung his trident, severing Namor’s head from his body.

Namor’s head rolled aside. A stunned silence fell. The soldiers of Atlantis were frozen in disbelief.

Their king was dead. The Sea King of Atlantis had fallen.

It was too much to accept. After a stunned moment, someone finally shouted, “The king is dead! Kill him, avenge our king!”

The others came to their senses, hatred blazing in their eyes. “Kill him! Avenge the king!”

Arthur snorted. Fools. He was ready to command his beasts to slaughter the Atlantean soldiers.

“Enough! All of you, stand down!” Sartul’s voice thundered, halting the soldiers. He turned to Arthur.

“You have already killed Namor. He cast you into the Abyss, and now you have avenged yourself. Atlantean blood runs in your veins; I don’t wish for us all to perish together.”

Though Sartul himself longed for vengeance, their mightiest king was dead, their forces devastated, and they had no chance against Arthur. For now, he could only back down; vengeance would have to wait.

Arthur considered. Though they had sought his death, he had gained the Trident of the Sea God by fate, and killing Namor was enough. He was not a man who killed without reason. Namor was the first person he had killed with his own hands, and the others posed no threat to him.

As for his parents’ deaths, he felt little emotion. He was not of this world by birth, and his biological parents had died at his birth; the man who had raised him was more his father than anyone else.

“Very well. I’ll spare you for today. If you seek revenge, you know where to find me—in New York!”

With that, Arthur turned and led his beasts away toward the Abyss.

Thus ended the war between Atlantis and Arthur in utter defeat for Atlantis. Not only were their losses grievous, but their king was also gone.

When the High Priest heard the news, he fell silent for a long moment before sighing and saying to Sartul, “You did the right thing. Let vengeance go. Atlantis cannot endure any more turmoil. All the restoration now falls to you.” Sartul nodded in agreement.