Chapter 60: I Told You It Was a Conspiracy
In half a day, Allen crafted a mask using Star Iron and a fingernail-sized piece of Amazonian metal.
With the combination of evocation and enchantment techniques, the mask could convert oxygen from water, providing breathable air.
Due to time constraints and the impracticality of wearing a full suit of armor for underwater combat, Allen abandoned the idea of crafting an entire set.
A cluster of islands lay in a treacherous sea region plagued by constant whirlpools, thunderstorms, and torrential rains.
No ocean-going vessel dared to pass through these waters.
Moreover, the area was far from the submerged city of Atlantis, making it unlikely to attract much attention.
The Atlanteans who still supported the old king, Namor, had taken refuge on the islands.
To be precise, the Atlantean nobles were on the islands. Unlike their commoner counterparts, they could breathe both in water and on land, though they couldn't stay away from water for too long.
Only the Atlantean commoners were entirely dependent on water and had to hide in underwater caves beneath the islands.
The Shark Knights, who had ambushed Allen's group earlier, had helmets filled with seawater to ensure they could breathe.
Upon setting foot on the island, Namor led his remaining followers to welcome them.
Beside him stood a group of nobles clad in luxurious attire.
They bore a strong resemblance to humans and belonged to the coexistence faction—those who neither concerned themselves with human affairs nor harbored any intention of conquering the land, focusing solely on the prosperity of the ocean.
"I've more or less figured out the situation."
Namor's expression was grim. "Right now, all factions of the Ocean Kingdom have submitted to Atlantis and the Elder Council's authority. I fear I have no means to help."
One couldn't blame Namor for feeling defeated—the Ocean Kingdom was simply too vast. If it truly wished to, it could wage war against all major continents simultaneously.
Furthermore, many nobles already harbored deep-seated hatred toward humans and refused to bow to a half-blood king.
"The Pirate King—you can challenge him to single combat," Allen suggested.
He recalled from the movies that the Ocean King had won the throne through a duel with the Ocean Lord. If that worked, then the same method should be viable here.
"A battle for the throne can only proceed if all factions agree to it," an elderly noble said with a wry smile. "Right now, no one would approve of such a duel."
"Shit, so they're playing dirty, huh?"
Allen patted Namor on the shoulder. "Don't be discouraged. If you can't be a king, you can still be the Pirate King."
"It seems a war between Atlantis and Themyscira is inevitable."
Diana's expression darkened. She didn't want to see her people suffer casualties, but all her efforts were proving futile.
This war would be brutal.
Themyscira was destined to fall, but Atlantis would also pay a heavy price.
"…Is this normal?"
Allen pointed at the sea, noticing countless bubbles rising to the surface.
Even the water level seemed to be rising unnaturally.
A terrible premonition struck him.
It was as if something massive was rising from the depths, causing the release of gas bubbles.
Boom!
A colossal manta ray-shaped warship erupted from beneath the waves.
Countless fish-shaped fighter jets accompanied it.
Legions of seahorse-mounted warriors and Shark Knights emerged together.
At the island's edge, crustacean-like warriors—resembling crabs and lobsters—began their assault.
Among the marine army, humanoid Fishermen clad in capsule-like breathing apparatuses could be seen.
Atlantis had arrived, leading the united forces of the ocean.
"Princess, I was right, wasn't I?"
Allen boasted, "I told you it was a conspiracy."
Showboating at a time like this? They were already knee-deep in danger, yet he still had the energy to gloat about being right.
Namor's furious gaze swept across the nobles.
The Atlantean commoners below had been on constant alert. There was no way such a massive army could have gone unnoticed.
Unless… this was an inside job.
"Your Majesty, forgive us! Atlante took our families hostage—we had no choice! We beg for your mercy! We have always been loyal to you!"
"Your Majesty, we will fight and die by your side! Just let our families live!"
"Your Majesty, I have only one son. I can die, but he must live!"
…
Hearing the nobles' tearful confessions, Namor found it impossible to hate them.
Yes, they had betrayed him, but their loved ones were being held hostage—what choice did they have?
If he were in their shoes, would he have been able to ignore his own family's peril?
"Cut the crap, Crab Lord!"
Allen snapped, "Pirate King, now's not the time to get sentimental! Tell them to pick up their weapons and fight! We need to buy time to escape and regroup for revenge later!"
Donning his mask, Allen scanned the ocean.
They were completely surrounded.
The only way out was to fight their way through.
At that moment, a middle-aged man landed on the island, wielding a silver-white trident.
His dark green, fish-scale armor glistened under the flickering lightning.
He stood atop a manta ray-shaped hovercraft, flanked by dozens of warriors clad in crimson armor.
The red-armored soldiers were the elite royal guard.
Their combat prowess dwarfed that of the white-armored troops tenfold, primarily because their suits were equipped with advanced technological weaponry.
"Namor, I'm giving you the chance to surrender."
The newcomer had damp golden hair that shimmered under the lightning flashes, exuding a radiant, razor-sharp presence.
Allen quipped, "Pirate King, I gotta be honest—he looks a little better than you."
"You're Atlante?" Namor asked.
"That's right."
The two kings locked eyes, and for a brief moment, no one dared to intervene.
A battle between rulers warranted a certain level of respect.
Of course, if the new king lost, then all hell would break loose, and everyone would jump in at once.
Seeing the mastermind behind all this appear, Diana assumed a combat stance and spoke in a low, determined voice:
"Call off the war against Themyscira immediately, or this island will be your grave."
Allen grinned. "Hey, scared yet? It's okay, you can cry—I won't judge."
Atlante turned to Allen with a bewildered expression, full of question marks.
Who the hell invited this clown?
Boom!
A figure dropped from the sky.
A towering man, nearly two meters tall, clad in ancient Greek gladiator-style armor, appeared.
His fully enclosed helmet concealed his face, leaving only a pair of blood-red eyes peering out ominously at Diana.
"Your opponent is me."
A bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating his armor, making it look even more menacing and formidable.
"Damn! That's one hell of a look. No introduction?"
Allen stepped beside Diana and reassured her, "Don't worry, Princess—I'll back you up."
Diana's expression grew heavy. "He is Ares, the God of War."
"I'll cheer for you."
Allen made a fist-pump gesture. "Go get 'em."
The old gods had entered the fray.
This was now a family feud.
Allen wisely chose to stay out of it—he wasn't about to get one-shot by a god.
…
Asgard.
At the entrance to the Bifrost, Heimdall stood like an eternal guardian, his gaze never wavering from the Nine Realms.
His sword was embedded in the bridge's control hub, and clad in golden armor, he was as motionless as a statue.
But his golden eyes suddenly narrowed, focusing on a particular spot in the mortal realm.
"Thor."
Heimdall turned to look at Odin's son—who was sprawled across the steps, drunk out of his mind.
"…Hmm? Your shift's over?" Thor asked, raising his drinking horn, still completely intoxicated.
Heimdall spoke bluntly. "The target wanted by the Council of Gods has appeared."
Thor took a deep swig of his mead, his stance unsteady as he brandished Mjolnir and slurred, "I've been waiting to beat Ares up. Who does he think he is, calling himself the God of War…?"