T - 1Hr - Pacific Ocean—Hours Later
Batman's explosives detonated across three sections of the Imperial Providence as it crossed back into Earth's dimensional space. Alarms shrieked through the corridors. Emergency crews scrambled to contain the damage, working with practiced efficiency—extinguishing fires, sealing breaches and stabilizing damaged systems.
On the command bridge, Orm sat still on his throne, one hand resting on his trident, the other gripping the armrest. His gaze never left the central display where energy levels climbed steadily toward critical mass. Power harvested from thousands of souls during their raids pulsed through the ship's conduits, ready to be unleashed.
"My king," Vahn reported, bowing low. "Damage is contained. Full repairs will be complete within the hour. We could delay the operation until—"
"No." Orm's voice carried absolute authority. "We proceed now."
Vahn's eyes widened. "But my king, if we activate now, the surface world's detection systems will—"
"Let them detect us." A cold smile touched Orm's lips. "We're positioned deep in the Pacific—far beyond the reach of their surface technology. By the time their systems process the threat and mobilize a response, it'll already be too late." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle over the bridge. "They'll face an impossible choice: pursue us into the depths, or save millions from what we're about to unleash."
Vahn bowed and moved to the tactical station.
On the main display, four massive points of light flared across the Pacific floor in rapid succession.
Across the Pacific Ocean, three additional formations of monoliths rose from the depths to join the one already detected by Cyborg's team. Each pulsed with building energy as they came online, sending waves of power rippling outward through the water.
"Formation One, active and synchronized," an operator reported.
"Formation Two, online and holding position."
"Formation Three, energy flow stable."
"Formation Four, standing by for final command."
Orm moved and plunged his trident into the receptor. The weapon locked into place with a resonant clang, completing the circuit. Divine energy surged through the connection, linking ship to formations to the ocean itself.
"Initiating resonance cascade."
He twisted the trident sharply. The weapon matrix roared to life. Stored energy erupted from the Imperial Providence in expanding rings of power, rippling outward across the ocean floor. The energy wove through all four formations, binding them into a unified network. The massive array pulsed—once, twice, three times—as the energies synchronized.
Then it released a deep, resonant, and primordial sound.
The death cry of a sea god.
The sonic wave rolled through the water as a command.
The ocean screamed.
Water churned violently, boiling where the energy touched it. The resonance seized every molecule, every current, every living creature caught in its path. The shockwave propagated through Earth's waters like the hand of an angry god, reshaping the fundamental nature of the sea itself.
Marine life scattered in primal terror. Fish, dolphins, even the great whales fled in all directions. Those too slow to escape collapsed as the energy tore their souls from their bodies. The stolen essence flowed back into Orm's formations, amplifying the resonance further. Kilometers away, whales breached the surface in their death throes, their haunting songs twisting into agonized wails before falling silent forever.
And deep below, the ocean floor began to rise.
Tectonic plates groaned under impossible pressure. Undersea mountains lifted toward the surface. The displacement sent trillions of gallons of water surging upward and outward in an ever-expanding wave.
50 Minutes Left - Pacific Surface—400 Miles East of Taiwan
The birds knew first.
Thousands of seabirds erupted skyward in a single chaotic group, their cries piercing the air in a cacophony of primal terror. Moments later, dolphins burst from the depths, arcing desperately toward open water—fleeing something ancient and terrible stirring below.
The ocean began to swell.
Five feet. Ten. Fifty. The water climbed higher, pushed upward by the catastrophic displacement of the seafloor beneath.
Then it surged.
A wall of water materialized on the horizon, stretching impossibly far in both directions. Hundreds of feet tall and still growing, the wave consumed everything in its path.
The displacement spread outward in all directions, but Orm's calculations had been devastatingly precise. The formations channeled the majority of the energy toward a single, calculated target.
Taiwan.
Earth Orbit—15 Minutes After Activation
Planet Watch's satellites detected the energy spike within minutes. With Orm's ship operating in normal dimensional space, automated systems traced the anomaly to its source—a process that took fifteen minutes given the depth at which Orm's forces were operating. Alerts cascaded through LexCorp's monitoring stations before being forwarded to the Department of Defense. Within two minutes, the DOD had contacted the Justice League.
T - 35 Minutes - Hall of Justice
"Jesus Christ!" Cyborg's hands flew across the holographic displays as data flooded in. His eyes widened. "Multiple massive energy signatures across the Pacific basin. Four distinct origin points—three more than what we detected before."
Superman moved to his side. "Cyborg, what are we looking at?"
"The resonance pattern..." Cyborg's voice strained as more data populated his screens. "Superman, they're generating a tsunami. Initial projections show wave height at seven hundred feet and still climbing."
"How much time do we have?" J'onn J'onzz asked.
Cyborg rechecked the numbers, as if hoping they were wrong. "Seventeen minutes to Taiwan's eastern coast."
Silence fell across the command center.
"Seventeen minutes to evacuate millions?" Green Arrow's voice cracked.
"Twenty-three million people live there," Black Canary added, her expression grim.
Superman's jaw tightened. "Not nearly enough time. Where's Flash?"
"Central City, engaged with the Rogues," Cyborg reported, already pulling up the speedster's location. "Even at maximum speed, he's twenty minutes out."
"Get him moving now." Superman's voice carried absolute authority. "Cyborg, reach out to Laira as well. Have her return to Earth as soon as possible. Even if she can't make it in time, we'll need her if this turns into a full-scale war. Also contact our team in the Unspoken Waters—we need to know what happened to them." He turned to the Martian. "J'onn, reach out to all available Leaguers and coordinate global evacuation efforts. Work with the UN to arrange emergency resources and take command of ground operations once you arrive. Green Arrow, Black Canary—you're with J'onn supporting local and UN emergency services." He paused, his expression hardening. "John, you're with me. We intercept that wave." Another pause. "Let's move out!"
T-18 Minutes - Taiwan - Coastal City of Keelung
Lin Mei-Hua was closing her tea shop when she felt it—a deep vibration rising through the floor. Ceramic cups rattled on their shelves.
"Earthquake?" she muttered, moving toward the door.
She stepped outside and froze. People were running, pointing frantically toward the harbor. She followed their gaze and her blood turned cold.
The harbor was rapidly draining as if some cosmic drain had opened beneath the ocean floor. Boats lay stranded on exposed seabed. Fish flopped helplessly in the mud. The smell of brine and rotting seaweed filled the air.
Lin had lived by the ocean her entire life. She knew exactly what this meant.
"Tsunami," she whispered.
Then, in the next instant, she ran.
"TSUNAMI! GET TO HIGH GROUND!" she screamed, her voice joining hundreds of others. "TSUNAMI!"
Soon, warning sirens began their wailing chorus along the coast. The wave was already visible on the horizon—a dark line stretching impossibly far in both directions. Emergency broadcasts crackled to life across every channel, but everyone already knew, get inland or die.
T-15 Minutes - Pacific Ocean
The wave consumed everything in its path. Fishing boats disappeared beneath the surge in an instant. Cargo vessels capsized and were dragged under. A cruise ship bound for Japan—massive and modern—was lifted like a child's toy on the wave's crest, held there for a single terrible moment, then pulled beneath the churning water and crushed.
No one aboard survived.
The tsunami continued its relentless advance, now towering over nine hundred feet. It was no longer just water—slate-grey abyssal silt churned throughout the wave, ancient sediment weaponized into corrupted energy that drove it forward with unnatural force. The wall stretched across the horizon, bearing down on Taiwan's northern coast with terrifying speed.
Deep below the surface, aboard the Imperial Providence, Orm watched the tactical display with cold satisfaction. Every element was proceeding exactly as planned.
"The surface world has forgotten the ocean's true power," he said quietly to the officers assembled around him. "Today, we remind them." He paused, his eyes never leaving the display. "Let the great harvest begin."
T-14 Minutes - Justice League Carrier
Aboard the sleek, obsidian Justice League carrier cutting through the clouds above the Pacific, J'onn J'onzz sat at the holographic command center. His fingers moved across the glowing displays as he studied the map of Taiwan, then he closed his eyes and reached out.
His telepathic consciousness expanded like a wave, stretching across thousands of miles. One by one, millions of minds connected to his—a vast network spanning Taiwan and its neighboring nations. The sheer volume threatened to overwhelm him, but J'onn held firm, his mental voice calm and authoritative as it echoed in countless heads simultaneously.
"This is J'onn J'onzz of the Justice League. A massive tsunami is approaching Taiwan's eastern coast. You have less than fifteen minutes. This is not a drill. Move to high ground immediately. Follow designated evacuation routes. Stay calm. Help those around you. The elderly, the children—help them. We are coming, but you must move now."
The message repeated across multiple languages, each one tailored to the recipient's native tongue. Through the telepathic link, J'onn felt everything—their panic, their disbelief, their terror. But he also felt something else: determination. His words cut through the chaos like a beacon.
People began moving with greater purpose. Parents scooped up children. Neighbors knocked on doors to check on the elderly. Emergency services coordinated more effectively with J'onn's guidance flowing through their minds. Traffic that might have devolved into gridlock instead moved in organized columns toward higher ground.
But even as J'onn pushed his abilities to their absolute limit, even as sweat beaded on his green skin from the mental strain, he knew a terrible truth: it wouldn't be enough. Not today. Not with only fourteen minutes remaining.
T-13 Minutes - Pacific Ocean - Approaching Taiwan
Superman broke through the cloud layer, cape flowing behind him as he rocketed toward the wall of water. John Stewart flew beside him, his Yellow Lantern ring blazing with golden light.
"Martian Manhunter has established telepathic contact with civilians below," Cyborg's voice crackled over comms. "Satellite confirms wave height exceeding one thousand feet and still growing. ETA to Taiwan's coast, thirteen minutes."
Superman's enhanced vision swept across the approaching tsunami, catching details that made his stomach drop. The water churned with unnatural grey-black corruption, moving as if the deep ocean floor had been weaponized and dragged into the surge.
"That water's contaminated," Superman said grimly. "Don't let it touch you. It likely has the same properties as Orm's last soul-absorbing attacks."
"Great. Just great." John's voice strained as he took in the massive wave. "As if the sheer size wasn't bad enough—if this water can steal souls like his previous attack... I don't think we can stop something this massive. Not even working together."
"You're right—we can't stop it," Superman agreed, his mind racing through options. "But we can slow it down. Reduce its height, break its momentum. Every foot we shave off buys time for the evacuation." He glanced at John. "Construct barriers at strategic angles. Deflect and channel the water outward—don't try to stop it head-on. I'll alternate freeze breath and heat vision to fragment the surge."
"Copy that." John shot forward, his ring blazing as golden light started to coalesce into massive constructs ahead of the wave.
Superman dove toward the leading edge and unleashed a sustained blast of freeze breath. Ice crystallized across hundreds of feet of corrupted water. The frozen section slowed, groaning under its own weight, momentarily halting the surge's advance.
Meanwhile, John's constructs completely took shape, giving rise to enormous angled barriers positioned like breakwaters. The wave hit the first barrier and split, water sheeting off in multiple directions. The unified wall fragmented into smaller surges, each carrying less destructive force than the whole.
"It's working!" John shouted. "Wave's losing cohesion!"
But the victory was short-lived. The dark energy woven through the water reasserted itself, spreading like an infection through the ice. Cracks began forming across the frozen surface.
"Superman, fall back!" Cyborg's warning crackled with sharp urgency. "I'm detecting a massive energy surge in the water—incoming!"
The warning came a heartbeat too late. The frozen sections exploded outward—corrupted ice and water erupting in a violent blast. Jagged shards the size of cars shot through the air. Superman twisted aside, one shard nearly clipping his shoulder as he banked hard. John conjured a hasty shield, but the impact sent him spinning backward.
The tsunami reformed, consuming its own shattered pieces and pulling the fragmented ice and deflected water back into itself. Within seconds, the wave had reconstituted, flowing around John's golden barriers like water finding paths around stones.
"Damn it!" John reformed his constructs, pouring more energy into them, but they dissolved almost immediately. "This water's actively fighting back. It's eating through my constructs faster than I can create them."
"We need reinforcements," Superman said, his voice tight. "J'onn, were you able to get in touch with the others? What about the magic division?"
"Affirmative," J'onn replied over the comms. "Zatanna and her father are on the ground assisting with evacuation. Shazam is en route—should be arriving any moment."
"Where's Shazam now—"
Thunder cracked across the sky, cutting Superman off mid-sentence. Lightning heralded Shazam's arrival as he shot through the clouds, electricity crackling around his form. He pulled up alongside them, taking in the scene—then his eyes widened at the sight of the massive wall of water.
"Holy cow, that's... that's a tsunami?" His voice carried genuine shock. "It's massive!"
"Shazam! Get a grip," Superman said sharply, his expression stern. "We need you focused."
His personal hero's commanding tone cut through Shazam's momentary panic. He straightened, his expression turning serious. "Right. Sorry, Superman. Won't happen again." He turned to face the Man of Steel directly. "What's the plan?"
"Help us break down this wave." Superman's mind was already racing ahead to the next problem. "Manhunter, any contact with Atlantis? We could use Mera and any hydrokinetics she can spare. This water is magically corrupted—we need someone who can counter it directly."
"Already done," J'onn replied. "Mera is en route with a combat team. ETA: seven minutes."
Superman's jaw tightened. Seven minutes until Mera arrived. Thirteen until impact. That gave them only six minutes of her hydrokinetic support before the wave hit Taiwan.
"Then we buy those seven minutes," Superman said. "Shazam, hit it with everything you've got. John, keep those constructs coming. We reduce this wave one section at a time."
The three heroes nodded and launched into a coordinated assault. Superman alternated tactics—freeze breath to crystallize sections, then heat vision to flash-boil them into steam. Shazam channeled divine lightning into the water, superheating and evaporating massive volumes in explosive bursts. John erected barrier after barrier, each angled to deflect and fragment the surge.
For precious minutes, they made progress. Steam erupted skyward in towering columns that blotted out the sun.
Ice spread across the wave's surface in crystalline sheets. The tsunami's leading edge fragmented under sustained assault, its unified wall breaking into dozens of smaller surges.
"Wave height decreasing!" Cyborg reported. "Down to eight hundred fifty feet! You're doing it!"
Then everything changed.
A lance of dark blue energy screamed across the sky. Superman's enhanced senses registered the threat a split-second before impact—enough time to recognize the danger, not enough to evade while maintaining his position. The beam struck him square in the chest.
"AAARGH!" The cry of pain shocked everyone. Superman—invulnerable to nearly everything—was blasted backward, tumbling through the air.
"Superman!" Shazam immediately broke off his attack, diving after his falling comrade.
A second beam followed, tracking Shazam. The champion barely twisted aside, energy searing past his shoulder. Pain contorted his face.
'Argh… What kind of weapon can actually hurt me?' The thought flashed through Shazam's mind even as he accelerated toward Superman.
"We're under attack!" John called out, ring flaring as he projected an emergency shield. "Cyborg, can you trace the source?"
"Scanning... Got it! It's a battleship. Appears modified, but the core design matches Atlantean specs. Bearing northwest at six klicks out." Cyborg's voice tightened with frustration. "It's running some kind of cloaking field. I can barely hold a sensor lock on it."
Another volley erupted from the hidden vessel. John's shield absorbed the impact, but the feedback made him grunt with strain.
Shazam caught Superman and pulled him back away from the scene. The Kryptonian's suit was scorched black where the beam had struck, smoke still rising from the impact point.
"Superman, talk to me!" Genuine fear colored Shazam's voice.
"I'm... fine," Superman said, though his strained voice suggested otherwise. He glanced down at the scorched section of his suit, still smoking from the impact. "But that weapon actually hurt me." His eyes narrowed as he looked toward where the attack had originated. "What kind of weapon has Orm developed that can do this?"
"I don't know," Shazam admitted, his voice tight. "It barely grazed me, but even with my magical protection, I felt pain." He looked at Superman with concern. "What kind of enemy are we dealing with?"
Superman's expression hardened as he met Shazam's gaze. "I don't know, son. But we're about to find out." He straightened despite the pain. "Let's go. We have a job to do."
The determination in his hero's eyes was infectious. Shazam's confidence returned, and he nodded firmly.
Together, they shot forward through the sky. Superman opened the comm channel. "Cyborg, how many ships are we dealing with?"
"Superman—thank God you're okay." Relief flooded Cyborg's voice before turning serious. "At least three ships, possibly more. They're cycling their cloaking between volleys—I can't maintain a solid lock." He paused, his sensors detecting something new. "Wait... new contacts incoming. Reading Atlantean energy signatures... Receiving transmission now." Another brief pause. "Confirmed—Atlantean reinforcements have arrived. Mera's here, and she's early."
Five Atlantean vessels surfaced in formation. On the lead ship's deck stood Mera, flanked by two dozen elite guards.
Her hands were already moving through complex patterns, power rippling the air around her. After a moment, she took one look at the corrupted tsunami and her expression darkened.
"By the gods," she breathed. "This water's been corrupted at a fundamental level." She reached out with her hydrokinesis, but the water actively resisted her control. "There's an energy driving it forward. It's fighting me. I can influence it, but I can't control it completely."
"Can you slow it down?" Superman asked.
"I can try, but—"
Another barrage lit up the sky, forcing everyone into evasive maneuvers. One of Mera's ships took a direct hit—explosions tore through its lower deck, breaching the hull. Alarms shrieked as the vessel listed heavily to port, damage control teams scrambling.
"Damn it!" Mera's expression twisted with fury. She switched to Atlantean command frequency.
"Captain Thorne, emergency protocols! All vessels, defensive formation—protect the Brine!"
"We can't fight the wave and a hidden enemy!" John shouted in frustration. "Every time we make progress, they force us back on defense!"
"Someone needs to handle those ships," Mera said as her vessels moved into protective formation. "Otherwise I can't concentrate enough to use my hydrokinesis effectively."
"That's exactly what they want," Cyborg said over comms. "Orm's forces know your capabilities. You're the biggest threat to their corrupted water. They're trying to neutralize you before you can act."
Superman hovered in place, his mind racing. Orm had engineered this perfectly—the tsunami demanded their full attention while hidden ships prevented an effective response. Every second spent dodging fire was a second not fighting the wave. And behind them, Taiwan drew closer with each passing moment.
"Mera," Superman said, making his decision. "Take your fleet and eliminate those ships."
Mera's eyes widened. "But I brought this force to assist with the wave and evacuation efforts—"
"Can you and your forces handle those ships? Yes or no?" Superman asked, his tone solemn.
Mera's eyes flashed with determination. "They're modified, but the base technology is still Atlantean. Yes, we can handle them." She hesitated. "But are you certain?"
"You can't control the corrupted water effectively, and those ships won't let you concentrate long enough to try," Superman said. "Take your fleet and eliminate the threat. Once they're down, join the evacuation efforts." He met her gaze firmly. "We'll handle the wave."
Mera studied his face for a long moment, then nodded grimly. "Understood. Leaving two ships for support—I'll take the rest. Once the enemy is neutralized, we'll move to assist evacuations." She turned to her forces. "Strike team, with me! Brine and Seeker, remain here and provide covering fire!"
Three of her five vessels peeled off, leaving only the damaged Brine and the Seeker behind. The rest turned toward the enemy's last known positions. Within seconds, the ocean erupted with combat—corrupted energy beams met by Atlantean magic and weaponry, cloaked ships forced into visibility by direct fire, underwater explosives detonating in massive columns of spray.
Above, Superman wasted no time. "Shazam, John—you're with me. We focus everything on reducing that surge."
"Superman, you're injured," Shazam protested. "Maybe you should—"
"I can still fight," Superman said firmly. "And we're running out of time." He turned back to face the advancing tsunami. "We have maybe eight minutes before that wave hits the coast. We can't stop it completely, but we can still reduce its power. Every foot of height we shave off, every fragment we break away—that's lives saved. Now let's move!"
The three heroes threw themselves back into the fight with desperate intensity. Superman pushed through the pain, unleashing everything he had. Shazam channeled divine lightning until his hands trembled with the effort. John created construct after construct, his ring's charge dropping steadily—but then something shifted. The ring began drawing in ambient light energy, refueling itself even as he poured power into the battle. Orach's modifications were finally proving their worth, allowing John to sustain the fight when he should have been running on empty.
They made progress—reducing the wave's height from eight hundred feet down to roughly six hundred. They fragmented the leading edge, breaking the solid wall into multiple smaller surges. They bought precious minutes for the evacuation efforts below.
But even as they fought with everything they had, they all knew the same terrible truth.
It wasn't enough.
T-7 Minutes - Taiwan Coast - Keelung City
Lin Mei-Hua ran with everything she had.
Her lungs burned. Her legs felt heavy. But she didn't stop. Around her, thousands of others did the same—a desperate tide of humanity flowing upward, away from the coast, toward any high ground they could reach.
Strange thoughts filled her mind—clear, calm instructions in a voice that wasn't quite a voice. 'Turn left at the next intersection. Follow the blue emergency markers. You have time. Keep moving. Don't panic.'
She didn't question it. The voice had guided her around bottlenecks, steered her toward faster routes. All around the city, people were moving with unusual coordination, as if some invisible hand was organizing the chaos.
But even with the mysterious guidance, she could hear it now. The wave. It sounded like the end of the world—a continuous, building roar that drowned out screams, sirens, prayers, everything.
"Mama! MAMA!" A child's terrified voice cut through the noise.
Lin turned and saw a little boy, no more than five years old, standing frozen in the middle of the street. His eyes were wide with pure terror, tears streaming down his face. The crowd parted around him like water, too panicked to stop.
Lin didn't hesitate.
A voice in her mind screamed at her to stop, but she ignored it. She turned and ran back against the flow of fleeing people, scooped the boy into her arms, and turned back uphill.
"It's okay," she gasped between breaths, though her own terror made the words ring hollow. "We're going to be okay, we're going to—"
The world went dark.
Lin looked up and her heart simply stopped. The wave had arrived. It blocked out the sun completely—a wall of churning darkness impossibly tall. For one frozen moment, she could see everything: individual droplets suspended in mid-air, debris caught in the wave's embrace, cars, pieces of buildings, and god help her, bodies.
Then it fell.
The impact was beyond comprehension. The world became water and darkness and crushing, inescapable pressure. Lin held the child tight against her chest as the force tumbled them end over end, completely unable to tell up from down. Her lungs screamed for air. Her vision began to dim as an invisible power in the water drained something vital from her.
"I'm sorry," she thought, holding the boy close even as consciousness faded. "I'm so sorry."
T-5 Minutes — Taiwan
Despite their best efforts, the wave surged again as it approached the coast, rising even higher. The mission shifted to pure evacuation—buying every second they could for people to escape.
Superman threw himself into rescue operations despite the pain from his injury. He dove again and again, pulling civilians from the wave's path, carrying them to evacuation zones, then immediately returning for more. Again and again and again.
Aboard the carrier, J'onn maintained his telepathic network across millions of minds. He guided evacuation routes, coordinated rescue efforts, and provided calm instructions through the chaos. Sweat poured down his face from the mental strain. The dying thoughts of those he couldn't reach—those they were failing to save—cut through him like knives. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Not when thousands were still alive and in need of his guidance.
On the ground, Green Arrow, Black Canary, Cyborg, Zatanna, and her father Zatara worked alongside local emergency services across multiple cities. They directed thousands toward evacuation zones where UN responders had established collection points. Helicopters and aerial transports lifted off continuously, racing to other safe points in other countries.
Zatanna and Zatara pushed themselves to their limits, conjuring shimmering magical portals that swallowed hundreds of evacuees at a time, depositing them in designated safe zones outside Taiwan. As the UN communicated the crisis to member nations, nearly all came together to coordinate a joint response, mobilizing every available resource they could spare on such short notice.
But even that wasn't enough.
Above the cities, Shazam matched Superman's relentless pace, divine lightning crackling behind each rescue flight as he carried survivors to safety. John Stewart created massive yellow construct platforms—solid light shaped into vast transport decks—loading hundreds at a time before flying them to evacuation zones at maximum speed.
Then, in a streak of yellow lightning, Flash finally arrived.
"Flash!" Superman's voice came over comms, relief breaking through despite the grim situation. "Where do you need me?"
"Assist in ground evacuations," Superman replied quickly. "Hit the remaining coastal zones—you can reach places we can't. You're our best chance at saving the most lives."
"On it!" Flash didn't waste another second. He'd been held up by coordinated emergencies in Central City—attacks he now suspected were deliberately timed to delay him. But there was no time to dwell on that.
He became a red blur across multiple cities simultaneously, his Speed Force allowing him to evacuate hundreds in seconds, pulling people from collapsing buildings and flooded streets faster than the eye could follow.
For several desperate minutes, the heroes gave everything they had. Superman pushed his injured body past every limit. J'onn's telepathic coordination prevented thousands from taking wrong turns or being trapped. Flash reached the unreachable. Zatanna and Zatara conjured portal after portal until their hands trembled with exhaustion.
They saved tens of thousands. Perhaps more.
But it wasn't enough.
The wave was too massive, hitting too many population centers simultaneously. Keelung disappeared beneath the corrupted waters first, its buildings not merely flooded but disintegrated under the supernatural pressure. Roads buckled and tore apart like paper. Entire neighborhoods were simply erased.
The same devastation played out across Taiwan's northern and eastern coasts. City after city vanished beneath the dark waters. The corrupted tsunami swept inland with unstoppable force until finally, the heroes and UN forces had no choice but to pull back to safe distances.
When it was over, the entire island of Taiwan lay submerged beneath the corrupted waters, wiped off the map.
T-Present — Pacific Ocean — Aboard the Imperial Providence
Orm studied the tactical displays as devastation unfolded across multiple screens. Around him, officers delivered status reports, their voices steady despite witnessing the magnitude of destruction they'd orchestrated.
"Wave impact confirmed across all primary targets."
"Formation network holding stable. Collective energy at sixty-three percent and climbing."
"The champions of the surface world are now fully committed to rescue operations, my king. No attempts to trace formation sources or intercept our vessels have been detected."
"Soul harvesting protocols active and exceeding projections, my king."
That final report drew a slight smile from Orm. The weapon's true genius lay in its dual purpose—it didn't merely destroy. Every life claimed by the corrupted waters fed soul energy directly into his formations, each death strengthening the network for the next strike. A portion of the harvested energy remained suspended within the waters themselves, awaiting the final phase: mass extraction of captured souls.
His chief engineer approached with careful deference. "My lord, soul energy collection has exceeded our most optimistic projections. At current rates, we'll reach the objective within the hour."
"Excellent." Orm's gaze swept across the holographic display of Earth's coastlines, already calculating future strikes. "Maintain collection protocols. Recall all remaining forces."
"The battleships will rendezvous in ten minutes, my lord. The Inquisitor was our only loss."
Orm's expression sobered as he leaned back and swept past the bridge. "The loss of our brothers weighs heavily. They sacrificed themselves for a greater cause—for our vision of a proud, resurgent Atlantis." His commanding voice carried across the bridge. "We carry their names in our hearts as we press forward. Our campaign has only begun."
"YES, YOUR MAJESTY!" The unified response rang with conviction.
Vahn spoke from his position beside the throne. "Your Majesty, forgive the question—but why not drive the wave further? Strike the neighboring islands while we have momentum? We could adjust the formations to—"
"Patience, Vahn." Orm's tone remained measured. "Let this strike settle first. Let the surface world absorb what happened here. Let them feel the scale of it. Let the loss, the helplessness, settle. Fear will take root as they scramble to analyze our methods, reinforce their coastlines, and convince themselves they can predict where we'll strike next."
His expression turned cold.
"And then—when they believe they have time to prepare, when they think they've identified our pattern—we strike again. Harder. From directions they won't anticipate." He paused. "Remember, soul energy isn't our only harvest today. The fear we've sown will drive surface dwellers back to their gods, to long-forgotten faiths. That desperate belief born from terror, as they seek divine protection—that will feed our allies just as effectively as the souls we offer them."
He gestured toward the tactical display, red zones marking the devastation. "Today was our opening move—a demonstration of capability, a message to our true targets, and a warning to the surface world." His eyes gleamed. "But the surface world will soon face a dilemma. Their champions ventured into the Unspoken Waters and survived. When they return and report what they saw, the United Nations will suspect Atlantean involvement. Inevitably." He paused. "After all, strip away our modifications, and our ships' base design remains largely Atlantean. Our tactics mirror theirs. Everything points toward Atlantis to the keen observer—exactly as planned."
A thin smile crossed his face. "But here's where it becomes interesting. They have no proof we act independently of Atlantis. I am still the 'missing king,' after all. That ambiguity is our greatest weapon. Some will argue we're rogues. Others will insist Atlantis orchestrated this attack. That debate will paralyze their response, breed suspicion, divide their councils."
Meeting Vahn's gaze, he continued, "And when enough voices accuse Atlantis—when the surface world's fear turns to hostility toward all Atlanteans—the rift will become irreparable. My mother will face an impossible choice. Either she submits to surface world judgment and abandons Atlantean sovereignty, or she severs ties completely." His smile widened. "Either way, Atlantis will have no path forward but to stand with us."
"So we wait. We've shown them what we're capable of. Now we watch—how they adapt, where they reinforce, what vulnerabilities their panic exposes. Then we exploit those weaknesses without mercy." He straightened. "The great campaign has only just begun."
No guilt touched Orm's thoughts. No remorse. Not a trace of doubt.
This was his justice. For millennia, the surface world had exploited the oceans—polluting them, strip-mining their resources, treating them as nothing more than a dumping ground. Atlantis had remained silent too long.
Never again.
"I understand, Your Majesty." Vahn bowed deeply. "Your wisdom exceeds my vision." He resumed his position at Orm's right hand.
"Navigation." Orm's voice cut across the bridge with quiet authority. "Set course for the Unspoken Waters. We return to base once collection is complete."
"Course plotted, my lord. Estimating two hours to dimensional threshold at standard cruising speed."
"Good"
An hour later, with soul harvesting complete, the Imperial Providence began its descent into deeper waters, moving toward the dimensional barrier separating Earth's oceans from the realm of the Unspoken Waters. Behind them, the Pacific churned while the Justice League scrambled desperately to save whoever remained.
T-Present — After Taiwan
The rapid response League carrier cut through the clouds toward the next target. Inside, exhaustion and grief hung heavy in the air. Superman sat with his head bowed, letting his body heal. Around him, the other Leaguers sat in various states of shock—some with heads down, others staring blankly out the windows, a few with eyes closed as if trying to block out what they'd witnessed.
After a long silence, Superman spoke quietly. "Victor... how many?"
Several seconds passed before Cyborg responded, his voice strained. "The wave hit multiple major coastal cities simultaneously. Taiwan had a population of twenty-three million." He paused. "Early casualty estimates... we're looking at ten million dead or missing. Possibly more."
Superman closed his eyes.
The number hit them all hard.
"Ten million," Flash whispered, his voice hollow.
"We saved so many," Shazam said, but even he heard how empty the words sounded. "But we still lost millions."
Superman allowed himself five seconds to feel the crushing weight of those lost lives—five seconds to acknowledge the scale of their failure.
Then he opened his eyes.
"Victor, what's the wave's current trajectory?"
"Heading toward China's eastern coast. The good news—if we can call it that—is the wave lost significant energy hitting Taiwan. Current projections show it'll strike with roughly half its original force." Cyborg paused. "The immediate threat is the Philippines. Multiple coastal cities are directly in its path."
"We can't assume the worst is over," Superman said firmly. "We still don't know the full capabilities of Orm's weapon. The wave may have weakened, but there's no guarantee he won't reactivate it. Alert China to prepare for worst-case scenarios in all coastal cities." He straightened. "How long until it reaches the Philippines?"
"Based on current speed and trajectory... forty to forty-five minutes."
Superman's jaw tightened with renewed determination. He turned to J'onn. "Then we have time—more time than before to evacuate everyone in the impact zones." His voice carried across the carrier. "J'onn, coordinate with local authorities. Get all emergency transport and personnel to the Philippines. Maintain that telepathic network. I need every evacuation route mapped and every civilian warned. Barry, start ground evacuations the moment we touch down. Shazam, John—establish defensive positions and break down that wave the second it's in range."
He looked at the rest of the team. "Everyone else, rest while you can. I know we're running on empty, but there are still people who need us. Gather your strength. When we land, we rotate—no one pushes past their limit if someone else can take over."
Tired nods answered him. The heroes exchanged glances, drawing strength from each other's resolve.
"Wait," Green Arrow said, frowning. "What about Mera? She was supposed to help with the evacuation. Is she heading to the Philippines too?"
Cyborg and J'onn exchanged a brief glance. J'onn shook his head slightly. "Mera's forces have been asked to withdraw."
"What?" Multiple voices expressed disbelief. "Why would they refuse Atlantean help?"
"Politics," Black Canary said quietly, still staring out the window. "What else?"
"What do you mean?" Shazam asked, confused.
Black Canary turned to face him. "Think about it. Modified Atlantean vessels attacked us. The UN's been briefed that Orm—the missing King of Atlantis—is the primary suspect. Despite the Justice League's endorsement and UN membership, a lot of people never fully trusted Atlantis." She gestured toward the window, toward the devastation they'd left behind. "After what just happened? After millions died? That distrust is turning into something worse."
Her expression grew grim. "Mark my words—despite the tragedy, maybe because of it—voices we've kept quiet in the UN will rise up again. They'll use this incident to push for declaring Atlantis an enemy state."
"No way," Shazam protested, shaking his head. "People died. Shouldn't we be coming together like we did during the alien invasions, not—"
Black Canary gave him a sad smile. "Unfortunately, that's human nature, Shazam. Welcome to the world of adults."
Shazam opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. Confusion, frustration, and sadness warred on his young face.
"She's right," J'onn continued. "The Philippine government specifically cited lack of trust as their reason for refusing Atlantean assistance. They asked Mera to withdraw her forces back to Atlantis."
"Typical politicians," John Stewart muttered, leaning his head back and closing his eyes in frustration.
"How did Mera take it?" Flash asked.
"I sensed her frustration and anger," J'onn replied. "Her forces engaged Orm's fleet directly and drove them back—losing an entire ship and crew in the process. Two more vessels were heavily damaged. Yet many are not acknowledging their sacrifice." He paused. "What people are noticing is that Atlantean forces arrived too late for the final evacuation push. That's being interpreted... unfavorably."
He sighed. "But Mera's a skilled diplomat. She withdrew respectfully without escalating tensions. She's returning to report to Queen Atlanna and resupply before resuming the hunt for Orm."
"It's going to be rough for her," Black Canary murmured. "For all of Atlantis, really."
"Why?" Zatanna asked.
Her father, Zatara, answered with a weary sigh. "Because people are angry, dear. Terrified and angry. Orm orchestrated this attack, and Atlantis still officially claims him as their missing king—they haven't disowned him or declared him a rogue agent." He spread his hands. "It only takes one angry person to start pointing fingers. When you have millions of grieving families looking for someone to blame, that anger finds a target fast. Fair or not, Atlantis is about to face a wave of hostility."
"But that's not—" Zatanna started.
"Not fair?" John Stewart finished for her. "No. But that's human nature."
"That's enough," Superman interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "We'll address the political situation later, when the full League is assembled. Right now, dwelling on it only drains energy we need elsewhere." He met each person's eyes. "People in the Philippines need us focused. That's where our attention belongs."
Cyborg nodded. "Superman's right. The situation's complicated enough without us second-guessing political decisions we can't control. Focus on what we can do." He pulled up a tactical display. "The wave's weakened, but it's still heading for China. The Philippines is caught in its path, and coastal cities will face serious devastation. Even after we handle both threats, we'll have millions of displaced people—refugees who'll need shelter, medical care, and basic necessities. The next few days are going to be brutal."
He looked around the carrier. "Rest while you can. Gather your strength. We're going to need every ounce of it."
Everyone nodded, the weight of what lay ahead settling over them. One by one, they leaned back and closed their eyes, trying to find what rest they could as the carrier streaked toward the Philippines.
Pentagon - Department of Defense HQ
While the Justice League coordinated rescue operations in the Philippines, an emergency session was underway in the Pentagon's secure operations center.
The President's face filled the main screen, transmitted live from the Situation Room. Around the conference table sat the Secretary of Defense, flanked by General Swanwick and General Lane. Behind them stood the Joint Chiefs, senior intelligence officers, and Amanda Waller.
The atmosphere crackled with tension.
"Ladies and gentlemen," the President began, his voice grave. "I've reviewed the initial reports. Before we proceed, I need a full tactical assessment. General Swanwick—what are we dealing with?"
General Swanwick stood, activating a holographic display of the Pacific region. Red zones highlighted the devastation—Taiwan completely engulfed, the Philippines partially impacted, with projected threat vectors extending toward mainland China.
"Mr. President, the tidal wave that struck Taiwan measured over a thousand feet at its peak. Unprecedented in recorded history." He paused, letting the magnitude sink in. "The island's infrastructure is completely destroyed. Current casualty estimates put the death toll at ten million, with millions more missing."
Heavy silence blanketed the room.
"The Justice League responded within minutes of our notification," Swanwick continued. "They evacuated millions before the wave made landfall, but the sheer scale..." He shook his head. "The wave has diminished to roughly half its original force after striking Taiwan, but it's still bearing down on the Philippines and China's eastern seaboard."
The President's jaw tightened. "What caused it? Natural disaster or deliberate attack?"
"Deliberate attack, sir." General Lane stepped forward, his expression hardening. "Intelligence confirms modified Atlantean vessels at the point of origin. Our Planet Watch satellite imagery captured them before they submerged." He pulled up enhanced images showing heavily modified bio-mechanical ships with unmistakable Atlantean design elements. "According to Justice League reports and Princess Mera's intelligence, these vessels are under the command of Orm Marius—Atlantis's missing king."
"Orm." The President's eyes narrowed. "The same one from the intelligence reports? The one Atlantis claimed went missing during some internal crisis months ago?"
"The very same, sir," Swanwick confirmed. "Atlantis has been searching for him since his disappearance. They maintain he's gone rogue, acting without Atlantean sanction. Queen Atlanna and Princess Mera have cooperated fully with our intelligence agencies."
"Cooperated," Amanda Waller repeated, skepticism dripping from the word. "With all due respect, General, cooperation after the fact doesn't change what happened. Those were Atlantean ships. Commanded by Atlantis's king." She turned to the President. "Sir, we need to consider the possibility of state-sponsored terrorism."
"That's a serious accusation, Amanda," the Secretary of Defense said carefully. "One with severe diplomatic consequences."
"Diplomatic consequences?" Amanda's voice rose. "Mr. Secretary, ten million people are dead. An entire nation wiped off the map. If this isn't an act of war, what is?"
"Waller raises valid concerns," Swanwick interjected. "However, we need to examine what actually transpired. Princess Mera's forces engaged Orm's fleet directly during the attack. They lost an entire ship—over two hundred Atlantean soldiers—trying to stop him. That doesn't suggest collusion."
"Or it's an elaborate cover," Amanda countered. "Send a token force, lose some expendable assets, maintain plausible deniability. It's hardly a tactic we haven't seen before."
General Lane frowned, but Swanwick continued before he could speak. "Mr. President, the DOD and Justice League have monitored Atlantean communications and troop movements since they joined the UN. Our analysis indicates deep unrest brewing in Atlantis for months. Orm's disappearance and recent actions have fractured their society. Though he's king in name, many Atlanteans want Aquaman on the throne. Orm's loyalists, who previously maintained enough power for a stalemate, have been steadily losing ground. Nevertheless, hardline factions within their military and nobility oppose surface integration. Orm appears to be leading one such faction."
"Appears to be," Amanda emphasized. "We're taking the Justice League's word on internal politics we can't independently verify. For all we know, this could be coordinated—Atlantis playing both sides."
The President raised a hand, cutting off the brewing argument. "What's the Justice League's assessment?"
"They're currently engaged in the Philippines, sir. From my conversations with them, Superman and the League believe Orm is acting independently," Swanwick replied. "They've vouched for Mera and Queen Atlanna's legitimacy. However..." He hesitated. "They've also admitted Atlantean politics are complex and that they don't have complete visibility into all factions."
"In other words, they're not certain either," the President said quietly.
"No sir, they're not."
"What about the Higher Realm being—Orach?"
"His stance is clear, sir," Swanwick replied. "Batman attempted to persuade him to intervene, but Mr. Orach was adamant. This is Earth's matter. We should handle it. He will not participate."
The President stared at the holographic display, millions of lives reduced to statistics and red zones. Finally, he spoke. "Here's what we know for certain: An Atlantean force attacked us using technology our greatest minds barely comprehend. Millions are dead. Whether Atlantis as a whole is complicit or Orm is a rogue actor doesn't change our immediate problem—we're vulnerable to threats from the ocean depths, and we have no effective defense."
He met each person's eyes. "Secretary, General Swanwick, General Lane, Waller—I want full threat assessments on our ability to defend against Atlantean incursion. Assume worst-case scenario: full-scale war with a united Atlantis. General Swanwick, coordinate with the Justice League. I want constant updates on their operations and any intelligence on Orm's whereabouts and capabilities."
"Amanda Waller," he continued, "after the CADMUS debacle, I kept you at arm's length. But given recent developments... you have my authorization to form A.R.G.U.S.—your meta-human research and tactical response division."
Amanda's lips threatened a smile, but the President's expression remained deadly serious. "However, Amanda, I do notwant a repeat of CADMUS. If this new organization catches our Higher Realm guest's attention the way CADMUS did, I will disavow you and your entire operation. Nothing is worth provoking someone who could destroy us all. Are we clear?"
Everyone tensed. They all remembered how Orach's direct threat had led to CADMUS's dissolution. Since then, Amanda Waller had been reassigned to classified tasks directly under the President. But no one present knew exactly what CADMUS had done to attract Orach's ire—every file was classified beyond even their clearance. Many suspected A.R.G.U.S. was simply CADMUS rebranded. None of them trusted Amanda Waller.
Before anyone could voice their concerns, the President continued, ignoring the obvious tension visible on his display. "All of you, listen carefully. First priority: monitor all Atlantean activity—and I mean everything. If a fish swims the wrong way, I want to know about it."
He paused, letting his words sink in. "Second: quietly develop contingency plans for neutralizing Atlantean threats if this escalates. Amanda, coordinate with LexCorp if necessary. Their advanced technology division has proved itself with their suits and Planet Watch—see what other assets they can provide."
"Understood, Mr. President," Waller replied with a slight nod.
"Mr. Secretary, draft two classified briefings—one for the UN, one for NATO and our Pacific allies. They need to understand what we're facing and our response posture. Emphasize cooperation with the Justice League and measured response for now, but make it clear we will defend our interests."
"Yes, sir."
The President leaned back, weary but resolute. "One more thing. Keep diplomatic channels with Atlantis open, but monitored. If Queen Atlanna is sincere about stopping Orm, we support that effort. But if we discover any evidence of Atlantean complicity..." He let the implication hang.
"We'll be ready to act," General Lane finished.
"Exactly. This session is adjourned. Update me every four hours, or immediately if the situation changes."
The screen went dark.
For a moment, no one moved. Then Waller stood, gathering her tablet and files. "Gentlemen, we have our orders. I suggest we get to work."
As the room cleared, General Lane remained behind, staring at the holographic display. The red zones pulsed like fresh wounds on the map.
"Something on your mind, Sam?" Swanwick asked, pausing at the door.
Lane didn't turn around. "We're not ready for this. If Orm can inflict this much damage with one attack, and if he has more forces like this..." He shook his head. "The Justice League is powerful, but they're stretched thin. And if this escalates into open war with Atlantis—where do you think they'll stand? Each of them has their own loyalties and principles."
"You're worried about Arthur Curry specifically," Swanwick said, closing the door and taking a seat.
Lane hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Initially, his profile made it clear he had no love for Atlantis. But..."
"After that mass shared-dream incident, he changed," Swanwick finished, leaning back.
"Exactly." Lane frowned. "I don't recall the memories of that life, but I know I changed because of it. God knows what's going on with him. I... can't trust him like I used to. Or Atlantis. There's this nagging instinct telling me to be cautious—of them, of him."
Swanwick said nothing, simply listened.
Lane looked up and met his gaze. "I know it sounds ridiculous. You and I have fought enemies from the stars alongside them. I trust them with my life, but... I can't shake this feeling about Atlantis. Not since they revealed themselves and joined the UN."
"I can't say I fully understand, old friend—I was one of those who didn't experience that dream," Swanwick replied quietly. "But I'll say this: we're soldiers. Being cautious, even a little fearful, keeps us sharp. Ready. You know that. You've taught it to many, including your daughters. But remember—they've faced death alongside us more than once since Steppenwolf. That's why we need diplomacy to work, and we need faith in them. In all the brave souls defending this world—them, us, our people."
Lane raised an eyebrow with a wry smile. "Since when did you get spiritual?"
Swanwick smiled. "We have a literal Higher Realm being—someone above even the God who created us—living in Gotham of all places. He's performing miracles, transforming that cesspool into a prosperous city. He's helping our entire world recover from the damage we've caused ourselves. Hard not to get a little spiritual after witnessing everything we have." He shrugged.
The two men broke into brief laughter.
"Thanks, Calvin. I needed that." Lane's expression darkened as he turned. "What are we going to do about her?"
Swanwick took a deep breath, his expression turning solemn. "A.R.G.U.S. is nothing but CADMUS rebranded. Likely the public front she needs to conceal her real motives and operations. I especially don't like how close she is with Lex Luthor. Something's going on between them that we need to uncover before it's too late. But with Amanda gaining the President's support, we can't move against her openly. We'll have to get creative with our monitoring. I won't let her risk our world for her twisted ideology. Because I don't like our odds if we let her run free."
"Neither do I, Calvin. Neither do I."