Year 1997 : The Rise of the Kents (Chapter 5)

Atlantis, City of Thierna Na Oge

"Kal-El, watch your behind!" The urgent shout from a royal guard pierced through the chaotic underwater battle.

Clark twisted his body just in time to see a spear slicing through the water toward him, wielded by one of the opponent's elite warriors. With lightning-fast reflexes, he brought up his arm to block the strike, the spear tip shattering harmlessly against the armored plating of his suit. The Ironman-like suit encased his body, not to amplify his already immense strength, but to ensure his survival in the harsh underwater environment and protect him from any unexpected magical assaults.

Thierna Na Oge, a majestic city deep beneath the waves of the Atlantic, was in the throes of civil war. At the heart of the conflict were two sisters: Nuada Silverhand and Bres. Nuada, the rightful ruler, was a wise and just leader, beloved by many for her fairness and strength. Her rule, however, was threatened by her sister, Bres, a woman driven by ambition and a hunger for power. Bres sought to overthrow Nuada and claim the throne for herself, leading to a brutal conflict that had torn the city apart.

All around Clark, the underwater city had become a nightmarish battleground. The majestic spires of Atlantean architecture were now the backdrop for this brutal civil war. The streets, once filled with the graceful movements of Atlanteans, were now thick with the churn of battle, with desperate cries and the clang of weapons filling the water. Glowing bioluminescent creatures darted away from the conflict, their lights casting eerie shadows over the broken statues and crumbling walls.

Clark moved through the battlefield with fluidity and purpose, every step deliberate, every action precise. His superhuman abilities and martial arts proficiency had reached an impressive 60%, and it showed in the way he maneuvered through the chaos. An enemy soldier lunged at him with a trident, but Clark sidestepped the attack with a graceful twist, bringing his armored fist down in a swift arc that sent the soldier crashing to the seabed, disarmed but alive.

The Ironman suit he wore was a masterpiece of design, allowing him to breathe comfortably in the deep ocean and providing a shield against any magical energies that might be unleashed by the rebel forces.

Despite the overwhelming power at his disposal, Clark fought with restraint. He harbored no hatred for these Atlantean soldiers—they were merely following orders, caught in a conflict between two sisters vying for control.

Clark understood the importance of mercy in this war. By sparing his enemies, he aimed to earn the goodwill of the Atlanteans, showing them that he was not just a formidable warrior but a benevolent one. However, he knew that in battle, mercy must be balanced with decisiveness. He was ready to strike lethally if the situation demanded it. To become a hero, he believed, one must be prepared to sacrifice not only their life but also their reputation if it meant achieving the greater good.

"Advance! Push them back to Bres's palace!" King Nuada Silverhand's voice commanded through the battle, her tone steely with determination.

Clark pressed forward, his suit enhancing his movements as he weaved between enemy soldiers, disabling them with a series of precise blows. He dodged a barrage of energy blasts from a group of rebels, the pulses of light reflecting off his suit's surface as he closed the distance between them in an instant. With a well-predicted series of strikes, he disarmed the group, sending their weapons clattering to the ocean floor.

Ahead of him, the forces of King Bres were faltering. The relentless assault from Nuada's loyalists, combined with Clark's devastating efficiency, had driven them back to the gates of Bres's palace. The once-mighty army of rebels was now a fragmented force, their resolve crumbling as they retreated into the fortified walls.

The battlefield was a testament to the ferocity of the conflict. Corpses of fallen warriors drifted slowly to the seabed, their weapons lost in the swirling silt. The water was thick with the debris of battle—broken tridents, shattered shields, and the ruins of what had once been the proud city.

The final battle was nearing, and Clark understood his pivotal role in shaping its outcome. The rebels fought with fierce desperation, but Clark's unwavering drive and unparalleled abilities kept Nuada's forces in control.

As Clark continued to fight alongside Nuada's royal guards, his mind briefly wandered back to the decisions that had led him here, far beneath the ocean's surface in the middle of a civil war. The battle around him was fierce, but his thoughts were clear, shaped by the countless simulations he had run in preparation for this mission.

—

It all began when Clark first learned about the potential of Orichalcum. The metal, known for its powerful anti-magic properties, was essential for his plans to fortify himself against mystical threats. The SS system had provided him with the coordinates of its location deep within Atlantis, in the city of Thierna Na Oge, where it was said to be guarded by the ruling powers of the city.

Clark had initially been undecided, torn between pursuing Nth Metal in Egypt or Orichalcum in Atlantis. Nth Metal was incredibly powerful, enhancing physical abilities and negating gravity, but it was also dangerously unstable. Each simulation he ran showed that while the metal could significantly boost his powers, it also attracted conflict and carried risks that could be catastrophic in the long term. The volatility of Nth Metal made it clear that it wasn't the right choice for sustained use.

The Orichalcum, on the other hand, was far more stable and provided unparalleled protection against magic. However, acquiring it would be no easy task. The city of Thierna Na Oge was embroiled in a civil war, with the rightful ruler, King Nuada Silverhand, fighting to defend her throne against her sister, the ambitious King Bres. Gaining access to the Orichalcum would require navigating this complex political landscape and potentially intervening in the conflict.

Clark had weighed his options carefully. He ran the simulations over and over, testing different scenarios, trying to find the best approach. Each time, the outcome was the same: helping Nuada win the war was the most strategic path. Not only would it secure the Orichalcum, but it would also build a valuable alliance with the Atlanteans, whose advanced civilization could offer resources and knowledge in the future.

With his decision made, Clark approached his parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent, explaining the importance of this mission. They had always been supportive, though concerned for his safety. After careful consideration and seeing the thoroughness of his plan, they granted him permission to undertake the mission, understanding that it was essential for his growth and protection.

Clark had timed his journey carefully, choosing to come to Atlantis over the weekend, plus taking three days off from school to give himself enough time to help Nuada secure her kingdom.

Jonathan and Martha crafted a plausible excuse for the school administration to let Clark take the time off from school, explaining that Clark had been given the opportunity to visit a distant relative who was an expert in marine biology and would provide him with invaluable educational experiences. The school, impressed with Clark's academic record and the unique nature of the opportunity, granted the leave without much hesitation.

The simulations had prepared him for every possible scenario, and with SS's guidance, he had entered Thierna Na Oge ready to play his part in the war.

Now, here he was, in the thick of battle, executing the strategy he had refined through countless simulations. The plan was simple yet effective: weaken Bres's forces through calculated strikes, protect Nuada's key assets, and ensure that as many of Bres's soldiers were subdued rather than killed. The more soldiers he spared, the more goodwill he would earn among the Atlanteans, which would be crucial when it came time to negotiate for the Orichalcum.

---

The tide of the battle was shifting in their favor, just as the simulations had predicted. Bres's forces were faltering, their morale weakened by Clark's relentless, yet merciful, assault. He could see the doubt creeping into their eyes, the uncertainty of fighting against someone who was clearly more powerful, yet chose not to kill.

As Clark knocked another soldier unconscious with a swift, controlled strike, he thought of the final objective: the Orichalcum. It was almost within his grasp, and all that remained was to see this battle through to its end.

"Push forward!" Nuada's voice rang out, firm and commanding. Her presence on the battlefield inspired her soldiers, and Clark was committed to making sure that inspiration wasn't wasted.

Nuada Silverhand's forces, bolstered by Clark's presence, pressed the attack against the rebel forces of her sister, King Bres. The palace, once a symbol of power and unity, had become the final stronghold for Bres's rebellion. The corridors echoed with the sounds of conflict as the loyalists fought to reclaim what had been taken from them.

Clark's iron-clad suit glided through the water as if it were an extension of his own body, allowing him to navigate the chaotic battlefield with ease. His enhanced abilities and strategic foresight gave him an edge that the rebels couldn't match. He struck with precision, disabling Bres's soldiers one by one, rendering them powerless without resorting to lethal force. Each movement was calculated, each decision deliberate.

As the battle raged on, Clark could see the desperation in Bres's eyes. Her forces were crumbling, the once-mighty rebellion reduced to a mere shadow of its former strength. The tide had turned, and it was only a matter of time before victory belonged to Nuada.

With a final surge of strength, Clark and the royal guards burst into the throne room, where Bres stood defiantly, surrounded by her last loyal soldiers. The room, once a place of majesty and order, was now a battleground. The shimmering lights of Atlantean crystals cast long shadows across the walls as the two sides faced off for the last time.

The battle was swift and conclusive. Clark's team, motivated to bring the conflict to a close, overpowered Bres's forces. Clark personally engaged Bres's elite guards, using his combat skills to swiftly disarm and neutralize them.

In the end, it was Bres who fell. The rebellious king, stripped of her power and pride, was captured and brought before her sister, Nuada Silverhand. The throne room fell silent as the rebels laid down their arms, accepting the inevitable defeat.

Nuada stepped forward, her expression a mix of sadness and resolve as she looked upon her defeated sister. Bres, though captured, held her head high, her eyes burning with defiance.

"Bres, why did it have to come to this?" Nuada asked, her voice laced with sorrow. "We could have ruled together, brought prosperity to Thierna Na Oge as sisters. Instead, you chose rebellion and bloodshed."

Bres sneered, her voice sharp and bitter. "You always were the favored one, Nuada. The people loved you, followed you without question. But I saw the truth. I saw the weakness in your rule, the complacency. I wanted to make Thierna Na Oge strong, unyielding. But you, with your softness, stood in the way."

Nuada shook her head, her silver hair shimmering in the light. "Strength without compassion is tyranny, Bres. The people did not need a ruler who sought power for power's sake. They needed a leader who could guide them with wisdom and care."

Bres's eyes flashed with anger, and she gestured toward Clark, who stood silently by Nuada's side. "And where did your so-called wisdom get you? Look around, sister. Our city lies in ruins, our people divided. You were only able to win this war because of him," she spat, nodding toward Clark. "An outsider. Without his help, you would have fallen, just as I predicted."

Nuada's gaze shifted to Clark for a moment, acknowledging the truth in Bres's words. But when she looked back at her sister, her resolve was unshaken. "Kal-El came to our aid, yes, but it was the strength of our people and the righteousness of our cause that carried us to victory. You sought to divide us, to rule through fear. That is why you lost, Bres."

Bres's expression faltered for a moment, a flash of something—regret, perhaps—crossing her features. But it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the steely mask of defiance she had worn throughout the war. "Do what you will, sister. But know this: I will never accept your rule."

Nuada sighed, her heart heavy with the weight of what had to be done. "Then you leave me no choice."

With a gesture, Nuada signaled to the royal guards, who stepped forward to take Bres away. As they led her out of the throne room, Bres cast one last, defiant look over her shoulder. "This is not the end, Nuada. You may have won today, but I will return. And when I do, you will fall."

Nuada watched her sister being led away, the echoes of her defiant words lingering in the air. The throne room was silent once more, the weight of the victory heavy on everyone present.

—

The aftermath of the battle was a mixture of relief and celebration. The loyalists, though weary from the fight, rejoiced in their victory. Nuada's rule was secure, and Thierna Na Oge would know peace once more. The palace, now under Nuada's control, was filled with the sounds of laughter and song as the soldiers celebrated their hard-won victory.

Clark, ever the outsider, watched from the edge of the festivities. He had played his part in the battle, and now he waited for the moment that had brought him to Atlantis in the first place.

Later, in the quiet of her private chambers, King Nuada Silverhand summoned Clark. The beautiful ruler, her silver hair flowing like liquid moonlight, regarded him with gratitude and respect. She understood the value of the ally she had gained in Kal-El, and she was a ruler who honored her promises.

"For your bravery, for your strength, and for your aid in securing the future of Thierna Na Oge, I offer you this," Nuada said, her voice regal and kind. She held out a small, glowing object—the Orichalcum that Clark had fought so hard to obtain. The metal pulsed with a gentle, otherworldly light, its power resonating in the depths of the ocean.

Clark accepted the Orichalcum with a bow of his head, his heart swelling with a sense of accomplishment. The quest that had taken him so far from home had finally borne fruit. This was the material that would protect him against magic, a tool that would prove invaluable in the battles yet to come.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Clark said, his voice sincere. "I will honor this gift and use it wisely."

Nuada smiled, a soft, knowing smile that spoke of a deep understanding between them. "I have no doubt that you will, Kal-El. May this Orichalcum serve you well in your journey."

As Clark left the chamber, the weight of the Orichalcum in his hand brought a smile to his lips.

The mission is complete.

---

With the Orichalcum securely in his possession, Clark boarded his spaceship and set a course for home.

The journey through the dark waters of the Atlantic and then up into the sky was smooth, his ship cutting through the depths and then ascending into the atmosphere with ease. But as he left the ocean behind, something unexpected happened.

BOOM!!

Without warning, the ship jolted violently, as if it had struck an invisible barrier. Alarms blared, and the controls flickered as the ship lost altitude rapidly. Clark, though momentarily startled, quickly regained his composure and tried to stabilize the vessel, but the mysterious force had taken control. The ship spiraled downward, crashing through the clouds and hurtling toward the Earth below.

The impact was jarring. The ship slammed into a sandy shore, skidding across the beach before coming to a shuddering halt. For a moment, there was only silence, broken by the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks.

Clark, with his superhuman resilience, bore the crash without much difficulty even without the suit's protection, immediately began assessing the situation.

"Homelander, report," Clark commanded, his voice steady despite the chaotic landing.

After a brief pause, Homelander's voice responded through the communicator,

[Clark, the ship's hull is intact, but several critical devices have malfunctioned. The impact triggered a series of failures. I estimate it will take some time to repair the systems and restore full operational capabilities.]

Clark frowned, considering the implications. "Can you determine our current location?"

There was a brief pause as Homelander attempted to triangulate their position.

[I'm unable to pinpoint the exact location,] Homelander replied, frustration evident in its tone.

[There appears to be a magical barrier obstructing the satellite signal, making it impossible to obtain accurate coordinates.]

Clark's concern deepened. A magical barrier was no trivial matter. He needed more information. "SS, can you identify where we are?"

As SS began to scan for details, Clark unbuckled himself from the pilot's seat and exited the spacecraft. As he stepped onto the sandy beach, the first thing he noticed was the gentle breeze carrying the scent of saltwater and wildflowers. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow across the landscape. It would have been a serene, almost idyllic scene, had it not been for the unexpected nature of his crash.

Just as SS was about to report its findings, Clark's attention was suddenly captured by something—or rather, someone—completely unexpected.

Standing a short distance away, on the edge of the treeline, was a girl. She was around his age, perhaps slightly younger, with long, flowing hair that shimmered like polished bronze in the fading sunlight. Her eyes, a striking shade of blue, were wide with curiosity and caution as she watched him from afar. She was dressed in an outfit unlike anything Clark had ever seen—elegant yet practical, with intricate designs that spoke of a culture far removed from anything on the surface world.

Clark felt a momentary breath catch in his throat. He had encountered many people in his young life, but there was something about this girl that was different—something captivating. Her beauty was undeniable, but it was the aura of strength and grace she exuded that truly caught his attention.

Before he could fully process what he was seeing, SS's voice came through his communicator, [Clark, we appear to be on—]

But Clark wasn't listening. He was too mesmerized by the girl standing before him, who now stepped forward, her movements fluid and cautious, like a wild animal observing a potential threat. She said nothing, but her eyes never left him, as if trying to assess whether he was friend or foe.

Clark, unsure of how to proceed, raised his hand in a gesture of peace, hoping to convey that he meant no harm. "I'm sorry about the crash," he began, his voice calm but slightly hesitant. "I didn't mean to intrude."

The girl's brow furrowed in confusion at his words. She clearly did not understand English, and Clark could see the bewilderment in her eyes as she tried to make sense of what he was saying. The tension in the air thickened as the two stood there, both uncertain of what would happen next.

After a moment, the girl spoke, her voice soft but firm, the words foreign to Clark but filled with a commanding presence. "Τίς εì σὺ, καὶ πìς εìδον èς τήνδε νñσον äνδρα;" ("Who are you, and how is it that a man has come to this island?")

Then the word of SS reminded him again.

[Repeat, we are currently on Themyscira, the paradise island.]

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