Chapter 80: It has begun

In the cold reaches of deep space, Darkseid's war fleet moved with an unstoppable force, trailing behind the massive flagship that housed the Lord of Apokolips himself. The armada's dark hulls glistened like shadows of death against the starlit abyss.

Each warship belonged to a general of Darkseid's army, each one a fearsome conqueror in their own right, tasked with preparing their troops for the invasion of Earth.

-

-

Within the bowels of his ship, Kalibak—the brutish son of Darkseid—oversaw his Parademon legions. The air in his warship was thick with the stench of sulphur and sweat, filled with the clanking of iron as the Parademons armoured themselves for war.

His warship, aptly named The Hammer of Apokolips, was the largest of the fleet behind his father's, designed purely for devastation.

Kalibak strode across the deck, his hulking form dwarfing even the largest of his warriors. His thick hands gripped the cosmic mace he wielded as his eyes burned with the same cruel hunger for destruction that fuelled him in every battle.

"Prepare yourselves!" he growled to the soldiers. His voice rumbled through the ship like an earthquake.

"The blood of Earth's champions will stain your claws! And their cities will burn under our rule!"

The Parademons shrieked and howled in response, their leathery wings flapping as they salivated at the thought of the carnage to come. Kalibak smirked, his bloodlust rising. Earth would fall, and he would be the one to shatter its heroes beneath his feet.

His ship was armed with an arsenal that could level continents—ion cannons, gravity bombs, and enough firepower to turn oceans into barren craters.

But the real weapon was Kalibak himself, a beast of unrelenting fury. He was ready.

In stark contrast to Kalibak's brutality, Granny Goodness prepared her warriors with a sinister and methodical cruelty. Her warship, The Maiden's Cruelty, was a fortress of psychological and physical torment.

Inside, the Female Furies were preparing for battle under her watchful gaze.

"Don't let your excitement make you sloppy, my little Furies," Granny purred, her voice like venom wrapped in honey. "Earth's heroes are not to be underestimated, but they will break before our might. We'll remind them of what true suffering feels like."

Her Furies—Lashina, Mad Harriet, Bernadeth, and Stompa—each prepared in their unique ways. Lashina tightened her steel whips, Stompa calibrated her shockwave boots, and Bernadeth's cruel smile grew wider as she sharpened her Fahren-knife.

Granny moved through them like a mother preparing her children for a special event, though her smile never quite reached her eyes.

"Do not forget, darlings," she continued, "we have a mission beyond simply crushing Earth's defenders. Darkseid seeks total submission, and we will deliver it."

In the deep chambers of the ship, other recruits—warriors broken and rebuilt by Granny's cruel conditioning—stood in formation, ready to spill blood at her command.

She would unleash them all on Earth and enjoy the chaos they wrought.

-

-

Steppenwolf, Darkseid's trusted general and uncle, was in his private quarters aboard The Endbringer, the most strategic warship in the fleet. Unlike Kalibak, who thrived on brute strength, and Granny Goodness, who enjoyed manipulation, Steppenwolf was a tactician.

He studied Earth's defences, mapping out its weak points, while his elite soldiers—the dog-like Hunger Dogs—prepared for war in the training halls.

"Earth has many champions," Steppenwolf mused to his second-in-command, "but all of them are predictable. They rely on their ideals, their hope. Hope is a brittle thing when faced with the overwhelming power of Apokolips."

His ship was armed with highly precise energy cannons, capable of targeting cities and military installations with devastating accuracy.

Steppenwolf believed in efficiency, not wasteful destruction. His soldiers, the Hunger Dogs, were trained for surgical strikes, meant to infiltrate and destabilise key targets before any real battle even began.

Steppenwolf activated the ship's holographic projector, showing Earth.

"We'll target their capital cities first, demoralise them. Let Kalibak's brutes tear through the rest. And when their heroes rise to fight us, I will be ready."

-

In the darkest corner of the fleet, Desaad, the sadistic torturer and master of Darkseid's science division, prepared aboard his warship Agony's Grasp.

The ship was less a war machine and more a laboratory of horrors, filled with twisted experiments and terrifying weapons designed to break the will of even the strongest opponents.

Desaad stood before one of his latest creations—a torture device meant to drain the life-force from living beings, leaving them as hollow husks. He grinned to himself, his gaunt features twisted into an expression of satisfaction.

"Earth is full of weak minds, ripe for breaking," Desaad whispered to the grotesque creatures that worked alongside him.

"Their heroes will scream in agony before the might of Apokolips. And I will enjoy every second of it."

His warship was equipped with bio-weapons, psychological warfare technology, and fear-inducing machines designed to cause chaos among Earth's population.

Desaad had no interest in direct combat—his strength lay in breaking the minds and spirits of his enemies.

As his twisted experiments hissed and bubbled in the background, Desaad began mentally preparing for the invasion. He envisioned the Earth's heroes at his mercy, pleading for release.

He would ensure that when the dust settled, nothing remained but broken souls.

-

-

-

As the preparations were underway in each of the warships, a signal rang through the entire fleet. It was a summons. Darkseid was calling.

In the throne room of his massive flagship, The Final Judgment, Darkseid sat on his obsidian throne, his eyes glowing with the fiery Omega Effect. The room itself seemed to pulse with the raw power of his presence, a dark aura that suffocated even the strongest of wills.

One by one, the warlords appeared before him—Kalibak, Steppenwolf, Granny Goodness, and Desaad—each bowing their heads in reverence and fear. They stood in silence as Darkseid surveyed them, his gaze piercing through their very beings.

"My loyal servants," Darkseid's voice boomed, carrying the weight of inevitability. "The time has come to show Earth the true meaning of despair. Their heroes will fall. Their hope will crumble. And the Anti-Life Equation will finally be mine."

He rose from his throne, towering over them all. "You have each been given your orders. Kalibak, you will lead the frontal assault. Steppenwolf, target their strategic weaknesses. Granny Goodness, ensure that their champions are broken. And Desaad..." Darkseid smiled cruelly.

"You will feast on their fear."

The warlords nodded, their loyalty unwavering. They knew that failure was not an option. Darkseid's will was absolute.

"Go now," Darkseid commanded, his voice like the tolling of a death knell. "Prepare your forces. The invasion of Earth begins soon, and nothing will stand in my way."

As the warlords dispersed to their respective ships, the fleet surged forward through the void, the dark shadow of Apokolips descending upon Earth.

-

-

-

[Elsewhere]

Aboard the Sanctuary II, the colossal dreadnought that cut through the fabric of space like a silent harbinger of doom, Thanos, the Mad Titan, stood at the helm. T

he vast, dark expanse of his war room buzzed with activity, but the figure at its centre remained unnervingly still, his back turned to the bustling crew.

His eyes, glowing with a cold, calculating light, were fixed on a holographic display before him—the unmistakable shape of Darkseid's warfleet mobilising towards Earth.

Thanos' grimace deepened as he observed the numerous ships gathering, each one larger and more menacing than the last.

The heralds of Apokolips—Kalibak, Granny Goodness, Steppenwolf, Desaad—had all been mobilised for one singular purpose: Earth.

And while Darkseid's invasion was no surprise to Thanos, the timing infuriated him.

"Darkseid..." Thanos growled, his voice as deep as the void itself. His enormous fists clenched at his sides, the sound of cracking knuckles filling the silent war room.

He had been preparing for this moment for years—the moment when he would claim the Infinity Stones. He had spent eons strategising, studying the powers that be, and waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And now, at the crucial point when he was ready to execute his plan, Darkseid had moved, forcing Thanos to accelerate his timetable.

Worse yet, Darkseid had the audacity to invade his target—Earth despite his warnings.

Thanos' teeth bared in a snarl as the anger coursed through his veins. He would not let Darkseid's arrogance go unpunished. The Mad Titan might have seen this as a challenge, a test of wills between the two most feared conquerors in the universe.

However, to Thanos, there was no question—Darkseid needed to be taught his place.

"Prepare the communications feed," Thanos commanded, his voice a low rumble of controlled fury. His loyal servant, Corvus Glaive, moved swiftly to comply, knowing better than to question his master's wrath.

Within moments, the figure of Darkseid appeared on the holo-communication screen, seated upon his throne aboard The Final Judgment.

His face was as cold and expressionless as the stone that lined the throne room.

"Thanos," Darkseid said...

=========================================================

[A/N I didn't know that writing a novel required such extensive research. Ugh~. Am tired]