King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 18: The Black Manta Attacks (End)

[Third Person POV]

Arthur appeared before Black Manta, gripping tightly onto Manta’s very own dagger. When their blades collided, sparks burst from the point of impact, bright flashes cutting through the air as steel ground against steel.

The two warriors darted across the town at blistering, inhuman speeds, their movements almost impossible for ordinary eyes to follow. They clashed along the rooftops of buildings, leaping from one to the next, each slash of their daggers sending tiles shattering beneath their feet. The sound of crumbling rooftops echoed through the streets as debris scattered down into the alleys below.

Arthur’s blade carved lines across Manta’s armor, marking his face with shallow cuts that bled freely, crimson dripping down his cheek. Manta, unfazed, pressed forward with murderous intent, every strike aimed directly at Arthur’s vitals—his throat, his heart, his stomach—each one a decisive blow meant to end the fight instantly. Arthur parried desperately, twisting his body with precise movements, bobbing, weaving, and even sucking in his stomach to narrowly avoid a fatal slash.

With a burst of aggression, Manta lunged forward, his dagger flashing toward Arthur’s throat. Arthur intercepted the strike with his own blade, the clash producing a screech so sharp it pierced the night air, sparks raining between their faces. Snarling, Arthur shoved Manta’s blade aside and unleashed a brutal uppercut with his free hand. His fist crashed into Manta’s jaw, staggering the mercenary backward. Arthur seized the opening, raining down powerful blows onto Manta’s armor, each strike reverberating with raw strength until fractures began to form across the once-impenetrable plating.

But Manta wasn’t finished. Regaining his balance, he roared and tackled Arthur with full force. The two combatants burst through a rooftop, stone and wood exploding around them, and after several bone-crushing impacts within, they erupted back out the other side of the building in a shower of rubble.

Black Manta drove Arthur into a sturdy wall with monstrous strength, the impact burying him halfway into the structure. Pinned, Arthur struggled as Manta raised his dagger, swinging across his neck with lethal precision.

Arthur caught the blade with one hand, straining against the force, while with his other he tried to maneuver his own dagger, only to find it caught by Manta’s grip. They became locked in a deadly stalemate, their bodies trembling, veins bulging, and teeth grinding as each pushed the other to the brink.

Then Arthur’s eyes shifted past Manta, catching sight of something that froze his blood cold—the wall they had burst through was toppling. Beneath it, a small boy stood in the street, looking around frantically. “Dad!? Where are you?!” the child shouted, his voice trembling in fear.

Arthur’s heart pounded. “AHHHHHHH!!” he roared, summoning every ounce of strength. He ripped his dagger hand free from Manta’s grip and, with a savage thrust, plunged the blade deep into Manta’s shoulder.

“ARGHHHH!!” Manta screamed in agony as Arthur twisted the dagger cruelly, forcing him back. With a powerful shove, Arthur slammed his fist into Manta’s cheek, sending the armored assassin ragdolling across the pavement, skidding violently along the sidewalk.

Without a second thought, Arthur sprinted toward the boy as the collapsing wall thundered downward. The child’s wide eyes reflected the descending shadow, fear locking him in place. Just as the massive structure was about to crush him, Arthur dove in, scooping the boy into his arms and rolling to safety. The wall came crashing down, exploding into a cloud of rubble where they had stood only a heartbeat before.

“My son!!” a man cried desperately, rushing forward.

Arthur quickly handed the boy over, saying firmly, “Here. Now get out of here while you can—it’s dangerous.”

The boy clung to his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. Tears ran down the man’s face as he whispered, “Thank you!” before retreating into the distance, holding his son protectively.

Arthur turned back just in time to see Black Manta barreling toward him, jet thrusters roaring. Manta slammed into him like a missile, the two of them flying past the retreating father and son. Manta lifted Arthur high before driving him into the ground with monstrous force. The asphalt split and erupted beneath the impact, Arthur’s body grinding through the earth in a violent trench before Manta finally stopped, pinning him beneath his crushing weight.

Grabbing Arthur by the face, Manta forced his head to the side. “Take a look, Aquaman~!” he jeered, drawing out Arthur’s name with venomous mockery.

Arthur’s face was mashed into the asphalt, but his eyes widened as he saw the horrifying sight laid before him. Bloodied, battered, and barely standing, was Mera. Her crimson hair was tangled and soaked with sweat and blood, her body riddled with bullet wounds and deep gashes that stained her torn clothing. She clutched a ruby trident, forged from her own blood and that of her enemies, the weapon pulsing faintly with a fading glow.

But her resistance was short-lived. She was forced down to one knee by a cruel strike. Her trident shattered under the weight of a single sword swing, dissolving back into liquid blood that splattered to the ground. A vicious slash tore across her chest, and she gasped in pain.

“AAAAAAH! MERA!!” Arthur’s voice broke as his blood boiled with rage, his heart pounding violently against his ribs. His gaze snapped back to Manta, his eyes burning with hatred so intense it seemed to ignite.

“Breaks your heart, doesn’t it?” Manta taunted, slamming a fist into Arthur’s face with such force that blood sprayed across the broken asphalt. “It just makes you despair…” He struck again, another thunderous punch cracking against Arthur’s jaw.

“And the best part?” Manta sneered, raising his dagger high, the blade gleaming menacingly. “It proves you’re too weak to save your precious little affair princess~.”

With a sadistic laugh, he drove the dagger down toward Arthur’s face.

Arthur grunted through clenched teeth as he caught the black dagger with his bare hands, stopping it only inches from his brow. The jagged edge trembled above his skin, so close he could feel the cold bite of its steel pressing against the air. Black Manta leaned his full weight into the blade, both hands locked tight on the handle as he forced it downward, inch by inch.

But Arthur’s focus faltered—his eyes drifted to the side.

There, on the bloodstained street, Mera knelt broken. Her head hung low, her long red hair matted with blood as it pooled around her. Her body shook as crimson trickled steadily from her wounds, every breath shallow and ragged. And standing before her—one of Manta’s soldiers, a Mantamen—lifted a sword overhead. The sunlight caught its blade, turning it into a glittering executioner’s guillotine poised to fall.

Arthur’s chest tightened.

“NOOOOO!!” he roared, veins bulging across his neck and arms as he summoned a monstrous surge of strength, pushing back against Manta’s weight with primal fury. His shout split the battlefield like a thunderclap.

Just as the executioner’s sword descended, a shadow swept across the ground—massive wings blotting out the sun. From the skies a black-winged stallion dove like a living spear of night, colliding with the Mantamen in a violent crash. The armored soldier was hurled through the air, smashing into a distant building before being swallowed by the rubble.

From the stallion’s back, a warrior leapt—an armored knight clad in obsidian steel trimmed with gold. A dark blade gleamed in his hand, his horned helm reflecting the light of the sun as he landed with predatory grace. Without hesitation he surged forward, his sword flashing in a merciless arc. A Mantamen fell before him, cleaved in two by a single strike, blood spraying across the cobblestones. The knight’s eyes—cold, unyielding—shifted toward his next prey.

Arthur, panting, dragged his gaze back to Manta, his voice guttural and savage. “You’re fucking dead… you fucking motherfucker.”

Manta tilted his head, momentarily taken aback by the sudden change in Arthur’s tone. With a roar he twisted violently, ripping the dagger free from Manta’s hands and flinging it to the ground where it embedded itself deep into the earth. His other hand shot to the hilt still lodged in Manta’s shoulder—Arthur pulled Manta down into a brutal headbutt. The crunch of breaking cartilage echoed as Manta’s nose burst, spraying blood across both their faces, staining Arthur’s forehead crimson.

Arthur’s fist followed immediately, crashing into Manta’s face with thunderous force and sending him flying sideways like a ragdoll.

Arthur staggered upright, clutching his side as hot blood poured between his fingers. He had used his ripped shirt earlier to stop the bleeding but it was useless—his strength was fading, his vision blurring. Still, he pushed forward.

He reached Manta, who was reeling and holding his shattered nose, and grabbed him by the head. With a roar Arthur slammed him into the wall, stone exploding outward as cracks spiderwebbed across it.

“HA!! HA!! HA!!” Arthur grunted like a beast, hammering his fists into Manta’s face again and again. Each blow sounded like a war drum, each strike splattering more blood across Arthur’s knuckles and cheeks. “HA!! HA!!”

Finally, Manta managed to block one punch and rammed his fist into Arthur’s side—directly into his bleeding wound. Pain lanced through him like fire. Arthur screamed, blood spilling freely.

“AAAAAAAHHHHH!!” he bellowed.

Grabbing the dagger on Blackmanta, Arthur slashed downward with all his rage, ripping the blade from Manta’s shoulder all the way across to his hip. Flesh and armor split apart in a hideous spray.

“ARGHHHHHH!!” Manta screamed, his cry torn from deep within his chest.

Arthur fell into a frenzy. He slashed again. And again. And again. Each strike wild, merciless, until Manta collapsed into the rubble, his body a mangled ruin. Arthur finally stopped, staggering back with his chest heaving, his breath labored and ragged. His vision swam, his body slick with blood—his and Manta’s.

On the wall, Manta lay broken, his swollen eyes barely open, his face unrecognizable from the punishment. His voice was nothing but a rasp. “M-Mercy…”

Arthur’s blue eyes glowed faintly beneath the shadow of his tangled hair. Cold. Merciless. His voice was an executioner’s decree:

“There is no greater mercy from me than death.”

Without hesitation, he drove the dagger straight into Manta’s heart.

The mercenary jerked once, then went still.

Arthur stumbled back, nearly collapsing. His legs shook, his body wobbling from blood loss. He dropped to one knee, clutching his side as warm crimson continued to spill through his fingers. The world tilted around him.

“Mera…” he called weakly, his voice breaking.

Across the battlefield, Mera stirred. Hearing his voice, her head lifted slightly from the blood-soaked ground. She groaned, her body trembling as she rolled onto her stomach. “Arthur…” she whispered, her own wound across her chest and stomach painting the earth in red.

Both of them, broken and dying, began crawling toward each other. Their arms dragged their bodies forward inch by inch, leaving thick trails of blood smeared across the street. The clashing of the Black Knight and Manta’s soldiers faded into nothingness around them. In this moment, only each other mattered.

Closer and Closer the two crawled.

Their trembling hands reached out, fingers stretching until at last they locked together, gripping tight with the last of their strength.

Their foreheads nearly touched. Their breaths came in haggard, shallow gasps. And then, at the same time, their exhausted bodies gave in.

They collapsed side by side in the middle of the road, their blood pooling beneath them, their hands still entwined.

The world around them raged on, but Arthur and Mera—together—fell into unconsciousness, clinging to each other even at the edge of death.