King of the Seven Seas (EMH) Chapter 17: The Black Manta Attacks (3)

[Third Person POV]

Arthur shifted his body just in time, twisting to the side as a grabbing hook whizzed past him. The metal claw screeched against the stone wall, embedding itself deep with a sharp clank. Arthur’s head snapped back to trace the line of the cable, and his gaze landed on the source—Black Manta, hurtling forward with his rocket thrusters roaring like thunder, sparks of fire trailing in his wake.

Arthur didn’t hesitate. He pivoted, slipping into another evasive move, forcing Manta to adjust. Manta’s armored boots struck the wall with a resounding crack, anchoring him in place for only a second before he kicked off, using the momentum to flip through the air with predatory grace. As he spun, he unsheathed his weapons—two massive obsidian-colored daggers that caught the light with a deadly gleam.

Arthur’s instincts screamed. He leapt backward just as Manta crashed down where he had been standing. The villain’s blades stabbed into the cracked asphalt with a violent crunch, chunks of debris scattering across the road. Without pause, Manta ripped them free, his glowing red visor fixed squarely on his foe.

A low hum filled the air as Manta dragged the edge of one dagger across his gauntlet. Sparks of electricity erupted along the blade, crackling viciously. He repeated the ritual with the second dagger until both weapons were surging with arcs of lightning.

“That was a cheap shot,” Manta scoffed through his modulator, the voice metallic and venomous.

Arthur prepared himself, eyes narrowing. “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that,” he shot back.

They lunged. Manta twirled his daggers in a deadly flourish before charging in, his boots igniting the ground with bursts of flame. Arthur caught the first strike, seizing Manta’s wrist inches from his face. The second blade came for his gut, but Arthur intercepted it too, muscles straining against the thrumming energy running along the edges. He roared and drove his boot into Manta’s chest, launching him backward.

But Manta wasn’t so easily thrown off. His thrusters flared, halting his momentum midair, and he came hurtling forward again, daggers cleaving wildly. Arthur braced, blocking strike after strike with his forearms, swatting the blade away before it could reach him. The ferocity of the assault forced him back, his heels dragging lines across the pavement—until Manta’s helmet suddenly flared with light.

The optic blast struck him square in the chest.

“Ughhh!!” Arthur grunted, his body rocketing backward from the sheer force. Before he could recover, Manta was already there, boot thrusters screaming, delivering a brutal spinning kick across Arthur’s jaw. The impact detonated like a shockwave, rattling windows as Arthur’s blood sprayed across the street.

Manta twisted again for a follow-up kick, but Arthur was ready this time. He caught the incoming leg with his forearm, trapping it under his arm, and with a savage growl he swung Manta around and slammed him into the nearest wall. The building cracked like dry wood, fragments raining down as Arthur drove his knee forward, carrying both of them straight through the structure—crashing into a dining room where a family sat frozen mid-breakfast.

The family screamed in terror, plates and cups clattering to the floor.

“Sorry! Good morning! Enjoy your breakfast!” Arthur blurted, even as he drove his boot into Manta’s chest, sending him flying through the living room wall.

Arthur gave chase immediately, but Manta corrected himself midair, his boots roaring as the flames shifted from red to an ominous blue. The acceleration tore through the air like a jet. In a flash, Manta tackled Arthur, carrying him out of the house and into the sky.

Arthur hammered his fists into Manta’s helmet, each strike ringing like a gong.

“ARGHHH!!” he bellowed as Manta’s dagger drove into his side, the blade sizzling with electricity. Agonizing currents tore through his body, his muscles seizing violently.

“AAAAHHH!!” Arthur roared, his teeth grinding as he tried to fight the paralysis creeping into his limbs.

Through sheer willpower, he raised both hands above his head and clasped them together, slamming them down across Manta’s armored back.

“ACK!!” Manta snarled, losing control for a moment. He slipped down Arthur’s frame but, before falling, clamped onto Arthur’s legs.

The thrusters flared again, and suddenly they were spinning—two blurs, black and blond entwined. The centrifugal force built until Manta swung Arthur down with bone-crushing velocity. Arthur was flung from the heavens, crashing through the ornate roof of a tourist castle below.

“Arthur!!” Mera’s worried voice echoed from the distance. She tried to push forward, but her focus cost her. A fist slammed across her jaw, a blade carved a bloody arc along her torso, and a laser seared into her thigh all in one relentless combination.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s body smashed through the decorative interior of the castle. The stone walls buckled under his impact, the ceiling collapsing in a rain of dust and debris. He rolled across the shattered floor, coughing violently before spitting up a mouthful of blood. His hand instinctively cradled the dagger still lodged deep in his side, his face twisting with pain.

Then—whoooosh. The roar of Manta’s thrusters grew louder. Arthur somersaulted back just in time as Manta came crashing down, his armored fist punching into the ground where Arthur had stood.

Arthur grimaced, grabbing hold of the dagger in his side. With a guttural groan, he tore it free. Blood poured down his torso in rivulets, splattering onto the cracked floor beneath him, painting his entire flank a deep crimson.

Black Manta fired his grappling hook with a thunderous thwip, the steel claw tearing through the air before embedding deep into Arthur’s thigh. The prongs dug through flesh and muscle, and Arthur’s body jolted violently as white-hot pain lanced up his leg.

“GAHHHHH!” Arthur cried out, staggering back as blood began pouring freely from the wound. His hand shot down instinctively, gripping the line with trembling fingers slick with his own blood. With a snarl, he wrenched it free from his thigh, ripping it out with a sickening shhhk.

His breaths came ragged, sweat dripping down his burned chest, but Arthur didn’t stop. He wrapped the length of the cable around his fist like a chain, planting his other hand firmly on the line. His body tensed like a drawn bow before he pulled.

The muscles along his arms and shoulders bulged, veins straining against charred skin as he tried to drag Manta closer. Manta, refusing to be reeled in like a fish, ignited his rocket boots, the blue flames screaming louder as he pushed back against Arthur’s strength. For a moment they were locked in a brutal stalemate, sparks raining from the grinding cable as both men refused to yield.

Arthur dug his foot into the cracked ground, crushing stone beneath his heel as he anchored himself. Slowly, agonizingly, he began to pull Manta closer, inch by inch.

Manta’s red eyes flared brighter, building to a fiery crescendo. His helmet vibrated with power before unleashing another optic blast—a concentrated beam of searing energy that tore straight into Arthur’s chest.

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!” Arthur’s roar ripped through the ruined castle as his entire torso ignited with raw agony. His skin bubbled, blistered, and burned, yet still his grip on the cable held firm. His body convulsed against the heat, but his willpower anchored him just as solidly as his foot pressed into the ground.

Refusing to relent, he gave one final, savage pull. With a roar born of fury and pain, Arthur yanked Manta straight off his thrusters and dragged him hurtling forward like a missile.

The optic blast seared dangerously close, nearly clipping Arthur’s face, but he ducked at the last possible second. Manta, carried by his own momentum, flew straight into Arthur’s rising uppercut.

Arthur’s roar matched the sound of impact as his knuckles connected with the black helmet. The mask cracked instantly, a sharp spiderweb fissure spreading across its surface—then it shattered entirely in a violent explosion of glassy shards.

For the first time, Arthur saw the man behind the machine. A much older face than he expected stared at him, wide-eyed in stunned disbelief.

Arthur didn’t pause. His fist, already burning with rage, smashed directly into Manta’s unprotected face. The blow detonated with the force of a cannon, releasing a shockwave so powerful that every loose stone and piece of rubble around them blasted outward in a roaring cyclone of dust and wind.

Manta’s blood sprayed into the air as his body was launched like a ragdoll, tumbling end over end. He became a blur of black armor and red streaks, smashing into the massive wooden castle doors with bone-crushing force. The doors splintered and cracked apart, vomiting him back out into the open daylight.

Arthur collapsed to one knee, gasping, his chest rising and falling with ragged, shallow breaths. His body was a canvas of agony—his entire front charred black and raw, skin peeling, muscles seared and flaking. Blood dripped steadily from the stab wound in his side, streaking down his abdomen to soak into the dust.

He coughed hard, spitting blood onto the floor, before tearing at what was left of his shirt. He stripped it from his burned frame, wincing as fabric peeled against raw skin, and quickly wound it around his waist. He tied it tightly over the stab wound, his hands trembling but deliberate as he pulled the fabric taut until it was already dyed a deep crimson.

Arthur bent down, his fingers brushing the knife that had been buried in his side only minutes ago. He lifted it slowly, spinning it once in his palm before flicking his wrist, sending the blade flipping through the air in a graceful arc. It landed perfectly back in his grip, reversed and ready for war.

He dragged his hand through his sweat-and-blood-soaked blond hair, slicking it back out of his eyes. His piercing blue gaze burned coldly now, locked forward, no trace of hesitation in them. His steps started slow, deliberate, before his posture dipped forward into a low, deadly stance.

Then, with the precision of a predator, Arthur broke into a sprint, every muscle driving him forward, his target already decided.

Black Manta was going to fall.