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The Milwaukee Deep!
The deepest point of the Atlantic Ocean.
If anyone could somehow breach the seafloor at the very bottom of this abyss, they would discover—to their utter astonishment—an entirely separate underwater world hidden beneath.
And there, nestled within that secret realm, lay the undersea kingdom of Talokan.
Beneath a crystalline dome that gleamed like transparent quartz, the city sprawled in magnificent splendor. Crystal palaces rose in clusters, radiating a soft cerulean glow.
An opulent palace complex fit for royalty.
For thousands of years, the Talokanil—descendants of those who had fled the surface world long ago—had made this place their home.
The citizens lived lives of leisure and comfort, knowing neither hardship nor suffering.
But today, many found themselves staring upward at the crystalline dome overhead with expressions of curiosity and confusion.
After all—
In the memories of the eldest Talokanil, this protective barrier had only ever been activated during times of extreme crisis.
And ever since their king—Namor McKenzie—had risen to power, the dome had never been raised.
Their king had declared it himself, with absolute confidence:
'From this day forward, Talokan has no need for defense. Only offense.'
So why today?
Just as some of the elder Talokanil were lost in thought, gazing at the activated dome—
Without warning.
A searing column of crimson light tore through the water above.
RRRRUUUUMMMMBLE—
The blazing pillar parted the crushing ocean like a blade through flesh, its roar echoing through the depths. Under the horrified eyes of countless Talokanil, it descended like a falling meteor—slamming into Talokan's energy shield.
In an instant!
The entire city shook violently. Alarms shrieked through the water.
The sound was piercing—like a tsunami given voice!
"NAMOR!"
"COME OUT AND DIE!"
Following the crimson pillar came a figure clutching a trident—Hawk, who had tracked down this hidden sanctuary.
No seawater touched him. Telekinesis served as his barrier.
Hawk's voice was low, but it carried—piercing through Talokan's protective shell, resonating in every corner of the city.
The Talokanil didn't recognize Hawk.
But they recognized the weapon in his hand.
"Wait—isn't that our king's divine artifact?"
"Why does he have the king's trident?"
"Who is he?"
"He's a surface dweller!"
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
"Look!"
"The King!"
Just as the citizens whispered and pointed at the trident, countless streaks of light burst from Talokan's royal palace.
Namor emerged in full battle regalia—Vibranium armor encasing his entire body without a single gap, winged anklets sprouting from his feet.
Behind him came an entire company of Talokan's elite warriors.
These humanoid soldiers wielded sonic spears capable of shattering diamond through resonance. They were armed to the teeth, looking every bit the part of—
Utterly insignificant cannon fodder.
Hawk's gaze swept over the pathetic excuse for a fighting force. He ignored the hydraulic cannons rising from crystal structures below, fixing his attention solely on Namor. His expression was radiant—practically gleeful.
"I'll give you one chance!"
"Kneel before your people."
"And I might consider not slaughtering your entire tribe."
As everyone knew—
Hawk was a man of his word.
But did Namor and his Talokanil count as people?
Not really.
At the very least, if brought before the United Nations, Talokan would never be classified as a human nation.
So—
'Kneel or not, they all die anyway.'
He wasn't saying this for any particular reason. He just wanted to humiliate Namor one more time.
Unfortunately, Namor didn't take the bait.
After all—fool me once, shame on you.
Namor heard Hawk's words and let out a cold laugh.
"I never expected you to find this place. But since you're here—you can stay forever."
As he spoke—
A battle cry erupted from behind Hawk.
Unnoticed until now, three Talokan warriors had merged with the surrounding water—camouflaged, invisible. At the signal, they burst from concealment, sonic spears thrust toward Hawk's back. Weapons capable of pulverizing diamond through vibration alone.
Hawk didn't even turn around. He simply spread his arms wide.
FWOOOOSH!
Searing crimson flames exploded from his body in an expanding ring. In the blink of an eye, the three warriors' sonic spears liquefied instantly.
As for the warriors themselves?
Engulfed in that blazing inferno, they were reduced to bleached skeletons in less than a heartbeat.
Namor's pupils contracted.
"KILL HIM!"
"KILL!"
"SURFACE DWELLER—DIE!"
"TRESPASS INTO TALOKAN? DEATH!"
"LONG LIVE TALOKAN!"
At Namor's command, the elite warriors who had been chomping at the bit charged forward with deafening war cries, flooding toward Hawk like a tidal wave.
Hawk watched the approaching horde.
He didn't throw a punch.
Instead, he leaned forward—and drew his newly acquired weapon.
The Trident of the Seas.
Sure, using fists would be faster.
But using the trident? That was psychological warfare.
As Hawk wove through the ranks of Talokan's finest, their own sacred weapon became the instrument of their destruction. The trident that had once belonged to their king plunged in and out of body after body.
Each thrust claimed a life.
Blood poured from wounds left by the divine weapon, and in less than three minutes, the crimson tide had transformed Talokan's crystalline dome into a canopy of red.
Anyone looking up from inside the city would see—
A sky drenched in blood.
Namor hadn't left the dome. He hovered just beneath its surface, right hand extended toward the battle, eyes locked onto the trident in Hawk's grip—his trident—as he desperately tried to recall it.
But—
The weapon's response could best be described as: new number, who dis?
As warrior after warrior fell to its prongs, the trident hummed with excitement.
Not for Namor.
For Hawk.
Here's the thing—
This was Poseidon's weapon. A divine instrument forged for conquest. It had once accompanied the God of the Seas across countless battlefields.
And what had Namor done with it?
Despite possessing innate oceanic power, the fool had never once tried to develop that power on his own. He'd treated the trident as nothing more than a conduit—a crutch to channel abilities he was too lazy to master himself.
Pathetic.
Worse still—this was a weapon of WAR. And how had Namor used it?
To catch fish.
To intimidate ordinary sailors.
Are you KIDDING me?
I'm a DIVINE ARTIFACT! I crave battle! I LIVE for slaughter!
Sure, Namor had eventually used it in combat.
And what happened? It got slapped out of his hands by Hawk. Repeatedly.
Namor might not have felt humiliated.
But the trident sure as hell did.
If Poseidon himself had wielded this weapon, things would have been VERY different.
But now?
Now Hawk was using it like a halberd—mowing through Talokan's soldiers like a one-man dynasty warriors game. Every swing drew blood. Every thrust ended a life.
YES.
THIS is what I was made for! Use me! Pierce them! Destroy them!
So—
Namor who?
Don't know him. Never heard of him. Please don't contact this number again—my new master might get the wrong idea.
The trident hummed with pure joy.
...
"HRAAAGH!"
SPLURCH!
With one final, elegant stroke, Hawk bisected a Talokan warrior from crown to crotch.
Dark blood erupted, instantly dissolving into the surrounding water.
That was the last soldier foolish enough to face him.
The survivors—finally grasping the horror of Hawk's combat prowess—had retreated behind the crystalline dome, faces pale as death, staring at him as though witnessing a demon god.
In less than five minutes, Hawk had slaughtered two-thirds of their forces.
Using their own king's weapon.
The surviving warriors, now huddled within the dome's protection, finally seemed to remember something. Their eyes drifted toward their king.
Namor's face had gone utterly ashen.
Hawk twirled the trident with a flourish, then hooked it over his shoulder with his right hand. His breath was steady, his expression calm—but his eyes glittered with mockery as he regarded Namor.
"Last chance!"
"Kneel—and call me Master!"
"I might consider sparing your life!"
Might consider...
Consider didn't mean definitely.
As everyone knew.
Namor's expression was thunderous. He stared at the demon who had cornered them at their own doorstep, his voice low and hard.
"Talokan's shield isn't like Wakanda's pathetic barrier. You cannot breach it."
Hawk heard this. He looked at Namor.
His lips curved upward.
"Oh really?"
"Hmph!"
Namor snorted coldly.
Talokan's shield also utilized Vibranium technology—but it was the lost civilization's original Vibranium energy science. Far more advanced than anything Wakanda possessed.
So—
Namor had absolute faith in his shield.
Hawk observed Namor's confidence. He didn't bother arguing.
His body began to rise—slowly ascending under Namor's watchful gaze.
The next moment.
RIIIIIP!
Hawk's shirt exploded off his body, revealing his chiseled torso—every muscle carved like marble. His right palm turned skyward, fingers spread wide.
No choice.
His strongest technique didn't require armor.
It required removing it.
ROOOOOAAAAAR!
As Hawk assumed the stance, a resonant dragon's cry echoed through the entire abyss. Phantom fire dragons began to coil around his body—one after another—before converging into his upraised palm.
"I gave you a chance!"
"You didn't take it!"
"So be it!"
"Namor McKenzie."
"Watch closely—as I slaughter your entire tribe before your eyes."
"ROZAN—!"
"HUNDRED DRAGONS!"
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~# 70 Advanced Chapters Available on my Patreon!
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(Just remove the hyphen to access Patreon normally.)
~# Bonus Chapter every 300PS