As War Woman battled Knight Lugh, their strikes reverberating through the streets without finding decisive openings in each other's defenses, the younger heroes launched into action under the command of Marie and the Immortal.
Marie led the charge, crimson light blazing around her as she rocketed into the fray like a missile. The sonic boom of her arrival scattered zealots like leaves caught in a storm. Her fists smashed through shields and shattered armor, every blow imbued with the raw power of Viltrumite blood. To the Order of Light, she was no mere opponent, she was the living embodiment of their worst fears, the devil's spawn their scriptures had forewarned.
Above the chaos, the Immortal's voice roared like a battle drum. "Hold the line! Keep the zealots away from the gates!" His centuries of combat experience infused his commands with unyielding authority, anchoring the team even as the enemy forces pressed closer.
Conor's shadows slithered behind Marie, swallowing the torchlight of the Order in an advancing tide of darkness. Explosions from Rex's charges thundered along the street's edges, throwing the zealots into confusion. Bulletproof smashed into their ranks with crushing force, his steady determination a stark contrast to Marie's fiery rage.
Together, they fought back the mob, but it was Marie who drove the charge, her relentless blows cutting bloody paths through the fanatics. Each cry of "Heretic!" only fueled her resolve, hardening her will with every clash.
The Order of Light had come to rid the world of demons, but in facing a Viltrumite, they had unknowingly summoned their own apocalypse.
The streets of Chicago erupted in chaos.
War Woman's shield clashed against Knight Lugh's radiant spear, sending shockwaves that shattered windows, cracked the asphalt, and drove the frenzied mob into a greater uproar. While their duel loomed as a spectacle of power, it was the sprawling conflict on the battlefield around them that would ultimately determine the city's fate.
The zealots of the Order of Light, clad in white and gold armor adorned with glowing runes, advanced like an unstoppable tide. Their fervent chants overpowered the wail of sirens and the cries of fear, their voices united in a fanatical belief that their cause alone guaranteed victory. Armed with blessed blades, shields engraved with holy symbols, and weapons radiating divine energy, they pushed the Global Defense Agency ever closer to the brink of war on its home soil.
The Guardians met them in full force.
At the forefront was Immortal, his towering frame and battle-scarred presence commanding the battlefield. His burning eyes, fueled by centuries of combat experience, locked onto the zealots with unrelenting fury. He wrenched a spear from one soldier's grasp, snapping it across his knee before hurling the man into a cluster of others with devastating strength. His thunderous voice cut through the cacophony.
"Does your faith make you invincible?!" he bellowed, slamming his fist into the ground, cratering the pavement and scattering the zealots like leaves in a storm. "I've buried crusades greater than yours before you even drew breath!"
For Immortal, this was a grim echo of battles past. Across centuries, he had faced countless zealots, those who claimed divine right to kill, to purge, to destroy. Though their words and armor had evolved, their arrogance and fanaticism remained unchanged. And Immortal had never suffered zealots lightly.
Above the chaos, Green Ghost flitted in and out of tangibility, her translucent form evading blades and arrows with ghostly ease. She wove through the ranks of zealots, her strikes landing with surgical precision when she solidified, her fists shattering armor and bone before she dissolved once more into an untouchable phantom.
A zealot shouted a prayer and swung a glowing hammer at her head, but it passed harmlessly through her intangible skull. Green Ghost leaned in close, her face mere inches from his, and whispered icily, "Boo." She became solid just long enough to deliver a devastating spinning kick that shattered his jaw before disappearing once more into the chaos.
Martian Man descended into the battle like a blazing green comet, his body morphing fluidly as his fists expanded to twice their size, smashing foes into the ground. When one zealot lunged at him with a spear of light, his torso dissolved into writhing tendrils of green matter, allowing the weapon to pass harmlessly through before reforming around it. His elongated arm wrapped around the zealot's neck, squeezing until the man slumped unconscious. His telepathic voice echoed across the battlefield, declaring, "They fight with conviction, but conviction alone will not stop us." Zealots clutched their heads, crying out as waves of psychic interference shattered their focus and broke their ranks.
Darkwing moved like a phantom, striking from the shadows. From the rooftops, his dark cape billowed as he hurled razor-sharp shuriken into the vulnerable joints of the zealots' armor. In the alleys, his smoke bombs enveloped squads in suffocating black fog. He attacked with precision, using his grappling hook to slam zealots into walls or drag them into the darkness. Fighting alongside him was his relentless protégé, a younger but equally formidable force. Where Darkwing was calculated, his protégé was ferocious, leaping acrobatically between enemies and wielding twin blades to carve through the gaps in their armor. Together, they were shadows incarnate, dismantling the zealot forces with surgical efficiency.
Meanwhile, Black Samson, a visitor to the GDA, wreaked havoc with sheer brute strength. His energy-charged gauntlets crackled as he struck, each blow sending shockwaves through the zealots' ranks. He grabbed one enemy by the chest plate, hoisted him effortlessly overhead, and hurled him like a missile into the throng.
"I didn't come here for a damn war," he growled, crushing a zealot's shield with his gauntlet before backhanding the man into unconsciousness. "But if you bring it to my doorstep, you better be ready to pay for it."
And then the Teen Team arrived.
Marie descended on the zealots with terrifying speed, her Viltrumite strength turning her into a crimson blur of destruction. Shields crumpled beneath her blows, bones snapped like brittle twigs. Every strike was lethal, every motion deliberate. She fought not like a human but like a predator, instinctive, ruthless, and efficient. Blood splattered across her knuckles as she drove another zealot into the pavement. Their cries of "Heretic!" only fueled her rage, each insult feeding the inferno in her chest.
At her side, Conor unleashed his shadows in a surging tide, swallowing entire squads in suffocating darkness. From within the black void came the sounds of snapping bones and strangled cries, only for Conor to reemerge, hands slick with blood, his eyes burning like smoldering coals beneath the smoky shroud that enveloped him.
Rex lobbed grenades into clusters of zealots, the explosions carving craters into the street and hurling armored bodies into the air. He cursed with every throw, his laughter blending with fury as he fought with the reckless abandon of someone who knew there was no room for subtlety here.
Robot hovered over the battlefield, his drones releasing precise plasma bursts. Each shot was meticulously calculated, aiming to be non-lethal whenever possible, yet efficient enough to disable weapons, scorch armor, and neutralize threats before they breached the line. His voice resonated through their comms, calm and commanding. "Maintain formation. Marie, forty-three, incoming from the east. Conor, brace yourself, archers are targeting you."
Santana moved like a streak of liquid lightning, her speed blurring her outline as she wove through the ranks of zealots. Her fists struck with blinding precision, landing dozens of blows in the span of a heartbeat. She tore through their formation, snapping weapons in half before the bearers even registered her presence.
The street erupted into a maelstrom of chaos. Heroes clashed with zealots in relentless waves, faith meeting fury, conviction colliding with unbridled power. At the heart of the battlefield, the duel between War Woman and Knight Lugh raged on, each thunderous strike echoing like a bell tolling destruction.
Yet it was the younger heroes, led by Marie and fortified by the Immortal, who stood firm and held the line.
In the shadows, however, Conor's battle was only just beginning.
The battlefield churned like a tempestuous sea, chaos rippling through every corner.
Despite the Guardians' relentless assault, the Order of Light held firm. For every zealot Marie struck down, two more surged forward to fill the void. For every squad Conor pulled into his shadows, another emerged from the smoke, their chants echoing as though sheer faith could shield them from harm.
From within their ranks, champions began to rise.
A towering zealot, resplendent in gilded armor, strode through the melee, wielding a two-handed blade of radiant energy. His voice thundered above the clamor.
"Behold the wrath of God, heathen!"
The massive blade descended like a guillotine, forcing Immortal to meet it head-on. Their collision shook the street, sparks flying as steel clashed with indomitable flesh. Immortal's gaze sharpened.
"Faith in a shiny sword won't save you," he snarled, seizing the weapon's edge with bleeding hands. Light seared his palms, but with a roar, he wrenched the blade aside and drove his forehead into Luminar's helm. The zealot reeled, blood spurting from his shattered nose.
Immortal followed up with a crushing haymaker that sent Luminar crashing through a church wall.
Overhead, Robot's drones hovered in tight formation, delivering precise volleys to decimate the zealot archers. Yet the Order adapted swiftly. A group of robed clerics raised their hands toward the sky, chanting in unison. A shimmering dome of golden light enveloped their forces, deflecting Robot's attacks.
"Adaptive tactics detected," Robot murmured, his visor narrowing. His fingers danced across the holographic controls on his forearm. "Initiating countermeasure protocols."
The drones dispersed, encircling the dome and focusing their fire on a single point. The barrier cracked and shattered like brittle glass, leaving the zealots exposed to a barrage of plasma fire that rained destruction upon them.
Meanwhile, Santana moved like a tempest unleashed. She weaved through the ranks of zealots with blistering speed, leaving trails of turbulence and fleeting afterimages in her wake. One zealot fell victim to her rapid strikes, twenty blows in less than a second left his armor crumpled and his body collapsing, blood filling his lungs. Another zealot raised a shield in defense, but Santana tore it from his grasp, spun with lethal precision, and hurled it like a discus, severing the head of his comrade.
"Too slow!" she taunted, a feral grin cutting across her face.
Her confidence wavered, however, when a zealot priest raised his staff and began chanting. Bands of golden energy shot out like ensnaring nets, coiling around her legs mid-stride. The sudden restraint sent her sprawling across the asphalt, momentum dragging her through shards of broken glass.
The zealot priest sneered triumphantly. "Even the swiftest fall before the Light."
His words were cut short as Conor emerged from the shadows, a blade forged of condensed darkness piercing through his chest. His voice was a low growl.
"Your Light isn't fast enough."
Darkwing and his protégé moved like specters, dismantling zealot squads with precision and terror. From above, Darkwing released smoke pellets, shrouding the battlefield and disorienting the zealots, while his protégé descended into the chaos, twin blades slashing throats and severing tendons with cold efficiency.
"Eyes up!" Darkwing commanded, throwing a weighted bola that coiled tightly around a zealot's legs, sending him crashing to the ground. His protégé vaulted over the fallen zealot, delivering a crushing stomp that snapped his spine.
They fought as predators, one spreading dread from the shadows, the other executing with ruthless speed in the ensuing chaos. Together, they carved a brutal path toward War Woman's duel, eliminating zealots poised to interfere.
War Woman and Knight Lugh clashed in a duel that consumed everything around them. Her shield met his spear in a relentless storm of devastating strikes, each impact sending sparks and golden light scattering. Her arms throbbed under the unrelenting force of his blows, yet her jaw remained clenched, her spirit unyielding.
"You won't win here," she growled, slamming her shield into his face and drawing blood.
Knight Lugh wiped the crimson from his lips, grinning. "Victory is irrelevant. I need only endure, until your world understands the truth."
His spear blazed as he struck with such power that her shield split down the middle, cracks radiating outward in jagged lines. War Woman's eyes widened as the force pushed her back, her boots carving deep grooves into the asphalt.
Still, she refused to fall. Roaring, she swung her fractured shield into his temple, staggering him, and her sword followed with a flash, leaving a crimson gash across his chest.
"You'll endure nothing but death!"
Amid the chaos, Marie became the embodiment of fury.
Zealots surged toward her from every direction, wielding radiant spears and luminous blades. She deflected their attacks, shattered skulls with single punches, and tossed their bodies like broken dolls. One zealot screamed as she tore his arm off and hurled it through the chest of another.
Her snarl deepened, blood splattered across her face as she drove her knee into a zealot's jaw, shattering it. The man crumpled at her feet, twitching, as she turned toward her next target.
"Heretic!" bellowed one zealot, raising a glowing blade.
Marie caught the weapon with her bare hands, snapping it effortlessly as if it were glass. She seized the zealot by the throat, lifting him high into the air. Her voice was low, icy, and filled with menace.
"Say it again."
Before he could respond, she slammed him into the pavement with such force that the ground caved in, leaving his body twitching lifelessly in the crater.
Meanwhile, Green Ghost appeared where the zealots least expected. She weaved through their ranks, intangible and untouchable, before materializing to strike at pressure points and throats. A squad encircled her, their weapons glowing as they chanted.
"You cannot strike what you cannot touch," she taunted, phasing through their blades. "But I can touch you."
Her fists blurred as she solidified, shattering kneecaps and ribs in a whirlwind of blows. By the time she vanished again, a half-dozen zealots lay groaning and writhing in pain.
Black Samson squared off against a zealot champion clad in glowing steel plate armor, wielding a massive, rune-covered flail. The weapon swung in destructive arcs, smashing into the street and sending shards of concrete flying. Samson narrowly dodged one swing, sparks erupting as the chain grazed his gauntlet.
"Big toy you've got there," Samson sneered, his gauntlets crackling with raw energy. "Let's see how it handles some real power."
He ducked beneath the flail and drove his fist directly into the zealot's chest. The impact obliterated the armor and launched the man into a truck, which detonated on impact. Samson rolled his shoulders with a smirk. "Thought so."
Yet, for every victory, more zealots poured out of alleys and side streets. Their chants grew louder, drowning out the chaos of battle with their fervent hymns. The Order of Light fought with relentless fanaticism, blood soaking the streets as neither side showed any sign of surrender.
Robot's voice crackled over the comms. "Warning: reinforcements inbound. Multiple squads advancing from the west."
Immortal's eyes narrowed, blood streaming down his temple. "Let them come."