Sol had little time to arrange his forces before the inevitable first strike came. He watched as the two Sages left on their plane for negotiations with the humans, and he did not have any doubt how it would go. Historic movements were now happening, and he would not stand in their way. But ultimately, it was a waste of resources, he thought.

There would never be any sort of peace between the Earth and Mars. Personally, he hoped that Creep would render the humans to dust. They were ungrateful for their position in the universe, and it had led to Sol’s own creation. The creation of a higher species.

Now, the Martians had to get their anti-missile defense system set up, but he could not rush the metamorphosis which was taking place. He could not urge the cells to break down and rebuild any faster than they already were. And so, he waited and watched at the ready. He had countless Martians at his command, and each was loyal to their duty. It was a well-oiled machine, to say the least.

Soldiers were suiting up and getting re-acquainted with their equipment after such a long flight. There was a great amount of specialization in Sol’s forces. Pilots, snipers, gunners, medics, and many more. All with perfect synchronicity of the will.

Before too long, the bombs would arrive. And they needed to be spread out by then. It was unlikely that Seraph would begin with an attack from their Alchemist, as that required the Martians to fail to shoot down even a single missile. It was much more likely that they would attempt a conventional nuclear strike.

Hours passed by, and Sol knew the moment would be drawing near.

The cold winds rushed through the trees, and it was beginning to get dark as the shortened days of the North faded. It was taking longer than expected to get the forces mobile, and they had not moved far when the first radar went off.

Creep had done everything in his Power to prepare them for Seraph’s technology. Their defense system was comprised not just of sensory machines across the spectrum, but also the many eyes they still had in orbit, scouring over the Earth with alien prescience. Looking for the tiniest anomaly in the air. Ready to warn them at the speed of light for the oncoming retaliation.

Their own rockets exploded upwards without warning towards the silent sky, and for a breathless moment, there was just the sound of distant rumbling. Then, the spark came.

They’d just barely been able to intersect the hypersonic missile Seraph had sent their way. A dazzling light began in the sky as a result, and it started to swell to be like a second sun.

Their eyes could not be damaged from such intensity, but a human would have been blinded. They could feel the heat and the pressure through the clouds, but it was not enough to knock them down. The trees stirred and radiation was doubtlessly filling the air, but they would be fine.

They were bred for this purpose.

OOO

Ironbolt had walked with Maximal for some ways off before it came time for them to split up and go back to their separate ships. The gloom was hanging low, just above the enormous form of Dawn’s mushrooming bloom, and they shared a miserable glance.

Maximal had puffed up his chest at the meeting, but now that he was bruised and bloodied, facing the prospect of war, he was not so filled with righteous indignation. His eyes quickly fell to the floor, and he nodded. “I’m sorry it had to go this way. I hope that when all of this is done, there’s a pardon in it for you.”

Ironbolt scoffed. He’d only become angrier as the evening went on and he could no longer hide it. Today had been one of the longest days of his very long life, and it had ended in utter disappointment. “You’re still holding onto the idea that Dawn was the deciding factor in the conflict, I see. Anything to hold together the narrative.”

“It drew the Lich’s forces away. That’s the only reason you all made it through to the Rift Gate like you did. Believe me, better men have tried.”

“Like you?” Ironbolt asked. He was sick and tired of this play at seniority.

“Yes, like me. Like my best friend. Dead almost thirty years now. Longer than you’ve been alive. And don’t give me that crap about how you perceive the world. The clock still ticks. Sixty seconds in a minute. Sixty minutes in an hour. And you weren’t there in the early days. Before Seraph existed as an organizing force and put the Technicists in charge. Back when it was all still run by military men that couldn’t parse the difference between artillery and a man who can level a building with his gaze. We all have our horror stories, but things were different back then. We had ten years of lawlessness, where we weren’t even sure the Union would survive. But it did.”

“You know, if it weren’t for Creep, we wouldn’t be having such a civilized conversation right now. It’s a tired line, but I’ll say it anyway. You’re a damn fascist, Maximal.” Ironbolt sighed deeply. He hated being in this situation. He wanted for none of this to be happening, but the lines had been drawn. If Creep could be defeated, the next battle would be against Seraph. And it too would be all or nothing. Kill or be killed.

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

“Oh yeah?” Maximal chuckled. “I’m a fascist? We both know the elections are bullshit, so that’s one point in your favor, Isaac. Seraph runs the country. I can admit that. But you’re working with a Power Cultist, so you should watch your mouth. King Solomon runs his country on Sharia Law, in case you’ve forgotten. We may have sacrificed some rights in America. And yes, we conscript. But the last I checked; you could still believe what you wanted to believe. Worship who you wanted to worship. And love who you want to love. We have freedom and dignity.”

Ironbolt grit his teeth. “You really don’t get it. Seraph was protecting the Lich King. They protect Nemesis and Smiler, too. That’s three billion people cumulatively which they keep under the rule of men which are far worse than King Solomon. Men who have you disemboweled in the street for even thinking of rebellion. It’s a global hegemony and they export their horrors so that the American people don’t have to see it. And you know the reason why. It’s a goddamn grinder. It’s a system of control.”

“No. We fought and bled for the rest of the world, and this is how they repay us. With conspiracy theories that make it back home and corrupt our own soldiers.”

“We never intended to win!” Ironbolt shouted. Up above, the mushroom groaned. “Can’t you put two and two together? It’s a eugenics program, Maximal. After civil war almost broke out, twenty years ago, it was decided that the Powered population had to be thinned out. It presented too great a threat to the system. Seraph made that decision. And it’s what keeps this entire world in hell, rather than facing the responsibility of humanity’s new abilities.”

For a minute, Maximal’s fist clenched, and he could see Ironbolt ready to step back. Slowly, he relaxed, but only because he couldn’t stand the frustration of losing again. The last fight between them had burnt him too badly. “Even if that were true…” he couldn’t believe he was humoring such an insult, but he went on. “What would be the alternative? You just change human nature, huh? Then everybody with Powers will stop trying to take over the world and magically accept their responsibility? There has to be a winner at the top, Ironbolt. And we’re beyond lucky that the winner we have prefers subterfuge and propaganda, according to you, then those who would be happy to replace him. Somebody’s got to be in charge! And it won’t be you, alright!? It’s never your type!”

After that, both of them stopped talking. Words were no more use here. They were only a prelude to a fight which neither could afford.

As they stepped off towards their respective ships, Maximal called back just one last question. “Iron… Ironbol, wait. What about the Wards?”

Ironbolt just shook his head. He couldn’t hide the sadness in his voice. “Conner is dead. Sarah still hasn’t woken up yet, but we’ve got her on a ventilator. We’re hoping- We’re holding out for the right healer.”

Dupe had been in the first blast, and there was nothing left. Fortitude had managed to make it out, but she’d gotten separated inside the domed building. Through all the waves of undead, even Ironbolt couldn’t get through to her. She sealed herself in her own shields, but she’d suffocated under the mass.

It was a horrible way to go, Ironbolt thought. And I inflicted that on her.

“I see.” Maximal turned his face away. “Well. You did a good thing, regardless. We’ll get the Lich King once all of this is blown over. I promise.”

The old bastard had used some kind of Panic Room Power. The moment they broke through the Rift Gate and the war looked lost for him, the Lich King had simply vanished. Perhaps to a different world entirely. Ironbolt didn’t know. Nor did he care for Maximal’s promises.

The two parted way, then. The first battle was mere hours away, and they had to prepare.

OOO

Hickory was more than pleased at my side, clapping loudly. As our ship lowered itself back down into the same clearing from which it had taken off, we saw that the many Martians were completely unscathed. The trees looked bent and singed, but not a single soldier had fallen.

Seraph’s lazy technological weaponry had completely failed them, which meant only one thing, I knew. This fight would be carried out the fun way. In-person. Force against force. Straight to the death.

Something like this had never taken place in the Earth’s history. “It’ll be the biggest battle of Supers the world has ever known,” I said.

Hickory looked back at me. “Beautiful, ain’t it? I always said for years, boy. If humanity ever wanted real peace, it should find some fuckin’ aliens to fight against. Real space conquest. That was the only condition where the whole ‘we are the world, one human race’ bullshit would work. Only when you could be racist towards aliens!”

“I guess that’s us, then.” I laughed. “The bringers of peace.”

“War is,” Hickory told me, lapsing again into his sagely-wisdom-schtick.

Sol met us on the landing pad as we were stepping out, and he bowed again from within his enormous, crablike mech. In a flash of light, he informed us. “Zero casualties, my lords. I have commanded all forces to prepare for an immediate march towards the North. Human forces will be arranged there, waiting for us. Now that the missile response system has been proved, the rest of our troops will be deploying from orbit as well. They will flank from the side.”

“How many are we expecting?” Hickory asked.

“About three million for them. One point three for us.”

“Jesus,” I swore. “And what about the Iron Tyrant?”

“Satellites detect no movement in the Keep. It is unclear whose side he would take if he took a side.”

It was an interesting position to be in, stuck between two people that both want to screw with you. We'd have to see how he reacted, with time.

There was just one last question. “And what about Dawn?”

Sol pulled up from his bow. “She is on the move towards our battleground. Motive, unknown.”

“Welp.” I clapped my hands together. “Let’s not keep the people waiting any longer, then.”

“Indeed. The time for glory is now. Move out!”

Before the sun rose again, this would all be decided and history would have chosen its victor.

At last, the end has arrived.