Chapter 396: Allen's Pursuit of Black Manta in Progress
A thunderous explosion echoed through the battlefield, followed by a divine radiance that lit up the scene.
Amidst the dense and terrifying swarm of evil creatures, a group of Allen clones in hospital gowns suddenly appeared out of nowhere.
Both sides were momentarily stunned, baffled by the bizarre turn of events.
How could so many lunatics suddenly pop up from thin air?
"I am the Heavenly Emperor of Madness! In my presence, why do you not kneel?"
Smack!
Just as the Heavenly Emperor finished his grandstanding, a tentacle lashed across his face, leaving a pitch-black imprint.
"You dare hit me?!"
Enraged, the self-proclaimed emperor roared at the rampaging evil creatures, "Brothers, kill them all! Since when has the Celestial Court ever tolerated such disgrace?!"
In an instant, all 365 Celestial Gods pounced like wolves.
"Samadhi True Fire!"
The Drunken Deity clutched a lighter in one hand and a liquor bottle in the other. He took a deep swig, then spat onto the flame.
A sea of fire erupted in the ocean, and the evil creatures caught within writhed in agony.
Even those who escaped the blaze couldn't survive—just a spark was enough to burn them to death, the fire impossible to extinguish.
"How the hell are you lighting fires underwater? Isn't your bottle leaking seawater?"
Allen appeared silently beside the Drunken Deity, snatching the lighter from his hand. No matter how he fiddled with it, he couldn't get it to light.
"Move."
The Drunken Deity snatched the lighter back with disdain. "What do you know? I'm not human. Why would I care about science?"
"Fair point," Allen admitted.
His limited knowledge only covered reproduction—if it wasn't about lewd things, he didn't care at all.
The 365 Celestial Gods resembled street punks more than deities.
They wielded every weapon imaginable: liquor bottles, steel pipes, iron rulers, stools, whips, candles, even steel wool…
In short, all very "down-to-earth."
Allen slipped into stealth mode, sticking to his principle of staying hands-off unless absolutely necessary.
Meanwhile, his Soul-Devouring Touch skill absorbed the lingering spiritual essence in the air.
The evil creatures couldn't withstand even a single blow from the gods.
But their numbers were overwhelming. The ocean was packed with them as far as the eye could see, and Atlantis's defensive line looked paper-thin—ready to be torn apart at any moment.
The key to all this was the Dark Trident in Black Manta David's hands.
If the trident could be taken or destroyed, the evil creatures would lose control and retreat back into the deep sea.
"What the hell?"
Allen looked toward the distant battlefield, confused. "Why isn't the Golden Trident destroying the Dark Trident like in the movies?"
At that moment, Namor and Arthur, seeing that the Celestial Gods had joined the fight, stopped summoning sea creatures and instead joined the attack against David.
Simultaneously, Orm launched an offensive of his own.
Arthur faced David head-on, as his Golden Trident could go toe-to-toe with the Dark Trident.
Orm's newly acquired trident wasn't completely overpowered, but cracks were already forming—clearly it wouldn't last long.
Namor, for his part, was more of a burden than help—his vibranium trident was unsuitable for high-level combat.
Despite being besieged by three kings, David held his ground. But being human, he clearly struggled to move and react with the same ease as the Atlantean royals in the ocean.
Strangely, the soldiers watching were fired up.
Three kings battling side by side—such a sight had never been seen before.
Atlantis's army was built on generational legacy—fathers training sons—and passing down combat experience always came with glorified tales.
Among them, the overthrow of King Namor's regime was no secret.
Many veteran soldiers, driven by loyalty or their duty to defend the kingdom, joined the fray without hesitation.
When some recognized their former king on the battlefield, their eyes welled up with guilt.
Even after being betrayed, the old king had returned to fight for them—a true ruler, through and through.
After a grueling battle, David realized that prolonging the fight underwater was unwise.
He could feel the killing taking a toll on his mind—if he didn't end it soon, he'd become a mindless puppet.
Making a snap decision, David forced back the three kings and rocketed toward the ocean surface like a missile.
He didn't need to micromanage the battle underwater—the evil creatures would destroy Atlantis without him. Once the sea people fled, it'd be easier to conquer them one by one.
After all, vital researchers didn't need to fight. As long as they survived, the glory of Atlantis could be rebuilt.
Seeing this, Namor, Arthur, and Orm exchanged glances and gave chase.
As long as David lived, the evil creatures would keep coming.
Their sheer numbers alone could wear the army down to nothing.
"Hey Blackie, you dropped your watermelon!"
Allen watched the rapidly retreating Black Manta, hesitating on whether to join the pursuit.
The horde of evil creatures was a valuable resource—potential fuel for the Celestial Gods' growth.
Smack smack!!
Allen slapped himself twice across the face, scolding, "How could I leave Namor and Orm behind?!"
Clearly, he didn't care much about Arthur's survival.
In Allen's eyes, Aquaman had two solo movies—no way the dumbass author would actually write him off.
"Should we go help?" T'Challa asked, stepping up.
He and Morgan had mostly been useless bystanders this whole time, using high-powered firearms to shoot weaker enemies—hardly a showcase of the Black Panther's strength.
"Do you even have to ask?"
Allen didn't give a straight answer. Instead, he strode over to a soldier riding a manta ray glider.
"Ruthless flying kick!"
With a loud shout, Allen launched into the air and kicked the rider off.
The soldier's eyes were full of confusion and injustice, staring at the comrade who had kicked him for no reason.
"What are you looking at? I'm requisitioning your flying fish scooter!" Allen declared righteously.
Sure, you can requisition it—but did you really have to kick me?
You could've just asked…
The soldier grew even more aggrieved.
"How do you drive this thing? Where's the throttle? The brake?"
Looking at the weird vehicle, Allen arrogantly asked.
"I'll give you authorization."
Grudgingly, the soldier unlocked the glider's binding and explained, "You can pilot it by voice command."
"Appreciate it."
\（＾＿）
Allen responded with a Nazi salute.
"Ruthless flying kick!"
Seeing Allen take off in pursuit, Morgan copied his move and tried to hijack another glider.
Luckily, the soldier had seen what happened earlier. At the first sign of danger, he jumped off and narrowly avoided being booted.
T'Challa was much more polite. He simply asked for one and got a vehicle without issue.
In the underwater battlefield, with 366 Celestial Gods standing guard, the defense was solid.
They hardly needed the help of three relatively irrelevant allies.
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