Carol's POV
I've fought Kree Supremor-class battleships single-handedly. I've gone toe-to-toe with Skrull armadas while outnumbered a thousand to one. Hell, I once punched through the hull of a dreadnought while it was firing on a refugee convoy. But watching Arkillo of Vorn systematically dismantle three powerhouses who could bench press moons? That's humbling in ways I wasn't expecting.
The yellow-skinned giant moves like a force of nature given murderous intent. When he backhands K'rok through that building, the sound is like reality breaking. When he catches Gladiator's punch and twists the Strontian's arm at an angle that makes me wince, it's with the casual efficiency of someone breaking kindling.
"This guy's not just strong," I mutter, my cosmic senses analyzing his movement patterns. "He's been doing this for a long time."
Kilowog's hammer construct shatters against Arkillo's forearm like glass against a mountain. The big Green Lantern staggers back, his ring flickering from the feedback.
"Poozer's tougher than neutronium," he pants. "Ain't seen anything like this since..."
"The Bertron incident," K'rok finishes grimly, pulling himself from the rubble. Blood streams down his face. The name hangs in the air like a curse.
Gladiator goes pale despite his injuries. "Don't invoke that nightmare."
"What's the Bertron incident?" I ask, though the way they're all looking makes my stomach drop.
"Boogeyman story," Kilowog says quietly, his usual bluster completely gone. "Every spacefaring civilization knows it. Mad scientist on ancient Krypton created the perfect killing machine. Thing that couldn't be stopped, couldn't be reasoned with."
"It devoured Calaton," K'rok continues, his voice hollow. "Three years of pure slaughter. Entire planet reduced to rubble and screams. Only the capital city left standing when it was finally over."
"The royal family had to sacrifice themselves," Gladiator adds, shuddering at the memory of whatever files he'd read. "Combined their very life essence into a single being of pure energy. The only thing in the galaxy powerful enough to destroy Bertron's monster."
"Even then, the blast that killed it wiped out a fifth of what was left of their world," Kilowog says. "And they still shot the corpse into space because they were terrified it might come back somehow."
The silence that follows is deafening. Every galactic civilization has horror stories, but there are some names you just don't say out loud. Apparently Bertron's creation is one of them.
"You think I'm like that abomination?" Arkillo asks, and for the first time there's genuine curiosity in his voice rather than mockery.
"Starting to," K'rok mutters.
A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with Oa's atmosphere. If they're comparing Arkillo to something that became a universal nightmare, a story parents tell to keep children from venturing too far into space, then we're not just outmatched. We're facing the stuff of legends.
"Fascinating," Arkillo rumbles, flexing muscles that ripple like tectonic plates. "But you're still thinking in terms of conventional warfare. I am beyond your categories."
That's when the sky explodes with light.
Massive pulses of emerald and crimson energy flash across the void, visible even through Oa's atmosphere. Each pulse sends electromagnetic interference crackling through every piece of technology on the planet. The intensity is staggering. Like watching binary stars collide in fast-forward.
"Jordan and Atrocitus," Razer breathes, his red ring resonating with the distant battle. "The Butcher and Ion, fighting on a scale I never imagined possible."
"Those energy levels," Kilowog mutters, awe and concern mixing in his voice. "They're reshaping local space-time with every exchange."
Another flash, brighter than the others, and I feel the gravitational ripples even here. Whatever they're throwing at each other out there, it's warping local space-time. The various fleets in orbit are broadcasting panic signals as their sensors overload trying to process the impossible readings.
"We need to end this," I announce, photonic energy building around me. "If those two tear each other apart, the shockwaves alone could crack Oa's crust."
"Agreed," K'rok says, "but how do we break past..."
His question is answered by a rain of red energy blasts from above. Bleez descends like a nightmare angel, her razor constructs gleaming as she leads a squad of Red Lanterns into the plaza. At the same time, corrupted Green Lanterns, Sinestro's followers, establish firing positions around the perimeter, their rings blazing with that sickly yellow-tinted light.
"Crossfire pattern," I realize. "Arkillo's been herding us into a kill zone."
"Classic pincer movement," K'rok confirms. "We're trapped between hammer and anvil."
Dey's voice crackles across the comm from his position protecting the Nova Corps cadets. "Carol, those energy readings from the outer system. They're off the charts. If this escalates much further, we could be looking at system-wide catastrophic effects."
He's right. Each flash from Hal and Atrocitus's battle is getting brighter, more violent. Whatever they've become, they're operating on a scale that makes our current fight look like a playground scuffle.
"Someone needs to get out there," Gladiator says, grappling with Arkillo as the monster tries to capitalize on our distraction. "Provide support before this gets completely out of hand."
"I'll go," I say, already building power for the acceleration I'll need. "You guys handle the situation here."
"Like hell," Kilowog grunts, his constructs barely holding against the combined assault. "We're getting torn apart down here!"
"Then don't get torn apart," I reply, channeling everything I learned from years of impossible odds in the Kree-Skrull conflict. "Razer, your ring's still connected to their network, right? Can you disrupt their coordination?"
"Already trying," he responds, his red energy constructs flowing like liquid fire as he attempts to hack into the Red Lantern communication frequencies. "But they're using encrypted channels I don't recognize."
"Then we do this the hard way," I announce, my photonic aura flaring to maximum intensity. "K'rok, I need a tactical assessment. What's our best option for breaking this containment?"
"Concentrated assault on their strongest point," he replies immediately. "Arkillo's the lynchpin. If we can neutralize him, the others will lose coordination."
"Easier said than done," Gladiator mutters, dodging a punch that would have decapitated him. "The bastard's stronger than anything I've faced."
"Then we don't fight his strength," I say, my mind racing through tactical options. "We fight smart."
I streak toward Arkillo, building photonic energy for a maximum-power assault. But instead of hitting him directly, I aim for the crystalline plaza beneath his feet. The concentrated beam punches through ancient Oan architecture like a hot knife through butter, destabilizing the entire platform.
Arkillo stumbles as the ground gives way, his perfect balance momentarily disrupted. It's only a second of vulnerability, but Gladiator seizes it immediately. The Strontian champion's uppercut catches the Vorn warrior under the chin with enough force to launch him skyward.
"Nice setup," Gladiator calls out. "But he's tougher than..."
He doesn't finish the sentence because Arkillo doesn't come down. The monster hovers in mid-air, and that's when I notice the faint green glow around his other hand. A stolen Green Lantern ring, crackling with corrupted emerald energy.
"Son of a bitch has a ring," I curse, watching him float there like gravity's just another rule he's decided to ignore.
"When did he get that?" K'rok demands, blood still streaming from where Arkillo backhanded him through a building.
"Probably off one of the Lanterns he killed during Sinestro's coup," Kilowog snarls. "Bastard's been holding back on us."
Arkillo descends slowly, savoring our shocked expressions. "Sinestro recognized true leadership when he saw it. My rule brought order to Vorn through strength and discipline." He flexes the hand wearing the ring, and emerald constructs begin forming around his already massive fists, though they're tinted with that same sickly yellow corruption I've seen from Sinestro's other followers. "He offered me a place in his new Corps, power to extend that order across the galaxy. How could I refuse?"
Arkillo lands with earth-shaking force, his yellow eyes burning with anticipation. "Finally, a challenge worthy of my attention. I was beginning to think this would be disappointingly easy."
"Disappointingly easy?" Kilowog roars. "I'll show you easy, you overgrown gecko!"
His attack is pure Kilowog. A massive sledgehammer construct that could flatten a city block. Arkillo doesn't dodge. Instead, he catches the construct with both hands and uses its own momentum to spin in place, turning Kilowog's assault into a weapon against the rest of us.
I barely avoid getting pancaked by my own ally's construct. "Okay, new plan. We..."
The rest of my words are lost as another massive energy pulse from the outer system washes over us. This one is so intense it momentarily overloads my cosmic senses, leaving me blind and deaf for precious seconds. When my perception clears, the tactical situation has shifted dramatically.
The Red Lanterns are falling back, their rings flickering as Atrocitus draws power from across his entire Corps to fuel his battle with Hal. Several of Sinestro's followers have simply collapsed, their corrupted rings apparently unable to handle the energy feedback from whatever's happening in deep space.
"The battle's affecting everyone connected to the emotional spectrum," Razer observes, his own ring pulsing erratically. "Those energy levels... they're reshaping the fundamental nature of will and rage themselves."
"Which means we have a window," K'rok realizes. "Their support is compromised. If we move now..."
Arkillo's laughter cuts him off. "You still don't understand. I don't need support. I am sufficient unto myself."
To prove his point, he launches himself at all five of us simultaneously. Not sequentially. Simultaneously. His movements are so fast they create afterimages, allowing him to engage each of us individually while maintaining awareness of the group dynamic.
I find myself trading blows with someone whose strength rivals my cosmic enhancement. Every punch he throws could crack a moon. Every kick could level a mountain range. But worse than the raw power is the skill behind it. This isn't berserker rage. It's refined technique perfected over centuries of conquest.
"He's toying with us," I realize, barely avoiding a grapple that would have crushed my ribcage. "All this time, he's been holding back."
"Then let's see how he handles full power," Gladiator snarls, his Strontian physiology pushing beyond normal limits. His next assault comes with speed that blurs reality, strength that warps local gravity.
Arkillo meets it head-on, and the collision creates a shockwave that shatters windows across three city blocks. They're locked together now, two titans testing each other's absolute limits, muscles straining against forces that could move planets.
For a moment, it looks like Gladiator might actually overpower him. The Strontian champion's legendary strength is pushing Arkillo backward, inch by inch.
Then Arkillo smiles.
"Thank you," he says conversationally. "I was wondering how much effort this would actually require."
The surge of power that follows defies every law of physics I know. Arkillo doesn't just break Gladiator's hold. He launches the Strontian champion across the plaza with enough force to embed him six feet deep in a crystalline wall.
"Kallark!" K'rok screams, rushing to his brother's aid.
"I'm... fine," Gladiator gasps, pulling himself from the crater. But his movements are labored now, and there's something in his eyes I've never seen before. Not fear. Gladiator doesn't do fear. But recognition. The acknowledgment that he's facing something beyond his capabilities.
"We need a new approach," I announce, my mind spinning through increasingly desperate options. "This isn't working."
"The civilians," Dey calls out, his Nova helmet's sensors tracking multiple threats. "Whatever we do, we need to protect the evacuation routes. Those cadets are sitting ducks if this fight spills over into their sector."
He's right, and that changes everything. We're not just trying to win anymore. We're trying to contain the damage. And Arkillo knows it.
"You see?" the monster says, his voice carrying dark satisfaction. "This is why your kind always loses. You fight with one hand tied behind your backs, always worried about collateral damage. I have no such limitations."
To emphasize his point, he creates a shockwave by simply clapping his hands together. The wave of force spreads outward in all directions, heading straight for the evacuation zone where dozens of Nova Corps cadets are taking shelter.
"No!" I scream, pouring everything into a photonic barrier between the shockwave and the civilians.
The impact nearly knocks me unconscious. My barrier holds, barely, but the strain leaves me gasping and vulnerable. Arkillo's follow-up punch sends me tumbling across the plaza like a broken doll.
"Predictable," he observes. "Your compassion is a weakness I can exploit endlessly."
That's when the sky catches fire.
Not metaphorically. Literally. The energy discharge from Hal and Atrocitus's battle has reached such intensity that it's ionizing Oa's upper atmosphere. Sheets of aurora dance across the heavens in patterns that hurt to look at directly. Each pulse of light represents forces that could crack continents.
"They're pushing each other beyond safe limits," Razer says, his connection to the emotional spectrum giving him insights the rest of us lack. "If this continues, the feedback could tear this entire system apart."
"Meaning what, exactly?" I ask, struggling to my feet.
"Meaning if they keep escalating like this, everything from here to the outer rim gets vaporized," he replies grimly. "Planets, moons, every ship in orbit. All of it."
Kilowog looks up at the light show, then back at Arkillo. "So how long do we have before those two idiots blow up the whole damn system?"
"Hard to say," K'rok corrects, watching his readings spike. "Could be hours, could be minutes. But every pulse is getting stronger. They're building toward something catastrophic."
He's cut off by the brightest flash yet. This one doesn't just light up the sky. It tears a hole right through it. For a terrifying moment, I can see the raw energy of their battle burning through space itself. The gravitational shockwave that follows actually lifts us off the ground.
When we land, everything has changed. The Red Lanterns are gone, their rings dark and lifeless as Atrocitus draws every ounce of power from his Corps. Most of Sinestro's followers have collapsed entirely, their corrupted rings unable to handle the feedback.
But Arkillo stands untouched, his yellow skin actually glowing now as if he's absorbing energy from the cosmic battle above.
"Beautiful," he whispers, his voice filled with genuine reverence. "This is what true power looks like. This is what I've been waiting for."
"He's drawing strength from the battle," I realize with growing horror. "Every time they clash, he gets stronger."
"Then we end this before the next pulse," Gladiator announces, pushing himself upright despite obvious injuries. His Strontian pride won't let him stay down, even against impossible odds.
"Together," K'rok agrees, wiping blood from his forehead. "Simultaneous assault, maximum power, everything we have."
"I've got an idea," I say, studying Arkillo's stance. "But I need you two to trust me on this."
"What do you need?" Gladiator asks.
"Kilowog, Tomar-Re, Razer, can you create restraints? Something to hold him for just a few seconds?"
"Poozer's strong enough to break anything we throw at him," Kilowog protests.
"Not if K'rok and Gladiator hit him at the exact same moment I do," I reply. "Three impacts, perfectly timed. Even he can't shrug off that much concentrated force."
"It's insane," K'rok says. Then he grins through the blood on his face. "I like it."
"On my mark," I announce, photonic energy building around me. "Kilowog, Tomar-Re, Razer, you get one shot at this. Make it count."
Above us, another pulse builds. I can feel it coming through my cosmic awareness. A wave of energy that could crack planets.
"NOW!" I scream.
Kilowog, Tomar-Re, and Razer's constructs slam into Arkillo simultaneously. Massive chains of green energy from the two Lanterns wrap around his arms and torso while Razer's red constructs bind his legs, the crimson energy intertwining with emerald in a pattern that's both beautiful and deadly. The monster roars in fury, his muscles bulging as he strains against the restraints.
That's when K'rok, Gladiator, and I hit him.
K'rok's energy blast is surgical in its precision, targeting pressure points with mathematical accuracy. Gladiator's physical assault carries the force of a small meteor, his Strontian strength focused into a single devastating blow. My photonic beam punches through the air with enough power to vaporize a battleship.
All three impacts land within milliseconds of each other.
The explosion is deafening. The shockwave flattens everything within a hundred yards. When the dust clears, Arkillo lies motionless in a crater of his own making, his yellow skin scorched and his breathing shallow but steady.
"Is he...?" Tomar-Re starts to ask.
"Unconscious," Gladiator confirms, checking Arkillo's pulse with professional efficiency. "Tough bastard's still alive, but he'll be out for hours."
"Good," I say, feeling the exhaustion hit me like a brick wall. "Because I don't think any of us had another round like that in us."
Kilowog slumps against a piece of rubble, his massive frame finally showing the strain of the prolonged battle. "Remind me never to pick a fight with anything that reminds people of Bertron's monster."
The sky erupts in light that burns away shadows across half the planet. The pulse from Hal and Atrocitus's battle is so intense it momentarily overwhelms every sensor, every ring, every piece of technology on Oa.
When my vision returns, I can see the energy discharge actually burning through the atmosphere. Whatever they're doing out there, it's getting bad enough to affect us from here. The whole system's in danger.
"We need to get to the outer system," I announce, already building power for interplanetary travel. "Whatever's happening between Hal and Atrocitus, they're about to blow up everything within a dozen light-years."
"Go," Gladiator says, securing restraints around the unconscious Arkillo. "We'll handle cleanup here and make sure this one doesn't cause any more trouble."
"You sure?" I ask.
"He's out cold, and we've got Nova Corps backup en route," K'rok confirms. "But Jordan needs help more than we do right now."
I look at them one more time. These warriors who just helped me take down something that shouldn't exist, who are staying behind to handle the aftermath while I chase after cosmic forces that could incinerate us all.
"Try not to break anything else while I'm gone," I say.
"No promises," Kilowog replies with a weary grin.
As I streak toward the edge of space, following the trail of devastating energies toward the outer system, I can hear the sounds of recovery operations beginning below. Nova Corps ships landing with medical teams. Green Lanterns coordinating civilian evacuations. The universe's heroes doing what they do best: picking up the pieces and making sure everyone gets home safe.