Divorced on Monday, Bought the City on Tuesday: The Infinite

The Falling Sky

Chapter 47

The storm over the Mediterranean broke, leaving the sky above San Marcos an impossibly clear, vibrant blue. The newly rebuilt capital city hummed with pristine, silent energy. Citizens walked the smart-pavements, entirely unaware that a global armada was currently burning fuel to reach their shores.

On the western beach, Arthur stood near the shoreline, the warm water lapping at the tips of his leather shoes.

He wasn't alone.

Vera stood faithfully behind his left shoulder. To his right hovered Hyperion, the Apex-Tier Vanguard of atmospheric dominance, his silver containment armor radiating a faint, humming heat.

"Romanov’s private military fleets have crossed the Strait of Gibraltar," Nyx’s voice crackled through Arthur’s earpiece. She was back in the presidential boardroom, monitoring the orbital quantum ledger. "The Chen Syndicate’s railgun cargo ships are flanking them. Boss, they have two aircraft carriers, forty destroyers, and over two hundred attack aircraft. They’ll be in visual range in ten minutes."

"Understood," Arthur replied smoothly.

He didn't order the Aegis Phalanx to the beaches. He didn't activate the Genesis Protocol’s automated defense turrets.

"Hyperion," Arthur said softly, his golden eyes locked on the horizon.

The plasma-wrapped entity floated forward, bowing its head slightly. "Awaiting coordinates, Sovereign."

"The armada approaching from the west," Arthur commanded. "I don't want a prolonged engagement. I want a demonstration. Break their toys."

Hyperion didn't speak. He simply tilted his head upward toward the clear blue sky.

The air around the Vanguard began to violently warp and distort, superheating in a matter of seconds. Hyperion shot straight up into the atmosphere like an inverted meteor, leaving a trail of ionized plasma in his wake. Within seconds, he was completely invisible to the naked eye, hovering perfectly still in the stratosphere.

Ten miles offshore, the combined fleet of the Romanov and Chen Syndicates cut through the Mediterranean waves.

On the bridge of the lead aircraft carrier, Commander Volkov, a hardened Russian mercenary hired by Lord Romanov, stared at his tactical displays. He felt an uneasy tension settling in his gut.

"Commander," the radar operator called out, his voice tinged with confusion. "The target island... they aren't scrambling jets. Their coastal defense batteries are offline. They are completely undefended."

Volkov scowled. "Arthur Vance is a coward playing at being a king. He knows he cannot match the combined might of the Sovereigns. Prepare the bombers. I want the presidential palace leveled before we drop the landing craft."

"Sir!" another officer shouted, panic suddenly lacing his tone. "We have an atmospheric anomaly! Directly above the fleet! Thermals are spiking off the charts!"

Volkov rushed to the window, looking up at the sky.

The clear blue sky had suddenly turned a violent, bleeding red. It looked as though the atmosphere itself had caught fire.

"What in God's name is that?" Volkov whispered.

High above them, Hyperion raised both of his silver-armored hands. He didn't use missiles. He didn't use lasers. He simply manipulated the localized gravitational and thermal fields of the atmosphere.

Target Locked. Initiating Atmospheric Hammer.

A column of superheated, hyper-compressed air fifty miles wide slammed downward from the stratosphere.

It hit the ocean with the force of a localized asteroid strike.

The water didn't splash; it instantly flash-boiled into a massive wall of blinding white steam. The kinetic pressure crushed the ocean surface flat, creating a momentary, terrifying crater in the sea.

The forty destroyers were instantly crushed flat against the water, their steel hulls buckling and snapping like aluminum cans under the invisible weight. The two aircraft carriers were violently shoved downward, their flight decks crumpling as thousands of tons of atmospheric pressure pinned them in place.

The two hundred attack aircraft circling above the fleet were swatted out of the sky like flies, their engines stalling instantly as the air was sucked out of their intakes. They spiraled down into the boiling ocean in a rain of twisted metal and fire.

The entire attack took three seconds.

Down on the beach, Arthur didn't even blink as the distant, rolling thunder of the Atmospheric Hammer reached the shoreline.

"Nyx," Arthur said calmly into his earpiece. "Damage report."

"Boss..." Nyx’s voice was completely breathless. She stopped chewing her gum. "The fleet is... gone. Not sunk. Just... crushed. The carriers are completely immobilized, pinned to the water. The life support systems are intact, but none of the ships can move or fire a weapon. Hyperion essentially put a giant, invisible boot on their necks."

"Perfect," Arthur smiled. "I didn't want to kill the crews. They’re just mercenaries cashing a paycheck. But I wanted the Sovereigns to watch."

Arthur turned his back to the ocean.

"Vera. Nemesis. It's time."