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Absolute King Chapter 26.
🕑 Added 2025-10-15 18:35:20 +0000 UTCChapter 26: The Golden Chaos.
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“Dad! Dad!”
The words tore out of Mark’s throat before he even realized he was screaming. His voice cracked with panic, raw and unrestrained, echoing through the chaos around them.
His father lay slumped against the chariot floor, his chest… gone. A gaping hole had replaced the spot where his heart should have been, blood spilling freely, staining his clothes and the golden surface beneath him. Every labored breath rattled wetly in his lungs, each exhale weaker than the last.
Mark froze for a heartbeat. Then instinct kicked in. He dropped to his knees, pressing his hands over the wound, feeling the hot slickness seep between his fingers.
“Hold on, please… just hold on,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he tore a strip from his own shirt, trying to press it against the wound. But no matter how hard he pressed, the blood kept coming. The cloth darkened, soaked through within seconds, the crimson spreading like wildfire.
His father’s eyes fluttered open,unfocused, dazed—and for the first time, Mark saw fear in them.
Outside, the world was still burning. The air was filled with the mechanical screeches of the pursuing cyborgs. Red lasers streaked past the chariot, cutting through the clouds.
“Zatanna! ” Mark shouted without looking up.
“I’m on it!” she replied, her voice strained. Her hands glowed a brilliant blue as she chanted rapidly under her breath. A dome of shimmering magic formed around the chariot, rippling under the bombardment of energy blasts.
Iskandar, the King of Conquerors, gritted his teeth as he forced the Gordius Wheel to move faster. The thunderous hooves of divine bulls pounded through the air, but the cyborgs—unrelenting and merciless were gaining. Their eyes glowed an ominous red, their bodies humming with lethal precision.
“Damn it, they’re closing in!” Iskandar growled, gripping the reins tighter.
Suddenly, the sky tore open with a new sound—the distant whir of an engine, sharp and familiar.
A shadow swept over them, followed by a rain of missiles. The cyborgs’ ranks exploded in fiery bursts as an invisible craft revealed its outline through the distortion of heat.
“The Batwing…” Zatanna breathed.
Batman was here.
The jet swooped in like a predatory bird, lasers firing with mechanical precision. For a moment, relief flickered across Mark’s face but it was fleeting.
The cyborgs quickly adapted. They halted midair, scanning, their glowing optics flickering as they detected the Batwing’s heat signature. Within seconds, half their number redirected, breaking formation to chase after Batman’s aircraft.
The rest kept coming for the chariot.
Their metallic bodies gleamed under the blood-red sky, their movements unnervingly synchronized. They weren’t just machines—they were a hive mind, moving with one purpose: eliminate the targets.
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Far away, in the crumbling ruins of Santa Prisca, a single phone buzzed beneath a dark robe.
Lady Shiva pulled it out, her expression unreadable.
“You failed us,” a harsh voice crackled through the speaker. “We thought your presence would ensure success. It seems… we overestimated you.”
Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t respond.
“Get out of there. Now. The mission is cancelled.”
The line went dead.
Shiva closed her eyes, exhaling quietly. When she looked up, she could see faint red lights flickering across the distant horizon, chaotic beams tearing through the clouds. Her expression softened into something almost like regret before she turned and vanished into the shadows.
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Back on the chariot, time seemed to crawl.
Mark’s hands trembled as he tried again to stop the bleeding. His father’s pulse was fading beneath his touch. His skin, once warm, was now frighteningly cold.
“Dad, stay with me. Please,” Mark pleaded.
His father coughed violently, blood bubbling at his lips. His breaths came shallow and ragged.
Even Zatanna, still maintaining the barrier, turned away—she couldn’t bear to watch.
“Mark…” she whispered, her voice trembling, “…I’m sorry.”
The words cut deeper than any blade could.
Mark shook his head, his vision blurring with tears. “Don’t,don’t say that.”
But he already knew. Deep down, he knew.
His father’s eyes fluttered again. This time, there was a faint, peaceful smile there,a serenity Mark didn’t understand.
“Don’t… worry, son,” his father murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. “This… this is my punishment. For all the children I turned into… machines.”
He coughed again, weaker this time. “Protect your mother… for me.”
And then… his hand slipped from Mark’s grasp.
The faint rise and fall of his chest stopped.
Everything stopped.
Mark stared at him, his mind blank. The sounds of the battle around him grew distant, muffled as though he were underwater.
“Dad…?”
No answer.
Tears welled up and spilled down his cheeks, dripping onto his father’s unmoving body.
Something inside him snapped.
The grief twisted into something else something darker. His heart pounded violently in his chest, his body trembling not from sorrow now, but from rage. The air around him began to hum with a low vibration, a surge of raw magical energy gathering like a storm.
Zatanna turned toward him, alarm flashing in her eyes. “Mark,wait! Stop!”
But he didn’t hear her. He couldn’t.
His eyes burned, glowing faintly gold. His voice, when he spoke, was low and cold, carrying a venom that made even Iskandar glance back.
“Annihilate them all, King of Uruk,” he commanded. “Don’t leave even a single one alive.”
A red glow erupted across his back—a massive command seal, pulsating like a living flame.
Gilgamesh materialized above them, laughing, his voice echoing through the heavens.
“Finally,” the King of Heroes declared, “you speak like a true king, mongrel. Now witness the judgment of the King of Uruk!”
The Gordius Wheel halted mid-air.
The space behind Gilgamesh shimmered, distorting into a liquid gold vortex. From it emerged countless weapons,swords, spears, axes and arrows each glowing with divine brilliance.
With a flick of his wrist, the sky turned gold.
The phantasms fired like celestial rain, streaking across the heavens. Each weapon found its mark, tearing through the cyborgs with unstoppable force.
Meanwhile, inside the Batwing, alarms blared. Smoke filled the cockpit.
“The engine’s hit,” Batman said flatly. “We’re losing power. Prepare to eject.”
Constantine gawked at him. “Are you bloody insane?! If we jump now, those metal freaks’ll turn us into toast!”
Before Batman could answer, the entire sky lit up.
Golden light blazed across the battlefield. Thousands of weapons shot past them like comets, shredding the cyborgs in every direction.
Constantine’s jaw fell open. “Bloody hell…”
Within seconds, the mechanical swarm was gone—reduced to smoking fragments raining down from the heavens. The red glow in their eyes flickered out, one by one, until only silence remained.
The air was still. The battlefield, golden.
And at its heart stood Mark,his eyes empty, his aura blazing with divine fury while the King of Heroes laughed above him in triumph.
