Losing humanity to beco "strength" itself wasn’t what Su Ming wanted.
Just thinking of Dr. Manhattan’s eerie existence sent chills down his spine.
Back in his past life, Su Ming heard debates about how powerful Dr. Manhattan was, what feats he could achieve.
But ask those people which superhero they’d want to be?
Not one picked Dr. Manhattan.
They chose Iron Man, Superman, Spider-Man, even Deadpool—happy in their pain.
Why?
Their human spark.
It wasn’t about power but human charm.
Rather than becoming so vague "quantum structure aggregate" or concept, being human mattered most.
Su Ming reflected on his years.
In the Marvel universe, life felt lighter, the world open.
He lived as a human among people.
In DC, it was darker, more oppressive. He was forced to defeat stronger foes, pushed by the environnt to grow stronger.
Even unwillingly, he had to wield "concept-level" powers to stay ahead.
"Maybe, aside from Barry seeing as a friend and Batman viewing as human, others see the otherworld Deathstroke as just ’strength’ incarnate."
No, it was getting too dark. Su Ming shook his head.
He couldn’t let his thoughts spiral to extres.
Things weren’t that bad. To the Justice League, the otherworld Deathstroke still had charm. Look at Arthur—always so emotional when they t.
Speaking of, Arthur nad his trident "Tom." Su Ming hadn’t had the heart to comnt.
"Deal. They co with ."
It felt like human trafficking.
Hera was ready. Soon, Athena, tissues stuffed in her nose, Artemis, cautiously guarding her rear, and Hestia, calm and curious, entered the hall.
Hestia studied Deathstroke with interest.
"They’re not used to human society. Be mindful," Hera said.
She pulled the three aside for a lengthy talk, hosted a banquet, then sent them off.
Su Ming let the forr goddesses board his craft, trailing behind, quipping, "Don’t worry. I have a client great with legal issues. He probably has a ’Goddesses Descending’ contingency."
"The Multiverse’s future is unclear. Ensure their safety."
Su Ming nodded. Don’t put all eggs in one basket—sending so away kept Olympus from collapsing.
"Olympus does draw trouble. Next ti you want to spread risk, just say so."
"Make it a transaction? Olympus has no bargaining chips left. Or do you want Eris?" Hera stood in the plaza, near Poseidon’s cremation. His body was lost with the Gods’ Tomb, so they burned a wooden statue instead.
The figure blackened in the flas, features blurring, embers drifting.
Faint sobs ca—so god close to Poseidon.
A wooden stake or clay idol was the gods’ original essence as human "icons."
"Farewell."
The mood wasn’t right to stay. Eris, Hera’s co-conspirator, knew everything, said nothing, and fooled all.
Too dangerous to keep close. Let her revive Olympus.
Su Ming piloted the ship, watching the three whisper in the back, feeling a headache.
Hera gave him three won, but without ceremony or announcent—not even a hint of marriage.
What was this? Maids? Bodyguards? Enforcers? Not wives—strangers, essentially.
Well, Athena had said a few words.
Where to put them? Harley’s place was out; it couldn’t fit them, and exposing them to that madwoman felt risky.
Themyscira? No, Diana and Donna’s looks made that impossible. Su Ming had played dumb but read their eyes.
"Where are you taking us?" Artemis, the chosen spokesperson, asked fearfully.
Without divine power, they felt vulnerable.
Su Ming, helt off since piloting didn’t require it, flashed a nacing grin.
"I’ve got a castle in Romania. You’ll be turned into vampires, chopping wood, feeding horses, cleaning toilets, and performing live sacrifices. When I’m in a bad mood and kill soone, you’ll stake the bodies and line them along my borders."
"Wah! Boo-hoo!" Artemis broke down, hugging Athena. She didn’t want to be a vampire or clean toilets. A hunter, she rarely killed.
Her tears were just for scaring her. Athena, the wisdom goddess, knew Vlad the Impaler’s legend—Deathstroke was joking.
He was unreadable. Athena couldn’t fathom why Hera trusted him to secure Olympus’s deal.
Their fate was unknown.
Artemis’s sobs sank Athena into sorrow.
Only Hestia, head tilted, looked puzzled. "What’s a vampire?"
"Uh... a blood-drinking monster," Su Ming explained bluntly. Hestia’s lack of common sense was staggering.
"Is human blood tasty?" Hestia blinked innocently.
"Like fish blood—salty, fishy." Su Ming knew where to take them. He had business.
Hestia pursed her lips. "Not tasty, then. Why do vampires drink it?"
"They need it to survive. Hence, vampires."
"Why only blood?" she pressed, curious.
Hestia looked mature, curvaceous, with a sultry face, but was clueless—a blank slate.
She rarely stayed on Olympus, honing cooking skills at ho. No wonder Zeus, the old lech, eyed her, even as his aunt.
Now mortals, they were just stronger than average.
And Su Ming’s property.
They brought artifacts: Athena’s spear, shield, and helt; Artemis’s longbow; Hestia’s... pot.
"They don’t eat properly. Speaking of, let’s have hotpot later."
Su Ming dodged further questions, changing the topic.
"Hotpot?" Hestia asked. "What’s that?"
"Sigh."
Su Ming slamd the throttle forward. He needed to grab encyclopedias for her. Too many questions—like babysitting.
The purple seas were turning blue, receding fast. Tempest had recovered, and the fishn would revert in days—or sooner with the Upside-Down Man’s reversal spell.
Atlantis lay in ruins, empty save for Arthur and ra working.
ra used hard-water magic to clean streets, washing away blood and bodies. Arthur repaired buildings and filled sinkholes.
"You played hero, and look at the ss. Even without Atlantis’s rockets, Deathstroke could’ve breached the barrier," ra grumbled, more jealous than angry.
Arthur hefted a wall, gluing it with special sealant. "Who knew? We couldn’t waste ti."
"So you stared at Diana’s legs?"
"I didn’t."
Arthur’s weak defense echoed their repetitive argunt. Since parting with the League, they’d returned to rebuild Poseidonis.
Pointless bickering followed, making Arthur want to flee.
ra: "Did you eat today?"
Arthur: "Not yet."
ra: "So you had ti to stare at Diana’s legs?"
Arthur: "..."
Or ra: "Wall fixed?"
Arthur: "Not yet."
ra: "But your hand was quick to pat Tempest’s stomach?"
Arthur: "..."
He was exhausted. Post-graveyard, ra had been affectionate, kissing him eagerly, shocking fishman-Barry.
Why the shift after the battle?
Checking teammates or aiding the wounded—Arthur saw no wrong.
"Dare ignore ? Arthur Curry, what’re you thinking?!" ra’s hard-water hand pinched his waist, twisting like a drill.
"Wait, Justice League jet!" Arthur pointed at a distant speck, a lifeline.
ra huffed, retracting her hand. The League’s timing was perfect—she’d preserve her husband’s dignity in public.
But it wasn’t the League. A black-and-yellow figure stepped from the craft.
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