Time seemed to freeze. The Poseidon army stood motionless—neither attacking nor fleeing. The civilians who hadn't escaped yet simply watched in silence. Some, more emotional, shed quiet tears. The Saints continued surrounding the enemy.
The only one still moving was Melin.
He walked to each fallen Saint, gently cradling their bodies and laying them beside Colonels. He softly wiped the blood and scars from their faces, imprinting their final expressions into his memory.
At that moment, a commotion echoed from the sky. Several helicopters flew overhead, and a large number of marines descended via drop ropes, surrounding everyone.
A single man in a suit walked forward proudly, chin lifted.
"We are the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division. Everyone, cease resistance and prepare to—"
Boom—
Before he could finish, he was crushed into a bloody pulp by a sudden, overwhelming pressure.
The accompanying soldiers tried to raise their guns but found they couldn't move. Some invisible force had taken control of their bodies.
"Shh!" Melin placed a finger to his lips, addressing the marines around him. "Quiet. My children are asleep. Don't wake them."
…
…
Melin still wore his calm smile, but it chilled all who witnessed it to the bone—as if a demon from the deepest abyss had surfaced.
He ignored the soldiers' reactions and used telekinesis to gently lift the bodies of the fallen Saints. Then he turned to face the Poseidon army.
Only now did Gersa truly see the face of the man who had frozen him with a single sentence. But seeing meant nothing, for in his eyes, Melin wasn't a man—he was a vast, boundless universe.
"Go back and tell Poseidon to wash his neck and wait. This time, there will be no awakening." Melin spoke with an eerily calm voice, delivering the cruelest threat like a winter wind that extinguished all flame.
Oddly enough, Gersa felt relief at hearing that. If Melin needed someone to carry a message, that meant they would be spared.
As soon as he regained control of his body, he dove into the sea without a second thought.
With Gersa leading the way, the lower-ranked sea warriors followed suit, tossing their weapons and fleeing into the ocean.
But then Melin asked Camus, "How many people do you need to deliver a message?"
Camus replied coldly, "My lord, one is enough."
He then threw a punch.
Diamond Dust.
Cold winds howled and frost swept through. In the blink of an eye, the sea warriors who had entered the ocean turned into ice sculptures. A trail of icy frost spread across the sea, and the expressions of fear and despair frozen on their faces added a lifelike intensity to the frozen path.
Melin was very pleased with Camus' handiwork. Then he turned to the marines from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.
With just one look, they would've dropped their weapons and begged for mercy if they hadn't still been frozen in place.
"Go back and tell Peggy—I want an explanation."
With that, Melin and the Saints disappeared, taking the bodies of the fallen Saints with them.
Only then did the marines regain movement, many collapsing to the ground.
"M-Monster…"
"Who… are these people?"
"What… do we do now?"
…
With their commanding officer now a bloody stain on the ground—one that couldn't even be scraped up—they had no idea what to do next.
"Retreat," ordered the second-highest-ranking marine. He had to report everything—and quickly. Besides…
He noticed the looks of pure hatred coming from the civilians around them. They wanted to tear the marines apart. He didn't dare stay.
…
Soon, the disaster began to explode across the internet.
Photos of Camus, Shura, and others, along with videos of them stopping the tsunami, went viral on Facebook and YouTube. The praise was overwhelming. Media outlets rushed to cover the story to boost their ratings and influence.
Meanwhile, the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division was thrown into chaos.
This had become a matter of national reputation. The higher-ups would never tolerate individuals gaining fame beyond their control.
Peggy, Howard, and Steve—the Division's three founding elders—were in an office listening to Fury's report.
At first, hearing that Camus and the others had stopped the tsunami didn't stir them much. After all, the Sanctuary had warned them a year ago about disturbances in the ocean and Poseidon's potential awakening.
The tsunami's sudden arrival had merely caught them off guard. The real shock came later.
When Steve said he sensed the cosmos of eight Saints vanish, Peggy and Howard were clearly shaken. They'd always seen the Saints' power as unmatched. For eight to die suddenly meant something dire had occurred.
Just as they were preparing to head to Sanctuary for confirmation, Fury delivered new intel.
"This is satellite footage of the battle," Fury said as the three watched the video.
He also kept a close eye on their reactions. Peggy and Howard turned pale. Their respect for the fallen Saints was understandable—even Fury felt the same when watching the footage.
But Steve's reaction was different. His eyes brimmed with tears. His fists clenched tightly, and his jaw was locked in barely-contained grief and fury, as if he wished he had been there to fight.
"Could they really be connected to the Sanctuary?" Fury immediately suspected. After all, Melin had directly demanded an explanation from Peggy in the footage.
"Alright, I understand. You're dismissed," Peggy waved Fury away.
"Ma'am, with all due respect, these warriors are incredible—but their power is too dangerous. We have no way to control it. I believe—"
"I don't need your opinion, Agent Fury. Matters regarding the Sanctuary are not your concern," Peggy cut him off bluntly.
"But—"
"That's enough. I have a task for you. Find out which brain-dead idiot authorized this operation. I want a detailed report on my desk by tomorrow morning." Peggy gave her final order.
"…Understood." Fury left, frustrated, but now even more convinced of his suspicions.
Once he was gone, Peggy slumped into her chair, covering her face with her hands.
"Are you alright, Peggy?" Howard asked with concern. He didn't think she would falter, but he feared her old, dangerous ideals might resurface—especially since Melin had killed a Division agent without hesitation.
"Relax, Howard. I'm fine. Anyone dumb enough to die that way has only themselves to blame. Besides, he wasn't one of ours." Having worked together for years, Peggy immediately knew what Howard was worried about.
In their eyes, the Division only had three types of personnel: their own people, those who were expendable, and those still being evaluated.
And the man Melin killed? Clearly expendable.
"Peggy, Howard, I'm returning to Sanctuary immediately," Steve said.
With Saints dead, he had to go pay his respects. Though he had always been the most distant Saint, Steve still saw them all as comrades.
Colonels, one of the first Silver Saints, had once trained Steve. He was like both a mentor and a friend.
So of course Steve would go back.
"We'll go with you tomorrow, Steve. Melin is still waiting for my explanation," Peggy said.
"That's right. The three of us are part of the Sanctuary. When Saints fall, we must pay our respects," Howard added.
"But what about here? Fury's starting to get suspicious," Steve worried.
"I know. And he's ambitious. But it doesn't matter. He'll find out eventually. We might as well use this to evaluate him," Peggy said.
"So, you've already found a potential successor?" Howard smiled.
"Yes, though he's still green. A few more years of tempering, and he'll be ready. But that's not important now."
"The Holy War… Poseidon…"
At the mention, their expressions turned grim. They had always known that holy wars were cruel—many powerful Saints had perished in them.
But that had only been stories. Experiencing it firsthand was entirely different.
Eight Saints dead at the very beginning. How many more would fall before it ended?
Yet, to everyone's relief, the Holy War's opening had almost no civilian casualties. Only a few died in the chaos of escape.
Everyone protected by the Saints survived.
That was what people admired most—including Fury, Coulson, and others who watched the footage.
Especially at the end. Though the inner workings of the Delta Seal weren't recorded, the fact that no Poseidon soldiers escaped during its duration—and the brutal state of Colonels when it shattered—made the truth painfully clear.
For duty, for honor, for love and hope of the Earth, the Saints gave up even the slimmest chance of survival. They stood and died rather than live in disgrace, completing their mission with their lives.
Many asked themselves—could I do the same?
And most found the answer was the same.
No.