Transformation in the DC World

Chapter 170: The Arrival of the Fantasy Realm

Avalon—the fabled Isle of Dreams—was a realm that refused to touch mortal soil.Its very existence demanded an environment beyond the laws of nature.

Which meant… Thea had to

She couldn’t summon it to the ground, so she did the only thing possible—create a floating island herself, large enough to anchor the projection coming across time and space.

Of course, the process was anything but subtle.

When Horus reshaped the world earlier, it had been delicate, almost poetic—divine power woven with the precision of cosmic art. Every change, from the sand to the air, had been seamless.hereal palace floating between worlds.

On the , the crew was struck speechless.

Science had officially tapped out.

Even Ray Palmer—the Atom—who’d been recovering from his earlier injury, was staring at the screen in utter disbelief.

As a diehard fan of Arthurian legends, he recognized that name instantly.

When Thea shouted it—loud enough for the whole world to hear—it hit him like a dream come true.

“Avalon…?” he whispered, eyes wide, heart pounding with fanboy awe.

And then Thea’s voice came through the comms—steady, righteous, commanding:

“Captain, everyone—I need your help to stop this evil god!”

Her tone was pure conviction.

Even Superman couldn’t have delivered a line that rousing.

In that moment, she wasn’t just Thea Queen—she was the living symbol of justice, the protector of human freedom.

“I’m in! Jax, let’s go!”

Professor Stein didn’t even hesitate. Decades steeped in liberal ideals and moral duty flared alive; this was his calling.

Jax hesitated for a heartbeat. The scene outside looked like the literal apocalypse. Six months ago, he’d been fixing cars, not fighting gods.

But one look at his partner’s determination—and he knew if he said no, Stein would probably jump with a parachute and a shotgun.

So he nodded. “Yeah… let’s do this.”

The two merged in a flash of light, becoming Firestorm once more—and without waiting for Rip’s permission, they blasted straight out of the hatch.

“I’m going too!” Ray shouted, already pulling on his armor.

“Ray, your injuries—!” Hawkgirl started, alarmed.

“I’ll be fine! The suit’s got life support!”

He hugged her quickly and shot into the sky after Firestorm.

Whether it was for justice or the chance to see his childhood legend up close—well, only he knew that part.

“Ray—!” Kendra ran after him, but it was too late. She stopped short in frustration—only to notice Sara Lance watching her with a knowing smile.

“Send me down too. I’m helping.”

Ordinary heroes without powers had to rely on others even to get into the fight. It was frustrating—but Sara’s tone left no doubt she meant it.

Rip sighed. If he played dead any longer, the team would mutiny.

“Fine. We’re all going,” he said, trying for authority. “We’re the Legends, aren’t we?”

Even the rogues of the group didn’t protest. Who’d turn down a chance to fight in a literal myth?

And it mythic.

Across the battlefield, Horus had assembled a full infantry phalanx—rows upon rows of sand-armored soldiers.

Behind them marched massive falcon-headed giants, each three meters tall, echoing his own form.

On Thea’s side, knights emerged from the mist—riders in gleaming armor, shields bright as dawn. From swamps, forests, and haze they came—each armed differently: swords, axes, hammers, maces.

It was divine war, old-world style.

Both commanders had chosen the same approach—an army-for-army clash.

Horus relied on his divine control.

Thea relied on infinite mana.

Both radiated absolute confidence.

The Legends landed beside her moments later. Thea descended a little to spare their necks—hovering only a few feet above the ground.

“We’re here. Tell us what to do,” Rip said, the team lined up behind him.

Thea studied them for a moment. To be honest, only Firestorm and the Atom were really suited for this fight. The rest—Sara, Kendra, Cold—were brave, sure, but a god-level war? They were way out of their league.

Her gaze drifted to Ray again—injured but wide-eyed, staring at the knights emerging from the mist, trying to recognize them.

“What exactly are you looking at?” she thought dryly.

Those were just Outlines, not real people. Summoning actual Arthurian knights would’ve cost absurd amounts of power, and for what? Half of them probably wouldn’t last five minutes against Sara in a duel.

Still, she couldn’t just dismiss their help outright.

She lifted a hand, channeling healing energy toward Ray. “Let’s patch you up for now. You can recover properly later.”

Ten seconds passed. He didn’t even flinch.

Thea rubbed her temples. “He’s not listening…”

Fine. Inspiration struck.

“How about this,” she said, smiling. “Each of you will take on the spirit of a Knight of the Round Table. I’ll anchor their souls to your bodies.”

The team barely had time to blink before Ray lit up like a Christmas tree.

“Wait—really? ”

“Why not?” Thea said, amused. He had been the second to volunteer—and he was still fighting through injury. That kind of spirit deserved something special.

She extended a hand toward the mist. A swirl of black smoke coalesced, rising like a wisp from Avalon’s forest.

She pointed at Ray, her voice ringing with power.

“Sir Gawain—your knight’s soul is his!”

Light exploded across the field.