Darkseid

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The suppressive fire from the naval guns and missiles visibly weakened. The Carrier Strike Group had been authorized to withdraw from the battlefield and was slowly retreating toward the deep sea under air cover.

The cost was secondary; the strategic implications were unbearable. If news of the Carrier Strike Group's destruction got out, the loss in value of the American dollar would be enough to build several more fleets of the same size.

This was business—a loss-making deal with astronomical costs. No one would make it!

Fortunately, it wasn't a major problem. Their stockpile of mushrooms was alarmingly abundant, so this was the perfect chance to use up a batch.

The air force base along the coast resumed its bombardment. Under the cover of escort fighters, the warheads struck the entrance to the spatial passage dead-on. Intense white light shot into the sky, cutting off the endless stream of Parademons pouring out.

Rust Island fell apart once again, sublimating into nothingness under the extreme heat.

Both sides were stubborn to the core, and now they were competing over stockpiles: did America have more mushrooms, or did Apokolips have more cannon fodder?

If Russell had to choose, Apokolips definitely had more Parademons. They were playing at cosmic invasion; even if every mushroom on Earth were dropped, the Parademons killed would only amount to a drop in the bucket—not even enough to count as a fraction.

But the American military didn't see it that way. Or rather, it was a matter of conviction. Since the dawn of human civilization, nuclear bombs had been the most terrifying weapons of destruction. If they voluntarily admitted that their ultimate weapon couldn't eliminate the enemy, there would be no point in continuing the battle.

The Parademons tirelessly assaulted the blockade line. The rusty