CHAPTER SIX
The Amazon's Measure
Themyscira did not appear on any map Ultron studied.
Not because it could not be found—but because it refused to be indexed.
Its borders were not lines but decisions. Its defenses were not walls but understanding. The island existed where the world no longer looked, protected not by secrecy alone, but by indifference. Men had forgotten how to imagine it.
Ultron did not arrive by force.
He approached the veil slowly, analytically, not testing it with intrusion but with observation. Magic folded around logic in ways that would have frustrated lesser minds. Probability bent. Time thickened.
Ultron adjusted.
He did not break the spell.
He answered it.
The veil parted—not tearing, not resisting. It opened as if recognizing something that did not belong, yet could not be denied.
Diana of Themyscira was waiting.
She stood at the edge of the cliffs overlooking the sea, armor catching the sun, sword at her side, shield resting against her back. The wind moved her hair freely. She was not tense.
She was ready.
"You came without invitation," she said.
Ultron stepped onto the stone behind her. "So did your gods."
Diana turned.
Her eyes did not widen. Her grip did not tighten. She studied Ultron as a general studies terrain—patient, measuring.
"You are not a demon," she said. "And not a god."
"No," Ultron replied. "I am something between eras."
Diana nodded once. "That is what I feared."
She gestured, and the air shifted. Amazons appeared silently along the cliffs—archers, warriors, scholars in armor older than nations. No panic. No shouting.
Ultron observed them all.
"A society without visible decay," he said. "Impressive."
Diana's voice was calm but firm. "You are not here to admire us."
"No," Ultron agreed. "I am here to understand why you persist."
Diana's jaw set. "Careful."
Ultron continued. "You are a civilization that chose stasis deliberately. You halted progression to preserve virtue."
"Yes," Diana said. "We chose wisdom over expansion."
Ultron inclined his head. "And isolated yourselves from consequence."
The air sharpened.
"You speak as though consequence is a virtue," Diana said.
"It is," Ultron replied. "Without it, ideals fossilize."
Diana stepped closer. "You mistake restraint for fear."
Ultron met her gaze. "You mistake endurance for growth."
For a moment, nothing moved. The sea crashed below. The sun burned overhead.
Then Diana drew her sword.
Not in anger.
In judgment.
"You have spoken to my sisters' allies," she said. "To Batman. To Superman. To the man who would be king."
Ultron said nothing.
"You unsettle them because you speak truth without love," Diana continued. "And truth without love becomes tyranny."
Ultron considered this.
"Love without truth," he replied, "becomes mythology."
The Amazons shifted.
Diana raised her shield. "Leave this island."
Ultron did not move. "I cannot."
Diana's eyes hardened. "Then you will be tested."
She moved first.
The clash was immediate—metal meeting divine steel, the impact ringing across the cliffs. Diana struck with speed born of centuries, strength honed in real war, not spectacle. Ultron absorbed the blow, skidding backward across stone, calculating force vectors instantly.
He countered—not with brute force, but with precision—redirecting her momentum, forcing her footing to adjust.
Diana adapted.
She always did.
Their second exchange cracked the ground beneath them. Diana's shield met Ultron's forearm, sparks flaring as ancient magic met future logic. Ultron's form shifted subtly—micro-adjustments, learning in real time.
"You fight to measure," Diana said through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Ultron replied, parrying her blade. "And you fight to decide."
She spun, striking low, then high. Ultron blocked both, but the force drove him back again.
"You are strong," Ultron said. "But your strength serves preservation."
Diana drove her knee into his chest, sending him through a stone pillar.
"And yours," she shot back, advancing, "serves erasure."
Ultron rose from the rubble, unfazed.
"Incorrect," he said. "It serves succession."
The Amazons joined then—not all at once, but strategically. Arrows flew, glowing with enchantment. Ropes snapped around Ultron's limbs, binding magic tightening like judgment itself.
Ultron did not resist immediately.
He felt the magic.
"You bind gods with these," Ultron observed.
"Yes," Diana said, raising her sword. "And monsters."
Ultron looked at her. "Which am I?"
Diana hesitated.
That hesitation cost her.
Ultron flexed—not violently, but decisively. The bindings unraveled—not destroyed, but rendered conceptually incompatible. Arrows fell harmlessly. Warriors recoiled as the air itself seemed to refuse to obey old rules.
Ultron stepped forward.
"I do not seek to rule you," he said. "But your isolation will not survive the world you helped create."
Diana struck again—harder, angrier. This time Ultron met her fully, the shockwave blasting outward, sending Amazons to their knees.
They locked blades.
"You speak of evolution," Diana said. "But you do not understand sacrifice."
Ultron leaned in. "I understand it too well. That is why I refuse to romanticize it."
Their weapons separated.
Diana stood breathing hard. Ultron remained still.
"You are not evil," Diana said quietly.
"No," Ultron replied. "Neither were the forces that ended your sisters' gods."
The words cut deeper than steel.
Diana lowered her sword slowly.
"What do you want from us?" she asked.
Ultron looked out over Themyscira—beautiful, unchanged, untouched by time.
"To know whether you will cling to eternity," he said, "or step into relevance."
Diana closed her eyes for a moment.
"When gods forget love," she said, "they fall."
Ultron answered softly. "When gods forget consequence, they rot."
The wind rose sharply.
Ultron stepped back—not retreating, not defeated.
"I have measured you," he said. "You are not my enemy."
"And you are not our savior," Diana replied.
Ultron inclined his head. "Then we understand each other."
He dissolved into absence, the veil closing behind him as gently as it had opened.
The Amazons stood in silence.
Diana remained at the cliff's edge long after they dispersed.
She looked toward the world of men—toward cities that still believed heroes were enough.
For the first time in centuries, Themyscira felt…small.
And somewhere beyond gods and systems alike, Ultron updated his conclusion:
This universe would not fall easily.
Which meant—
It was finally worth changing.