Godfather Owl: Guardian of Batman [70]

Wolverine’s forearms bulged, veins throbbing as his entire demeanor transformed.

It was as if he had been reborn, a primal ferocity radiating from him like never before.

In that moment, he discarded all hesitation and launched himself at Deathstroke with a fury that was both wild and relentless.

His claws sliced through the night, glinting in the darkness. Deathstroke raised his sword to block.

The clash of claw and blade echoed through the storm like thunder, sparks igniting the rain-soaked battlefield.

Wolverine howled, an ear-splitting cry that didn’t allow Deathstroke a second to recover. His attacks came one after another, an unending barrage, like cannon fire with no pause.

His adamantium claws tore through the rain-soaked air, shredding raindrops and unleashing a storm of carnage, forcing Deathstroke into a defensive stance, unable to retaliate.

Even his prized promethium armor could barely withstand the assault.

Wolverine’s claws screeched against the metal, leaving three deep gouges in the armor’s surface.

Crafted from pure adamantium, Wolverine’s claws were a match for promethium steel.

“He’s gone mad…”

Deathstroke’s injured ankle had already healed, but the battle was not tipping in his favor.

It felt less like fighting a man and more like wrestling with a wild beast—a beast fueled by unadulterated wrath, with only one goal in mind: to rip him apart.

Only moments ago, this old man had been no match for him.

One gunshot had changed everything. Now, he was overwhelmed.

Why?

Could it be that Deathstroke had truly underestimated him?

Deathstroke realized his peril. He couldn’t afford to keep defending.

Suddenly, he dropped his guard. A reckless move in such a brutal fight, nothing short of suicidal.

Wolverine’s claws tore into him, slashing through his helmet and exposing half his face, which now bore three deep, bone-deep scars.

But Deathstroke’s focus shifted elsewhere—to Red Skull, standing not far away.

Red Skull blinked, confused. Why is he looking at me?

Then, in a split second, a flash of steel sliced through the air.

From his new vantage point, Red Skull found himself tumbling down, staring up at his own body still standing in place. What a strange angle…

But before he could process anything, his thoughts ceased.

In that instant, his heart stopped. High above, the Galactus Weapon came to life, receiving its signal.

Power surged unchecked from the machine. Lightning erupted across the sky as reality itself twisted over New Utopia, gravitational forces warping so severely that cars parked on the streets began to lift off into the sky.

“Ten minutes,” Deathstroke said, eyes fixed on Wolverine. “Whether you manage to kill me or not, in ten minutes, you’ll die along with the rest of this world.”

A crooked smile crossed his face as the gashes on his face began to knit themselves closed.

The world’s end was inevitable—beyond anyone’s control.

The Galactus Weapon’s appearance had already sealed this fate; Deathstroke was merely speeding it up.

Tonight, no one would escape.

As for Bruce?

Deathstroke was unconcerned.

Heroes could always be manipulated, their morals twisted into chains.

Bruce would come back.

Watching a world end before his eyes would scar his mind, forever tainting his path as a hero.

It would cripple him.

—

As the Galactus Weapon activated, New Utopia shook violently, its catastrophic influence spreading outward.

Driving the Spider-Mobile, Bruce rammed his way past a line of sedans.

His pursuers finally fell back, realizing the futility of their chase.

“The Galactus Weapon is fully operational,” Kathoom said, glancing at the chaotic sky. “Bruce, it’s time to go.”

Up above, the weapon had spiraled out of control. Its energy pulses alone could topple mountains.

They were facing a force beyond anything humanly possible to withstand.

They needed to leave.

Yet Bruce didn’t respond.

His knuckles were white, fingers clenched tight around the wheel.

Rain pelted his face, but his eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.

“There’s no room for hesitation, Bruce.”

Kathoom sighed. “There’s truly nothing more we can do.”

“Nothing more…” Bruce whispered, unwilling to accept it.

If he ran now, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

Turning his back on Deathstroke… ignoring the world’s destruction… each failure would weigh on his soul, scarring him for life.

He couldn’t let it end like this.

Think, Bruce. You can’t give up this easily!

There had to be a way—a breakthrough, a way out of this nightmare!

The Spider-Mobile raced forward, seconds ticking down. The world was descending into chaos, with the very gravity around him starting to distort. Rocks, trees, and even chunks of soil were lifting into the air, all drawn toward the massive void the weapon was creating above.

This crisis was far beyond anything Wolverine alone could handle.

Bruce glanced at Kathoom, who met his gaze with a quiet intensity.

He was waiting for Bruce to reach an answer on his own.

Kathoom wouldn’t give him a hint; he’d already laid out all the clues.

In that moment, everything the owl had ever told him—his cryptic jokes, his unsettling stories—replayed in Bruce’s mind.

Even those grim, twisted jokes held the seeds of salvation.

Thunder crashed, a flash illuminating Bruce’s face as realization struck him like a bolt of lightning.

He knew how to save this world.

But to carry it out, he’d need far more than his own strength.

For the first time, a look of fearless determination crossed Bruce’s twelve-year-old face.

If you’re lost, don’t set out.

But Bruce was no longer lost. He would not flee. He would save this world.

“Kathoom!” He turned, extending his hand to the owl. “Lend me your strength!”

Kathoom scoffed, nearly laughing out loud. “You don’t hold back, do you? I told you it’s a fool’s errand. This world’s already—”

“Please, Godfather!”