FrenzyAren
patreon
SM/DC Chapter 142 : Kamish
🕑 Added 2025-06-08 22:04:59 +0000 UTCGOTHAM - ARTHUR BLACKWYND ESTATE – NIGHT
Streetlights flickered to life in the dark, casting pale halos on the sidewalk where three figures in hooded jackets loitered across the street from Blackwynd Estate.
“Man, look at this place,” one of them muttered, low and impressed. “Place looks loaded.”
The second one, taller and broader, squinted through the rain. “I’ve walked by here before. No guards. No gates. Who the hell leaves a house like that in Gotham unprotected?”
“Someone with serious cash that doesn’t even care,” the third said. “You think there’s tech inside? Jewelry?”
The tall one nodded, stepping off the curb. “There are weird vibrations in the ground here... But let’s check it out. Maybe the guy’s out of town or....”
He froze.
So did the others.
“Yo…” one of them whispered. “Am I trippin’… or is there… someone looking at us in the window?”
The three turned their eyes to the second-floor window, framed in elegant black iron and aged oak. Behind the glass, just barely visible through the gauzy curtain a silhouette.
Still.
Watching.
It didn’t move for several seconds.
Then, slowly, it raised its hand and waved.
Not friendly.
Mocking.
Its eyes flared red, gleaming unnaturally even through the glass.
“What the fuck...” one of them yelped, stepping back. “Is that a goddamn ghost?!”
“Nah, nah, I’m done,” the broad one said, spinning on his heel. “I’m not robbing a haunted house, bro. I draw the line at demon mansions. Gotham got enough of that.”
“Fuck no. I’m out of here.”
All three bolted back into the rain-slick alley, leaving behind only boot prints and a slowly fading sense of unease.
Inside the window, the shadow remained. Watching.
Then it vanished.
****
Rain tapped lazily against the tall windows of the Blackwynd Estate, the storm outside reduced to a dull, murmuring drizzle. Inside, it was quiet, save for the soft crackle of the fireplace and the rustling of a broadsheet newspaper held in George’s hands.
He sat impeccably dressed, as always, in a black waistcoat and silver-lined cufflinks his posture straight, his expression calm. But even the poised man couldn’t help the slight flicker of annoyance that danced across his brow.
From deep beneath the estate, a low rumble shook the floorboards. Not violent—just persistent. Rhythmic. The sound resembled tools striking earth and claws tearing through stone echoed like a subterranean symphony. George lowered his paper with a quiet sigh and glanced downward as if he could stare through the polished marble beneath his feet.
“Below the house, Master Arthur?” he muttered with gentle exasperation. “Of all places. It feels rather like waking up in the morning beside a construction site... only these workers don’t sleep, and they’re rather fond of growling.”
He returned to his paper with a resigned shake of the head just in time for the front doors to ease open.
A gust of cool air flowed in, followed by Kara, her golden hair damp from the rain, boots leaving faint imprints on the polished floor. Her gaze searched the room instinctively before settling on George.
He stood immediately.
“Miss Kara,” he said with a dignified bow. “A pleasure, as always.”
“Hey, George,” she said with a faint smile, brushing a few droplets from her jacket. “Sorry for dropping in unannounced again.”
“You are most welcome, unannounced or otherwise,” George replied. “Though I take it by your expression... you didn’t find him.”
Kara exhaled quietly and nodded, her shoulders sinking a little as she unzipped her jacket.
“No,” she said. “Not at Titans Tower. Not in Metropolis. Or here in Gotham. He didn’t even drop by his family. He’s... gone quiet again.”
George studied her for a moment—there was no bitterness in her voice, only that subtle frustration of someone searching for someone who matters deeply. And had questions of her own. He nodded in understanding.
“He has a habit of vanishing,” George said, folding the newspaper. “But only when he believes it necessary. I imagine Master Arthur will return shortly, he always does.”
“Yeah. I know that,” Kara murmured, almost to herself. “I just...”
“You worry,” George finished gently. “As do I. but I assume you still have questions...”
She looked up, surprised by the softness in his tone.
“Come,” George said, already moving toward the kitchen, “Allow me to bring you something warm. You look as though the weather followed you in.”
Kara chuckled faintly and sat down, glancing around the room. It was cozy quiet in a way she didn’t always associate with Gotham. But that quiet was once again interrupted by the low rumble beneath her boots.
She frowned slightly, her enhanced hearing picking up the vibrations strikes against stone, deep movement, the echo of creatures shifting the very earth. Her x-ray vision kicked in instinctively.
And what she saw made her eyes widen.
There was an entire network of tunnels beneath the estate, a sprawling cavern now being hollowed out by dozens of Arthur’s shadow creatures, humanoid figures slithered and clawed through the earth tirelessly, some carving walls, others dragging up strange materials or reinforcing archways. It was organized chaos. More than that it looked... deliberate, very much so.
George returned a moment later with a silver tray, placing a cup of hot tea beside her with practiced grace.
“Chamomile,” he said, “unless you’ve suddenly become a coffee drinker.”
Kara blinked, then quickly composed herself. She pointed down, her voice amused but edged with curiosity.
“George... what exactly are they doing down there?”
George followed her finger, then sighed in that soft, weary way only a man used to being surrounded by the inexplicable could manage.
“Ah. Yes. That.” He straightened. “That would be the digging. A rather intense endeavor, if I may say so.”
“He didn’t tell you, did he?”
“He did not,” George admitted, “but I’ve learned not to be insulted when Master Arthur withholds information. It’s rarely personal, more often... tactical.”
Kara raised a brow, leaning forward.
“Okay, so if he didn’t tell you... what do you think he’s doing? Because that doesn’t look like a wine cellar. That looks like a fortress.”
George gave a small, knowing smile.
“I daresay, you and I are thinking quite alike, Miss Kara,” he said. “Though calling it a hideout would be far too modest, I imagine. He’s likely crafting something far more... strategic. Perhaps even a throne room.” he said sarcastically.
Kara laughed, shaking her head.
“A throne room under his house? That sounds like him.”
“I’m not sure if it’s practicality or dramatics,” George said, sipping his own tea. “With Master Arthur, it can be both.”
Kara leaned back into the chair, letting out a long sigh. Her eyes flicked toward the ceiling, thoughtful.
“Silly Arthur.” she said softly, “suddenly my mood just got better.”
George glanced at her, his expression kind.
“I’m glad to hear that Miss Kara.“ he said simply.
****
LEVEL 6 -
Arthur Blackwynd flew slowly across this ruined world, arms crossed, cloak flowing behind him. His eyes, scanned the desolation below with quiet precision.
He narrowed his gaze.
“It’s really empty.” he murmured, voice calm but edged with intrigue. “Except for one presence...”
He halted midair, hovering.
A deep tremor rolled through the realm like thunder cracking beneath the surface of the world. The molten rivers pulsed, flared brighter. Then
A roar.
Arthur’s eyes snapped toward the source.
From within a massive volcanic cavern, its mouth shaped like the ribcage of a dead colossus, something began to emerge.
Wings first titanic, leathery, scorched and steaming.
Then the head. Long. Crowned in jagged horns. Red scales like blood-forged armor. Glowing yellow eyes.
A dragon.
But not just any dragon.
It stepped forward on four thunderous limbs, its tail coiling behind like a battering ram carved from hell’s spine. Lava spilled around its body, yet not a single scale was touched, it was the fire. Its entire being radiated endless heat.
Arthur let a slow grin rise across his lips.
“Oh... I know this one.”
As if on cue, his system chimed with authority:
[Defeat Kamish, The Inextinguishable Flame]
A gust of superheated wind rushed past him. Arthur extended his right hand, and with a flash of dark and violet and a crackle of lightning, the Demon King Longsword surged into his grip.
Electric arcs danced along the blade’s edge and Arthur’s smile widened, glowing blue eyes burning with the thrill of challenge.
“Now we’re talking.”
Comments
Music Makes Me Moan
me too lol
Cobalt
I fully thought that was george in the window for a second there 🤣🤣
