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SM/DC Chapter 21 : The Fall of Deathstroke
🕑 Added 2025-02-05 20:15:09 +0000 UTCArthur’s fist connected with a sickening crunch. The impact sent Deathstroke hurtling backward, slamming into the warehouse wall with enough force to dent the metal. The assassin let out a sharp grunt as dust and debris rained down around him.
Arthur exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders as he walked toward the fallen mercenary, his steps deliberate, unhurried. But just as he closed the distance, he stopped. A cold, suffocating aura spread through the air, like a predator locking onto wounded prey.
Deathstroke, still slumped against the wall, stiffened. His breath hitched just for a fraction of a second as Arthur’s bloodlust crashed over him like a tidal wave.
Arthur’s blue eyes gleamed in the dim light. “I’m gonna ask you this once.” His voice was calm, eerily so. “What do you know about my family?”
He crouched slightly, tilting his head. “And just so you understand... I don’t need you to talk. I have other means of getting what I want, I'm offering you a chance.”
For the first time, something flickered behind Deathstroke’s mask, a mix of fear and unease and then, he laughed.
A raspy chuckle at first, then a deep, unsettling laugh that echoed through the empty warehouse. It wasn’t just fear. There was something else there. “Well,” Deathstroke breathed, a smirk audible in his voice, “for starters, I was employed by them not Lex.” His single eye locked onto Arthur. “And you—”
Before he could finish, the warehouse doors burst open.
Robin entered first, flanked by the Titans. The battle outside was over, their presence signaling the end of the chaos.
Robin’s eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. His voice was sharp, controlled. “Not bad, Arthur. You bested Slade.”
Arthur exhaled through his nose, barely sparing him a glance. “And I see you guys handled the rest.”
Beast Boy let out an exaggerated groan, stretching his arms. “Man, your demons or whatever they were something else!”
Blue Beetle chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, uh… they’re still out there, by the way. Still punching.”
Arthur didn’t react. His focus remained on Deathstroke, and he would’ve kept pressing the assassin for answers.
Deathstroke smirked, still lying on the ground, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.
"This is your problem, Boy Wonder," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "You're soft. You're weak." His eye flicked toward Arthur. "I was starting to like this guy, but—"
Arthur noticed the subtle movement but Slade was faster.
Arthur’s jaw clenched. “Robin, move!” But it was Too late. In a flash, Deathstroke shifted, his body tensed despite his injuries. With a flick of his wrist, he fired a shot, Not at Arthur. At the Titans.
Bang!
A shot rang out.
Simultaneously, a smoke bomb detonated, swallowing the warehouse in a thick, suffocating fog. Coughs and startled shouts followed as everyone staggered back, momentarily blinded.
Arthur cursed under his breath. He swung his greatsword, the force of it dispersing the smoke in a single sweep, but—
Deathstroke was gone.
Disappeared like a ghost.
The only sign of his escape was the faint sound of footsteps fading into the distance.
But then—
A sharp inhale.
Arthur turned, eyes immediately locking onto Raven.
Blood dripped down her shoulder, staining the dark fabric of her cloak. She clutched the wound, her expression neutral—too neutral. But Arthur saw the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers pressed harder than necessary.
Without a word, he stepped closer, closing the distance between them. His hand reached out, fingers tilting her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, but not rough. Up close, he could see the flicker of pain in her violet eyes, the way her breathing had grown slightly uneven.
“Let me see,” he murmured, his voice lower now, edged with something unreadable.
Raven’s lips parted slightly, her eyes searching his. For a second, she hesitated, then turned her head slightly, as if trying to pull away, but Arthur didn’t let her.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, but her voice wasn’t as steady as before.
Arthur wasn’t convinced. His grip lingered for a moment longer before he slowly let go
Robin, still recovering from the sudden attack, let out a frustrated breath. “Damn it…”
Arthur’s gaze snapped to him. Something cold, unreadable flickered in his blue eyes.
“Deathstroke was right,” he said, voice even but laced with something sharp. “You’re soft.”
Robin’s head jerked up at the words, his expression darkening.
Arthur continued, unbothered by the tension thickening between them. “You let things like this keep happening by letting people like Slade roam freely” His tone wasn’t mocking.
Robin opened his mouth to protest, but Arthur didn’t let him.
“I hope you collected enough data on me,” Arthur went on. “And how to neutralize me when the time comes.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Hell, I’m sure Batman’s already informed.”
Silence.
Robin’s fingers curled into fists, but he didn’t deny it.
Arthur took a step back, his gaze flickering toward Starfire. “Take care of Raven.”
Then he turned to Cyborg.
“If you’d be so kind, look into my family. Their background, any deals they made anything out of the ordinary.” His voice remained calm, controlled. “send it to me, and I’ll handle the rest.”
Robin exhaled sharply. “You know we’ll be involved too. We have to investigate this.”
Arthur gave him a slight, almost dismissive smirk. “Be my guest.”
And with that, He left.
****
The cold night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the chaos of the battle fading behind him. His shadow soldiers melted into his own shadow once again.
Arthur exhaled, tilting his head up toward the night sky.
His fingers twitched at his side.
“I don’t need Cyborg’s information,” he murmured to himself. “That was just to let them know I’m clueless.”
His eyes gleamed.“But I’m not.”
[System Notification]
Remarkable mastery—your shadow soldiers have leveled up to Knight Grade.
Job Rank-Up: Soulwarden > Necromancer.
New Job Specific Ability Unlocked: Shadow Exchange.
Arthur smirked as he stepped far away from the Titans, his form vanishing into the darkness beyond their sight. He wasted any time before uttering a single word under his breath.
"Exchange."
From the depths of Slade’s own shadow, something stirred. The shadow soldier Arthur had attached to him tore itself free, twisting and writhing as it pulled away. Slade, already tending to his wounds far from the battlefield, barely had time to react. His instincts flared—something was wrong.
Then, the shadows darkened.
The air around him twisted unnaturally, like reality itself was bending. And in the next instant, Arthur stepped forth, emerging from a blackened mist where his demon had once been. The exchange was seamless. Perfect.
Slade’s single eye widened in disbelief. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Arthur tilted his head slightly, his smirk unwavering. “Hello again.”
For the first time in a long while, Slade felt something creeping up his spine an unfamiliar chill. He had fought monsters, and beings beyond human understanding. But standing before him now, Arthur Blackwynd was something else entirely. Something worse.
Arthur took a step forward, the weight of his presence suffocating. “You know, Slade,” he began, voice calm, almost conversational, “I didn’t want to do this initially. But you forced my hand.”
His fingers tightened around the hilt of his greatsword, shadows coiling hungrily around the blade as if thirsting for what was to come.
“You hurt someone I care about.”
Slade gritted his teeth, reaching for his weapon—but he knew it was pointless. There was no escape.
Arthur raised his sword, the obsidian steel humming with dark energy. His eyes gleamed with something ancient, something merciless.
“And I don’t need you to tell me anything now. Because your shadow will.”
Slade barely had time to react before the blade descended. A single, decisive strike.
Silence.
The great assassin, the legendary Deathstroke, fell.
Arthur exhaled slowly, lowering his weapon. Blood pooled at his feet, but his gaze remained fixed on the lifeless body before him. Then, with a voice like a quiet storm, he spoke the word that would seal Slade’s fate.
"Arise."
The shadows surged forward, wrapping around Deathstroke’s corpse, consuming it in an abyssal darkness. Then, from the void, something emerged.
A figure rose, clad in blackened armor, the remnants of Slade’s former self still evident in the shape of his frame. But his eye, once filled with cold calculation, now gleamed with an eerie blue light—one of absolute loyalty.
The knight kneeled before Arthur, his new master.
Arthur looked down at him, satisfaction flickering in his expression. “From now on, you are Blade.”
The newly reborn shadow warrior bowed his head in silent acknowledgment.
