DC: Chapter 126/127

Chapter 126

In the dark forest, a dazzling red light ignited.

If the Kryptonians had any means to counter magic, it would undoubtedly be through raw energy bombardment, heat vision or freeze breath.

Kryptonian cells had an inherent weakness against magic. They were highly susceptible to its effects and could be easily torn apart by it.

But pure energy attacks could still be used to counter magic.

At its core, magic was also a form of energy, one that could be disrupted, impacted, and overpowered by extreme heat.

A pair of crimson eyes, gleaming like the ruthless glare of a predator, emerged from the shadows, sending a chill down Zatara's spine.

Then—

Twin beams of searing heat vision erupted from Bardi's pupils, piercing the air. The sheer force distorted the surrounding space, creating rippling shockwaves, as though reality itself struggled to contain the energy.

Of course, in truth, it was the oscillation of air causing an illusion of space distortion. But to the naked eye, the ripples looked as if they were tearing through reality.

Bardi was as fierce as a wild beast, the veins around his eyes bulging with terrifying intensity.

The crimson beams of heat vision surged forward like hellfire, scorching everything in their path. As they swept across the ground, weeds burst into flames, and the earth was instantly charred black, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning sulfur. Crystallized formations shimmered along the molten trail.

The blazing heat vision tore through the forest and struck directly at the magic circle Zatara had inscribed into the ground.

Bardi didn't aim directly at Zatara. Instead, he targeted the magic circle itself, ensuring that no hidden defenses or countermeasures could protect the sorcerer.

It was the right choice.

The twin beams of searing energy, glowing red like the fires of the underworld, illuminated the dark forest. They scorched the ground, leaving behind a molten path of destruction, before slamming into the intricate magic circle.

The inscriptions covering the ground were a fusion of mystical symbols—Atlantis runes, the incantations of ancient ancestors, Egyptian hieroglyphic spells, and divine patterns from ancient India. They formed a complex array, aligned with the celestial forces of the stars and moon, channeling their power into Zatara.

As the heat vision struck, the runes instantly flared to life.

Sensing the immense external energy pressing down on them, the entire array vibrated with a sharp hum, its inscriptions glowing brightly in response.

A white protective shield materialized, trembling under the assault.

Bardi's heat vision clashed against the magical barrier with a thunderous explosion. Shockwaves rippled outward as the beams relentlessly battered the shield, pouring down like an unending torrent of destruction.

It wasn't a simple, direct blast—Bardi adjusted his attack with precise control, modulating the intensity in rhythmic pulses, alternating between sustained pressure and sudden bursts.

Then, at the critical moment, his eyes widened further.

Channeling every ounce of energy in his body, he unleashed an even more intense surge of heat vision. The temperature skyrocketed, distorting the air around him.

Inside the shield, Zatara felt the rising heat seep through. His skin burned, and his hair felt as if it would ignite at any moment.

His gaze narrowed, cold and calculating. He had underestimated this being's sheer power.

Pressing his hand against the damp forest floor, he locked eyes with Bardi, his expression grim.

A low, rhythmic incantation spilled from his lips, his voice laced with urgency.

"@#￥&@#@#￥&@!#￥@#…"

Within the white magic circle, the inscribed runes trembled under the relentless assault.

One by one, the ancient inscriptions flickered and died.

The runes of Atlantis—extinguished.

The incantations of the ancestors—snuffed out.

The spells of ancient Egypt—dispelled.

The divine symbols of India—erased.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The magic circle strained under the relentless force.

And then—

With a final, deafening boom, the white shield shattered.

Bardi's heat vision penetrated through, consuming the last remnants of magical resistance.

The once-glowing magic shield collapsed, dissolving into countless fragments of white light, scattering like stardust into the night.

In front of Zatara, a thick wall of earth surged upward as a last-ditch defense.

But the searing beams tore straight through it, leaving a molten hole in the center. From within the breach, glowing lava oozed down, marking the sheer devastation left in Bardi's wake.


---

Bardi's heat vision pierced through the earth wall and struck Zatara directly.

Yet, instead of incinerating him, the searing beams sputtered against his body, scattering sparks and flickering intensely. Rather than burning him to ash, the intense heat caused the soil covering Zatara to crystallize, turning translucent and gleaming.

The moment Bardi noticed this reaction, he immediately halted his heat vision.

The attack could no longer harm Zatara; instead, it was being mysteriously absorbed and repurposed.

Before his eyes, the dirt encrusting Zatara's body rapidly transformed, spreading outward like wildfire. In an instant, the once-black soil turned transparent. Zatara now appeared encased in a crystalline shell, clear as glass, revealing even the slightest movement of his hair and the sneer forming on his lips.

He had forged armor for himself.

The transparent crystalline armor, adorned with angular ridges and sharp contours, resembled the ornate battle armor of an ancient British knight. It was both beautiful and functional, perfectly molded to his body.

"Fight? You're still far from my level!"

Zatara sneered, his gaze cold and arrogant.

Among the magicians of this generation, he stood at the pinnacle. Even many among the older generation could not rival his prowess. He had long held dominion over the mystical arts, looking down upon all others. Yet, this so-called servant of a demon had forced him to retreat had driven him to the point of relying on his Mist Giant form for defense.

It was an insult.

The pride of a sorcerer, of a leader in the magical world could not tolerate such humiliation.

And magic was never just a tool for long-range combat. At close range, it was even more terrifying.

Bardi's eyes flickered with a deep red glow. He withdrew his heat vision and crushed a solar energy capsule between his teeth.

Heat vision was one of his most energy-draining abilities. Just now, he had pushed himself to the limit, nearly exhausting his reserves to shatter Zatara's magical shield. With his energy depleted and with nightfall limiting his access to the sun, continuing the fight in this state would put him at a disadvantage.

The effects of the solar capsule were immediate.

A surge of pure solar energy flooded his body, seeping into his weakened cells and reinvigorating them. His cells absorbed the energy with frenzied intensity, replenishing their strength.

A faint glow began radiating from Bardi's skin. Excess solar energy leaked from his body, distorting the air around him. Heat waves rippled from his form, bending the very space around him.

In the darkness, he burned like a god descended to the mortal realm, a living inferno.

His expression remained cold and silent.

The atmosphere itself was suffocating, as if set ablaze by his mere presence.

The moment Zatara finished speaking—Bardi moved.

His eyes blazed with fury as he exploded forward, piercing through the air in an instant. His fist rocketed toward Zatara's crystalline armor.

The sheer force of the punch shattered the sound barrier.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted from the impact.

A massive white sonic boom cloud burst outward, rippling into the distance. The grass was flattened beneath the pressure, nearby trees bent sharply, and the closer ones were ripped from the ground, their roots torn apart as they were flung into the air. Even the farther trees tilted away, as if instinctively recoiling from the clash.

Both combatants were launched backward from the collision.

But only slightly—just over ten meters. They landed with firm footing, their bodies bowing slightly to absorb the force. Deep trenches gouged the earth beneath their feet as they slid to a halt.

In the depths of the dark forest, the fury of battle ignited.

Fists clashed, their impact echoing through the night.

The battlefield was obliterated.

Entire swaths of trees were uprooted, reduced to splinters. The ground was carved with countless deep scars, crosshatch marks left by the sheer force of their movements.

Zatara's Magic Armor absorbed half the power of Bardi's punches. Forged through magic, it carried an insidious effect, every impact against Bardi's body caused his Kryptonian cells to weaken. Each strike gnawed away at his strength, sending jolts of pain through his body, as if his very cells were being torn apart.

Zatara's combat skills were, without a doubt, formidable.

But formidable was not enough.

On Krypton, Bardi had faced countless warriors—geniuses, heroes, legends.

And he had slaughtered them all.

In a world where "exceptional" was commonplace, only the strongest survived.

How could Zatara, no matter how skilled, ever hope to challenge him in hand-to-hand combat?

The forest trembled with each devastating clash.

But through sheer battle instinct—through an unrelenting, ruthless fighting style—Bardi pressed the attack.

His blows struck with precision, his senses attuned to every shockwave, every vibration, every feedback from the armor.

And then—he found it.

The key structural points of the Armor.

The weak links.

Beneath the clear night sky, illuminated by the moon's glow.

A deafening explosion rang out.

BOOM!

Shattered pieces of the Armor were blasted into the air.

They soared against the dark sky, glinting beneath the faint starlight, reflecting the moon's silver glow like fragments of a fallen star.

Bardi stood unmoving.

His expression was calm. Unshaken.

He leapt into the air, his battle-hardened body silhouetted against the moonlight.

His form was sculpted, powerful—his bare torso gleaming like polished white jade.

Then, with a single crushing stomp, he brought his foot down onto the remains of the Armor.

Like a god of war, standing atop the ruins of his fallen enemy.

Zatara's voice shattered the silence.

"This is impossible!!!"

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Chapter 127
Under the clear starry sky and the bright moonlight, Bardi stood clad in the crystalline remains of the Armor, its surface gleaming magnificently under the soft lunar glow.

But all of it, this once-imposing magical armor was now shattered beneath his feet.

His expression remained cold, indifferent. Like a god of war gazing down upon the world, he trampled it beneath him without hesitation.

Zatara, still clad in the fragments of his broken armor, stared in utter disbelief. Defeated.

He hadn't expected to be so thoroughly overpowered in melee combat, let alone so effortlessly.

A magician was limitless.

At range or up close, in light or shadow, manipulating elements, minds, space, or nature—a true master of magic could adapt to anything.

Magic was not just an enigmatic force studied in secrecy. It was not some dark, unknowable art. It was power. It was everything.

And magicians? They had no weaknesses.

Only vulnerabilities. Exploitable gaps. But melee combat had never been one of Zatara's.

Yet, he had still lost. So decisively, so completely, that his pride could not accept it.

Yes, he had been preparing magic while engaged in close combat, but the speed at which Bardi had overwhelmed him, the sheer combat instincts of this so-called demon's servant was nothing short of terrifying.

And now, beneath the vast night sky, the shattered Armor beneath Bardi's feet flared with light.

A brilliant white radiance surged from its remains, piercing the darkness.

In that moment, Bardi looked as though he were standing atop a miniature sun.

Then—

The Armor exploded.

Zatara, still inside, vanished in a flash of magic.

At the same time, Bardi launched himself off the disintegrating armor, using the force to propel himself forward.

BOOM!

He plummeted from the sky, dropping from a height of over a hundred meters.

Behind him, the remnants of the Armor ignited, erupting into raging flames that burned as fiercely as the sun itself.

Searing heat scorched Bardi's back, the temperature of the magical explosion causing his skin to redden instantly.

For a Kryptonian, such pain was nothing. A trivial inconvenience. His body would recover within moments.

He descended swiftly, knees bending slightly to absorb the impact as he landed.

His feet pressed into the grass, toes sinking into the earth before he straightened himself once more.

Above him, the explosion raged, forming a massive fireball that rivaled the moon in size.

The fiery glow illuminated his powerful back muscles, turning them a deep crimson.

But the front of his body remained hidden in shadow cast by his own towering form.

His face was unreadable. Emotionless.

Yet his stance was unyielding.

With the flames behind him, he emerged like an invincible war god, pacing forward through the fires of destruction.

Then, he lifted his gaze.

Above, in the vast night sky, Zatara hovered.

He had flown to an altitude beyond Bardi's jumping range.

His expression darkened as he stared down at Bardi, but within him, he felt an unease he couldn't suppress.

Bardi's expression remained cold. Impassive.

Yet Zatara could feel it. A silent, mocking laughter.

He gritted his teeth. It was his own arrogance that had put him in this position.

He had insisted on close combat, had let his pride drive him into a losing battle.

He quickly pushed aside his frustration. This was not over.

A magician was not bound to a single approach. Adaptability was key.

He had only lost because he chose to fight on the wrong battlefield.

But this?

This was his domain.

Zatara took a deep breath and steadied himself.

"Now... experience the true power of a magician."

His voice rang out across the sky—calm, composed, unwavering.

Then—

A short wand appeared in his hand.

He raised it, twirling it gracefully like a conductor preparing to unleash a symphony.

And then—

The island reacted.

A pulse of pure magical energy rippled outward, distorting the very fabric of the land.

Radiation waves fluctuated violently, as though the entire island was being reshaped by unseen forces.

Then came the mental wave.

Bardi suddenly felt like he was sinking, as if trapped in a bottomless mire.

His body felt ten times heavier.

No—dozens of times heavier.

An oppressive, unshakable exhaustion crept into his mind.

This wasn't physical fatigue.

It was something deeper. A spiritual weight.

A force that bypassed flesh and bones entirely, crushing his very will.

It was inescapable.

A pressure not of the body, but of the soul.

And within that crushing weight, there was a voice.

A whisper.

A guiding, coaxing presence.

Inviting him to rest.

To let go.

To sleep.

Bardi's eyes snapped open, blood dripping from the whites.

Veins bulged across his body, his muscles straining against the unseen force.

With a sharp motion, he struck his own chest hard.

CRACK!

A mouthful of blood erupted from his lips as searing pain shot through his body.

But even that pain wasn't enough.

His vision swam.

The exhaustion remained. Unrelenting.

It coiled around him, pulling him deeper, suffocating him.

He had no way to resist it.

This wasn't something he could punch through.

It was—

"Mind magic."

Raven took a bite of her chocolate, her gaze lingering on Zatara.

She wanted to stop him from using mind magic.

From the very beginning, she could see it, Bardi carried a past filled with immense pain. That past had shaped him into what he was now.

But it was also that very same past that drove him forward, forcing him to endure, to push through, to keep moving.

Was that good or bad?

There was no answer.

And in the end, Raven didn't interfere.

Because this was mind magic.

This was a method designed for the battle against Trigon, to pull Bardi into the spiritual world and force him to confront him directly.

If he couldn't withstand even Zatara's spiritual assault, then there was no point in resisting Trigon at all.

If he failed here, then Earth was already doomed.

Her eyes held a trace of anticipation as she paused, chocolate in hand, watching Bardi intently.

And then.

It happened.

Bardi's eyes flew open, the whites streaked with blood, giving them an eerie, terrifying look.

His pupils lost all focus.

He had fallen, dragged into the realm of mind magic.

But even as his consciousness sank, his body remained upright.

Even lost within the illusion, his will remained indomitable.

The sight of his vacant, bloodshot stare sent a chill through the air.

The forest reacted.

Trees trembled as thick, dark green vines slithered like living serpents, writhing across the ground.

They coiled toward Bardi, climbing up his legs, slithering higher.

The sharp thorns along their length dug into his skin, tearing through flesh, leaving behind thin trails of red.

Blood seeped down, tracing slow paths along his body, dripping onto the blackened soil below.

Then, in the darkness—

A voice whispered.

"Only you are the best for me."

"You're the only one who truly loves me."

"Let's get married!"

A sudden, irresistible emotion surged through his mind.

A warmth.

A joy.

His heartbeat quickened.

The illusion had taken hold.

A chemical reaction. A flood of hormones.

A false love.

But it felt real.

Before he could even think.

Bardi spoke.

"Yes."

The world shifted.

In an instant—

A church.

Rows of guests—family, friends—seated all around.

Bardi looked down.

He was dressed in a groom's suit, a calla lily pinned to his chest, a symbol of purity, devotion, and eternal unity.

His gaze clouded with confusion as he scanned the faces in the crowd.

Envy.

Admiration.

Contempt.

His head felt foggy.

The entire space had a hazy, dreamlike glow.

Then—

She appeared.

A woman.

Beautiful, radiant, walking toward him in a pure white wedding gown.

And in that moment.

Light.

A warmth spread through him, an emotion so foreign he almost didn't recognize it.

Happiness.

A father led the bride forward, his expression unconcealed in its disdain as he placed the woman's hand in Bardi's.

"From today onward," the man said coldly, "you will treat her like a princess. If you fail her, I will make sure you suffer for it."

Bardi felt his heart stir.

This feeling—this joyful anticipation—it had been so long since he had felt it.

A smile stretched across his face, bright as sunlight.

And he spoke.

"Let me show you... how I'll treat her."

Then—

His hands moved.

Slowly, deliberately, he placed them on the bride's shoulders.

His fingers dug in.

Blood welled up.

A gasp—shock, pain, panic.

"What are you doing?!"

Then—

RIP.

A spray of red.

The bride's body split apart.

The entire church was painted in blood.

The guests, the white walls, the stained-glass windows, all drowned in crimson.

The illusion shattered.


---

Bardi's pupils snapped back into focus.

He had not followed the script.

Had not played along with the illusion's deception.

Instead, he had torn it apart.

Reality came flooding back in.

Pain.

The vines still clung to his body, their thorns burrowing deep, sending waves of agony