Romat-Ru's long ears twitched at the intrusion, his head snapping toward the sound.
Batman felt the pull in his neck as he forced himself to turn, every movement a grind through the pain. He already knew the voice.
Both of them found Arias.
He stood casually on the fractured street, hands in his pockets, the faint breeze teasing the edges of his sweater. His gaze drifted—not hurried—over the carnage, lingering on details like a man inspecting a painting.
Romat-Ru's shoulders loosened, his grin crawling wider. "Hah… had me for a second there, human. Thought this planet's pet Kryptonian had come to ruin my fun."
Arias tilted his head, his eyes narrowing with a mild, almost curious amusement. He didn't move from where he stood, a few meters from the Batwing wreckage.
"Oh? Is that what they call our dear Superman beyond Earth?" His tone was calm, conversational. "Though… from how easily he's been led on lately, I suppose it's fitting."
Romat-Ru burst into laughter, his voice bouncing between the ruined buildings. "Ahaha—you're a funny one."
The laugh cut short. His lips peeled back into a twisted smile, teeth bared like a predator about to lunge.
"Too bad I need you to suffer for me."
His ring flared. A jagged construct, like a hooked spike of yellow steel, ripped into the air toward Arias's legs—fast, low, meant to maim.
It stopped dead.
The construct hung mid-lunge, shuddering against an unseen grip. Romat-Ru's eyes narrowed, his grin faltering.
Arias straightened his head, his expression smoothing into something flat and cold.
"What a brutal tactic," he said evenly. "I hope you don't mind if I reciprocate."
The invisible grip snapped downward.
CRRKKSH
Romat-Ru's knees folded the wrong way with a wet crunch, bone and sinew shattering under the pressure. Blood burst in misty arcs from the breaks, spattering across the cockpit wreckage. Tiny droplets struck Batman's cowl, sliding into his already blurred vision.
Romat-Ru screamed—part agony, part rage. "Arghhh!!!"
Before the sound could finish, the pressure expanded. It wrapped his entire frame, squeezing. His breath stuttered as his eyes went wide, the sudden paling of his face betraying the thing his ring had always claimed to master.
"How does it taste?" Arias asked, his tone as plain as a weather report. "Your own fear?"
Romat-Ru's mouth twitched, a reply caught halfway up his throat—
WHMP—SSHHHKRRR
His body ruptured in an instant, bones shattering into dust within a red spray. Chunks of tissue and shredded muscle pelted the wreckage, some bouncing wetly off Batman's shoulder plate. The heat of it hung in the air for a moment before the smell followed.
Where Romat-Ru had hovered, there was nothing but drifting crimson haze… and a single yellow ring, spinning slowly before it clinked against the twisted hull of the Batwing.
———
Arkillo's roar shook the street as he brought both massive arms down, driving Kilowog's body into the cracked asphalt.
THUUMM—KRSSHH
Chunks of road burst outward, the shock rattling nearby windows. The ground split in jagged lines, dust rolling over both combatants. Fragments of glass rained down from shattered streetlamps, their bases flickering weakly before dying out.
Kilowog's snarl came through clenched teeth, but it was muffled by the blood pooling in his mouth. Reddish-brown from him… darker, almost oily green from Arkillo where Kilowog's earlier strikes had landed. The stench of ozone and burnt concrete clung to the air.
The impact left Kilowog's ears ringing—muted vibrations thudded through his skull with each of Arkillo's steps forward. Bone in his left forearm creaked under the strain as he tried to rise.
Not far away, Sinestro had John Stewart forced flat against the torn roadway, golden constructs wrapping his limbs in vice-like coils. The Lantern's uniform was shredded in spots, one shoulder hanging by singed fabric, his breathing shallow but defiant.
All around them, Coast City's suffering bled into the moment—the distant wail of sirens, screams from victims caught in Lyssa's nightmare web, and the crackle of spreading fire eating through storefronts. Smoke crawled across the street, hiding bodies and twisted metal alike.
John gritted his teeth, raising one arm slowly, his ring flickering as he willed a construct into being. A weak green shimmer began to take form—
Sinestro's voice cut through. "Predictable."
A spear-like rope of golden energy shot downward, punching through the top of John's hand.
THUNK—CRRSH
The pain ripped a scream from him, his muscles locking as blood began to pool under his pinned palm. Sinestro leaned closer, his voice calm but edged with contempt.
"This is why you'll always be weaker. Your willpower is admirable… but it pales before raw fear."
Before John could respond, Sinestro's gaze shifted—Arkillo's fight was drawing to a climax.
Arkillo hooked one massive arm around Kilowog's torso and slammed him into the street again, then followed with a brutal backhand construct the size of a wrecking ball. The blow flung Kilowog through the air—
BOOM—SKRRRRHHH
He plowed through parked cars, the road erupting into a shredded canyon beneath him until he skidded to a halt in a heap. The vehicles behind him burned where ruptured tanks had caught fire, black smoke curling into the sky.
Arkillo stalked toward the depression where Kilowog had first been driven down… and stopped.
A faint green glow pulsed from within the crater.
"Oh," Arkillo rumbled, crouching to get a closer look. "Whose is this?"
Kilowog's head lifted weakly, one arm trembling as he reached toward him. "Keep your filthy hands… away from it."
Arkillo didn't bother answering. His hand lowered toward the ring—
The glow sharpened into a beam and shot skyward.
Arkillo stepped back, eyes narrowing. Even Sinestro turned his head, tracking its ascent.
Before a word could be spoken—
WHOOSH—VVMMMP
The air buckled around them, as if space itself had been compressed and released in an instant. A tearing sound like a sonic whip lashed through the street, rattling loose debris into the air.
And then—
BOOM!!
Arkillo's head snapped sideways under the force of a single punch. Nearithea had appeared where the air still seemed to ripple, her arm still extended from the strike. The blow sent Arkillo flying, his massive frame crashing through an empty bus, metal folding inward around him before he finally hit the far side of the street and rolled into a half-collapsed storefront.
Even holding back, her hit had twisted his jawline, one tusk cracked clean in half. He didn't move.
The aftershock burst outward from where she'd stopped, forcing Sinestro to throw up a forearm against the shockwave, his form snapping violently in the wind. Dust and grit stung his face, pushing him back a meter through the air.
John, freed from the direct pressure, turned away from the blast and clutched his pierced hand to his chest, dragging in ragged breaths.
As the dust settled, Sinestro steadied himself and looked at the newcomer. Nearithea stood in Arkillo's place, her gaze already locked on him.
His brow furrowed, every muscle tight.
'This just became very dangerous. I should distract her and retreat for now…'
Before he could make the first move, her voice cut through the air—cold, flat, and utterly disinterested.
"Daddy said to keep you all here. So if you try to leave…"
Her eyes ignited with a sinister golden glow.
"I'll turn you into ash, worm."