Batman approached the old man cautiously.
The disheveled figure, with white hair and a beard so thick it nearly obscured his face, was uncorking the small jade bottle Malrick had handed him earlier. He sniffed at it lightly, muttering under his breath.
"You and that Superman in red—are you from the past?" Batman asked flatly. His voice was cold, precise, and unyielding.
That was just his way.
When the armor came off, Bruce Wayne was a billionaire playboy—aging, perhaps, but still sharp. When the armor was on, he was the Dark Knight: efficient, unfeeling, and relentless.
To him, everyone was either an ally, a criminal, or a potential threat.
The old man—Wizard Shazam—didn't seem to care about Batman's interrogation. He huffed impatiently instead.
"What Superman?!" the wizard barked, beard bristling as he glared. "That's Shazam, you fool! My successor! Call him the Great Shazam!"
Batman didn't flinch. "So that Superman's real name is Malrick Stark?"
"Shazam!" the wizard shouted again, slamming his cane against the ground. "Utter nonsense! Utter foolishness!"
He paused to glare at Batman, then turned his gaze toward the bottle in his hand. His tone changed abruptly. "You're not injured, are you?"
"No," Batman replied curtly.
The wizard's expression softened—slightly. "Then move aside."
He shoved past Batman and began scanning the cavern. His eyes landed on Atom, who was limping from an earlier injury.
"Open your mouth," the wizard ordered.
"Huh?" Atom blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth hesitantly.
The old wizard flicked his wrist, and a single drop of the liquid from the jade bottle fell into Atom's mouth.
Within seconds, the wound in his foot closed completely. His strength returned, surging through him as though he'd never been hurt.
"My injury… it's gone?" Atom gasped, looking down in disbelief.
The wizard didn't bother answering. He was already moving.
He knelt beside Mera, pulling the long blade from her chest and ignoring the blood that poured out. Another drop of liquid dripped into her mouth, and moments later she gasped awake, the wound gone without a trace.
Then he turned to Doctor Fate, whose neck was grotesquely twisted. He frowned.
"This one doesn't need saving. Nabu's still guarding him," he muttered.
Next was Cyborg. One look was enough for the old wizard to shake his head again.
"No need to waste it. His body's mostly machine. He'll recover with some repairs."
After using only two drops, the wizard carefully sealed the bottle and tucked it into his pocket with visible satisfaction.
Malrick had entrusted him with that elixir to save lives—and in the wizard's mind, that job was now complete. The rest was his reward.
Without another word, he dusted off his robe and strutted toward the cave's exit.
Atom and Mera exchanged bewildered glances.
Cyborg groaned. "Pretty sure that stuff could've helped me too…"
But the old man was already gone. Sighing, Cyborg dragged himself across the ground, trying to reconnect his lower body manually.
Batman crouched beside him and silently handed him the detached section of his cybernetic frame.
"I'll go check outside," Batman said grimly. "That new Superman might be able to hold his own against Clark. I'll assist him with Kryptonite if needed."
He still refused to call Malrick "Shazam," despite the wizard's protests.
Deathstroke, still battered but alert, spoke up. "I'm going too."
Mera and Atom exchanged a look before following.
Soon, the cave was empty except for Cyborg, piecing himself together, and Doctor Fate, who still lay motionless but intact.
Outside, the chaos continued.
Joker was lounging atop a boulder, legs crossed, humming an off-key tune as though enjoying a show.
The wizard was nearby, shaking his staff at the heavens and shouting, "Transform into Shazam, you brat! Shazam is invincible! Use Solomon's wisdom!"
Batman and the others followed his gaze upward.
The sky was in ruins. Clouds had been torn apart, light itself warped by the sheer magnitude of power.
Two glowing figures collided high above—Malrick and Superman—each impact like a meteor striking Earth.
The very atmosphere seemed to shatter under their blows.
Each strike sent shockwaves rippling through the sky, tearing through the air with the force of an apocalypse.
The ground quaked beneath their feet. Mountains trembled. The air was alive with thunder.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
The collisions weren't constant, but each one felt like the world itself was cracking open.
"This… this is Superman's true power?" Mera whispered in awe. "It's like the end of the world."
"New Superman's holding his own!" Atom exclaimed, eyes wide. "We couldn't even stand against Clark—but he can!"
Deathstroke removed his helmet, eyes narrowing. "That's not necessarily a good thing."
Batman's voice was grim. "The atmosphere can't withstand this. If they keep going, they'll destroy the planet's balance entirely."
He wanted to assist Malrick, but there was no way to approach that kind of power safely.
"Then what can we do?" Atom asked, bracing himself against the trembling ground.
"To stop Superman, we have to fight him," Batman replied. "But fighting him means wrecking the planet. Not fighting him means losing the planet anyway."
Silence followed.
Batman's eyes were fixed on the sky, searching for any sign of an advantage.
Then suddenly—the shockwaves ceased.
The world went quiet.
Mera frowned. "Did they stop? Is it over?"
"No," Batman said after a pause. "They left Earth."
"They're taking the fight into space," the wizard confirmed, lowering his staff.
He stomped his foot in frustration. "That stubborn boy refuses to transform into Shazam! If he used Solomon's Wisdom, he'd have more than a few chances to win!"
But deep down, even the wizard was impressed. The sheer scale of their battle had rivaled every great conflict Earth had ever seen.
Not even the fight with Doomsday compared to this.
The wizard grumbled again, "It should be Shazam who saves Earth… always Shazam!"
---
In space—
Malrick's punch sent Superman hurtling toward the lunar surface, crashing into the Moon with an explosion of dust that blanketed the stars.
When the impact cleared, Superman rose from the crater, his battle suit torn and scorched. Heat Vision blazed from his eyes, twin beams of crimson fury.
Malrick met him head-on. His own Heat Vision cut through space, colliding with Superman's in a blinding torrent of energy.
Superman faltered first, his body thrown backward by the sheer intensity of Malrick's counterattack.
His chest smoldered where the beam struck, and he let out a guttural roar.
Here in the void, Malrick no longer had to hold back. On Earth, he'd restrained his strength to minimize collateral damage, but out here—he was free.
He smiled faintly. "Among everyone I've fought, your strength ranks second."
The first, of course, was Dormammu.
Even outside the Dark Dimension, Dormammu's raw energy dwarfed nearly every being Malrick had ever encountered.
If Wanda faced Superman, it would come down to whoever struck first. Odin didn't count—their skirmish was too brief.
But Superman, at full strength, truly earned his place as second.
Superman floated from the crater, battered but unyielding. The sunlight hit him, and his wounds began closing instantly.
"You also rank second among the opponents I've met," he said, his voice calm but filled with defiance.
He clenched his fists, the cosmic glow around him intensifying. His next charge was even faster—so fast the stars themselves seemed to streak into lines of light.
The punch could have shattered the Moon itself.
"Is Darkseid first?" Malrick muttered. "I'll avenge you, Clark."
He raised his left arm, catching the punch effortlessly, his body unmoving. Then, with a single strike of his own, he sent Superman crashing back into the lunar surface.
"Again!" Superman roared.
Their battle raged across the void, from the Moon to the orbit of Mars.
Every collision released a torrent of energy—shockwaves that bent space, bursts of color across the black canvas of the cosmos.
Heat Vision, Freezing Breath, and raw physical might collided in a dance of destruction.
Superman's power continued to grow as he fought. That was his nature—to adapt, to rise, to evolve.
At his peak, the force behind his punches reached trillions of tons.
Malrick hadn't enjoyed a battle like this in a long time.
Even holding back, his blood raced with exhilaration.
By the time he finally stopped, Superman had fallen unconscious, floating amid drifting debris. His once-pristine suit was torn to ribbons, barely clinging to him.
Malrick exhaled slowly, stretching his wrist.
"Superman… not inferior to Dormammu," he muttered appreciatively.
Grabbing Superman by the collar, he turned toward Earth and began his descent.
In a way, he admired the Kryptonian's resilience. Even Dormammu's energy-based regeneration paled in comparison to Superman's rapid recovery under sunlight.
The battle had been fierce, unrestrained—and unforgettable.
_______
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